Besties

My best friend Jess flew in from California last weekend for a girl's weekend.  Considering all the shit that's been going on over the last YEAR, it couldn't have happened at a better time.  We've been best friends since we were in high school and although she's lived in California for the last billion years we still are as close as we were as teenagers.

Here's what I've learned (or had forgotten and was reminded of) about Jess when she visited this weekend:

• When, after a long day of travelling, she is told that she can neither flush the toilet or have a shower because of an unfortunate hot water tank leak, she will accept it with unquestioningly good humour.
• She will spend an entire day of her vacation hanging out with me and a random plumber without complaining once.
• She still gets up at an ungodly early hour (I now know what 5:30 looks like on a Saturday morning...).
• She never lies.  I mean, she was never much of a liar to begin with but over the years she's honed her craft of never lying.  So, when you ask her what she thinks of your pants you'd better be ready for the truth.
• She will sit for hours while you attempt to perfect the waterfall braid on her hair.
• She loves sushi as much as I do.
• My dogs love her more than they love me.
• When I suddenly announce in the middle of Home Depot that we can only talk in British accents she will immediately start speaking in an English accent.  Even in front of the sales clerk who 3 seconds earlier heard us speaking without an English accent.
• She can do an awesome British accent.
• She has many nicknames.
• She thinks Charlotte the giant spider who lives on my deck, is as cool as I think she is.
• Her patience for my random "burst into songs" habit rivals Harold's.
• When I suddenly announce we will now be referring to Harold as "Hal" and only "Hal" she will participate with great enthusiasm.
• She will finish my left-over wine when the situation calls for it.
• She has a "Canadian" purse and an "American" purse.
• She still has to sit on her suitcase to zip it up.
• She will go on a late-night DQ Blizzard run with me.
• She knows immediately when I don't like someone - even when that person has no clue.
• French fries make her tummy hurt.
• When my asshole cat welcomes her to the house by pooping at the end of her bed, she will giggle when she steps in the asshole cat's poop.
• She is as amused by the term "Pea to the Nut" as I am.
• She makes me laugh so hard my ribs hurt for days afterwards.
• She is, and always will be, one of the most beautiful girls I know.

(Also - big shout-out to "Hal" for putting up with our giggling, annoying selves for three days)

Fifty Fun Facts

Last weekend, Celina the Pet Nanny was in town visiting from her beach home in Cabo, Mexico and myself and lovely Laura and a bunch of her other friends who I didn't really know met for drinks on a patio overlooking the lake.  It was lovely.  Until a huge storm blew in and we all got soaked because we kept insisting it wasn't going to rain even though we totally could tell it was (what with the black sky and deafening booms of thunder), and then when it actually did start to rain they were raindrops the size of small dinner plates and we had to run like hell from the far end of the patio to soggily congregate in an alcove off of the dining room.  (Hello run-on sentence!  Yay for broken promises of improved grammar!)

Anyway, the point of all of that was just to mention that in the course of our evening, Celina the Pet Nanny (do you know she gives me $0.25 every time I mention her name in my blog?  She'll deny it but it's true.) remarked that I had been ignoring my blog lately and I was all - right I have a blog and totally pretended that I had forgotten all about my blog and that I was much too busy to write anyway.

Which was actually a big fat lie.  I haven't been writing because I couldn't think of anything to write about.  Which is weird because I normally have a billion things I want to write about.

Anyway, I'm writing a blog post which is nothing more than 50 Fun Facts about yours truly in order to satisfy my 7 rabid fans who are salivating for an update.  It's a total cheat, I know it, you know it, my rabid fans know it, but apparently it's the best I can do at the moment.

I promise I'll eventually come back with something more interesting.  (Again, another big fat lie, I cannot guarantee that I will write about interesting things at a later date)

1. What is your best friend's Mom's name? Sherri.  Or Sheri?  Or possibly Sherry?  Kelly - excellent with the details since 1984.

2. Where is the weirdest place you have a mole? On my ear, which I know doesn't sound that weird but if I could adequately describe the part of my ear that it was situated on, you would understand.  I mean, it's not like it's on the lobe, that would be too easy to describe.  It's like, on that little curvy part that sits against your head, right next to the opening of the ear... see, I told you it was hard to describe.  If you ever meet me in person, just ask and I'll show it to you.  You'll be fascinated.

3. Who was the hottest teacher you ever had? I spent a good 15 minutes thinking back on all my teachers and realized that I sadly, did not have a single hot teacher.  I did have a geography teacher who was also the gymnast coach and would do like handstands and crap on his desk while he lectured.   Also, a good deal of my high-school teachers were the same teachers who had taught my parents, and although my parents are young, it gives you an idea of the age of my teachers and why I didn't consider any of them "hot".

4. Have you ever made out in a movie theater? No. I paid like $12 to see this movie.  I will save the making out for at home where it is free.

5. What body part do you wash first? Um, my face... doesn't everyone?  And if you don't - you're a weirdo and we can't be friends anymore.

6. Do you hover over the toilet in public bathrooms? Not usually.  I have a high tolerance for germs and general grossness.  Plus, I have a horrendous sense of balance so hovering isn't the best option for me.  Once, I had to use a thoroughly disgusting bathroom at a rest stop and I hovered.  Oh how I hovered.  Until I fell over because of the horrendous sense of balance I mentioned above.  If you think sitting on the toilet in a dirty, gross rest stop bathroom is disgusting - you should try falling onto the floor of one.

7. What's the strangest talent you have?  I can cross my eyes really, really well.  And then move only one eye so it's looking straight at you.  That's a talent right?

8. Do you have an innie or an outtie? I have an innie.  Outies are gross.  If you have an outie you are a weirdo and we can't be friends anymore.  Or at the very least - you can never show me your belly button.

9. What's your favorite flavored Pringles? Sadly, just the plain reduced-fat ones.

10. Have you ever been tied up? Yes.  And before you get all offended about my dirty dirtiness, rest assured it was not a sexual thing.  My best friend when I was very young had twin brothers.  Back then, we actually played games with our imaginations and they decided to involve us in their cops and robbers game. Which was fine until they left us tied to chairs for 7 hours (I'm likely exaggerating, it was probably like half an hour but even as a small child I was a drama queen).  

11. What was the last thing you ever got grounded for? I'm 37 years old. I haven't lived at home since I was 19.  I can barely remember what I did yesterday.  Basically, I have no frickin' idea what the last thing I got grounded for was.  If I had to guess though, I'd say it was most likely for "smart mouthin' my mother".  Are you shocked by that?

12. Do you parallel park or drive around the block? I parallel park.  Or I did - once to get my drivers license.  I haven't parallel parked since and there's a strong possibility that I never will.  Ben has offered to re-teach me and I have been seriously considering it for the last 6 years.  It would probably come in handy right?  Also, to add to my parellel parking shame, the best parallel parker I have ever witnessed is my mother.  She can parallel park like a pro.  You can imagine how embarrassing it is for me to be the daughter of a professional parallel parker.

13. Have you ever had two dates in one night?  I've barely had ONE date in one night.

14. How many times have you been cussed out?  Huh... none that I can think of.  But the older I get the more obnoxious I am so I imagine it's going to happen real soon. 

15. Which shoe do you put on first? I started thinking about this and realized I really didn't know.  So then I tried to practice on my shoes all casual like but then I remembered that I actually left my "comfortable" shoes at work this evening and came limping home in my heels that give me blisters and there was no way I was putting those shoes on again.  Then I was hit by the idea that I would try on Ben's sandals but because my feet are GIGANTIC, the sandals felt weird and my toes were hanging over the edge and I was so conscious of trying to be aware of what shoe I was putting on first that it just didn't feel right.  I'll have to try again when I'm not so self-conscious about my shoe putting on.  (If I had to guess, I would say right).

17. Have you ever been to a gay bar?  No but I've been to plenty of gay parties. 

18. Girls  This isn't even a question?!?  Stupid lazy fun facts.

19. Is there one thing all of your love interests have had in common? They've all been shorter than me.  Which is ironic because I love tall men. 

20. Did you French kiss before you were 16? Hell yes!  Of course I was five years old and playing kissing tag with my next door neighbour.  He was like 9 and I have no idea how he even knew what french kissing was but I do remember it was disgustingly wet and lasted about 3.5 seconds which was 3 seconds too long.  I didn't french kiss again until I was 16 and it too was disgustingly wet and lasted about 16.5 seconds which was 16 seconds too long. 

21. Have you ever been cow-tipping or snipe-hunting? No.  Why would I want to go and tip an innocent cow while it`s just trying to catch some sleep?  I mean, what if that particular cow suffered from a wicked case of insomnia and on the one night it actually manages to fall asleep, I come along and tip it over and boom - it's wide awake again staring up at some idiot human who thought it would be hilarious to tip a cow?  Insomnia ain't funny dude.

22. Who is the last person you usually think about before you fall asleep? Ben.  Or Clive Owen.  Or Tom Hiddleston.  But mostly Ben.

23. Have you ever had a poem or a song written about you? Does Woody's "Kelly" song from Cheers count?  Because I still pretend that song was about me.

24. If you had to choose to not ever wash your bed sheets again or not wash your bath towel ever again, which would you rather not wash? I can't even answer that question because I find it equally disgusting.  And that's coming from the girl who's bare ass once got up close and personal with the disgusting floor of a rest area bathroom in the middle of the woods..

25. Have you ever found anything in your parents' bedroom that was questionable? My dad had a bed once that was so high it had stairs built around it so you could get into the bed.  Is that considered questionable?

26. What was your childhood nickname? Kelly Welly. 

27. When is the last time you played the air guitar? A few weeks ago on a trip to Kamloops.  I made some travelling cd's (as you do) and "Pour Some Sugar" on me accidentally on purpose got added to the song list.  I dare you not to play air guitar when that song is playing.

28. Have you ever peeked in the opposite sexes locker room? No.  Am I missing out on something?  Because I've seen penises before and I'm not sure they're worth the stigma of being a peeping tom (sally?).

29. What's the weirdest thing you have done while driving?  Played air guitar to Pour Some Sugar on me. 

30. Have you ever bitten your toenails? Yeah, no.  Feet are disgusting and if you don't believe they are disgusting then you are a weirdo and we are no longer friends.

31. How do you eat your cookie? I've recently come to the conclusion that I am not a big cookie fan.  Perhaps it's because although I have mad baking skillz yo, I cannot bake a cookie to save my life.  It's pathetic - ask my mother about the time I had to Skype her so she could confirm that the cookie batter looked "normal".  For the record it did, but the cookies still tasted like straw.

32. When working out at the gym, do you wear a belt? What is this gym you speak of?

33. Name something you do when you're alone that you wouldn't do in front of others. Pick my nose?  Just kidding.  I would probaby pick my nose in front of others, (if by others I mean my mom while we're Skyping.  I constantly pretend to pick my nose when we Skype so that she will yell at me to "stop picking my nose!".  It never fails to crack me up.  Because I am 12). 

36. How many drinks does it take before you get drunk? Here's something weird about me - I don't get drunk.  I mean ever.  I can drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and still not feel drunk.  I mean, I'm not gonna drive or anything but I never get that happy, high buzz that other people get.  I just get really, really tired.  And I never have a hangover.  In conclusion, I rarely drink because I get nothing from it.

37. Have you ever sniffed an animal's butt? ::sigh:: Um, its me.  So obviously.  I have a billion animals and I worked at a vet's office.  I haven't just had to sniff butts but I've had butt juice from a small dog sprayed all over my arm (thanks Dr. Kate).

38. How often do you clean out your ears? I wash them every morning in the shower, does that count?  I'm leery about sticking things in my ears because my mother is a nurse and traumatized me with stories of people who went deaf from sticking q-tips in their ears.

39. Do you scrunch or fold your toilet paper? I'm a folder.  Always have been, always will be.  If you are a scruncher then you are a weirdo and we are no longer friends.

40. About how many times a day do you pick a wedgie?  Depends on the underwear I'm wearing that day.

41. Do you have any strange phobias? No, other than that every single time my husband leaves me to run errands or go visit friends or whateverI have a constant low-grade fear that he will get in a car accident and die.  It's not debilitating or anything and it's not so bad that he can never leave my side but it's something I am always aware of when he's in a car without me.  Because obviously me being in the car with him would stop the car accident from happening.  Kelly - being logical since 1998.

42. Have you ever stuck a foreign object up your nose? No.  Remember how my mum traumatized me with ear stories?  She had plenty of nose stories too.

43. What is the stupidest thing you've ever done at a bar? After a few hours of heavy drinking, I walked in to the bathroom to check on my best friend Jess who had disappeared into the restroom about 10 minutes before that.  She was in a stall barfing her guts up and in less than 15 seconds I was in the stall next to her throwing up.  There was syncronized puking for about 5 minutes and when it was over she laughed and giggled and told me how much better we probably both felt.  It was a bonding moment in our relationship if you weren't sure.  Also to be clear - the stupid thing was checking on Jess.  I was pretty sure she would be puking at that point and I should have went with my gut and sent one of our other coworkers in after her.  But because I am the bestest friend of all time, I walked into that bathroom knowing that I would probably end up puking.  I should seriously get like a medal or something for that.

44. Have you ever been dared to do something you totally regretted?  No.  I'm not what you would call a risk-taker and most people know that.

45. Have you ever called your love interest by an ex's name? Nope. 

46. Have you caught a guy/girl farting while on a date? Totally.  It counts when it's you that farted right?  Because I totally farted while on a date with Ben once (or several times probably) and then called myself out on it.  He was strangely unfazed by it.  That's when I knew he was a keeper.

47. Have you ever played naked Twister? No.  It sounds painful and unpleasant - or maybe that's just my bad sense of balance rearing it's ugly head.

48. Have you ever been drunk at work? No, but after the above-mentioned heavy night of drinking with Jess, she came to work still drunk the next morning.  But it was okay because there was about 7 of us who looked or were still drunk.  Except for me.  Because I don't get hangovers and so I was Miss Perky Sunshine even though word soon spread through our 200 plus employees that the 8 of us had gotten falling down drunk the night before and my boss totally called me into his office and asked if I needed some hair of the dog that bit me.  I said no before directing his attention to Jess who was currently sleeping under her desk (I wish that was a lie).

49. Have you ever found your date's/lover's brother or sister more attractive? Nope.

50. Do you want to bring sexy back? I don't even understand this question.  You young kids and your foolishness.  Get off my lawn!

Five Things

I've been blogging for a long time.  It doesn't look like it because my last blog self-destructed but trust me, I've shared a lot of personal stuff over the last 6 or 7 years. Because I have a remarkable lack of shame. 

Last night I was suffering from a fine case of insomnia and during the course of the long night I came up with a brilliant idea.  And so, here are 5 things about yours truly that I have never mentioned in my 6 year history of blogging.  

1.  I sing all the time. 

No, seriously.  ALL.THE.TIME.  I sing where normal people sing - in the car, in the shower, when I'm alone in the house - but I also sing everywhere else too.  I sing while I'm doing chores, gardening, while Ben's making dinner, when I'm visiting with friends, while I'm watching TV (mostly just during the commercials though), at work, and out in the general public.  Once, while I was standing in the vegetable section of Safeway trying to decide between broccoli stalks and broccoli crowns, a man picking out some cauliflower beside me, complimented me on my singing voice.   If he hadn't been approximately 97 years old I would have totally hit that. 

Oh, and if I'm not out and out singing, I'm usually humming.  I've been like this my entire life.  I drove my family CRAZY when I was younger.  The only time I don't sing is when I'm sleeping and when I'm in a bad mood.  And I have to be in a wretchedly bad mood not to sing.  In the 12+ years I have known Ben he has NEVER asked me to cork it with the singing.  Whether he actually enjoys the way I spontaneously burst into show tunes (or opera, or country, or pop...) at odd moments or is just excellent at tuning it out, I'll never know.  But I do know that his tolerance to my singing is in the top 5 list of things I love about him most. 

2.  I've never broken a single bone. 

Once, when I was younger I was riding on the back of an ATV with my cousin Scott while wearing flip-flops.  Take a bit of advice from me people - one should never wear flip-flops while riding on the back of an ATV.  The edge of my flip-flop caught the back wheel of the ATV and dragged my leg back and over and up and around the wheel (or something to that effect; I'm not entirely positive what happened to my leg mostly because I was distrated by the immediate and excruciating pain).  The flesh on my leg was shredded from ankle to knee and I had to use crutches for about a month but nothing was broken.  I have freakishly strong bones y'all. 

Incidentally, I totally lied to my mom about what happened so that Scott and I wouldn't get in trouble.  I told her that I had tripped while walking.  Tripped. While walking.  That was the best I could come up with.  Obviously my imagination (and my lying ability) has improved with time.  My mom just looked at me like, "Bitch, please." but let it go, probably because it was the middle of the night and she had just gotten home from a 12 hour shift at the hospital.  But the next morning when my leg was swollen to twice it's normal size and oozing all sorts of interesting bodily fluids, she made me tell the truth.  And then I got in an enormous amount of trouble for lying.  ENORMOUS.  Let this be a lesson to you kids out there - lying to your mom is never a good idea.

3.  I love to dance.  And I am terrible at it. 

I suffer from a truly stunning lack of rhythm, balance and coordination. I've mentioned my clumsiness before and that also hinders my ability to dance.  I literally cannot walk and chew gum at the same time.  I run into doors and walls and cages and other people all the time.  If I lift one foot off the ground I immediately start to tip over. Spinning in a circle makes me immediately dizzy - hell just thinking about spinning in a circle makes me dizzy.   I'm obssessed with shows like Dancing With the Stars and So You Think You Can Dance because I want to be able to dance like that.  Sadly, I never will.  Ben says that we should take dance lessons but I am afraid that with my giant feet and lack of rhythm, one of us will end up with broken body parts.  And since I have freakishly strong bones...

4.  When I was in my early twenties I nearly died from an ingrown hair. 

I was living on my own by that point and one morning I woke up and realized that my leg was kind of sore.  In fact, it was so sore I was limping.  Upon investigation, I discovered a large red bump on the inside of my upper thigh, just above my knee.  It was so painful to the touch that I had to wear a skirt to work that day; my pant leg brushing against it was like being brushed with fire.  I went to my family physician later that day, assuming it was like, I dunno, a boil or something, and that she would give me some ointment for it and send me on my way.  She took one long look at it, probed at it gently with her fingers and then gave me a strange look.

Dr. Meg:  Kelly, you need to go to the hospital right now.
Me:  I have to go back to work.
Dr. Meg:  No, you have to go to the hospital.  I am not kidding about this.  Do not go back to work, go straight to the hospital.
Me:  Um...okay?
Dr. Meg:  See how it's red all around the lump?  I'm going to take this pen and mark where the red is. 
Me:  Why?
Dr. Meg:  It's an easy way to let us know how quickly the red is spreading.
Me:  Oh.
Dr. Meg:  I'll call ahead and let the infectious disease people know you're coming.
Me:  Infectious disease??  Am I dying?  I'm dying aren't I?
Dr. Meg:  *pauses*  Nooo but you have a really bad strep infection.
Me:  Strep infection?  My throat's not sore!
Dr. Meg:  Sweet Jesus Kelly, stop arguing with me and get your ass to the hospital right now.

When I arrived at the hospital the infectious disease people were indeed expecting me.  I was hustled into a room and a stern looking doctor and an intern showed up within minutes.  The stern looking doctor examined my leg for a few minutes, poking and prodding at the lump with me hollering/crying in pain every time he touched it.  He frowned at the pen marks and asked when they had been made.  At that point, the red had nearly doubled in size and was well past the pen marks Dr. Meg had made.  When I told him about 20 minutes ago, he made a loud grunt of alarm and turned to his intern:

Infectious Disease Doctor:  If we start her on IV antibiotics immediately; there's a chance we'll be able to save the leg.
Me:  *blink, blink*
Infectious Disease Doctor:   She's allergic to penicillin so let's try her on clindamycin.  It should be powerful enough to knock back the infection.
Me:  Um, I'm starting to feel slightly alarmed here.
Infectious Disease Doctor:  Have you had clindamycin before young lady?
Me:  No, but if I may - did you say there's a chance you'll be able to save my leg?  Because it sounded like you said that but obviously I have misheard you. 
Infectious Disease Doctor:  You heard me correctly.
Me:  Am I dying?  I'm dying aren't I?
Infectious Disease Doctor:  You have an extremely serious strep infection that is on the verge of turning into flesh eating disease.   We're going to start IV antibiotics today.  If we're lucky and caught it in time and if the antibiotics are powerful enough you'll keep your leg.  If it doesn't work and it turns into flesh-eating disease, best case scenario - you lose your leg.  Worse case scenario - you die.  Do you understand me?
Me:  Perfectly.  Also, do you have a bucket I can vomit into?
Infectious Disease Doctor:  You can vomit after we get an IV into you and start the antibiotics. 

Obviously the treatment worked as I have all 4 limbs but it was hands down the scariest moment of my life.  After a few days of having an IV lodged in my hand and going twice a day to the infectious disease center to have antibiotics pumped into my body, the doctor actually ended up lancing the lump (at that point, the most painful experience of my entire life) and apparently it was full of an astonishing amount of pus.  Oh, and turns out that I was also allergic to the clindamycin but it had already knocked back a significant amount of the infection before I turned into a giant walking rash and had to switch to yet another antibiotic.

And how did I get this strep infection in my leg you ask?  An ingrown hair.  Apparently shaving can cause ingrown hairs. It's quite common and happens to a lot of people.  Only in my case I nearly died from an ingrown hair.   Could you imagine how lame that would sound in an obituary?  Seriously, I would have been all, "Tell them I was killed pushing a small child out of the path of a speeding bus."

5.  I have 6 toes on my left foot.

There you have it folks.  Five true things about me that I've never shared before on my blog.  Well, except for that last one, it's a total lie.  BUT!  I do have a brother with 4 kidneys.  Which will totally come in handy when I need a replacement kidney.

Fifty Shades of Ugh

Shall I share a secret with you?  I, the girl who has very few romantic inclinations and is far too practical for her own good, loves herself a cheesy romance novel.

I like to read.  I read a variety of books because truth be told, I like to read mostly for entertainment and reading for entertainment provides you with a large diversity of choice.  Biographies, murder mysteries, science fiction, horror, and yes, romance novels. 

I love me a good bodice ripper with heaving bosoms and stirring loins.  I love that all of the problems the couple face can be fixed and wrapped up with a neat little bow by the end of the book.  I love that the men are always handsome and strong and manly but in touch with their feminine side.  I love that the women are, for the most part, strong and independent but still believe in true love.  I love that the sex is always (ALWAYS) good. There is no awkward fumbling, no weird body noises, no bad breath or ill-timed head butts (I can't be the only person who has leaned in to kiss their husband passionately and ended up giving him a bloody nose...can I?).

Over the course of my 37 years, I have read thousands of romance novels.  I remember being teased about it as a teenager.  I didn't care.  For a fat, acne-covered, never-been-kissed teenage girl, romance novels provided the possibility of true love, the fantasty of a happily ever after, and, as an added bonus, a wealth of knowledge about what exactly was in a fella's trousers.   

There is a danger, of course, in reading romance novels when you're a young, impressionable girl.  It can easily give you a false impression of what a true relationship is like.   Luckily I was as practical then as I am now and while it didn't stop me from reading them, I was aware of their inherent falseness and oversimplicity when it came to how relationships worked.

Still, there is something comforting in reading a novel where the hero never complains that he's out of clean underwear, where the heroine doesn't have to stop and pick dog hair out of her mouth while kissing her beloved, and where the lovestruck couple never falls into bed only to have their coitus interrupted by two cats fighting on the bed beside them.

The point I'm trying to make is that romance novels (even the trashy ones) can be fun and if you're one of those girls (or guys!) who love to secretly read them, let me gather you to my ample bosom.  We are kindred spirits you and I.

So when all the hype started up about the new novel "Fifty Shades of Grey", you can bet I was intrigued and determined to read it.   Quickly dubbed "mommy porn" by the media, it was touted as a brilliant, groundbreaking erotic novel for women.  I read a few reviews that criticized it's clunky prose but hell, I had read Twilight.  How bad could it be?

I'm here to tell you.... so bad.  So very, very bad.

Should I give you a brief overview of the plot? (Be ye warned...spoilers ahead!)

Anastasia is a young, naive 21 year old who, after stepping in for her sick roommate, interviews a young billionaire named Christian.  It's lust at first sight, as it often happens in romance novels, but "Ana" quickly discovers the dark side of Christian.  Specifically, he's into domination and quickly draws up a contract where Ana will be his submissive.  They spend most of the book discussing this contract and, after Christian deflowers Ana, having hot, wild, monkey sex with some bondage and spanking.  Then Ana decides it's not for her and breaks up with him.  And that's basically it.  This book is 95% sex with a 5% attempt at character development.  We find out that Ana loves her parents, loves her roommate Kate, loves her platonic photographer friend Jose and loves Christian.  We discover that Christian is "Mrs. Robinson'd" by his mother's friend when he is a young man, that he doesn't like to be touched, and that he's a controlling bastard who confuses women doing everything he tells them to with loving them.

But let's forget about the RIDICULOUS plot for a moment shall we?  Afterall, this is the girl who has read thousands of cheesy romance novels and, let's be honest, a lot of them have dumber plot lines than this one.  The real issue for me is the absolutely atrocious writing.

It's as though a 16 year old decided to create the perfect man (Christian is tall, handsome, rich, bilingual, wants to singlehandedly end world hunger, and plays the piano like a pro) and then attempted to add a little kink by making him a control freak with an unhealthy addiction to sex.  I imagine her each night after her parents went to bed, huddled under the covers with her notebook and flashlight writing sex scene after sex scene while giggling uncontrollably.  Sadly, after a little googling, I discovered the author is not, in fact, a 16 year old girl.

Have I mentioned the repetition?  Using my handy Kindle search function, I discovered that Ana bites her lip 35 times, there are 58 references to her "inner goddess", Christian "cocks his head to one side" 17 times and Ana says "jeez" an absolutely stunning  81 times.  And that's only a FEW of the many repetitions in this book.

But I know what you dirty birds are really curious about.  Those racy, disturbing, dirty sex scenes.  Keep your pants on Martha. Between the monotonous repetition, the insulting implication that Christian can make Ana orgasm simply by touching her boobs, talking to her, or "cocking his head at her", and frankly, the decidedly tame "bondage and spanking" sex scenes, I could barely keep from nodding off.  I've felt more excitement in my naughty bits from riding a roller coaster.

Also, did you know this is a trilogy?  And is on the NY Times best seller list?  Weep with me folks.

Listen, do yourself a favour and DON'T read the book.  It's too late for me, I've read the first one and have been sucked into it's vortex of madness where I am compelled to finish reading the trilogy.  Do not let my noble sacrifice be in vain.

Spring

Spring has arrived and I think it's safe to say that both Harold and I have never been as happy to see the green grass growing and to feel the warmth of the sun on our skin, as we are this year.

Springtime brings thoughts of love, feelings of hope, and an appreciation for life as you watch green plants push their way through dark brown earth, encouraged to grow by the warm sun and soft rain.  It reminds us that while life is sometimes hard and sad, there is plenty of beauty to be found.

On Saturday the sun was out bright and warm, and when I arrived home from my early morning appointment I found Harold already outside preparing to mow the lawn.  He had stumbled on my to-do list while I was out and knowing how much I loathe cutting the grass, had decided to do that chore for me.

He pulled the dusty lawnmower from the shed, checking and replenishing the oil and gas levels, found my gardening tools in about 3 seconds when he overheard me whining that I couldn't find them and began the tedious process of cutting our already "too-long" grass.  I tended to my unimpressive but much-loved flower beds; cutting away the old growth, clearing out brown leaves, and digging up weeds.  I was sweating, the rose bush drew blood and my legs ached from squatting but I realized that for the first time in weeks I was happy.  

I took a quick break and joined our shepherd Hannah who was sunbathing on the deck.   I sat on the edge of the deck, feet dangling over the side, sweat on my forehead.  It didn't take long for Hannah to come over and lay down beside me, rolling on to her back so as to encourage me to rub her belly.  I obliged, running my hand over her belly, marveling at how thick her fur was and how warm it was from the sun.  I watched my husband mow the lawn, patiently pushing the lawn mower back and forth across the yard while our chihuahua Dexter trailed behind him. 

I closed my eyes, lifted my face to the sun and thought about how difficult life has been for us over the past 4 months.  Car troubles, plumbing troubles, mice infestations, and a lung infection/virus that just wouldn't quit. 

My brother became seriously ill requiring a hospital stay for him and an unexpected trip to Edmonton for me.

And then in April, Harold's dad, a man loved and respected and now, so missed, passed away. He died peacefully; surrounded by the people who loved him. 

A hard 4 months.  Full of worry and fear; sadness and loss.

Life just gets you down sometimes doesn't it?   The stress over finances, children, jobs, the death of a loved one, feels too heavy of a burden.   You start to forget the good; to fear that there is nothing happy left for you to reach for.

On Saturday I was reminded in so many small, meaningful ways, that life can be beautiful.

The prettiness of the flowers that my Jess sent us:

The pop of colour where previously there was only green:

The bright yellow blossoms of the forsythia bush.

The discovery that my beloved bleeding heart plant had survived the winter:

The sun-warmed fur of an old dog:

The first bbq of the season:

We all have small things that make us happy don't we?  Sometimes they're lost to us and we have to find them again.  On that Saturday I was so grateful for all the little things that made me happy that day.  But mostly I'm thankful that I could find happiness again with something as simple as watching the man I love cut the grass, while a small brown dog followed faithfully at his heels.

Sadie

Over 15 years ago a dog named Sadie was adopted by a young, newly-married couple.  Sadie had already been adopted and returned at least once before and while she was not a bad girl she certainly was... enthusiastic about living life to the fullest.

The first few years were a challenge for Sadie and the young couple as they worked through Sadie's issues but they never gave up on her. Their persistence and dedication to her was rewarded when Sadie mellowed out and became the dog we all knew she could be.

As the couple's lives changed, so did Sadie's.  She moved to a different country with them, living in various places until they found their forever home by the ocean.  She made numerous driving trips across the country with them and, in the cases where she couldn't join them, waited patiently at home, being a good girl for the dog sitter, until her mom and dad came home again.

The years went by and her body began to show it's age.  Her once black muzzle grew white, joyful bounding and running was replaced with a careful, dignified gait and shiny fur began to dull.  But although her body aged, her spirit, that joyful, loving spirit, never changed. 

She still smiled:

and relaxed on the couch whenever the occasion called for it:

Although not my dog, Sadie is a part of my family. She belongs to my best friend Jess and her husband.  I've dogsat her, walked her, spent vacations with her, laughed over her silly antics and worried over the phone with Jess over the years about various health scares.

A few days ago, Sadie's mom and dad took their girl to the vet for the last time. 

Although Sadie's spirit and body, nearly 117 in dog years, were ready to say goodbye, it was still an agonizing decision for her mom and dad.  It is my hope that, even now during one of the darkest times of their lives, they will always remember how much Sadie loved them.

Sleep sweet Sadie girl.  You are so loved.

A Tale of Two Dogs

We have family in town right now and as usual, they have fallen madly, deeply in love with our Gracie girl. 

It happens a lot.  Friends and family stop by and within half an hour they have been charmed by the yorkie/maltese cross that is Gracie.

I get it, I really do.  She is a lovely, sweet girl who, once she gets over her initial nervousness, will ask you very politely for belly rubs.  If you don't happen to be in the "giving out belly rubs" mood, she'll just curl up quietly beside you on the couch.  She weighs only 6 pounds or so and she fits perfectly on your lap.  She is perfectly content to do whatever you want to do.  Sleep, watch tv, go for a walk, go to the dog park.  Whatever you choose - she's got your back.

Guests LOVE her.

Do you know who they DON'T love?

This guy:

Like the love for Gracie, I get the dislike for Dexter.  He is very enthusiastic about house guests and his desire to greet them and love them and MAKE THEM LOVE HIM TOO!!!  He jumps up. He dances around your feet.  He nibbles and chews at your hands when you do try and pet him.  He can't control his unabashed excitement about your visit and zings around the house like a madman, prancing and leaping and bouncing with the pure, simple joy of making new friends.

He weighs 13 pounds when he should only weigh 6 pounds.  He's not fat, just a mutant.  But he believes he only weighs 6 pounds and is the appropriate size for laps.  He has a licking problem.  When you sit down he'll stand against you or on you, and attempt to lick your brain clean via the inside of your ears.  If you're a woman he'll attempt to stick his head down your shirt and lick between your boobs.  He is RELENTLESS about this.  He licks the other dog's ears, the cat's ears and the bunny's ears.  He has a thing for ears.

He has no concept of personal space.  Where you are, why he must be too.

Trying to snuggle on the couch with daddy?  I must sit between the two of you.  No - not beside daddy, between you.  If mommy is sitting on the couch, a part of me must be touching a part of her at all times.  Need to tinkle mom?  Here, I'll escort you to the bathroom!  Going outside for 2 seconds to put the paper in the recycling bin?  I'd better go with you.  Going into the bedroom to get socks?  I'm good at picking out socks!!  And if you don't let me do any of these things with you, I will stand at the door and whine and cry pathetically and LOUDLY until the entire neighborhood believes you are beating me.

He is like this, to a certain degree, with houseguests.  He will try jumping at them to get their attention.  He'll lick their ears if given the chance and he wants to sit beside them on the couch and will fervently try to cram his 13 pounds of bony knees and elbows into their lap at every possible opportunity..

I've lost count of the amount of times visitors and/or houseguests have threatened to steal Gracie from us.  With the exception of Celina the Pet Nanny, no one has ever threatened to steal Dexter.

Obviously I failed at turning Dexter into a well-behaved dog and I take full responsibility for this.  Celina the Pet Nanny/Canadian Dog Whisperer could only do so much and believe me, Dexter would be about 10 times worse if he hadn't had some training sessions with Celina and Mirek.

But this isn't about who is to blame for Dexter's disobedience (me) or weird ear fetishes (no idea who is to blame for THAT one).  This is about how appearances are deceiving. 

Gracie?  Our small, sweet pretty little girl suffered from such severe separation anxiety when we first brought her home that she pooped and urinated and howled and screamed and barked herself hoarse within the first 5 minutes of being left alone.  For the first year and a half that she lived with us I spent $300 a month on dog care for her.  That's $5,400 dollars she cost us.  And I couldn't just drop her off at any old dog care facility because did I mention Gracie isn't a fan of big dogs?  And to be at a dog care you have to get along with ALL dogs.  I had to put an ad out and interview a bunch of weird and scary people before I found the perfect person to look after her.    Every morning for a year and a half I drove 20 minutes extra in the morning and 20 minutes extra in the evening to drop her off and pick her up from doggie daycare.  After nearly 2 years of medication, a stable home environment, and progressively longer periods of being alone, Gracie is now weaned off the meds and can stay home alone with the other dogs.  But it was a long, frustrating and expensive 2 years.

Dexter?  Two days after he came home with us, he was sleeping in his crate all night without a peep.  After a week with us he would gladly go into his crate for the day for nothing more than a cookie.  He had his bed, his bowl of water and his stuffie.  He was good to go.  See you when you get home mommy!

Dexter eats a lot of inedible objects...rocks, sticks, socks, hair bows from Gracie's head.  You give it to him he'll try to eat it. 

Gracie eats shit.  That's right, you heard me.  She.Eats.Shit.  She's partial to a particular brand of shit - mainly Hannah the Shepherd's Shit and if you do not watch Gracie outside like a hawk every single moment it won't be long before she is standing underneath Hannah's squatting body with an upturned face and an open mouth like Hannah's ass is the world's best soft serve ice cream machine. 

And if she happens to miss it fresh from the factory?  No problem!!  She'll eat stale shit too!  And then she'll come and try to kiss you with her shit-stained tongue.

Dexter is a chihuahua.  That means he is miserable, bites, hates children, hates other dogs, and yaps non-stop right?  Apparently Dexter forgot somewhere along the way that he is supposed to be a miserable jackass of a dog.  He loves EVERYONE.  And I mean everyone.  Adults, kids, other dogs - it doesn't matter to him.  He'll try and make friends with everyone.  Big dogs, little dogs, big kids, small kids. Shy kids, friendly kids, kids who grab his tail, kids who chase him around the dog park.  He gives everyone a chance.

And before Gracie came along the only time Dexter barked was if the doorbell rang.  It's a surprisingly non-shrill bark for a chihuahua.

Gracie is nervous and snappy around dogs she does not know and a pushy and domineering asshole to dogs she does know.  She is food aggressive and snarly with Dexter when he tries to cuddle her and she attempts to be pack leader on a regular basis. 

She also has that shrill - makes you want to stab yourself in the ear drum with a sharp pencil - bark that she puts to excellent use.  The tiniest little noise sets off a volcanic eruption of barking that DOES NOT STOP.  And she encourages the other dogs to join her.  She welcomes us home from a long day of work with that same shrill, non-stop, screechingly loud barking and she will.not.shut.up.  Especially if her "daddy" is in the room. 

Also, she makes no attempt to disguise the fact that Ben is her favourite person in the entire world.  I may be Dexter's favourite but he at least pretends to be enthusiastic about seeing Ben.

There's no real point to this post other than that it never fails to amuse me that our houseguests want to steal our pushy, dominant, shit-eating "I will cut a bitch and not think twice about it" Gracie over our sweet, "What the World Needs Now is Love, Sweet Love..." Dexter.

First impressions are deceiving in dogs too y'all.