Read While Hungry

Christmas is coming.  You knew that.  Some of my friends have received one of my super-delicious-made-with-love-but-more-importantly-awesome-ingredients-apples as Christmas gifts in the past. Don't you think everyone you know should receive one this year, or at least the people you like?  Caramel, chocolate, roasted almonds... aaaw, yeah.

Yeah, I have officially lost my mind.  As if I don't have enough to do, I am going to attempt selling apples this year.  As in, taking orders and staying up all night covered in almond dust and cellophane bags. There's a reason not everyone I know gets an apple every year.  They take some serious time and effort to make!

Why are you doing this, Wendy?  Um, Christmas is coming.  My kids might want a few things.  I'm poor.  That's right, I said it.  P-O-O-R.   I'm not crafty.  I make food.  That's one thing I'm fairly good at.  So if you have co-workers, teachers, neighbours, etc, that you need to bless with a unique Christmas gift, or if you just need to kiss up to somebody, help a craft-impaired girl out.  I realize a sales pitch on a blog is super lame, but whatever, it's my blog.

Here's the nitty gritty:

*Apples are $7.50 each, or $6.00 each if you order three or more.

*They come in individual cellophane bags, tied with pretty ribbon, which you are free to change if you hate what I pick.

*You can choose milk or dark chocolate (I use good chocolate, no cheap waxy stuff here)

*They last a good 7-10 days in the fridge uncut.

*I need at least 3 days' notice if you need them for a certain date, especially for larger quantities, ie, more than 8. 

*I can't ship them as they require refrigeration.

So there you go.  Fancy Schmancy Apples.  Made by me.  Yum.

I Don't Get It: Baths

This is the first of what I'm sure will become a series of posts about things I just don't get.

I don't get baths.  Relaxing, soothing, blah, blah, blah.  They're not any of those things. Explain to me why, any reasonable grown person, why would you want to sit in a tub of your own funk? There you sit, marinating in a hot steaming tub of all the grime most people are aiming to clean off when they take a shower.  Well what about swimming pools, you ask?  That's why pool water is treated.  And it's not hot water.  And it is still just a little bit gross. 

 

Soaking in hot water is fine for a pinto bean, but I'm fairly certain people aren't meant to.  You come out sweaty (yes you are, you just can't tell because you're wet), more wrinkled than when you got in, and you still need a shower.  

My kids take baths because you can't make 'em stand in the shower when they can't even stand yet, and they love to play in the water.  But at my house they do not get rinsed with the water they've just been sitting in, nor is the water overly hot.  

Adults tend to take hot baths.  Hot water removes gunk.  That's why you wash dishes in it, that's why you sterilize things in it.  You would not wash your hands with that dish water after the dishes were done and call it good.  A hot bath is really the only way that something from your armpit can come in contact with the space between your toes.  Oh and that's just one example. Don't even get me started on all the places your toe jam could end up migrating in that lovely jetted tub.  Dim lights and a 2-foot layer of sweet-smelling bubbles floating on top does not change the fact that you're sitting in what is, in effect, body backwash.  

Maybe I'm missing the boat on one of life's great joys, I don't know.  You can keep your hot tubs and bathtubs.  De-funkification will be shower-centered at my house.

Tuck Me In and Go Get Me Some Water

Why do kids get all the good stuff?  They have the best blankets, all the silkiest, cushiest softest blankets there are.  What makes blanket manufacturers think that I want wool or not-soft cotton, just because I'm a grown up now?  I want a silky on one side, plush on the other side blanket in king size, thank-you very much.

Shoes with velcro, I'm just sayin', some mornings, would come in very handy for me.  And speaking of shoes, why can't I find a pair with Jude Law on them?

Not once after watching Law and Order has anyone on there told me how smart I am at the end for following the clues and solving the mystery.  But kids shows, you get kudos all the time for helping or guessing or tapping out a rhythm correctly...  I can totally do all that stuff, but no one cares.

Where's the Root Canal Fairy?  I could have used some money under my pillow that night, let me tell you.  If for nothing else than to help me pay for the darn thing.

I covet so many of my kids' toys, I don't know where to begin.  The Bilibo is probably the one for which I most want to not exceed the weight limit.  Is it a stool?  Is it a chair?  Is it a super awesome spinning ball of breath-taking fun?  I think so.  I'll never know unless someone decides to make a much bigger one. 

Sometimes I might want to colour a little bit while I wait for my food to come in a restaurant, but does anyone offer me crayons or even slightly more grown-up pastels? No.  Maybe a little toy ipod with my meal?  Nope.

I wouldn't mind, if every so often, one of my books had a pop-up, or a picture that changes when I move the page back and forth.

Their cereal has cute bright pictures all over the box, puzzles, and mazes... Adult cereal? Twigs. Ingredient lists that highlight fiber.  Brown.  Beige.  I ask you, who needs bright colours and mind awakening puzzles in the morning?  Me, having been up 3 times at night with a baby, stumbling into the kitchen with 4 kids in need of service?  Or the kids, who wake up bouncing off the walls, thrilled that the sun finally came up so they could come out of their rooms? Where's my cereal with a prize inside, maybe a scratch-off lottery card?

Well, I'm off.  Off to brush my teeth with non-sparkly toothpaste, put on my boring cotton non-footy pajamas.  Kids have no idea how good they have it.  They won't know until they aren't kids anymore.  Of course, I wouldn't want it any other way for them, I just wish it all lasted a few decades longer.  

  

Lying Liars.

It's not you.  It's me.  

I'm fine.

It looks great!

I'm just tired, that's all.

That's ok.

Nothing.

How many times a day do you lie without even batting an eye?  The lady behind you in line who just rammed her cart into your ankle for the second time in 30 seconds is fine, is she?  It's ok that your friend didn't call you once all week after swearing she would?  That's ok?  Really? 

Your kid broke an arm, you haven't slept for days, your marriage has been rocky for years, you are nearly completely broke, you are so lonely you've named the pit in your stomach so that you feel like you have company, you have red eyes today from crying last night over something no one even knows about, not from allergies, your friend's new haircut, not exactly flattering, you are haunted daily by mistakes you made decades ago, you have an ex-spouse who's still trying to run your life, you're questioning things that used to be so basic to you, you haven't eaten for days, you've been eating enough for 4 people lately...

Maybe you really are fine.

Maybe it really is nothing.

Maybe you really are just tired.

It could be you and not them.

Or maybe we all struggle sometimes, sometimes with really big things, and we should be able to say so.  Why do those seemingly small lies slide so easily off of our tongues?  Every time I say I'm fine, and I know it's not true, is that virtuous because I'm not complaining, and not worrying anyone around me, or am I just a big liar who might be denying someone an oppourtunity to help me?  

Some people I know tell me how it really is for them, but most people don't.  I'm guessing that most lie most of the time.  Why?  I get being optimistic, and being grateful, and not griping constantly, but I also get that we don't live on earth one at a time.  We aren't here alone, because we need each other.  The earth will not spin right off of its axis if you tell me the truth when I ask you how you are doing.  The world will not stop and stare if you say out loud sometimes that things are not wonderful.

I may not have answers for you, some things may be nobody's business, but for the love of Pete, can we stop lying?  I know you and your life are not perfect, you KNOW I'm not perfect, we're not fooling anyone.  Well, we might be fooling some folks some of the time.  But let me listen, or help, or pray, or support, because you probably need it.  And so do I.  That's the truth. 

Did You Know...

... you may be the truest friend I've ever had?

... you came to my door with something I wished I had earlier that same day?

... you made me laugh so hard I cried and my face muscles were actually sore the next day?

... you make me happy because you think I'm funny too?

... I couldn't have made it through one of the worst times of my life without you?

... your generosity toward me has moved me to tears more than once?

... you reminded me of who I was, that I was great, and that maybe I still am?

... I love that you wanted my advice?

... you probably saved my son's life?

... I still cannot get over that amazing gift of your talents and time, that I did absolutely nothing to deserve?

... I trusted you when I was so shaken I felt like I couldn't trust anyone?

... you were literally an angel to me, with that one tiny gesture?

... your note came in the mail on a day when I could not have needed it more?

... that you're way too far away from me and that I miss you?

... that you brought over that food right when I was wondering how we were going to be able to buy any?

... you said exactly what I needed to hear, you weren't even nice about it, but that you were right, and I wouldn't have listened if you were nice?

... I wish I had valued you the way I do now, much sooner?

... your combination of honesty and dry humour is refreshing to me?

... it's possible that no one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you?

Did you know?  Well, now you do.

Music- It's A Love/Hate Thing

Music, most music is really geared toward a certain phase of life, late teens/early twenties when the possibilities seem endless, you just want to go dancing, and you're maybe just naive enough to believe that song lyrics are true to life.  Rod Stewart, you realize as you get older, really had no business singing "If you want my body and you think I'm sexy..." but when you're 20, you're like, hey, why not?  It's kind of ironic and I can totally lip sync to it while I get ready to go out.  And Howard Jones, he was kind of a liar when he slow danced us all into believing that "No One Is To Blame".  Oh, there's someone to blame alright.

As you get into the more sensible settled 30's, music you sang your little heart out to only 5 or 10 years earlier can suddenly come back to bite you in the proverbial behind.  It bites to realize that even though you're a girl, you can't just have fun.  Thanks, Cyndi Lauper.  It's just not nice for someone to look back and see that "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel misled you for years- there's no  heat in your eyes, except maybe what's brought on by allergies or insomnia.  I just heard "If  You Could See Me Now" by Celine Dion and thought what a pretty song, until I really listened to the lyrics, and thought how awful a song it could be for someone who had actually dumped the love of their  life and realized it too late.  It would be enough to make you want to drive your car into a tree.

Not that sad songs don't have their place, they can make you feel like someone understands how cruddy you feel, and I suppose that helps somehow.  But oh, it can just stink when songs you had been almost self-righteously singing along to for years, directed at whatever jerk had most recently crossed your path, take on a whole new meaning when you're looking backward and see the number of people that sang along and probably thought of you.  ("Who Will You Run To?" by Heart or maybe "Thorn In My Side" by the Eurythmics?)

 Or there is the music you've listened to for years, sang along with, enjoyed, and then with more years and experience under your belt, you are horrified at the lyrics' meanings and implications... yes, I mean you, Alison Moyet, you and your "Love Resurrection".  No more blasting you in the car, especially with the kids around.

I enjoy not knowing the real lyrics to songs, sometimes it's best to make up your own because the real ones are just dumb, dirty or depressing.  But I have the unfortunate gift of lyric recall.  I can hear a song a couple of times and know the words before I even realize I do.  There are songs I wish I could forget... there are Milli Vanilli and Backstreet Boys songs I never wanted in my head in the first place that I can still sing start to finish.  Back when "Ice, Ice Baby" was on the radio all the time, I was caught more than once rapping/singing it as I assembled Christmas gift baskets at my job at the time.  Humiliating.

What I want are some songs that speak truth.  Songs that speak to where I am in my life right now.  Where are the dance tunes that bemoan being knee-deep in diapers and spit up?  The songs that talk about my love affair with my favourite pair of jeans that still almost look cute on me post- baby?  Songs that give me hope for a blissful rainy day full of chick flicks and maybe even a nap.  What about one titled "Baby Go Bankrupt With Me"?  I need concrete, real stuff nowadays.

I love Colbie Caillat and Josh Groban for almost making me believe in "Magic" and that maybe I really am a "Machine", even if their catchy tunes are making my head a bit foggy and out of touch with reality, temporarily.  I love my lesser known favourites that are like my little secret like Mike Oldfield, October Project, John McVey, Loreena McKennitt and others.  I love love the songs that have gotten me through rough times- that liar Howard Jones did a lot of that for me in the 80's and 90's.  And Natalie Grant's "Held" was one of the only things that gave me some peace for myself and in thinking about my amazing sister following the death of my sweet brother-in-law nearly four years ago.  Of course I had to pull the car off the road every time it came on, cry, and then try to drive again, but that music said everything I was feeling and hoping better than I ever could have myself.

Over all I know music is a good thing, and I do love it.  I'm not discouraging listening to it.  But if  you suspect it is giving you angst, sadness, false hope, unrealistic expectations, fewer brain cells, ugly thoughts or a need to dance at really inappropriate times or places, you really should just turn it off.  

I've got to leave it at that... I think I'm Bleeding Love.

Eh For Dummies

I've found that there is a lot of confusion in the United States about the proper use of the Canadian word "eh". Sometimes I find it funny when people attempt to use it, and other times I want to yell, "Please STOOOOOOOP!! I'm begging you, use it the right way, or don't use it at all."  So I give to you now, "EH: A Tutorial".

Contrary to popular belief, "eh" is not just thrown on at the end of any and every sentence.  Nor is it used in the way the Fonz  made it famous (Henry Winkler, incidentally, is a very nice guy). 

Eh can be used to assess the continued interest or agreement of the person being addressed, as in, "The guy just flew by me, eh, and I didn't even see him!" to which the listener might respond with a nod or a "yeah?".

Eh can also be used at the end of a declarative sentence to turn it into a question, as in "Nice day, eh?" or "That was the worst game ever, eh?" or "You're a real snob, eh?", or "So you left last week, eh?".  So here it means things like "right?", or "don't you think?", "aren't you?", "isn't it?".

Eh is used to emphasize agreement, like, "I know, eh?"

Eh is used as an exclamation, as in "What a game, eh?!"

Eh is used a bit like "y'know" or "right" or "see", as an unconscious pause mid-sentence.

So that is pretty much all you need to know in order to use "eh" with some level of confidence and accuracy around picky Canadians like myself.  Sorry, but we get a little territorial about things that are strictly Canadian.  I can supply you with a list if you're interested. 

Oh Canada! Great country, eh?  :)