Beware Loud Squealing and Fuzzy Pictures Cause*ZOMG*, It's HERE!!!

I love Canada Post. With my whole, itty bitty little heart I love them. Because today -- a full TWO business days before it was supposed to arrive... THIS was delivered.


While I hope to give you the tell-all exclusive scoop on the contents of the box, what I wasn't able to photograph was the invoice. Let me tell you, though, that this 10kg box from Vancouver, BC holds the equivalent of many, many birthday presents. So, I'm going to enjoy opening it as I likely won't be opening anything else for a few years!!

There was a knife involved. And also a very silly face.


Followed by much ripping and throwing of packing paper to reveal...



STUFF!!! I am so happy! :D

First, let's check out the brainsaver! A sweet little S-One skate helmet that has not even a scratch on it and thus screams Fresh Meat. I wonder who will give me the first knock about? And, look, it comes with a sticker!

Let's try this on.

Hmmmm... I'm going to have to work on this Mean Face. Not quite there, yet. :(


Radar Pure outdoor wheels cause soon this snow will melt and I'll get to Take It To the Streets, Man... What? They're really pretty soft and bouncy and I've got some good China Bones bearings in them so they'll hopefully ride nice.


Protective gear... there's a lot of it and I did try it all on but I'll only post the ginormous mamajama knee pads. I expect to be using these lots. :) I'll post some pics of my black mouthguard smile after I fit it tonight. Right now it just looks ridiculous. Well, it's a mouthguard and it's going to look ridiculous no matter what, but it looks even worse before it's been fitted. Hopefully it will help up my Mean Quotient by a point or two.



Some tools and toe guards and stickers and what not.



And finally, the warhorses that I will ride to derby glory -- or a painful, fiery death over the rails -- my Riedell R3 derby skates. I bought Fugitive wheels w/ pushers for them. The Fugitive is a speedy wheel which means that they're not as grippy, so... add two "pusher" wheels (slighty softer and grippier) on the inside track side to counteract gravity and you've got a great combo of speed and handling. Now I just have to not screw it up with human error and I'll be smokin'!




Now I just have to fight off the urge to skate around the house. Gah.

So Far, So Mediocre...

My girl JJ just posted an adorable little bit about how Elmo and Andrea Bocelli have captivated her littlest guy's attention of late. And as I listened to the do-over of the beautiful ballad "Time To Say Goodbye (Goodnight...)" I could very much imagine my sweet, serious nephew enjoying his time with a Classic.

And I've realized that we've dropped the ball, here. Cause rather than anything enriching and educational or enlightening? This is what my kiddos' attention has been arrested by lately:







I admit that I'm a little besotted, too. I really, really, REALLY want this guy's job. And barring that... I want a Blendtec blender of my own. I promise to only use it for non-destructive smoothie and daquiri/sangria purposes, I swear.

That Was SICK!!!

In the words of a song penned by Blur...

WOO-HOO!

I don't even know what to say except I loved it like Friday. It was so much more fun and interesting than I expected and I was actually pretty slick at it, too. And finding out that you don't suck at something is always a welcome surprise!!

We started the night with some laps and then went on to learning a bunch of falls, slides and glides at a blistering fast pace. I really can't believe all the stuff I did. I never would have thought that in two hours instruction, I'd be doing single and double knee falls and baseball slides, Supermans (double knee slide into a full plank slide) and Commandos (one knee slide into a shoulder rollover back to your feet) and 180 degree single knee sliding turns. Way freaking cool.

There was also some hellacious squat training, followed by more hellacious squat/crossover training and then some pushing drills and Sticky Skate drills (skating without lifting your feet from the floor.) Then we followed up with a core strength workout. Punishing. I loved it.

I was wearing some borrowed skates which were absolutely horrific and after the practice, one of the girls let me lace up with her derby skates. Sweet Mother. Twice as fast and solid, too. I am so going to love getting my new gear.

I am so glad I went... props to Mr. F. for the push I needed tonight. Now the only thing I'm dreading is how sore I'm gonna be in the morning. I swear I tore it all up tonight and things will be complaining tomorrow. Loudly.

Could Someone Turn Up The Invincibility In Here, Please?

Roller Derby Fresh Meat night tonight. Not exactly a try-out, just yet. But it's close. They'll be watching me. I'll be watching them. I really have no clue what I'm doing. Well, almost no clue.

I started out looking forward to this night, hoping to make at least a decent impression, but now? Now I just hope that I don't break something or split my face wide open on the track. Cause that would suck.

In the spirit of Nervous Energy and Needing a Kick in the Butt to Pump Me Up... I'm throwing some music up here. And, if y'all have some good, firey suggestions to add to the mix, do it! If it gets you movin, makes you feel like a billion dollars or like Captain Kirk shagging an alien chick, post it! Consider it your service to the Derby World and the Good of Flutterby. Also, prayers concerning the safety of my face and limbs would be greatly appreciated. :)





**Compliments of Cocotte: Garbage, "I Think I'm Paranoid" and No Doubt "Just a Girl" The Garbage song brings to mind PS2 Rock Band nights. FUN!! \m/

Stink. Stank. Stunk.

Tonight I had a couple things to go out for, so I grabbed my iPod and threw on my trainers (YAY! No more winter boots for now!) and jumped into Rocket. I got halfway down the street before the gagging started.

No, I'm not pregnant. (JJ! Sit back down.)

It seems that the other day when I was out with all great intentions to go to a free skate at a local arena and got sidetracked by Other More Important Matters, (namely not breaking the law, among others...) I forgot my hockey skates in the backseat of the car.

Which... had they actually been MY hockey skates, this would not have caused a problem whatsoever. But. Seeing as I had mistakenly grabbed Mr. F.'s hockey skates by accident... yeah, a much more offensive and noxious problem had arisen.

I'm not sure what made Day Three so horrifically worse than the other days. (I really hadn't noticed before and my nose is pretty sensitive to stuff.) I'm thinking the warm weather, combined with Rocket sitting in the dark garage all day caused the smell to reach critical mass within a matter of hours. And it is Critical. I'm not sure Rocket will recover. It's like the hand of God reached down and plunked a 20-year old mouldering hockey bag in front of the heat vent and let it simmer for 24 hours. I swear the windows are even foggy.

Rocket and I most definitely have a date tomorrow to get things cleaned up and smelling good again. I may even have to buy flowers, cause I don't think he's even talking to me at the moment.

And I'm going to have to consider putting some pink laces in my skates.

Miss Hospitality.

Day Two at my new job as front desk clerk at a little hotel here in Fluttercity is done. I'd like to say what most people say about how they're Not One To Jump To Conclusions but I can't cause I'm totally about the jumping prematurely.

So, on with the jumping! I think I'm gonna like this job. I'm working 8 hour shifts instead of pulling in bits and pieces of 4, 5 & 6 hours at a time which is nice. I don't get any paid breaks, so to speak -- I'm the only one on duty for my shift, so it's not like I can bugger off to get groceries on a break or whatever; but during slow times I can kinda do what I want to so long as my duties are taken care of. Maybe I'll get to catch up on some reading or make insanely large friendship bracelets to give away (only to people who promise not to lose that one-of-a-kind masterpiece!) or learn to burp the alphabet or some other redeeming use of my time.

I like that I can chat up all different kinds of people from all different walks of life and generally be a helpful person which always makes one feel good about their job. The tasks are straightforward and my manager is a pretty decent sort (he thought I was 20, which puts him pretty much Tops in my books!). An older gentleman who takes pride in his job, even though I'm pretty sure it's beneath him in terms of his education and life experience (I think I heard him speak three different languages today). I helped him reorganize his office today. After I decluttered and organized the front desk area during some down time, he came out of the office, took one look around and got an inspired look in his eye. "Come here" he says, and once in the office asks me what I would do to make this all look better. So, we set about to tearing that baby apart and made some pretty good progress.

Hmmm... maybe my true calling is some sort of job as an Organizer. That is an official title, is it not? Flutterby, Organizer Extrordinaire. Sounds good to me. I should maybe try out some of these skills on my house tomorrow as it needs it badly!

One thing I like about myself is that I find it easy to see potential in things. But a big drawback to that is that I find myself taking over stuff and trying to make my Vision come to life. And so, I'm here in this place and I'm redesigning signage (which my manager loved, "Very professional", he said. *grin* I don't think he read my resume very thoroughly!) and thinking about how some fresh paint and fresh flowers could really be a nice touch. And I'm wanting to source out a better supplier for our continental breakfast cause we're going out of the city for the current one and the stuff frankly is sub-par and more expensive than another place I know of. And... I can be a real pain in the butt if I don't stick a sock in it. Which I thankfully know how to do. Most of the time.

Anyway, I'm off to a good start, I think. Now I just have to get used to the 5:30 wake up and I'm golden.

I Really Want To Know.

Say that you -- hypothetically, of course -- know Someone who was sorting laundry. And this Someone, while checking pockets for stuff that shouldn't be washed, possibly may have happened upon something in the pocket of her hoodie.

Very possibly a red and yellow sour soother candy. Very possibly left over from an inventory shift involving free candy the night before.

Not that I really would know, or anything, I'm just sayin'.

And, having seen the sour soother (or whatever kind of red and yellow candy it was, not that I would know...) and having realized that it had only been in her pocket for one day, this charming and reasonably attractive (let's just assume...) Someone popped said candy into her mouth before realizing that she just actually ate something that had been in the LAUNDRY PILE. Albeit, in a clean pocket in the laundry pile, but still... in the LAUNDRY PILE.

What I want to know is... how GROSS is that, really? Consider this a formal Informal Poll and let me know what you think. I tried to work out a really awesome Hypothetical Situation Evaluator, but I'm working on four hours sleep, here, people.

So, what do you think?

Me, As Played By A Thirteen Year Old Girl.

Ho. Lee. Crap.

I'm out running some quick errands before my free skate time, one which involves some banking, which involves flashing some government issued ID, which involves the room going all fuzzy and my eyes becoming freaking umbrellas cause I happen to spy out the fact that my driver's license Has Not Been Renewed.

As in, is almost two whole months overdue. As in, I have been (ALLEGEDLY!!!) driving illegally for almost two months. As in, Flutter could be in the clinker, the slammer, the hoosegow, the big house, the brig, the pokey, the cooler... I could be a Criminal.

And, as if that's not bad enough, after I slink into a parking spot at the insurance agency... I manage to dig deeper into my purse and discover that one of our vehicles has also not been insured for just as long.

--insert swearing HERE--

Clearly, this whole Adult thing is just a charade and I am nothing more than a slobbering idiot with the maturity of a pre-teen girl. Worse yet, I have to let Mr. F. in on the whole thing. He will either be greatly entertained or gravely disappointed. I'm currently working on a strategy mostly involving looking very small and very cute, much like a fluffy and adorable little hamster. And if that doesn't work, I always have my fallback. Sexual favors.

But, I'll have to convince him I'm an adult, first.

I'm Pretty Sure This Is All Meaningless.

I'd like to think that all the fabulousness cannot be contained in just one post... but face it. It can be. Here goes.

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I have one more warehouse shift and it happens to be working inventory until almost midnight. My mad counting skills have been claimed by the HABA and OTC (Health and Beauty Aids, Over The Counter) centres, which means that I officially have the WORST warehouse inventory area. I will be crossing my eyes over hundreds of vitamin bottles and tiny boxes. For eight hours. But, I get free candy and drinks (errrr... pop, to be more specific. No coconut rum for me.) which makes up for it a little bit. :) Did I mention that I also get to count condoms? Yay.

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School is kicking into gear for the Princess and I can't tell you how many permission forms I've signed and cheques written for extra-curricular stuff lately. The school has partnered with an Arts program and is offering ROCK 100; putting together two bands of grades 5,6 &7 students and they will be actually creating, marketing and branding a band. Also, they're learning to actually play a few songs and there will be a concert at the end of April. Enrollment was really limited and somehow the Princess snagged a spot. And while I'm all for parental pride and what not, I'm really not all that sure why they chose her as she doesn't play an instrument AT ALL. She does have a lovely little singing voice, but is too shy to actually ever sing in front of people. Anyway, I know she'll love it and hopefully it will spark a bit of a desire to take some lessons with an instrument or something. God knows I've tried to convince the girl... some things are beyond my powers.

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The Kid has two VERY loose front teeth. So loose that every day I look at him, they are pointing different directions. Which is kinda trippy in a gross MyKidFreaksMeOut sort of way. I've been trying to convince him to let me Take A Look, which is parent-speak for Rip Those Suckers Out Of There. (at least, that's been my experience growing up.) but he manages to effectively deny me the opportunity. And honestly, it doesn't take much. I'm woefully unprepared to Rip things out of mouths. The Princess has taken care of all of her own loose teeth; a fact she is quite proud of and I'm most grateful for. The Kid's two bottom teeth came out at my hand, but it was quite the accident as I was just showing him how to wiggle his teeth properly (he tends to be a light touch and just wibble them a bit which we all know will not get one Anywhere where loose teeth are concerned) and they popped out to our mutual surprise.

However, I am finished with being creeped out by the creepy, crooked teeth in the Kid's mouth and am ready to take things a bit more seriously. Any hints, tips or tricks would be greatly appreciately. So long as they don't involve doors and string.

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I am longing for some grilling weather. I'm tired of stews, ragouts and casseroles and other oven-ish stuff. Usually March is my official Break Out the BBQ month, but I'm hoping that we've put in all our time with the super cold weather and maybe temps will break earlier this year. I could handle grilling in February. And, maybe... if the weatherman actually hits the forecast right (0 degrees, baby!), the BBQ might make an appearance this weekend. Man, that would be nice.

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Fresh Meat night with the local Roller Derby club is coming up soon and I'm a little bit obsessed. Six more sleeps, y'all. I've been told to start thinking of a Derby name and number, as, if I make the team I'll have to register one. Derby names are all registered in a national database and must be unique. They must also be a bit nasty and spanky and fun. I've got a few in mind already, but if anyone wants to contribute something -- please feel free to drop me a comment or an email. I'm hitting a free skate today to work on some basic stuff. Ice skating is a bit different than quad skating, of course, but the physics is the same. I already know the Sticky Skate skills and stopping and what not, but I am rusty for sure. Time to brush up. I'll be hurting tomorrow I'm certain.

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We recently ordered some furniture to replace some well-worn (AND HOW!!) pieces upstairs in our family room. I'm so excited to finally move those stinky couches out of there, but I'm a little bit nervous about the new cream-coloured cushions surviving life in the FlutterZone. Maybe it was a poor choice, but there wasn't really anything else that Mr. F. and I could agree on. Perhaps I should hire a couch nanny, whose only job is to sit in the room and shoo away any children with food or drink. Practical? No. But it just may be the thing needed. And, as a bonus, these fragile little cushions may just up the class factor around here and put an end to all the Homer-Simpson-shirtless lounging Mr. F. is prone to do. Imagine that, a lowly cushion may just do the thing that 13 years of wifely Suggestions could not do. I am humbled beyond belief.

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So, now, the weekend. Well, inventory and the weekend. Some skating, some visiting with family and maybe some grilling and then, on to my new job. Have a good weekend y'all.

As The World Turns.

I confess I am a people watcher. If I'm waiting somewhere, anywhere -- Dr's office, parking lot -- chances are I'm watching you.

I'm not picking apart your wardrobe or wondering why the heck you're such a hot mess. It's more about that look in your eye or why you're walking with your shoulders rounded down today. I guess I'm fascinated by the story that I see in people. The mystery of trying to figure it out.

Some people are easy to read; sometimes their current situation is all you see... the stressed mom with kids trailing behind and packages in hand; the squabbling couple who thinks they're being discreet. Sometimes peoples "unseen" deeds are seen; the surreptitious littering or quick nose-digging. The gracious opening of a door for someone who needs help or letting someone else step ahead in line.

Occasionally, you get to see moments of brilliance and courage; the ill man with dark circles under his eyes who is struggling to do the simplest of tasks, but perseveres for the sake of continuing normality in his life. The determined look of a child in a wheelchair, working hard to keep up with his family in the parking lot. The careful application of lipstick on a lined and age-worn face as an elderly woman reminds the world that she once was a beauty. The trembling hand of a woman with a neurological issue which bears the shaky lines of nail polish.

I guess I see myself in these stories, in these passers-by. They are a parade of my past, my present, my future, my good, my bad, my embarrassed slips and graceful saves. They are a parade of emotion and a reminder that even the mundane moments in life are Seen. The world goes on and we are Seen.

There's a beauty in that which never fails to touch me. And so I watch. And smile. And sometimes I weep. And hope that somewhere, sometime; I will be Seen, too.

Kitchen Mojo

Not that kind of kitchen mojo, you freaky, freaky people...

But the kind of mojo that used to have me pencilling out weekly meal plans with all six food groups (I added Chocolate, OK?) and homemade ingredients. The kind of mojo that saw me baking bread once a week and making pancakes on the weekend.

Yes, the kind of mojo that takes time and discipline and actually being home at supper-time. Three things which have been on short supply around here, lately. My family isn't starving... there are nights that I'm home, after all; and often I'll make something ahead when I know I'm working the next day. Mr. F. is getting better at some kitchen stuff, too... surprisingly good, actually. But I feel like I'm starving.

A big part of being a Mom, being a homemaker, is taking care of and providing for your family. There's something really great about knowing that everyone at the table is satisfied and enjoyed their meal and that it was something you Made for them. And after you've spent the biggest part of your Created Family Life defining yourself in this way, it's a bit hard to adjust. To change. To reframe it. I feel pressure to be all that I was before, but also to be More.

Last night, while I was out getting groceries... for the first time ever I bought a pre-made chicken dish (Chicken breasts stuffed with broccoli and cheese) and was struck by the irony. I used to look at that stuff and think "Boy, would it be nice to be able to afford to buy stuff that's already made for me..." but I ended up actually throwing them in my cart as a concession to a work schedule that won't allow me to be home around meal time this week but does allow me the extra money to buy stuff like that. And I didn't like that feeling one bit.

I think that my new job will be an easier sell on the family life; and hopefully this means that my kitchen mojo will return with a vengeance and everything will be back on track once again. As for tonight; Mr. F just called and we're taking the kids out for appy's at two for one night. What a great guy. :)

Pachelbel Rant

Just a funny bit related to my last post. Enjoy.

Love Remains the Same

Gavin Rossdale's newest single pairs a sweet, progressive melody with strong, husky vocals and tops it all off with tender sentiment. It will be stuck in your head, guaranteed.

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I swear there's something to predictable, leading chord progressions that make a song "easy" for your brain to get stuck on. I wonder if it's scientifically provable; if the code can be cracked... would I be rich if I could figure it out??


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And, just for kicks and giggles... some old school Marky Mark complete with some awkward bromance moments and a shower bit that left me feeling a bit confused about just what was being communicated. And yet... appreciative.

Mom! She's Doing It Again!

JodyJ recently did a questionnaire on her lovely little piece of blog-space and -- besides the fact that I'm a hopeless copycat -- she expressed interest in knowing one of my answers to a question that was part of the interview. And, well... it would be a bit weird to devote a singular post to that question, so I thought it best to do the whole interview.

Here goes:

1) What was the last thing you did before you came online today? Made a cup of fantastic coffee and thawed out one of my grandma's muffins for breakfast. (Banana/chocolate chip with extra nuts.)
2) Do you prefer a bikini panty or thong? Depends on the pants, I guess. Denim works with anything, but dress pants and anything white shows pantylines. (right, Therese??!)
3) Latest product you've purchased? Ravin Rabbids Wii game. And, yes... it's fun. I just spent part of the morning shooting chicken zombies with the Kid. Heaven.
4) Last book you read? The Princess is reading "The Diamond of Darkhold" to me at night.
5) One childhood memory? I remember being about 8 years old; Little Bro was 4 and the folks went out for an evening and got a neighborhood boy to babysit. Little Bro woke up late at night, crying from a nightmare and babysitter, "D", was nowhere to be found. I told Little Bro I'd find him and started searching the house. Went downstairs and found two sets of eyeglasses on the console stereo... Opened the door to the spare room/playroom and... HolyCrapBoobiesAndStuff!!! I think I scared "D" and his girlfriend half to death (both in the Moment and with fear of the wrath of the Parents Finding Out) and the worst part was that the little tramp used my favorite stuffie to, errrr, COVER UP! Ewwwwwww.
6) First Kiss? I was *cough* twelve (ALMOST THIRTEEN, Y'ALL!!!!) and sorta "going out" with a guy a bit older than me by a couple years. (Which, hello? Like I knew at all what I was doing...) My grandparents were watching me for the weekend and he came along with us out to a farm where they were to look at a motorhome that was for sale. Kittens were running about and we followed them around, ending up behind some kind of outbuilding or shed. Little Flutter, meet Lips. Don't forget to breathe. I said... Don't. Forget. To. Breathe.
7) What color of nail polish are you wearing? NONE! I'm working in a warehouse and constantly shredding them on boxes and heavy stuff. I usually only keep a clear coat on or something light colored (french mani, etc.) if at all, anyway. I don't have nice nails at all.
8) What are you wearing? Brown ballet capris, tank and black hoodie. Fashionista I am not.
9) Last phone call? My mother-in-law.
10) One New Year's Resolution? Posted bout that already.
11) Something new you want to try? What? I'm supposed to be ambitious, now? OK... I kinda would like to try roller-derby.
12) Something you haven't done for a while and want to start up again? I want to start skiing again this winter and get the kids started, too.
13) Favorite chocolate bar? Hmmmm... probably Snickers. Skor is a close second.
14) Long glamour nails or short nails? I can't grow my own nails worth crap. :( But, the few times I've had gel nails, I've still kept them at a sporty length and french manicured.
15) What color is your bedroom? Kinda monochromatic... mid-tone brown and deep grey.
16)Favorite season? I'm with JJ on this one... "Easier to say my least favorite, winter. The other three seasons are my favorite."
17) One pet peeve? People who don't put away their shopping carts. *grrrrrr* This may or may not be influenced by my current job pushing hundreds of errant carts around a ginormous parking lot. In the snow. Whilst freezing.
18) Do you make your bed every morning? I have to, or else my Inner Critic spends the whole day making me feel like a worthless piece of humanity. What's up with that?
19) What is the first post you ever wrote about? I first wrote in 1995, two posts; one an intro to the blogosphere and the other a satirical review of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Which may have amounted to not much more than "*sigh* Johnny Depp." I really can't remember.
20) Did you enjoy this questionnaire? Yes! Which is to say that I always pretty much enjoy talking about myself! :)
21) Not done yet, one more thing, post a picture that makes you feel good. Read the post and accompanying pics below.

Dreamin'

I know that some think that Style is something you are born with; an inherent set of inclinations and preferences that you carry with you through life. I'm finding that style is something you grow into.

And it's frustrating the heck out of me.

Cause the old Me (OK, really, that would be the Young Me, but bear with me, here, people...) was a slave to the trend and all into being sleek and modern just for the sake of ensuring continued job security for IKEA employees of the world. It's a style I can still appreciate from an artful view, but I'm finding that I don't feel at Home in it like I used to.

Maybe it's growing older (maturer? Ha! Don't think so.) that tunes you in to your inner esthetic, but I'm often surprised to find the environments that nurture and comfort and inspire me are actually very simple and rustic. I crave small, cozy spaces filled with texture and color and the warmth of wood and stone and clay earth. I love the intimacy of handwrought features; the textured glasses and the unique reclaimed pieces. I love simplistic, straightforward design with natural materials and lots and lots of sunlight. Organic, natural and solid.

I love This. This compact little home in Dunedin, New Zealand that I found on a real estate website. 1000 sq ft and three bedrooms and surrounded by the most beautiful nature one could imagine. And, while chances are slim that New Zealand and I will ever cross paths; I'm thinking maybe I'll email the owners to purchase the blueprints. Cause maybe one day I'll get to build a little house that belongs in my dreams.

Open Letter to Rocket, My Beloved Civic.

Dear Rocket,

You are many things. Fast. Fun. Sporty. Even sexy. I relish every one of your endearing qualities; even the way your upholstery disguises the crumbs left behind by the kiddos. (Sorry about that, by the way.) I look forward to a long and enjoyable relationship with you, Rocket.

But, there are some things we must discuss. I sense that you are having a bit of a identity crisis, perhaps a bit of vehicular angst has gripped you with the onset of winter and the troublesome condition of Fluttercity's streets. And, while I have attempted to go along and ride this little bump in our relationship out, it appears that you and I need to have a little chat.

I'm going to say it and say it straight.

You are not, I repeat... NOT Kurt Browning.

You think I can't feel your nimble little tires trying to line up a triple axel? You think I don't KNOW that you're daydreaming of that camel spin? Who do you think you're fooling? Not me. Uh uh. And I'm not having any more of that, Rocket. This is not the Winter Olympics and I am not going to be your little Twizzle partner dressed in a tarty little flouncy skirt and nasty opaque tights that tie under my shoes... and I'm losing my train of thought, here.

The point is, that no matter how much you really, really, really WANT to be a little figure skating car... Rocket, it's not possible. Simply not possible and certainly not advisable. There are other vehicles on that ice, and, well I'll just say it. They're going to laugh. They're going to laugh Rocket. And call you names. And get their nose all up in your business about just what it is you're trying to do out there.

Is it close-minded and intolerant? Yes! I feel your pain. No one wants their dreams dashed against the rocky precipice of Reality. They're pricks, those other cars. Grotty, unwashed PRICKS that can't stand to let another vehicle outshine them. But you and I, Rocket, we live in their world. We drive on their ice. And I really need you to hear me now, when I tell you that we gotta play by the rules of that Prick-owned ice.

So, get your head on straight, boy. Put some lead in those loafers and keep it in the game. No more wibbely-wobbely-tipsy-turvy stuff out there on the road. We're keeping it locked down, right? Right?

So, do we have an understanding, Rocket? Good. Now, Hug it out.

Can You Tell Me How To Get...

The brilliance of Sesame Street dazzled me long past the years of childhood. I loved the quirky muppet humor and the nods to popular culture tucked in amongst the ABCs. One of the things I loved about having kids of my own was being able to watch The Street with them and seeing some of the same classic bits that ran when I was a child. (You know you can't forget the Twelve Pinball Song.) Sure, it's changed and characters have been added, as well as some having sadly been lost to time and illness. For awhile it seemed to be a totally Elmo-driven bus which thankfully seems to have changed.

But, as I've grown older... the Street just doesn't capture my attention anymore. Like a junkie needing a bigger high, I've had to search for a different Street, a better Street. A Street that I can call home.

I've found it here. Yes, I am a Coronation St. addict. Weill, addicc is rilly sooch a harsh word, ayn it?

Let's set aside for a moment that it's technically a show in the "soap" genre which I generally cannot stand (outside of a short penchant for Another World during my lunch hour break at one particular workplace, but that doesn't count cause there was NOTHING ELSE ON.) and consider the merits of Corrie St.

1). Real People. Oh how I love real people. No fashionistas or spray tans and botoxed faces. Just a regular representation of a variety of society's segments and classes. Not every one is a looker. No one holds all the cards. Real People. Astounding concept, this. Try to think of how many shows actually offer this in their cast. The Hills? 90210? LOST? So-called Reality TV? Only found on Corrie St., luv.

2). Real Ages. Oh yes, the diversity of age is there, too. From babies and teens to Uni's and middle-aged and elderly; all the characters have vital parts in the society and plot of this show. I admit to being hooked on seeing this elderly segment of the Street worm their way into the drama.

3). Real Stories. OK, this is pushing it a little. It is a SOAP, after all. But the plots don't push reality all that far. Other than the pushing the statistics that all these events would happen in a small sampling of a community with the regularity that they do, Corrie Street is mostly about the drama of Life. There are a few malevolent characters, but only in that they are so flawed and entitled that the shrapnel of their lives wounds others.

4). Real Characters. Dimensional and varied, the writers have really tried to re-create an actual community with it's unique facets and characters. I think they do a pretty good job.

5.) It spins my head a little. With all the different dialects and accents (a mish-mash which is really the show's greatest incontinuity; considering that many of the characters supposedly have spent their whole lives in this one district.) my brain is kept in gear trying to sort out what's being said. While a bit nutty at first, you do get used to it.

What's your favorite show?

Oh Nine, Baby.

Here we are, five days in to a brand-spanking New Year which is usually something I really, really LOVE. I've always fancied that blank calendar smiling at me with all it's promise of potential and change. New beginnings and do-overs and the like.

I will floss daily. I won't procrastinate. I will Change The World... tomorrow. Crap. There goes #2.

I usually do make resolutions, if only cause I tend to be introspective like that. And I usually do so on the first day of the new year, if only cause that's when one is supposed to do such things. But, after 10 years of putting "no procrastinating" on the list in it's various forms and shadings (I will not self-sabotage. I will prioritize. I will not procrastinate. I will not ever, ever procrastinate. I will not ever, ever, ever procrastinate.) it's clear that this is one part of my make-up that I may never change.

So, it's no surprise to me (nor to many of you) that I am behind the curve on the Posting of the Resolutions.

Better late than never, right?

Warning -- these are not weighty, pretentious resolutions. I am not going to resolve to change the world, or love myself more or serve humankind in a new and profound way. Not that I don't think that these are all good resolutions. But, c'mon, people... baby steps. I am just one little Flutter, after all.

Flutterby's New Year Resolutions

1) Bedtime. I need one. Desperately. I don't know if it's cause I'm getting older, or what, but the Flutter that used to be able to pass out in five seconds flat on a hard basement floor and sleep soundly through an air ride siren, waking refreshed and ready for a full day on only five hours sleep is a Flutter I don't know anymore. And, I've also noticed a bad habit of putting off going to bed (and, really, WHAT THE HECK IS THAT ABOUT?) later and later each night. I'm currently at a 2 a.m. set point and that is NOT compatible with, well, anything except fraternizing with street thugs and night creatures. Morning is not my friend and that really, really sucks. Especially cause my new job will have me up at 5:30 a.m. I have two weeks to whip this into shape before I will end up needing a caffeine drip installed directly into a major artery in order to function at work. I'm thinking 10 p.m. is a good, sensible goal to set, but part of me wants to whither and die thinking of going to bed that early. I mean, all those kid-free hours LOST. Time to hang out and be quiet or watch TV or read or surf or do housework and laundry. Me-time. I'm losing HOURS of it. (I do totally realize the selfish, whining tone of this all... I ain't no Mother Teresa) Regardless, going to bed on time is now a necessity. Stupid, ridiculous Responsibility. Sucks.

2) Get off this Hormone Train. I am tired of these ridiculous blemishes and hair issues (It's dry. It's breaking. It's awful.). My hormones are running amuck and it's high time I found out why and what to do about it all. I have a few more tricks up my "natural" sleeve. I am also going in for a crapload of blood tests this week. The results will take up to a month (yay, healthcare system.) so I've got some time to try and work this out myself, yet. My doctor wants me on b/c but... yuck. I hate that idea with the white-hot hate of a thousand suns. Fingers crossed that I won't have to. Whatever the case, I vow that by the end of this year -- hopefully sooner, please, God -- that this will all be resolved and All Better And Back To Normal.

3) Fitness. I know, I know. Very cliche. But I do have some goals in mind that I want and need to accomplish for myself. I think I'm going to start a different blog to track this one down and for accountability. I've always felt kinda weird posting gym stuff here and it's probably best to re-home that topic rather than boring the crap out of people with it.

4) Spiritual Discipline. Actually, most of my resolutions are about discipline, aren't they? Hmmmmm... I have to admit that I find it difficult to talk about spiritual things. To talk about God, really. I don't know why that is, cause I am a spiritual person (we all are, in the larger sense, I guess. I meant that in the individual sense). I've been challenged through some important events and precious people this past year and I would be remiss to not take up this challenge, to allow this vital area of my life to be, well, actually Vital.

5) Being a Girl. I'm going to take time to nurture the feminine side of me. Home-spa nights with my Princess or coffee with a friend and the occasional girls-night-out watching a sappy or profound movie. Nice nails and smooth legs and the occasional splurge on make-up or cute underthings. I will enjoy long baths in the nice tub that I wanted put in our home especially to enjoy long baths in but have not made proper use of until now. I will buy tropical scented bubbles for said bath and try not to light my hair on fire with the candles perched on it's edge. I will have sassy hair and white teeth despite my new love for all things coffee. These things all sound like fun, but I know that they are truly Work. I spent years destroying the Girl in me and those habits die hard. And time is always hard to find and easy to waste.

And that about wraps it up. Sure, there's a lot more that I hope to accomplish this year. This is just all that I dare write down.

Oh. Wow.

Awesome coffee. I'm not really a coffee snob sitting here in a black turtleneck, swirling the brew in a pre-heated ceramic cup while my nose delicately sniffs the bouquet... but I do know something good when it slams me over the head with it's nutty and sweet overtones. (and I seriously wouldn't have known how to describe it had I not read it on the package, but now that I have? Totally describes it perfectly.)

I found this little package of Ethical Bean Nicaraguan coffee at London Drugs and I'm sure you could, too. It's worth the extra few seconds grinding the beans, I promise. And, if you want to wear a black turtleneck, I won't tell anyone.

Wii are chillin, illin and blood spillin up in here...

"Who's your Daddy??"

That was Mr. F. Having received his directive from Sector Five and embarked on a perilous and impossible mission, he initiated contact only one hour in.

"Do you have the Eagle, Agent?"

"Uhhhh, yes... if that makes me your Daddy, sugar."

"Return the Eagle to the Nest with all peripherals and await further instruction."

"Sure, but you're kinda creeping me out, here... can you talk normal?"

"Agent F. Can you follow the directive or do I have to have you brought into Interrogation?" "Like that?"

"Yeah. Pretty much creeping me out."

***************************************
Don't you just hate it when they don't play along? Which is why we needed a Nintendo Wii. Also, because everyone else in the whole world seems to have one. Also, cause I love sending Mr. F. into the world, all caveman-like with his wooden club, to hunt down some rare and impossible item on short notice.

But mostly just cause it looks like so much fun for me. Errr... FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY. Just to be clear.

This is so not for me.

Yes, it is small and sleek and unbearably cute which normally is a triple threat where I am concerned. And I'd be a liar if I said I didn't love the cute handheld controllers called (*squeeee* Sooo cute...) "wiimotes". Seriously, just try to say that without grinning like a toddler with a cookie, I dare you. Can't be done.



So, while I am entirely tempted to lose my little inner kid's MIND about this, I will hold onto all manner of dignity and remember that this is all for the children. The actual children, that is.

In fact, I will attempt to look pained and uncomfortable while boxing and bowling and hitting some freaky HOME RUNS (oh yes... I am a Home Run kinda girl. Learn it. Know it. Don't doubt it.) playing Wii Baseball.

But, the fun doesn't end there, (although, really? Not much more fun than slamming your son with a Overhead Right Hook in the third round for a knockout. I wanted to kiss his little knocked out self, it was priceless. Yeah, mental note to lose on purpose next time.) noooooo. The Fun keeps on rolling.

First off, you get to create Mii's. Which is like handing Jim Henson 200 pounds of felt and google eyes and telling him to go bonkers. A Mii is a character that you get to personalize to look like youself. Or, after you've created that sexy beast, you also can make, say... your extended family (don't worry, you all look HOT!) and various people you know (hmmmm... perhaps even bloggers you know). Movie stars, TV characters, relatives, friends, coworkers... and the best part is when they start showing up on your baseball team and you find yourself cheering for Mark Wahlberg at bat. What's not to love about that, I ask?

After the pure fun that is the Mii, there's also the 10 WiiPlay games to enjoy. Arcade shooting, Pong, Table Tennis, Billiards and the like. All fun. All good. But nothing tops the pure exhilaration of racing your very own Knitted Cow through the countryside while chasing down scarecrows.



I swear I did not actually PUSH the Princess away from me whilst racing. She just needs to learn to wait her turn.

But, there was one more stop on the WayTooMuchFunForMe (THE KIDS!!!) Train.

DDR.


Or as the French say, "DDR". Whatever. Dance Dance Revolution Hottest Party 2 was all jumping up in this joint. And, while I had visions of looking a bit like THIS,

It soon became obvious that I looked more like, well, let's just say that I fell short of all anticipated DDR Greatness and perhaps even the knitted cows where laughing. (And, really, when a freaking KNITTED COW laughs at you...?) But, I like to think that simply means that I have room to grow, right? Let's be positive, here, people.

The Wii Kingdom is large and there's much to conquer. Next on my campaign?



I do it all for the children.