There are some excellent things flying around on the internets… these are my favourites from the last week, and you should click on them because I know from what’s good.

1. First of all, the very excellent Allie is finally BACK, yo – it’s been a long time coming, and I’m so very, very pleased to see her out in the blogsphere again after some time away… her absence is best explained in this post, which has got to be the best depiction of depression I’ve even seen. I get The Sads now and then (though I’m not depressed like this) and Allie nails it with her perfectly charming, hilarious, clever, and totally honest way. Check it out – you will like it.

2. Do you get links from Upworthy? You should. They’re things that matter… I liked this short video this week, even though I knew where it was going from the start.

http://www.upworthy.com/if-this-video-makes-you-uncomfortable-then-you-make-me-uncomfortable

On Facebook, a lovely friend of mine commented, Why is it that engaygements make me more chokey-uppy than hetero engagements?

I replied, It’s because they’re so ghey. *snort* And so lovely. And so earnest. And so brave. And getting so normal a little more every day.

It’s a wonderful thing to see this social shift in the world. I’m happy that b-baller, Jason Collins is proudly out of the closet now, but it ain’t no thing… live your life. Be kind to others. Enjoy yourself.

3. And life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. Or what happens while you’re trying to prank someone at the gas pump. Man, I looooove being pleasantly surprised…

http://gawker.com/lame-leno-skit-turns-unexpectedly-amazing-thanks-to-inc-499730705

And here’s your random pic.

Sometimes I want to karate-chop them in the neck hard enough to make their teeth rattle…

…but when they’re not ferocious, they’re pretty darling(s).

Now, get off the internet and go outside and SING just because you wanna… life is short, you know. Try to have a good time. :)

G.G.

Last week while we were away in the woods for March Break, I read my friend Jennifer’s status update, saying the clothing retailer Zara had just launched their shopping online. I think I actually squealed. And Martin asked, “What?” and I breathlessly replied that Zara had finally built a shopping cart into their site. He just blinked at me and kept on eating his eggs.

Because he doesn’t understand.

The thing is, I love their merchandise for kids. Like, looooooove. Zara makes some cool looking stuff, with lots of good motifs, in colours, stripes, and wording that I can dig pretty hard. And though I don’t find them to be priced at such a steal, I think you get what you pay for. (And I love their sales times.)

My problem is the sales staff. I’ve been shopping in one particular location since my now-nine-year-old boy was an infant, and nearly every female person I’ve encountered in this store is the antithesis of helpful, and couldn’t be less friendly if they tried. I mean, fucking crusty, yo. I think it’s a store-culture they actually cultivate, since the manager-lady/Head Bitch only rarely lets a wee wry smile grace her lips… and then it’s only when she’s telling a customer “no” about something. If she could bring herself to be more animated, she might seem almost gleeful about it.

I’ve gently asked a salesgirl if she might look for a size I need of a shirt I’m holding, since they only ever keep one size of each item on the floor at a time (which makes for a very neat store, and I truly appreciate the aesthetic) but I’m always met with this fatigued and disdainful look that says, “Seriously?” from the kid not helping me, and I’m all, “But, I will BUY it if you HAVE one,” and the girl might begrudgingly wander into the back room, perhaps never to be seen again… it’s always hard to tell if she’ll be back.

Feeling like someone’s doing me a favour by letting me shop in their store? That makes me want to stab people.

Sometimes when I ask, “Might you have this skirt in a size 3/4,” the girl just blinks at me and relies, “No.” And though she didn’t even glance at my garment, she is certain there isn’t one in the store. Curious! When I ask, “Are you sure,” she gives me that look again that says, “Seriously?” and then I counter with a look that says, “Eat a bag of dicks.” Because I’m a fucking lady and whatnot, and I don’t want to cause trouble.

Besides which, I’m pretty sure the manager-lady/Head Bitch wouldn’t exactly help, if I asked her to intervene.

The line to get out of the store is so slow-moving, it’s dumb. And I can wait in lines… I understand when registers jam up. Or when there are new salespeople being trained. Or when someone is returning four hundred items to their store and it’s just taking HOURS to get through all their receipts and stuff, especially since the manager-lady/Head Bitch has to archaically sign every. single. bit. of paper, and stamp all the things, like you’re at airport international security or something, and it just takes forever and a day.

When waits are long, whether they be in restaurants, or stores, or wherever, what I always appreciate is catching the eye of someone, who might simply say, “I’ll be right with you” or “Sorry, it won’t be much longer” or something to that effect. But trying to get any one of them to make eye contact with you might require actually committing a homicide in their store, just to get their full attention. I mean, really.

This NEVER happens in my Zara locale. They’re not sorry at all that you’ve been in a line eleven people deep for the past twenty minutes. They do not care. And they take time folding and refolding garments to shove into store bags, because unlike you, they have all the time in the world. And if only one cash register is open at 11:30 AM, and a line is forming, they will not rush to open another one. Or maybe they might, if that long-lost salesgirl would return from the bowels of the store… I just don’t know.

I’ve stood in line countless times, exchanging glances with other annoyed ladies, each clutching their goods and looking to the heavens with heavy sighs. I looked at one such lady, and she shook her head at me and mouthed, “This is ridiculous,” to which I silently replied, “I know!” Someone else whispers, “I hate this store…” and yet another says, “Me too… but the stuff is so good…” and we all slump a bit with the knowledge that we will take this abuse for as long as is necessary. Because indeed, the stuff is soooo goooood.

And all the while, the salesgirl at the cash intentionally avoids eye contact with any of us, partly because she’s been badly trained and she doesn’t care very much, and partly because she is twenty-two, and she has no idea how to deal with adults in an appropriate manner. Like, with manners.

When I get to the cash, I quite nicely say, “You know… this was a really long wait, and it would be so helpful if you might just say it won’t be much longer or something… I mean, look at us.” I sweep my hand back to show all the people waiting, shifting their weight from one foot to another, completely agitated, all.

“Well, I had a problem with my cash.”

“Yes, well, you could have just said that once, and people would feel more patient.”

She closed her eyes and turned her head, and stated ringing up all my stuff.

“Um, do you know if the store might be working on an online shopping section on your site? I’d probably buy more stuff if you did…”

“Oh, I think so… in the future… but not now.” She smiles wryly at me with squinty eyes.

“Great! Well, I’ll keep checking on that.” I give her a smile that says eat a bag of dicks.

That was a year and a half ago.

And on Monday morning, I looked through their site and happily ordered a whack of stuff for the kids, in the sizes I selected from the menu, and it all arrived in this neat little box this morning, four days after I ordered it all.

Joy, of JOYS!!

I already know some stuff needs returning, and much like Gap and Old Navy, I can ship any of the things I don’t want back to them if I prefer… and in this case, I might just do that. I don’t mind going back to the Gap in person, or shopping at Old Navy – I order online to get the sizes I need, since what I want never seems to be on the shelves when I get there, and then I feel like my time’s been wasted. Boo! Suck!! Better to do as much online as possible, I reckon.

But I probably will ship the stuff back to Zara. If I never have to deal with one of those crusty salepeople again in my whole life… well, that would be fucking swell.

G.G.

Sometimes, the best thing is just for one person to sit in front of the other and look into that person’s eyes and say, I’m sorry if I’ve been being a dick lately and then that person can look back and say, you’re not a dick and one person can nod her head while he shakes his head and you can press your foreheads together for a while, quietly apologising.

And one person can tell the other person how glad she is that they’re still friends, even after all this time, even after these millions of years, and how good it is to be understood, even when someone’s overall essence has been a bit dickish… and to be so very happy to still be liked. Because we go up and over the hills together, and down into the valleys together, even when it feels like we’re far, far apart and we’re not holding hands so much. No one wants to hold hands with a dick anyway.

But, holding hands is better.

We take our turns at being dickish, maybe. As long as we’re not both being dicks at the same time. Maybe we’re not really dicks… sadness has many ugly faces. Smiles are better, but they have to reach your eyes to really count. Tomorrow is another chance to be lovely. Try again.

I like holding hands with him. Still. Because I love him.

I love him.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

G.G.

Monday. Taco Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday.

Monday. Taco Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday.
Monday. Taco Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday.
Monday. Taco Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday.

Monday. Taco Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday. Monday. Wait… you don’t want tacos today? I thought you did. That’s fine. We can have chicken something. Or whatever. Um… what day is it, again? Oh, right. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday. Monday. Taco Chicken Tuesday. Wednesday. Friday. Saturday. Sund…Wait – what happened to Thursday? Did we even have Thursday?! Now I feel crazy…

I find once Christmas is all wrapped up, trimmings unpinned, boxed and re-stored for another year, there’s not a whole lot to look forward to. Just aaaaall January and aaaaall of February. And sure, my kids birthdays pop up during this time, and birthdays are fun enough, but then it’s just back to the Dead Of Winter. And there’s Valentine’s Day, if that semi-cheesey Hallmark Holiday counts, but it doesn’t really. It’s not as if you get the day off or anything, so… suck.

These are the days that mostly consist of just putting one foot in front of the other. I schedule drinks with these people or those… sometimes we have to cancel because it’s just too damned harsh to deal with life outside. There’s the tres serene scene at my neighbour fox’s hot tub, available more often than not, but then it’s wrestling with the notion of ditching one’s big brown parka, and sauntering twelve paces from her back door to the tub, wearing only a bikini, a toque, and hugely ugly Sorels in the -20 temps. (Can you picture it? It IS a hot look… but still. You don’t want to catch a chill in the down-there place. *womp-womp*)

Sometimes I’m okay at dealing with the doldrums, but other days…

I had such a horrible tantrum last week, and I screamed at the kids too much, and was even reduced to tears once or twice (okay, maybe all day) because UCH! WHY? WHY?? WHY IS IT SO MUTHERFUCKING COLD ALL THE TIME??! E’SPLAIN!!! And I do myself no favours – I don’t get enough exercise, or drink enough water, or eat enough citrus, or get enough vitamin D. Or vitamin C. Or vitamin A. Or vitamins EFGHIJK, I’m so totally sure. I should go eat an orange and sit myself under some lamps or something. I’d go yoga or whatnot, but I can’t quite see my way to unzipping my fucking coat just now.

And the days go by, one by one, all looking and feeling exactly the same. What day is today? And we’re inside the house looking at the same walls, same clothes, same stuff… the cold makes it hard to want to go out anywhere. And after said Christmas and back-to-back birthdays for children, one’s wallet feels extra light indeed, so even deciding to bundle up and go somewhere feels costly in all the ways. Frostbitten fingers and noses. Visa cards on fire.

I’m being a bit myopic, I know… I’ve have some good times hanging out with my cool people now and then, and I’ve got a friend coming to visit next weekend (yay!) but it’s not at all like during the good weather months when I’m with my people every day, feeling the sun on my skin in the park, watching the kids run amok. Nay, these days are the polar opposite of those. (POLAR, yo.) Boo. Hiss!!

. . .

His mother’s funeral was over two months ago now, and though we talk about all of those feelings less and less, it all still hangs in the air, like a fat silence that we’re too tired to address. Still a bit… shell-shocked, maybe. There’s not much new to say about it anyway, so we’re quiet. With each other. So quiet, inside our same walls and same clothes and same meals and just putting one foot in front of the other, waiting out the winter.

There are moments when conversations feel more lively and interesting, as we discuss an article we both read, or something Bill Maher said. And we laugh at the funny parts of this movie or that. And then there’s retirement-strategy chit-chat that makes my eyes roll into the back of my head in that really unsexy way, and remember we need to register the small one for school this fall. And then some quip about free love comes up, and the next thing you know, this lady is lying awake all night wondering What. The. Fuck. and booking a waxing appointment the next morning to rip every bit of hair off her body. Because everyone knows the secret to a long, happy marriage is hairlessness.

And of course, that free love comment was totally innocent and glib, and I only ran with it because it stuck out so sharply against the flatness of tax-talk and blah-blah-blah renovation projects that totally harsh my mellow. And because my brain is frozen these days. As is the rest of me, because HAI, I’m hairless now.

Last week I had a tantrum and I cried about many many things. I stamped my feet and cursed the cold and the full moon and the harshness of winter until he painted a wall for me. (Of course, this sounds so simple – I could have painted it myself, but he did it for me anyway. Silently.) Because sometimes you can only rage at the one who is nearest to you. And I wasn’t even a little bit sweet about it. (Man, winter is really not my season.) Martin is good people, and last week I did NOT deserve to be married to such goodness. I mean, really.

But…

Now there is something new to look at while we’re being quiet, and I am busy contemplating how to dress it up and make it truly excellent.

A little bit of black paint? This unharshes my mellow.

Namaste, bitches.

G.G.

I had a lady-parts appointment with my doctor yesterday morning – all was routine – everything is just fine, I think. My plan afterward was to visit the Apple store to see about my broken iPad screen. (Fuuuuuck.) I have an appointment for that too, now.

But that’s all just dumb stuff. The reason I make mention of it at all is because I found myself wandering around downtown, on my own, with time to spare, and with my (semi-broken) iPad in my purse. For the first time ever, I left the house that morning with my husband’s gigantic home-use earphones in my purse as well. I dared myself…

And I wandered around the downtown core for about ninety minutes with nothing more than my bitchin’ new handbag, enormous sunglasses on, and even-bigger earphones even on-er, and I strode. In my own little bubble, full of excellent, poetic lyrics, and tasty beats – I felt almost alone, and I could see others, but they couldn’t see me. That’s ridiculous, I know – I know I’m not invisible. But I tell you, it’s kinda how I felt.

I say again – that’s ridiculous. While I waited for the light to change, a homeless dude on the corner said, “Aaarggg… you. You! You look like an assassin.”

I turned my head and smirked at him. “Thaaaaanks, man!” I thought that was cool. He just stared at me.

I caught a look at my own shadow on the side walk – a severe silhouette in my skinny jeans and tailored jacket and the futuristic cans on my ears – and I was reminded myself of a Helmet Girl. The silly scenario kind of made my whole day.

Blunderbuss on repeat. Because that’s just how I roll these days. (Excellent album, by the way.) And lately, this nugget of ear candy-mash-up also. Enjoy.

I’m know that I need to conserve my energy now, if I don’t want to get sick. Or collapse under the stress of things. I will do as many of the things I want to do, and almost none of the other things. Or, as much as I can reasonably get away with. At least for right now.

We’ve been in the car for long stretches lately, visiting his parent, hours from the city… it felt good to stretch my legs for a good long time, unencumbered and all leisurely-like. Seeing what I like, and not letting anyone see me. Kinda.

I danced on the way home.

Yesterday was just for me.

It was a good day.

G.G.

Oh, this little girl…

She says, “Mummy, can I have one of these africots?”

And

“Is this adocado ripe now?”

And

“It’s so hot outside… I need some sunscream.”

She is nearly four-and-a-half. I’m not in a rush to correct these little words of hers… she’s become long and lean, and nimble. And wise.

It’s the last of the baby in her. *sniff*

Some time ago, I received a flower arrangement – likely from Irene (AKA Awesome Bosslady) – and after we’d enjoyed the bouquet, I was left with this white rectangular vase, which I like very much, but since I so seldom buy myself flowers-that-require-sticking-into-vases, this idea came to me instead:

Did you know that asparagus can continue to grow after it’s been cut? Just like tulips. I trim the bottoms just a snick, put them in an inch of water, and they stay nice and crisp. And pretty! It makes me smile every time I open my fridge. That’s never a bad thing. Smiling, I mean.

I like this repurposed idea… besides, I have asparagus at home waaaaaay more often than I do fresh flowers. (Perhaps I should remedy that though… I do so love tulips, you know.)

Happy SPRING all!!

G.G.

Oh my lord, Japan. Earthquake. Tsunami. The whole world is falling to ruin in a hurry…

. . .

I’ve been thinking of including this clip in a post all week long, so today it feels fitting.

I loathe a lot of television programming for children – like, really, really HATE some stuff (I’m looking at YOU, Dora!) – and though I seldom watch Yo Gabba Gabba while my kids do, I can’t help but overhear most of the chatter coming from the TV. Sometimes I can just barely stand to hear what the characters are saying. And then sometimes something comes on that is made of AWESOME… like this short counting song by Oyamada Keigo (AKA Cornelius) which rocks on so many levels, it’s freaking insane.

Look at this band! See how they rock? So! Wonderful! It reminds me of The Strokes… at least, they immediately come to mind. All children’s music should sound like this. For reals, yo. This kind of ear-candy makes for cool kids. I just LOVE it!! Thank you for your never-ending excellence, Japan.

But let’s not forget possibly the grooviest counting song of all time – brought to you by Sesame Street, back in the days of psychedelia and such. I’ve heard many a band use it during live sessions, and it always makes me smile. People in the audience always turn to each other with knowing looks, rocking out while they remember their childhoods. Good times.

Aaaaaand cue the pinball spring…

So the Japanese band only counts to six… it doesn’t mean it’s only half as good as Sesame Street’s ditty – plus, I think everyone knows the Japanese don’t need any help with their mathematics, so it’s all good.

Oh, Japan… we’re all watching, helpless and broken-hearted, but we know your excellence will prevail. Somehow.

G.G.

I’m procrastinating slowly getting to the process of cleaning up our basement, which has been a complete and totally holy disaster for about a year… it’s full of renovation refuse and a whole whack of other stuff that isn’t exactly junk, but it all just needs to be sorted and put away. All of it. It’s a huge mess, yo. I’ve been forcing myself because it’s tax-time, and the receipts are EVERYWHERE! Lordhavemercy. Anyway, the receipts have mostly been found (I think) so I’m back to the task of sorting and purging. When I feel like it.

Since working on the bookshelves in the TV room, I keep recalling little things I have somewhere in the house which might be perfect for this little space, or for that one… and since culling all the kids artwork and stuff, I’m taking images out of some frames, and adding fresher ones in their stead. Sometimes this frees up frames. Which reminds me of other frames I have… somewhere in the basement… man, it’s a lot of stuff.

I could have brought up about eight large frames I intend to rehang in the hallway, but I won’t do this for two reasons. 1) I want to re-group them differently that we did before. I loved the long row of them at hung gallery level, but we’ve had them like that since forever, and I’d love to hang them into a grid this time. To do this, I need to find a ninth image + get another frame = another project. And b) I HATE the wall colour of the hallway, and it just cannot stay. I simply can’t live with it. It needs repainting (one of these find days when the weather is much warmer) and I just know if I hang them in the interrum, we won’t repaint for years. I just know it. Believe me. Complacency is just a foul, dirty word. My kids will be in highschool before we repaint it, if I hang anything on the walls today. It’s gospel, I tell you.

So I’m not hanging those ones now. (But oh, how I miss them…)

Instead, this week I’ve been working on another little project I’ve been meaning to do for some time now. Besides using up a few empty frames kicking around the house, I managed to clear my kitchen counter of a bunch of framed pictures, which makes the island itself seem bigger and airier than it had in a long time. I LOVE how much more surface there is again!

It feels like there’s more room to actually sit there, without feeling like you’re about to knock everything over with your elbow. Not to mention the fact that I finally took out some baby pictures of the kids, and framed more recent ones I’m sure I’ll be happy to look at for another bunch of years. There are a few baby ones I still adore looking at, but most are from the last year. I want to remember to switch them out more often.

I’ve been fussing with them all week, switching a few images, and adjusting the hanging spots here and there, but overall, I’m pretty pleased with it now. Something new to look at. We will repaint the kitchen eventually too, so it’s kind of a trial. I think I like it.

I put some handmade felt finger puppets into a shadow box – it’s what I’d intended to do with them when I bought them in the first place (after playing with them for some time, I mean) and though it’s sitting atop that little desk, it will go in the children’s room once we get the picture ledges from Ikea one of these days. Shadow boxes are good for many things.

And this little red desk? It’s child-sized… I guess it used to have a roll-top cover at some point (long gone) and it has a little drawer. I want to paint it, and put a lovely knob or pull on it someday. I was thinking I’d paint it black in a satin finish, but I’m not certain yet. Thoughts on colour? Anyone?! It will require a little chair too. Hmmmm… are there pint-sized Eames tuffets available anywhere?

So many projects. So many things to buy from Ikea. So little patience. I want it NOW dammit!!

Okay, back to the basement of doom…

G.G.

Me: Okay, well, let’s get this sweater on… we’ve only got a few minutes left before school.

She: I wan do buttons myself.

I help her snake one arm into a sleeve, and then the other. I go to button the first little button, near the neck.

She: NO! I wan do buttons MYSELF!!

Me: *breathes deeply* I know you want to do it yourself, but we’re running late, darling… can I just help you with the first couple, and then you…

She: *shrieks and rocks entire body with each word for emphasis* NOOOOOO!! I! WAN! DO! BUTTONS! MY! SEEEEEEEEELF!!

Me: *feels a stroke coming on* Ohmyjesuslord… HURRY! UP!! Gawd…

I get the lunchbox into the schoolbag and check on her. She is still trying to get the first one buttoned. I can hear her talking softly to herself – Just… put… here… o-most… awww! Okay… just… put… o-most… I fink…

So. Slow.

Maddeningly slow.

Holyfuck slow.

I am trying by very best not to hover. Or hyperventilate.

Me: *calmly* Can I help you with the first one? Just the first one…

She: No.

Me: Pfffft…

It is 8:42 AM. We need to be at the school doors in three minutes. We still have to do the wretched snowpants/scarf/hat/mitts/coat/boots drill AND walk three blocks. We are late.

Me: Ava Scarlett. Please. PLEASE! Can I just…

She: No.

Me: *spits through teeth* Fine. (But I’m waaaaaaaay pissed about it.)

I get the camera instead. And about eight hours later, she was ready.

Okay, it might have been four minutes later, but she did it! And she was proud!! And we were late, but we didn’t get penalized.

I know this is all very important for their development and whatnot, but the s-l-o-w-n-e-s-s just kills me. I’m so very impatient, you see, especially when I just want to GO! already. Ack.

Note to self: pullovers only on school days from now on.

Sheesh.

G.G.