Love my van

I drive a van that is 10 years old, and I love it. Although this van is total crap in the winter time, I love it. My van has been parked since about last Decemberish since it is total crap in the winter... I think I said that already. Thing is when you live 1000 feet above town on the top of a blustery, snow driven hill there is just no point in driving anything other than an SUV or a 4x4 pickup truck. Ruffel has both an SUV (Mazda Tribute) and a Ford 4x4 pickup, fancy blue in colour. So for the winter we share the Mazda and if need be the truck, although I hate driving the truck, it always feels like it is all over the road. He used to have a different shade of blue Ford pickup truck (4x4 of course) it was a standard and was really high up off the ground, almost high enough that you felt like you should have a little step ladder to get into it (I had a hard enough time getting into it and you know how tall I am, so you can imagine watching Ruffel jump in, really, he had to jump). Anyway, one December I was driving his truck, can't remember the reason, and was heading up to the farm. I came across the first bit of gravel road at the bottom of the hill (the last bit of straightaway) and hit sheer ice. Next thing I knew the truck was hydroplaning and turning in mid air. It was just like in the movies when everything is going in slow motion and yet in reality it is happening at the speed of light. I remember thinking about the sign that I had seen in the tractor. Tractor signs are made for the illiterate I am sure, they are always graphic pictures, things like bodies laying beside a moving part of the tractor showing dismembered limbs, all this as a warning not to go near the moving parts. There was a picture in the tractor by the steering wheel showing the tractor moving towards a tip over and the guy driving (guess the farmer) hanging on for dear life to the steering wheel and moving with the tractor in the same direction. This was a clue to stay with the tractor and not try to jump out of the tipping tractor, I guess tractors have a habit of tipping. I remember this as a sign to hang on to the steering wheel of the truck and just go with the flow. So I did just that as the truck tipped over onto it's side, BANG, I am in the ditch with years of truck paraphernalia flying all around me. I was in such a state of shock I just sat on my side (sideways) in the truck hanging onto the steering wheel for dear life. I snapped out of it and quickly turned off the truck, I didn't think that it would be good for it to run while it was laying on it's side. In my careening slide sideways into the ditch I managed to take out the Neighbourhood Watch sign and some other roadside literature. There was a car not too far behind me who saw the whole thing. This lady is actually a neighbour of ours and offered to drive me up the hill to the farm. All the way up the hill I wondered what I would say to Ruffel about what happened to his truck. I mean it was an accident, but he did love his truck, probably more than me at that time (maybe even now). After the lady dropped me off at the farm Ruffel came out of the house and asked why I had been given a ride up and not driven his truck. I thought the best way to handle it would be to cry. So sobbing I told him that his truck was in the ditch, that I had hit ice and it was in the ditch at the bottom of the hill. He gave me a hug (I think) and said that we would go and get it with the tractor. Now, I was not too graphic with the details of the state of his truck, so you can imagine his surprise when we rounded the last corner and he saw his blue baby laying on its side in the ditch with the Neighbourhood Watch sign underneath it. He looked at me incredulously and said "you never said it was sideways in the ditch" I replied " I'm fine thanks". The funny thing was that Ruffel was more concerned that people (namely his friends or anyone driving by) would think that he had put his truck in the ditch on its side. He made a point of making sure that everyone knew that it was me. I was lucky that there was minimal damage to his truck, or I would never have heard the end of it. So, the point of my story is that I love my van, I too would be upset if it ended up sideways in the ditch, so I drive the Mazda in the winter, in this god forsaken place. Luckily the Mazda has managed to keep all four wheels on the road. There have been many times in the past when I have tried to drive my van in the winter only to end up burying it in the deep drifts in the lane way and having to walk up to the house through a blizzard, carrying nine bags of milk and potatoes, cursing the whole way. I love my van in the summer with the comfy seats, smooth ride and wonderful air conditioning. So to Ruffel, I am sorry that I had a mishap with your truck all those years ago (14 and it still seems like yesterday) it really was an accident... really. So why the chatter about a van and ancient history about a truck accident? Well, today I got my van back from the mechanic and it was wonderful to drive it... I love my van.
Driven to distraction,
Cat x

Johnny Appleseed? How 'bout Hay Seed.

(That's Hay Seed on the left) I know a guy (who is actually the husband of my best friend C), he is a legend in this small town that I call home. Gerry has lived in Creemore for all of his life (I think). He is an avid hunter (deer, turkey and caribou) and loves to fish, both off his pontoon boat or sitting in a hut on the frozen lake. He has filled his house with all kinds of treasures that most people would throw out. If you need something, chances are Gerry has one or knows where to get one or even better he'll make one. So Gerry was at the dinner party the other night having a good time with all the young lads at the table. He was spinning his yarns and adding in to the other yarns when pieces of the puzzle were missing. I noticed that some of the fellas that know Gerry were calling him Seed. I asked C why they called him that and this is what she told me. Seems many years ago Gerry was a rather talented pool player. A guy from the city came to town and went to the pool hall hoping to make some easy cash from some poor unsuspecting country bumpkin... enter Gerry. The fellow challenged Gerry to a game for x amount of dollars. Gerry in his quiet way said "OK" and off they went to play the game. After a few hours of shooting pool Gerry was considerably richer. The city guy was so pissed off he said "Aw hell, you're nothing but a hay seed." So the title stuck but now it is just "Seed". So Gerry, don't know if you have played any pool lately, but belated congratulations on your riches and the legend that you have become in Creemore... here's to you "Seed".

Scatteringly yours,

Cat x

Bert.... He's amazing

As I said yesterday I will post a pic and tell you a little story about the person in the picture. Today I am going to tell you about Bert, 'cause he is amazing. I have nothing but respect for this guy and I will tell you why. He quit drinking beer. Woopee you might think. But this is a guy who really drank beer, drank beer like it was water. Poor Bert was having terrible back problems, aggravated by the fact that he sits in a bull dozer all day and carried (key word) a tank on the front of him. Some would call this tank a beer belly. Bert was determined to lose the tank and aleve his back pain. He went to Dr. B and started what many thought was the impossible... a diet. Bert was the kind of guy who loved chicken wings and beer, cheese and beer, steak, fried potatoes with onions and beer... did I mention beer? You might think that with all the beer Bert drank he would be inebriated all the time, but, really it was quite the opposite. He never seemed to suffer the ill effects of drinking beer other than the tank and the back ache from carrying his tank around. Well, I wish I had a before and after picture so you could see the difference. Bert has lost over 60 pounds, he still hangs out with his beer drinking buddies and drinks only water while they guzzle away. I commend you Bert on your will power, it is second to none! Here's looking at you handsome!

Yours in admiration,

Cat x

What a great dinner... even if I say so myself

Last night was the Spring Fling season opener at my house. This to me is the official start to all the warm season parties. Next one will be out on the deck (hopefully) So I told you the menu in previous post. Everything was ready on time. The beef was perfect (mad gravy too) the pork ( 2 different sorts) perfect and people raved, the venison was so tender that my good friend C who cooks it all the time wants my marinade recipe! That is a compliment, since Ruffel just looked at it and said "you over cooked it" I will just remind Ruffel that there were a mere four slices left that good buddy Bert took home for his lunch... over cooked my ass, go have another beer and keep quiet. This from the man who did nothing to help but pick up the hot dog and ham burg buns for the kids, who actually preferred the other food. Tomato boccocini salad- hit-Cesar salad - hit- potatoes in puff pastry- hit. There were only four of us women in the group so we say on the comfy living rooms chairs while the pile of men (and I mean pile) help there own form of court at the kitchen table, seating 12 altogether. The chatter coming from there was at times very funny. Men are worse yakkers than the woman... hands down... just glad they had fun. A few of the guest stayed over night due to overindulgence. at my insistence, safer for all involved. Big cooked breakfast in the morning with a lunch then departure just before dinner. Over the next few days I will post pics of the group and tell a little story on them all. Till then this is one whipped kitty who needs her sleep.
Drearily yours,
Cat x

A funny thing happened on the way home

Where I live, you can pretty much bank on everyone knowing everyone else or at least thinking that they know everyone else or even better, knowing something about everyone else. So when I tell you this story, remember that the names have been changed to protect the guilty, better yet I will tell no names. Russel and his good buddy went to a sale last weekend. Now this sale is one of those auction things where you can buy used equipment etc. in other words Russel's favorite kind of sale. So he and his good buddy spend the better part of the day at the sale. On their way out (to go home) there is a truck with a flat tire. They look and realize that they know the guys in the truck. Now around here there are rednecks and hillbilly's, there is a difference, and to call a redneck (who is proud to be a redneck) a hillbilly is an absolute no-no. This would be degrading to a redneck. Anyway, in this truck with the flat tire were the hillbilly's. So the rednecks (Russel and his best buddy) offer the hillbilly's a ride. They jump into the pickup (what else?) and slam the doors shut. The slamming of the doors drives Russel's' best buddy crazy, you should treat a truck with the respect that it deserves, hillbilly's just don't give trucks that respect. So off down the road they go, hee hawing and guffawing all down the way. Now, rednecks and hillbilly's do have something in common, they love to go on a tour. They drive all over the countryside looking at what all the other rednecks are doing and how they are doing it. Hillbilly's look but they don't quite understand what they are looking at or even why, but they will look anyway. This little tour brings the truck load of lookers into a little place called Angus (the g is silent). The tour truck went to Angus (the g is silent) because they all wanted to see how high the water was on the flood plain. Most people would stay away from flood plains in the spring, but rednecks being the inquisitive sort thought they better go have a look see. Well funny thing, there in the deep water was a good friend of theirs'. See this redneck had driven into (actually he is a Newfie redneck) the water thinking he could keep on going, but the water got into something that his car needed to keep dry in order to work, and once it got wet that was it.... dead in the water. So, here is the Newfie redneck with his fiance, stranded in the water. Well, rednecks like to take advantage of any down time to have a little koochie koo (if you get my drift) while waiting for help or better yet the beer truck to lose a case or two. Well, just about the time things got pretty hot and steamy in the dead car, up pulls the truck load of redneck/hillbilly sightseers, well they sure got a sight full. They waited till things quietened down a bit before yelling at the stranded lovers if they needed a hand... getting out of the water that is. The newfie said they had called a tow truck, but if they could pull them out then that would be better. Pretty soon everyone was on the road, but by now they had all worked up a thirst, especially the hot newfie lovers. Off to the newfies house they all went to have a couple of hundred beer and talk about the day that had been. Sitting in the newfies living room all ass cheek to ass cheek on the couch the rednecks lamented the fact that hillbilly's seem to get tanked a little faster than themselves, and yet how could that be? I don't know. Seems one of the hillbilly's called his wife to come and get him so he could get home and get rid of some of his pent up passion after the teasing from the newfie's fiance. By the time Russel got home he was in fine form, a great day of adventure (or just another day in the life) for my little redneck. Russel had told me that he would be home for dinner, he just forgot to tell me that he didn't want to eat till 11p.m. This is when I ask him "how come you weren't home for dinner like you said you would be?" and he says " a funny thing happened on the way home...."
You'd think after all these years I would have learned my lesson, that lesson being that when Russel heads out the door with his best buddy, you just never know what is going to happen, sometimes that is a saving grace.
Aristocratically yours,
Cat x

Wow

So, I am planning a little soiree this Saturday evening... thus the need to find something different for dessert. Voila, enter Martha. I have her cookie bible. Think of any kind of cookie going and it is in her book. Thing is, I love cookies. Not that I can really eat them, but I love them all the same. I made my shopping list, which included a small bottle of rum for the rum melt aways, raisins for the oatmeal cookies, lemons for the lemon shortbread's and a whole other plethora of ingredients that were on the short list of my pantry holdings. I started to bake around 2 in the afternoon and finished the last of the marathon baking around seven pm. I now have on hand for my guests (and a certain Dr. J that I work for) chocolate ginger snaps, oatmeal cranberry-raisin, oatmeal raisin-chocolate chip with maple syrup frosting, lemon shortbread, earl grey shortbread, and rum meltaways. I plan to offer the selection of cookies with french vanilla ice cream and a little fresh fruit. I think it will make a nice light end to the main course which will include: roast pork, roast beef, and roast venison (all having been marinated in various herbs, juices and vinaigrette's) creamed potatoes in a phyllo pastry, scalloped onions, Caesar salad, a green salad, tomato boccocini salad, glazed carrots in honey, french bread, orzo and peas with mint and a fine selection of wines to compliment the meat choice. I think it will be delightful for all who attend. Tomorrow I start the process of cleaning... ugh. In some ways I think that this is the only reason that I have people over, so I will do a thorough cleaning, naw, not really, I keep a pretty neat house. So I will be taking pictures of the people and the food so that you can see what I have been up to. Till then, I am dreaming of new ways to set the table.
stewartly yours,
Cat x

What I was going to say...

Well, as I said before I did have a great retrospective all set for Sunday. Of course I have forgotten most of it due to a great loss of body fluids I experienced over the time period of a mere 24 hours. I do remember that it had to do with my thoughts on death, and dogs. This past week there has been a rash of deaths in my community. Big deal you might say, but I live in a small community, about 1200 people (on a long weekend). The theory has been that deaths come in threes. There were the three deaths, and then there was another, which means that there are (in theory) two more to come. There were also two other deaths... deaths of dogs. One dog was very old and deaf and had been given a second chance at life. His original owner had died (very gruesome story, I will tell you another time, it involved a heating blanket, Halloween and a time period of discovery of close to ten days, pig in a blanket doesn't even cut it)any who, this person had two dogs and I found a home for them both, if I had not they would have been euthanized. The old one wandered out to the road and being deaf never heard the Mac truck coming (there goes the theory of heightened other senses, you'd have thought he would have "felt" the truck coming, or maybe it was a Smart car?) Coincidentally, the other dog was also killed by a vehicle, again wandered out to the road. This little darling wouldn't have stood a chance against a bicycle, never mind a car barreling down the road. Whoever hit her, probably didn't even realize they had hit something. I am not making excuses, this was a chihuahua. So the week was depressing to say the least, although there were some high points. Dinner with a good friend on Wednesday night was delightful, work was busy, home life was manageable and agreeable. So to the people who passed on, you are missed. To the dogs who are gone, I miss you.
Tearfully,
Cat x

What was to be a reflective Sunday

I did have a post all set in mind to put on yesterday, but, the health gods had a different plan for me. The plan was a day of retching and other bodily functions that resulted in me being very ill to the point of passing out in the hallway. I woke to find my husband calling my name and my son crying thinking that I was dead... rest assured I am still alive. I had to forgo work today on my condition, I don't think I could have driven myself to the clinic. Funny though now that I think about it, I wrote a blog this week on death and shit... see, what message you put out to the universe does come back to haunt you. Yesterday I wished I was dead I felt so... so... shitty. I will leave it at that, my strength has left me and I need to get back to bed. I will write tomorrow on my reflections of Monday.
Crappily yours,
Cat x

I must be getting old...

Last night I went to a "girls" party. At this "girls" party were for sale a number of items to entice your love/sex life. There is after all a big difference between the two. I was one of about 10 at the party, and I hate to say it, the second oldest. The rest of the group were all young women, in their 20's and 30's, except for my best friend C and the mother of the hostess, but they are still in their early 40's. I had to say that nothing titillated my fancy whatsoever, other than the fresh fruit platter. I hadn't had strawberries or cantaloupes for a few weeks . The red ripe flesh of the strawberries resting next to the apricot hued glowing firmness of the cantaloupe, was enough to make me lick my lips in anticipation. The juice of the freshly cubed fruit just resting on the surface of the newly executed offerings, just teasing of the sweet release that was to happen when popped into my eager mouth. Yes, when you get excited about the fruit and not the props for a night of carnal ecstasy, then you must be getting old. Then again, maybe I have experienced all that I need to in that department (I'm back to the sex stuff now, not the fruit) so that I realize that most of the time when props are involved it is a make work project for the woman. She will have to apply the creams, get the batteries, make the suggestion and then when all is said (or not) and done, she will be doing the laundry... looking for the stain away and wonder how that piece of plastic wrapper ended up on the ceiling, and even more so how the hell is she going to get it down? Yes, I think that I am past all that. Regrets? Not really. I leave it for the younger crowd. Seeing their eager anticipation and knowing smiles (not to mention the texting going on in the room between one another, yep, texting, after all the mother and mother in law were sitting right there) their will be many generations yet to carry on the art of recreational recreation. Me I just finished looking at the Foodland flyer and see that bananas are on sale for .49 cents a pound... gotta go, they only have a limited supply you know!
Fruitfully yours,
Cat x

Got an Answer

So my question that I posed a couple of posts ago was, "why do dogs roll in shit?". Well after having dinner with an expert on the subject of dogs I have an answer. The reason that dogs roll in shit and dead animals is to disguise their own scent. All of the animal kingdom knows that shit and death don't mean squat so nothing to get excited or worried about. The animals sniff and say "just same old shit" or " just another dead beat" and carry on eating, drinking, or making out... whatever that animal was doing when the dog in disguise is cruising by. This way the dog (being a hunter) can kill and devour without the little bunny or squirrel or even deer knowing what hit them. So to this knowledge I say a big thank you to Dr. J . This bit of wisdom can also be turned into a valuable lesson for us humans... know your shit and don't be a dead beat...
Yours in living, fragrant colour,
Cat x

My Brother...

So yesterday I was having tea with a friend and the conversation turned to motorcycles. I said, "My brother collects motorcycles, especially Harley's" I said to my friend, "I have to show you a picture of my brother, 'cause he is like the coolest guy I know." So here he is, he is the one saluting. (Sorry the pic keeps moving down as I type)
He lives out in B.C. (Bike Club) where he is married with 2 girls (not too two girls, just his wife and they have two girls, he ain't that cool!)
and having a grand old time with his buddies. Nothing seems to get to him... well... let's say that nothing gets to him that can't be fixed with a beer or a bottle of wine. I'm not saying that he is a heavy drinker or anything like that, he just doesn't let things get to him. I miss my brother, he lives too far away (as does my sister) to see him on Saturday nights ( some Saturday nights he hangs at the local legion buying tickets for the meat draw... wild life out there ya know!) and have lots of laughs. My brother has a great haw haw laugh, you hear it and you can't help but laugh too. He is a man of the world, he has been to lots of places and met lots of different sorts of people. Pete can have a conversation with anyone about anything. He was my mothers' pride and joy. She loved him more than us girls, and that is OK. I remember when my parents estate was being settled and we were to pick up our estate dealings, my brother decided that he was going to stay in a fancy hotel, can't remember the name of it, but it was huge and gorgeous and cost a small fortune ( more than one month of my current pay). It was in fact a suite. The lobby of the plaza was all glass and gold and men standing around holding open doors. In walks my brother and his wife and the two girls with their luggage held together with bungee cords (well, maybe just my brothers). He would strut in his motorcycle boots and leather vest and man he had arrived! That is my brother, just too cool for words and too cool to give a rats ass what anyone else thinks. Love my brother, think I will give him a call and see how it's hanging.
Chilling with a Miller and a pic of my bro, till next time
Cat x

Stinky Dogs

I wonder why dogs love to roll in shit and dead animals. Does anyone know the answer to this? I mean, shit stinks, even to dogs it must stink. Yet, time and time again they will look for a pile of shit and roll in it, preferably raccoon shit. I think that raccoon shit has to be the stinkiest smell there is going. They'll eat cow shit, but not very often will they roll in it. They prefer the smell of raccoon shit. I don't know have I said the word shit enough? OK, lets move on to the smell of dead animals. If you have never smelt the smell of a dead animal (or anything dead for that matter) you just have not lived... lived to realize how much death smells... real bad. My dogs have a tenacity for killing raccoons (don't bother e-mailing me to complain, there are more than enough left over for you to hit with your car late at night as you make your way home from the pub). See they will kill them and then leave them for about 2 or 3 months and then go and drag the rubberized remains back to the yard for me to find. It is the smell that leads the way, not the sight of the mangled bits of twisted, rotting flesh, with the resplendent vicious grin of teeth exposed by the shrinking flesh. Oh no, it is the stench that tells the tale. I have several shampoos and orange scented lotions that I wash the dogs with, they are indignant as I lather and rinse and tell them off in the sink for rolling in the perfume of their choice. I can only imagine what they think of my smell... I too like to roll in the perfume of my choice. I save up all those tear open samples from the magazines and lay them all over the floorthen roll around in them. I find it is the best way to get the scent evenly spread from top to bottom. I however, do not like the smell of death and decay, I rather prefer the scent of lilacs and vanilla not to mention cinnamon and day lilies... but wait, you could almost say that that could be the smell of death, or at the very least the attempt to cover the smell of death. I think that you would find all of those scents at the next funeral you were to go to, bouquets of roses, lilacs,freesia and carnations suffocating the mourners with thier heavy perfume. Maybe we aren't so different from the dogs, maybe they are more realistic than we are, they don't shun the truth of death and dying, they embrace it. Well, I don't shun the thought of death it is a fact of life, but I would rather smell the cover up than the cold hard truth.
Sniffing off till the morrow,
cat x

What does that really mean?

I just love a day full of laughs... but not followed by a headache ( my own fault, not enough sleep). Sunday found Ruffel, the kid and I out scallywagging looking for some excitement. We found it at the Tim Horton's on Highway 24, also know as the Metheral residence. What was to be a short visit turned into a marathon of chatter, food, good company and wine... enough said. I read one of my horoscope things today (this is actually a tarot) and I have no idea what it means. Here is what it said, verbatim:

The Wheel card affirms that my alter ego is an Observer Participant, whose superpower, uncertain opportunity, acts as huckster in a carnival ride of free will, motive and time by assuming roles of game host and player linked by chains of events, or to hedge bets against a Greater Fool. Anything goes. Everything counts. Fate, Luck or a ""Cosmic Santa"" of Fortune assigned by relative to preordained or random turns are subject to short-sighted cheats or social brands of justice. But it's my entitlement, input, fear, or anticipation along the chain that ""spins"" labels into gold or coal! Today is a chance to fix, stir or dip into the Quantum Soup, boiling six degrees of separation from connecting to enough, waiting for the Karmic bill or dessert to close the meal in hindsight. But to self-correct by priority I put it on my list, pay my dues by choice and can see it coming to pass full circle."
So, am I supposed to be lucky or a loser... happy or sad... going to the carnival but have no money to buy tickets for the rides? If anyone understands what any of that revile means, by all means e-mail me and let me know. I don't know maybe it is the lack of sleep or the lingering effects of the wine but I have no idea what any of it means, wait, hmmmm, maybe that IS what it means, that today will be a total day of confusion due to the absence of control over my previous days activities? Yeah, I think I will go with that ideology. See, sometimes just saying things out loud makes it all clear.
Profusely yours,
Cat x

Mott the Hoople

Saturday is usually the day I lounge around in my pj's doing as little as possible for as long as I can. In fact there have been Saturdays that have found me in pj's all day and then right back into the night. A very relaxing day, but not a very "living" day. So I went to work yesterday for 2 hours, just enough time to serve the needs of the office and just the push I need to get my day on the go. I hate to waste a precious second of any day given to you. As the old saying goes "today is a present you give yourself", so with that in mind I went to work, had tea with a friend, and then went and bought some Lip Venom lip plumper (Just for one day in my life I would just love to have Angelina Jolie lips!) and picked up my sleeping pills (script). Yes, with a mind like mine it never wants to shut off, these pills give me nine minutes from the moment they hit my gullet till I am out like a light. So, on my way to the drugstore in Angus (the g is silent) a song comes on the radio, China Grove by the Doobie Brothers, I am singing along when a thought hit me, I wonder what ever happened to Mott the Hoople? That Mick Ronson, he was hot. Loved their music. Then Ian Drury jumped into the picture and I had a moment of silence for him and Robert Palmer. If you don't remember them, Ian sang, "Sex and Drugs and Rockn'Roll, he died of a heart attack at a very young age, must have been the sex, drugs and possibly the rockn' roll. Robert Palmer, same thing, heart attack. I wonder if they were playing charades at the time... you know they were having a heart attack when it was their turn but their team was so bad they had no idea what was happening, they're guessing " bad eggs?" "left your heart in San Fran?" "a bad Fred Sanford impression?" well, I loved their music and sorry that their time here on the planet was cut short. So if you know anything about Mott the Hoople... or don't... Google them and let's find out where they are.
Hooping you are all grand and really good charade players,
Cat x

Bad Choice

So lets see, it is the last day of school and then I am off for a week for March break... what can I do to make sure that I ruin my chances of having any fun?
OH... I know... as I get off the bus I will throw a rock at it and see what happens.
Oh, look, the window will break after the rock hits it...shit... I'm in for it now.

Yep, the kid just never seems to understand the consequences of his actions, this time it will cost him big... big bucks that is.

Looking for extra work to pay bus company,
Cat x

Choice of People

I have taken to writing my post the day after. This way I have more time to think about what and how I am going to put thoughts to paper (or screen), hopefully you will continue to read and add comments. So with that out of the way, here is what I noticed yesterday. I went out with the man I sleep with to get some oil. Hmmm, I mean oil that you put in an engine... a vehicle engine. Well what a let down, Wal-Mart was out of the stuff he was looking for. He decided that he would like to get a pair of jeans from Marks' Work Wear house... another disappointment, no jeans his size. I needed bananas so I trundled off to the Price Chopper next door to get some bananas. Entered the que to pay for the bananas (and avocado). Now here is where I see the difference in grocery stores. When you pay bargain basement prices for your "stuff" you will have people serve you who look like they should be in the basement or have spent most of their life in the basement. The girls and guys that work at Loblaws or Sobeys all look nice, just the sort of person I want handling the food that I am going to eat. Bargain basement.... lets just say that I was not sure if the clerk was looking at me or some far off ship coming in from sea.. the old saying one blew north, one blew east. To top it all off she had more of a beard, no, wait, more like a frenzied cluster of hair growing out of what I can only assume is a white mole on her chin. You know, shit happens, but obviously this woman with her eyes each blowing different directions did not notice the 4 inches of curly hair sprouting from her chin. Thing is would not someone else tell her? She must have a friend or even an enemy who would say "Hey, I think your cat spit up a hair ball and it is stuck to your chin!" or, "The hair institute is looking for donations of chin hair to make some wigs... you have enough for 3". Or maybe this is how she puts herself to sleep at night, stroking her chin, twirling the long hairs in her fingers until the sheep have all jumped over the fence. Whatever, my point is I don't want people who look like cretins handling my food. The bananas, well I have to check them and wash them before I even crack the peel, 'cause if I find a hair I will puke! So my advice for today is... you get what you pay for not only in product but also in visible service... I wonder of Pusateris has bananas?
Clean shavenly yours,
Cat x

It was a Delightful Evening

It was a delightful evening with good friends, excellent food and great wine. Chez Michel did not let us down, exceptional service and like I said, divine dinner. In this picture on the left is Ed(closest) then Russel and Cona, across from Cona is his wife Saint Teresa, Moi, and Ed's wife Tina. We had fun, we had dessert... what more could you ask out of life?

gastronomically yours, Cat x

Tuesday is good

Tuesday was a great day. Had a good time at work,spoke to all my favorite people, had lunch out (spinach salad with goat cheese and cranberries... yummy) and had a nice relaxing evening. As usual there is nothing, and I mean nothing on the TV. However, before nothing, there was something. Oprah. Her show today talked about where we come from. Lisa Kudrow of Friends fame has a new show on Friday nights which looks into the roots of famous people (I mean really, we are ALL famous in our own rights). I found it quite interesting to see that Brooke Shields great (x 5 or 6) grandfather was Henry the 4th. I think I am going to look into ancestry.com to see how the process works. Oprah had another fellow on, a Mr. Gates ,who has a show on roots on PBS. His process involves the search and sample of DNA. I would love to have that done, but not sure how to go about or how the process is factual. I think I will have to research those areas extensively. Like I have mentioned in previous blogs , there is a question as to whether or not I am related to the Swedish royal family... now what would totally make my life would be to find out that I am in fact not only related to the Swedish Royal family but also the English royal family, namely the Tudors... what a jolt to the system that would be! Oprah is having another great subject on tomorrow which I don't want to miss... how to walk in high heels. High heels make you look taller, slimmer and dare I say it ... sexy! Reminds me of my fav movie, "Kinky Boots" haven't seen it? Get yourself down to the DVD rental shop and watch it ASAP, you will love it! Well, I should go, I have some research to do and time is marching on towards my bedtime, us royals need all the rest we can get...
till next time,
branching on and out,
Cat x

Mundane Monday

Back to the start of the work week. Monday is one of those days that is a catch 22. First it is back to work after the weekend and you are feeling dismal at the thought of putting in another four hours (just joking j) and yet feel elated as you are on your way to another weekend. Monday is the day that feelings, emotions and just general "being" can be helter skelter. For instance, my Munday. Work was great, no problems, sun shining everyone happy... beauty. Ruffel went away overnight to his friend Bert's ... even better... no supper to cook. However, Munday I take the kid up to Collingwood for his Kumon (math) so I have to pick him up from school to get him there on time. I go to his school (I am running 10 minutes behind) to get him and go to pull into the parking lot. There is a school bus parked there and they are in the process of erecting little pylons, I'm thinking, Oh, bus must have a problem. The bus driver sees me and shakes his head no as to not come into that area, OK, I will wheel around and go in the other entrance which is about 25 feet away. This bus driver comes running towards me yelling and shaking his head again. I stop and back up and pull in to where there is about 20 feet of space behind the pylons and the bus. I park and get out of my car, I have one foot on the ground and this guy goes ballistic on me. He is a foot away from me screaming "You People! you cause problems, get out of the parking lot, get on the street, ROAR, ROAR, ROAR. Well, I was quite taken aback, never mind pissed off. My car was not in the way, is the school zone not supposed to be a safety zone? With a maniac like that loose on the grounds I am thinking that the school has gone off the safety grid. Now, all this guy had to say to me was "Excuse me, you can't park here, it causes congestion and is dangerous for the kids, could you please park on the road." If he had put it that way, no problem. But due to the fact that he went all crazy and psycho on me, I have no choice but to lodge a formal complaint against this asshole. See, you give a peon one iota of "power" and they turn into the Hitler of bus drivers. He's a fucking bus driver not the President of the United States for christ's sake. So, after that little escapade I make my way up to Collingwood, realizing en route that I have forgotten to bring the papers of work that the kid has done all week... crap... but I carry on any way. Take him into the Kumon center and explain to the lady in charge my forgetfulness, and tell her that the kid needs some extra help as he is just not getting the work. No problem. I think to myself "Self, I think you need a skinny latte from Starbucks to calm your nerves" so off I go down the road to get one. Now if you have never been to Collingwood let me tell you, it is the Innsbruck, Austria of Ontario. There are frigging skiers from everywhere here, especially now that it is spring skiing session. My luck I get behind an Audi full of them in the lineup. Then I realize that I picked the wrong time to get a coffee at the drive thru, the Audi has turned off its engine and the occupants are all piling out in front of the pick up window and start to do callisthenics ( jumping jacks, side bends, sky reaches etc) this goes one for a full 10 minutes. WHAT THE FUCK DID THEY ORDER? A drive thru is just that, a drive thru, the title says it all. It doesn't say, order a nine course meal and lets do a workout while you wait. By this point my afternoon is so crap that I can do nothing but sit and wait. There are others behind me so it's not like I can just back up and leave, which I would have done if i would have been able to. Oh well. I finally get my coffee which burps foam all over my arm and my white coat and down the console of the car... I should have expected nothing less. You would think that getting home would be a sigh at the end of the day, but like I said it is springlike here and every year at this time the house starts to cry internally. The kid has not been able to sleep in his bed for over a week, there is a bucket set up in the garage and one of my nice towel laying on the basement floor catching all the water rolling in there. Funny thing, when you put a roof on a house (Ruffel and his buddies did this) and there are 3 components to the kit... if you were left with one of the components at the end of the installation would you not wonder what the extra thing was for? Well is your name is Ruffel, you just crack open a beer, laugh about the extra bits and toast your buddies to a job well done. This spring ritual of christening the inside of the house with the winter melt has been going on for FIVE YEARS. But if something doesn't affect Ruffel directly, he just ignores it and hopes that it will go away. Yep, it was just a perfect Munday as far as I could see. Welcome to my world.
Dismally yours,
Cat x

Sunday

When I was a teenager, Sunday was the worst day of the week for me. My father would start to get into a depressed state as it was back to the old grindstone on the morrow. My mother would be anxious as it would mean the return to her routine of housecleaning, cooking and childminding. Friday nights and Saturdays were days of relaxation, shopping, or doing odd jobs round the house. As we had no family other than ourselves, there was no need to worry about going to see Auntie Jane or Uncle Frank to make them happy, as there was no Auntie Jane or Uncle Frank. No Sunday dinners with all the long lost relatives over for a free meal. I don't think it bothered my parents too much that they were so far removed from their families (ocean away) as they just loved each other and were quite happy living in their own little world. We never had company over, they never went to company parties, nothing, it was just us . Having grown up in that environment I have lived my life the exact opposite. I love to have friends and company over, to go out and have fun. I would rather cook a dinner for 15 than for 3. I don't think my parents had a lot of fun, or maybe I was wrong, they just had fun with each other and never let us kids in on the act. There is that old saying about you can't pick your family but you can pick your friends. I pick lots of friends. I like to think that I have a cornucopia of friends. Different friends for different things. You know what I mean, there is the friend who is great for philosophical conversations, the comedic friend who is always in a good mood and can make you laugh. There is even the "all knowing" friend who fills you in on all the goings on in the community without it sounding like the front page of the gossip magazine. There is the friend who always seems to have such crap happen to them, that your life doesn't seem so bad after all. Like I said, all kinds of friends for all kinds of reasons. I would like to thank my friends, I treasure them all. I have a treasure chest full of silver, gold, rubies and emeralds... some are a little tarnished and missing a few links... but friends none the less. Here's too you,
Cheers,
Cat x

Great Saturday

All I can say about this day was how fabulous it was. Great things abound in my life, coffee with two dear friends, shopping in Thornbury with said two friends. Bought a coat that is gorgeous and was 60% off... even better! Lunch was delish, sun shining brightly. Saw a great selection of good company at home and finished the day cuddling with my grandson. Life doesn't get any better than this.
Languishing in lusciousness,
Cat x

Drat

Do you remember when you were a kid and you were really hoping that you would get that pony for your birthday that you asked for? But you didn't. Some days are like that when you are an adult. Some days you spring out of bed ready for a great day, I mean the sun is shining, the north wind is not too to cold and there is the promise of maybe something goods gonna happen that day. Well, just like the pony that doesn't show up on your birthday, adults have disappointment in their days too. I can't really tell you what disappointment happened to me, Ruffel would get his nose out of joint, but ... The only thing with being an adult and having a disappointment is that you can buy wine... lots of it. Not that I will drink it all in one go, but at least I know that it is there in case I have a group of partiers show up... one can only hope! So why do we as adults let ourselves be disappointed? I mean we have enough life experiences that we should realize that it really is "same shit, different day". As a kid you never really expect anything to happen other than the usual, like breakfast at 7:15, lunch at noon, snack at 2:45 and dinner at 6:00, bedtime is 8:30, then you repeat the same routine the next day, just throw in school, hanging with friends maybe some sort of sport activity and a little TV for good measure. Pretty simple life, no high expectations like respect, valour, appreciation, just the basics. Some days I would love to be the kid again, other days when things are great as an adult, you couldn't give me all the tea in China to be a kid again, even with all the smooth tight skin that I remember having as a kid. I could never understand the dream of a fountain of youth, but now that I am in the desert of older age, I understand fully the need for a long cold drink from that fountain. Ah well, it could be worse... couldn't it?
Yours in wrinkle ship,
Cat x
P.S. If you were wondering why I didn't blog yesterday, send me an e-mail and I will tell you all about it.

Just Wondering

Do you ever wonder what people really think of you? If they ever look at you and say in their heads" Holy crap, how long do I have to sit here and listen to this and look as if I really give a damn?" I often wonder if I provoke those sorts of thoughts in the minds of my friends. My close friends here it all from me. I am a talker, a yakker, a yad about. I love to talk to people, but more importantly, I love to listen. I'm not trying to toot my own horn, but I really am interested in what people have to say. I love to hear about where people have come from, their experiences, everything. I think I perfected the art of listening ( it really is an art) while I was a hairdresser. You are standing behind a chair, combing someones hair and the words just spill out of their mouths. You would be amazed at some of the things that people have told me, things that they have probably not ever told anyone else. I think there is a feeling of safety under the cloak of anonymity. I have had perfect strangers tell me things that have made me blush. cringe, fret, cry and laugh. I wish I could tell you some of these things, but, the truth is I can't. It's not because I feel bound by some unwritten oath to secrecy but because truthfully, I just can't remember half of it. See, I have been listening to everything that they have been saying, but at the same time I am having a conversation of my own going on in my head. It goes something like this
" Holy crap, how long do I have to keep combing this hair and looking like I give a crap about what you are saying?" Just joking! I would never think that... well not all the time anyway. That's just my point, you can never tell what people are thinking, least of all your friends. That must be how the saying "Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer" came about. I really did care and still do care about what my clients and my friends now tell me. I just wonder what they think about me. Just my thought for today.
Thoughtfully yours,
Cat x

Family

I have a saying, "I come from a long line of dead people", I mean how true is that? Almost all of my ancestors are long dead. I still have family. My cousins,my siblings, my son, my grandson... they are the living connections of family. Where would be without our family? Probably happy with our friends and pets. The thing with family is that no matter where you go they are always there. Every little particle of you is made up of them. I just finished watching a very silly movie, I'm too embarrassed to tell you the name of it, it was so stupid. But what this movie did was remind me of my family roots... hmmm, that doesn't sound quite right... what I mean to say is this movie was full of family and the surprise connections that it shows. Sometimes you don't even realize who is part of your family until you see a flash of resemblance. I looked in the mirror tonight and saw a flash of my mother standing there, it totally unearthed me as I felt for a moment like I was not even me. Creepy. Only goes to show that we are who we are because of who has been. I don't know a lot about my family roots, there is little information to go on from the English side. The Swedish side has a bit more, but not much. My auntie in Stockholm has a theory that my grandfather (her father) is actually a bastard son of the Royal Swedish family. A theory I love and am going to hang on forever. It seems that my great grandmother was a " lady of the night" for the upper crust. No standing on the street corner waiting for any old horse and cart to roll by, no way, only the golden carriage and court yard would suit her. I wonder if there is a way to find out the truth? Do I really want to know the truth? Naw, if I found out that great granny was just a two bit so and so there would be no glamorous speculation left now would there? I will carry on thinking that we are some how lineal to the throne. Now my good friend "J" can claim direct lineage to the throne, the porcelain throne that is. She is a direct descendant of the inventor of the toilet, none other than Thomas Crapper, hence the name, the crapper, not to be confused with the clapper. Although I wish there was a crapper that would flush with the sound of clapping... just something to think about.
Majestically yours,
Cat x

Spring?

When you say the word spring, many different things, well, spring, to mind. You can think of the literal sense of the word, as in a spring in your step, spring into action, spring of water, wound tight as a spring, to spring forth or even a rusty old bed spring. Although, I am talking about the new season which will soon be upon us, Spring. The much anticipated burst of new green grass, daffodils, tulips, pussy willows, and fresh forest leeks. Spring is the proof of passion; new lambs, new foals, new calves, a season of rebirth and new birth. Not to mention the delightful rise in temperature, the lengthening of the days and the increase of both sun and rain. Spring is the release of emotions and energy. It is hard to be depressed or angry with all the gifts that come with the arrival of Spring. Although this winter has not been a particularly difficult one, it is not hard to say good-bye to the winter season. Here’s hoping your spring finds you full of new life, new hope and a renewal of passion.... maybe even a new bed spring, here are a few sayings to get you going...
There are no gardening mistakes, only experiments. – Janet Kilburn Phillips
The best use of life is to spend it for something outlasts life. - William James
No winter lasts forever, no spring skips its turn. – Unknown
Springtime is land awakening – The March winds and the morning yawn. – Lewis Gurzzal
Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill, laughed in the sun and kissed the lovely grass. – Rupert Brooke
Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush. – Doug Larson
Spring shows what Mother Nature can do with a drab and dirty world. – Virgil Kraft
In the spring, at the end of the day you should smell like dirt. – Margaret Atwood
Gardening imparts an organic perspective on the passage of time. – William Cowper
Right now in spring we are standing at a massive point of rebirth. – Lars Ulrich
And finally;
Spring is nature’s way of saying “Let’s party!” – Robin Williams

Yours in springship,
Cat x