Carpal Tunnel, much?

I just finished up two projects in the last couple days. My league is holding a contest to redesign our team and league logos. I had planned all along to slowly work on a couple entries over a week or so, but in typical Obsessive Flutterby fashion, nailed these down in one long stretch for each. Really only about 3 - 5 hours for each; but the vector rendering process is super detailed and requires huge fine-motor control. My poor mouse hand is about dead and I'm sure tomorrow will bring an awesome bout of Carpal Tunnel my way as my entire hand is numb and shaky at the moment.

But dang... I still love this kind of work. I might not be amazingly skilled at it, but I am happy with what I submitted and hope to maybe be awarded one of the logos. In a way, I'm feeling a little sentimental about it and kinda hoping that something I contributed to the league will live on after I'm not skating anymore. I played for both teams at one time or another and would be honored to have the girls skating with my CREATIVE GENIUS (*cough cough* *smirk*) on their jerseys. :) There are a ton of talented artists in the derby community and in our league, though, it's hard to say how many entries there will be and whether mine will even stand a chance. Regardless, it was nice to immerse myself in this kind of rendering work again.

This is the logo I designed for the Gravediggers, our B Level Team. I'm still not totally happy with it... might do some refining on it and change up the ring or something.


And this one is for our Sugar Skull All-Star Team.

My prrreccciiiiooouuus...

About four years ago, it was decided that I would sell my piano. (and that's about the nicest way I can put it...) My piano wasn't anything special in terms of value; It was a small apartment-size Canadian-made piano with heavy keys and a solid cast iron frame. This soundboard frame was amazing -- I swear this piano could survive a bomb blast and still stay in tune. In all the 20 years that I played it, it was tuned once and stayed beautifully tuned throughout.

Unfortunately because of this amazing cast iron component; it was also a beast of a piece to move and this ultimately lead to Mr.F. requesting that it no longer belong to us. I wasn't happy to comply, but sometimes you do stuff cause you love someone (like move a beastly instrument to it's new abode a half dozen times) and this was my turn to be the one to make a sacrifice. The idea at the time was that I would get to purchase a smaller keyboard or digital piano in it's place -- something that wouldn't break a back when it came time to move again.

It was a great consolation idea, but the years went by and it seemed that the extra money was hard to come by. Or, when it was there -- it was hard to decide to spend it on something as frivolous as an instrument just for me.

I have missed playing a lot. Not just as an outlet for that creative or sensitive side of me; but also because it was often one of those elements that was a huge spiritual connection for me, too. And while I've felt the absence of this in my life, it's definitely been on my mind and heart a lot this past year more than ever.

Which made the timing absolutely perfect this Mother's Day, when I opened up a card to find a printed photo of a keyboard and a note about starting a search for what I wanted. Cue tears. And, this past Friday, after a bit of a search and a rather dramatic set-up to be able to buy it; I purchased a keyboard workstation that is beyond my hearts' desire. This thing is amazing. Dreamy. It blows my mind that it is mine.



Unfortunately, I don't have it just yet. I bought it used and a friend in another city did the transaction for me. It's going to be a few weeks before I see her and can pick it up from her. So until then, I am walking around with a goofy smile on my face and wondering just how it is that I was able to go all this time without playing... cause it's pretty much all that's on my mind.

*eep!*

Once again I have been a bad, bad blogger. :(

But I've been busy. Shortly after the Kid's birthday, I took the Princess and her two besties on a road trip to Edmonton, AB. We met up with my bestie (teehee... one of the main reasons I love this particular road trip!) and chaperoned this load of great kids at a youth event for the weekend.

Outside of the crazy 10,000 glowstick intro, awesome bone-shaking music, fun times and once again a terrific time to reconnect with some important things in life... I added one more truly Incredible, Never-To-Be-Forgotten experience into the mix.

I got old.

Like, Seized up my back after an evening of shaking and headbanging. That kind of old. Like, holy crap, I actually can't even get myself outta bed Old.

I would spare myself all the embarrassing details, but that wouldn't be any fun. Here is what you all have to look forward to one day when you are old enough to have this happen to you. Take notes. I never thought it would happen to me. It did. It just may one day happen to you.

- You will not be able to physically manipulate your body to leverage anything out of the bed in the morning. Your child will have to slowly push you off the edge in such a way that you can get your feet underneath yourself before you fully collapse on the floor and are thereby totally effed.

- You will not even be able to hobble. You will APPROXIMATE a hobble as you make your way to the washroom to get ready.

- You will stare at the toilet and sincerely WISH you could empty your bladder. But that is clearly not in the cards right at that moment.

- You may then look at the shower longingly, but soon realize that that, also, will not be happening as it involves lifting a foot off of the floor.

- You will shuffly/hobble/lurch back to bed and make a couple attempts to lay down.

- Your child will look at you funny and ask what's wrong.

- You will look at your child funny and sneer "NOTHING. I'm fine."

- At this point, you will hopefully have a savior arrive as I did, with Extra Strength Muscle Relaxants.

- You will down two and then question whether that was wise to do so on an empty stomach.

- *drool* zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

- You will ponder the meaning of life and why it is that you hear angels singing. Your pillow looks like a cloud. Is this heaven?

- You are stoned.

- Finally, with the full effect of narcotics and an extra large coffee, you will be able to move. And you will fully enjoy all the weird effects of being high on said pharmeceuticals.

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For the record, I am still hurtin. This has been a year-long saga for me since I injured my back last summer. I'm kinda at a loss at what to do, but it's pretty much making certain parts of life rather miserable. I just make some headway and then something happens to wreck it up again. And it gets a little worse on the Wrecked Up side of things each time and seems to take longer to get feeling good again, too. I've done chiro and massage... any suggestions for this old-timer?

I have decided (as in an actual, REAL decision) that this is my last season of derby. I have cried many tears over this, but it's time. For many reasons. But I can't deny that this sport is a big part of the whole injury/healing/injury/healing cycle I'm in. That and behaving like a fool at rock concerts.

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The Princess' musical was really great and we are now moving into "grad" season. Which means, next year is high school for my little girl. Double EEP. I think that this year of parenting has been one of the most surreal and stressful ones. I've come to the conclusion that I must've really thought that she would never grow-up... cause this is all taking me by storm. But, we're getting through it the best way we know how, and are blessed thus far with a really terrific teenager.

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The Kid is now armed to the teeth after his birthday. He scored a compound bow and a slick Airsoft handgun for his birthday. The archery bug must run in the family -- both his paternal grandparents are highly ranked archers. And, it looks like Mr F might be also picking up a bow and setting off on this little adventure with the Kid. Good times.

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In a quick change-up, it has been decided that the Kid will be heading back to public school in the fall. He's actually rather excited for it, but I'm sure also a little nervous. His last experiences there weren't necessarily the greatest. However, he has grown and matured a lot in this past year and a half and I think he senses that he's up to the challenge. And he's definitely looking forward to having schoolmates and some different activities in his life.

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I've been giving some thought to heading back to school, myself. But, I need to think on it some more before I go spouting off ideas and dreams. :)

The Kid 10.0

My "baby" is now 10 years old.

I remember how when I first saw him, I marveled at how sturdy and strong he was. In fact, he held his head up remarkably well in the first few weeks after he was born. And later he kept me running when he began walking at 8 months of age.

It seems that he is bent on moving forward, even when this mama's heart would like nothing more than for him to stay little.

I imagine that the next ten years will go by as quickly as the first. I am all at once anxious to know the man my boy will be and also loathe to see those years pass at all. I hate how time has a habit of slipping by so fast and I hope I don't miss anything.

Like, So Totally, Like, Random!

A while back I posted about the introduction of an exceptionally cute ball of fur to our home. Cute Ball of Fur has found another home. Rather, we found another home for CBOF. At the risk of sounding like a whiny brat, I really hate it when a dream -- no matter how small -- doesn't work out the way you hoped. In my mind I had expected that The Terd would be thrilled to have a new buddy; that the CBOF would engage her and be relational and that everything would work out just fine. As it turned out, The Terd and CBOF did not see eye to eye, despite our best efforts to help them get along. Fur flew when we didn't keep them separated. In the end, all is well that ends well. The CBOF has been placed in a super awesome home and the only thing hurting is my pride over a failed adoption attempt and my bank account. But, it was worth it to rescue the CBOF from a probable life of breed bitch in a decrepit barn and see her placed in loving home where she is, by all accounts, being ridiculously spoiled. Bittersweet.

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There are lots of things I am known for. Being organized is generally not one of the. Yes, I often find myself juggling many different roles, tasks and responsibilities. But make no mistake -- the juggling you see here is not of the practiced, professional entertainer variety. Nope. This juggling is clearly and decidedly of the panicked, flailing variety. Possibly entertaining... if you like that train crash kind of thing.

So, no one is more surprised than I am that I've drawn up a household chores schedule for myself and the kids and ACTUALLY HAVE STUCK TO IT... FOR ALMOST A WEEK. I know, right? Pretty incredible. Some might say that a week isn't all that long, that I shouldn't celebrate too hard over such a small accomplishment. To them I say a hearty PSHAW. The fact that I have seen carpet in my children's room for one full week, that dishes have been done and that bathrooms have been kept clean and laundry cycled, floors vacuumed, furniture dusted... THIS, my friends, is something to celebrate.

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Last night I had one of those dreams that stick with you into the next day. I can't even so much remember the details as I can recall this urgent, almost panicky feeling that I needed to get to a friend. It's so strange how dreams can affect you and shadow your waking hours.

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I'm pretty certain that we've decided to keep homeschooling the Kid next year. Certain enough that new curriculum was opened... Geek Mode Engage!! As each novel came out of the box, I couldn't help but be incredibly excited for everything the Kid will be learning this year. This particular year's focus will be right up his alley. Everything is so adventurous and action-filled in terms of history and novel-study, etc. I think it's going to be a good year. :)

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The Kid started an Archery class and he is totally loving it. I am a bit excited to see this interest take shape for him. There are plenty of opportunities for competition and travel in the Province and, even better, his Papa is an accomplished archer and I think he's hoping to enjoy his Papa's company in some of these adventures.

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The Princess' school musical is in just a few weeks and I'm so very proud of her. She not only nailed a competitive audition to score the lead female role, but has been so incredibly studious and diligent with her responsibilities for the role. Her songs and lines were memorized within the first few weeks and she is putting a lot of effort into her preparation. This role means a lot to her, and I am so happy to see her take it very seriously and live up to the privilege. She is much more responsible and mature than I ever was at that age. (THANKFULLY!)

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I am thoroughly LOVING THE CRAP outta my derby team this year. My league is filled with terrific women. It's the truth. But it seems like my house team has just the most fantastic, positive and good-hearted bunch of them all. Each practice is so much fun and everyone creates a really uplifting and encouraging atmosphere. I've not experienced anything like it from the time I started derby, even, and I feel really lucky to be on this team. Win or lose, I am learning so much, just because there's no fear of "failing" or looking bad in front of people. Love it.

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I started cleaning out my garage today. I don't know if it's the way the wind gets funneled into our bay, but the floor always ends up laying thick with dust that blows in. Not to mention the detritus from a winter of sticking things in this corner and that and now needing to sort and haul away some junk. One of the bins that was placed in there this winter was a bin of beach toys from my parent's cabin. As I picked it up and moved it, I saw in the bottom a layer of sand from the beach. It was so heart-rendingly familiar and, well, lonely looking. Just sitting there in the bottom of the bin, displaced from it's regular home. The goodbye sort of hit home again and there in the middle of my messy, dusty garage, I shed a few tears for a summertime home that has been lost.

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On a positive note. Our summer is filling up with wonderful activities and times with family. I really am looking forward to the next few months. Especially if I can manage to stay organized as I have been (Did I happen to mention it's been for almost a FULL WEEK, now???!! Huzzah!!)

The New Adventures of Flutterby.

Couch.
To.
5K.

It's happening. I haven't died yet.

Race day is in one month and I'm actually going to do this. I have a team depending on me to participate and there's no turning back.

I totally know that for most people (or many/some/lots... whatever) 5K isn't exactly considered a benchmark run. I know plenty of people who run that distance whilst buffing their nails or doing their taxes or knitting scarves... and they don't even break a sweat. 5K is these people's WARM-UP.

Not me.

But maybe... someday... me.

I will keep y'all posted.

Cute.

Gotta love finding cute stuff on Pinterest!

It's Great To Be Me.

Especially when, whilst perusing the aisles of my local Costco, I happen across a book. Not just any book. But BOOK FOUR of a series that I started a while ago.

You know how it is with series, don't you? You get sucked in and then -- after you finish whatever installment you've just read and they hook you with a preview of the upcoming installment -- you settle in for a long wait.

Not being one to sign up for fan lists -- I only vaguely recalled hearing that the next book was coming some time in 2012. Which brings me back to that moment in Costco when I saw it. *angels singing* Right in front of me. BOOK FOUR!!!!


I happily carried the treasured tome to the checkout, anticipating many blissed out hours immersed in a purely indulgent read, steaming cup of tea at my side. I couldn't believe my good luck to have stumbled across the newest installment, just like that... and at Costco's discount prices, no less! Thumbs up, happy camper.


Finally, I find a few hours in an evening to sit down and crack the cover. (And who doesn't love a nicely cracked cover?) Tea is steaming, lamp is lit, blankets are blanketing. Ahhhh... Starting a new installment is always a bit slow. Often the preview chapter(s) that were offered in the previous book are the first chapter or so of the new one. So, it's not strange to have a new installment seem a bit "familiar". A little bit of reader's deja vu. Which explained why I was noting that "I've read this part before" for the first little bit.

But that didn't explain why, four chapters in... I was still finding the dialogue to be very predictable and the plot twists rather familiar. The long time lapse between reading the previous book and the fact that this book was indeed, what I class to be indulgent (OK, time to fess up. It's a series firmly entrenched in the Young Adult Fantasy genre. "The Mortal Instruments" to be exact. Clearly not a read that involves great chunks of one's grey matter. Pure entertainment.) all added up to me rationalizing and sort of shrugging as I read onwards. Maybe my tastes had changed and the author was much more formulaic than I had previously acknowledged. Cause let's be honest. Most of these indulgent type books are incredibly predictable, mais non? Color me Less-Than-Enthused.

Yet, I soldier onward. It's still a decent read and my tea is yummy and the blankets are delightful.

More chapters. This predictable thing is getting super annoying.

And then it hits me. I kid you not. At least two thirds of the way into this book, it hits me. I have read this book already. Book Four was NOT the newest installment -- I just re-purchased a book I already own and read almost all of it (well, over half of it) before realizing what was going on.


Sometimes I astound me. Good grief.

The Bangover.

First derby bout of the season happened last night and it was a night to remember. I was so very proud of our league. Having been a part of things since our first "exhibition" bout/event when we could barely pull together 20 skaters (who could barely skate!!) and 200 people to spectate... it kinda warmed my heart to see us doing what we do.

Three house teams. Scads of volunteers and support crew. Sold out bout, 800 fans. Full bout production. Tight scores and lots of hard-hitting action.

So freaking proud.

Along with all that amazing hard-hitting action comes the "Bangover". The morning after the night before. Now, I'm sure that some of the girls are also weathering a nasty hangover after the Afterparty. But that's not how I roll. :) I just am enjoying the sweet creak of joints and the ache of muscles and bruises and one torqued up neck and spine. A first class bangover.

And somehow I still love it.

With all my heart.

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p.s. For what it's worth... that girl whose elbow connected with the base of my skull? the reason for this cranked up neck? I got her good the next jam. Sternum block right off the jam whistle into her 6 foot frame. They fall hard when they're that big. (hahaha... and I may have to watch my back next bout!!) Totally will relive that moment for the next day or two, or at least until my neck feels better.

Things I Don't Want to See Again For a Really Long Time.

Things have been rocky with our new little pooch in the house. The Pup is utterly adorable and endearing. And playful. And kind of a jerk in a puppy-sort-of-way to The Terd. And The Terd, well... let's just say that she is not a big fan of The Pup. And not in the way of "I'm Not a Fan, But Maybe In Time I Will Be" and more in the way of "Get This POS Pup Outta My House Before I Go Postal and Pee and Poop all over your Pillows Every Day Until I Die". Or something like that.

We are as yet undecided as to how this story will end. I'm not happy with how the two are relating... or not relating as you look at it. The Terd has lost an alarming amount of weight and is pretty stressed. I was holding her this morning and I can feel each rib and vertabrae on her spine. The Pup is fat and roly-poly and has the most astonishing case of diarrhea.

Which leads me to the Aforementioned Title and Accompanying List. Without further ado, Things Which I Don't Want to See Again For a Really Long Time.

1.) Lysol Wipes.
2.) Boiled Rice and Beef in a Blender. Just vile.
3.) Poopy Fur. Also vile.
4.) The sight of puppy poop on my Australian Wool Duvet. Heinous.
5.) Puppy kennel with Poop Enhancements at 2:30am. Wrong.
6.) Puppy kennel with Poop Enhancements at 4:00am. Wrong. Wrong.
7.) Puppy kennel with Poop Enhancements at 5:30am. Wrong. Wrong. Oh so Wrong.
8.) Lysol Wipes. Did I say that already?
9.) Puppy squatting over air register. Dear God in Heaven.
10.) Chocolate Pudding. Seriously. Not interested.

The Pup had her deworming treatment over a week ago. The vet says to continue with the Rice/Beef. She is happy and playful, otherwise, and thankfully is making it to the litter box most of the time during the day.

Nighttime is clearly another thing altogether. She whines and howls pitifully if we keep her down in a room with her litter box. Bringing the kennel up into our room placates her and she sleeps well. The only thing that wakes her is her need to poop. Which is apparently done in stealth and then she sits beside her handiwork (or in it) until the stench wakes me. And let it be known that I have a sensitive nose and most times turn on the light in time to catch her finishing up. You cannot imagine what a treat that is at 3:30am. Really. Just try to imagine. You can't.

Did I mention she is cute? Like, ridiculously so.


This may be the only thing saving her from a long leash in the back yard at nighttime.

Blogger??? Is that REALLY you???

Just a little story about how much I hate social media messing with their set-ups. First it was Facebook Timeline -- not to mention all their arbitrary Privacy Setting muck-abouts. And now! NOW. Now I open up my blogger account -- the very same Blogger account that I have used for years and years. AND IT'S VIRTUALLY UNRECOGNIZABLE. I want to cry. Tantrum. Sniffle dramatically into a lacy handkerchief. (Don't question. Just. Don't. Question.) I want to randomly indulge in online retail therapy to soothe my nerves. Oh wait. That was last night. Oh hai, Zulily and Beyond The Rack! We had fun, didn't we? *sigh* Does not The Blogger Powers That Be know that I need stability and security in a blogging platform? Do they not understand that my hamster brain has some difficulty with change? Do they not have... a... heart? GAH!! I am verklempt. I may write a letter. I may actually send it. Or I might just rant and rave and vent all over my blog page and then get over it tomorrow morning. One or the other.

Back In The Saddle Again

Been home for a bit, now... finally starting to get settled into normal.

Not that blogging at 1:13am is my usual "Normal". Apparently, when one introduces a very vocal puppy into one's home, "Normal" is anything but Normal. Especially at 1am when said puppy is lonely and likes to howl at the moon.

Who's freakin idea was it to get a puppy, anyhow? *grumble grumble*

Oh yeah. Mine. *sigh*

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Vacation was pretty great. I managed to almost blow up my eardrum on the flight there and actually was kinda feeling miserable for a lot of the trip thereafter. Which kinda sucked. Alot. Mr. F. was relegated to the role of ride supervisor, while I cheered from the sidelines. I did manage a few hair-raising rides with the kids, but not nearly enough. Truth be told, I'm kinda bummed about the whole thing. However. We did have fun. The weather was amazing and we found a nice mix of fun, sightseeing and relaxing.

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I think I've pretty much made my decision that this is my last season of derby. I missed travel team try-outs while we were vacationing, and I have to say that I don't really feel a big need to push for a make-up date -- I think I'm just going to play house teams this season. Two of my friends broke their ankles last week and I'd be lying if I said this isn't bothering me, too. I don't know. Maybe I'll feel differently in a bit of time. But right now I'm looking at old Airstream trailers and wondering how many road trips I can fit into next summer. :D

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Well, puppy is finally silent. Gonna get some zzzzzzz's.

Why, hello, Procrastination. Pleased to Meet You.

There are less than 48 hours until we leave for vacation. Flights leave at 5am which means I am going to have to be uber-organized to get us ready and packed by Tuesday evening.

I have 5 skate builds to complete. Client appts and a couple orders to fill and ship.

Stuff to buy and pack. A few groceries to get if we are going to be able to actually eat real food in the next 48 hours. Laundry. Appts for myself (chiro, sugaring). A sponsorship meeting with my derby league, a dog to re-home and get settled in with my friend for the upcoming week AND a Tuesday evening practice at which I promised to show up early to in order to give a friend a hand. Not to mention two days of schooling to do with my Kid.

I'm hooped.

Which is why, in classic Flutterby fashion, I am posting to my blog.

It makes perfect sense.

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So long and farewell for a little while. Will be back with vacation stories to tell!

Updated Hair Saga.

For the 1.2 people who read my blog and care about hair/growinghair/notcuttinghairoffinafitoffrustration, etc.

THIS product:


is the BOMB DOT FREAKIN COM.

No lie.

If there has been one hair product I have used in my WHOLE LIFE that I could describe as miraculous... this is it.

In pretty much one week I've gone from wanting to chop my dry, frizzy hair all off a'la Britney to frankly not being able to keep my hands from running through my locks cause they are silky soft and shiny. I'm using my straightener about only half as much as before. And I actually LIKE my hair.

Unreal.

Whoever this Coppola guy is, he's a genius. I would totally have his babies. Now, if that isn't a line for an infomercial, I just don't know what is. :)

Once Bitten, Twice Shy.

Over two years ago I served a term on my League's Board of Directors.

Sweet merciful crap.

Now, I may not be the smartest person, but I am bright enough to know that I didn't want to do that again. Ever. In the years since, I have served on many committees in the league -- more than my share, the truth be told -- but have simply declined any nominations that come my way each term for a BOD position. I have no interest stepping in that arena (and I chose that word carefully and deliberately) again.

So, would someone please tell me how it is that I find myself this morning prepping for my first Board of Directors meeting for this upcoming term?

Daydreamin'

This morning -- after a solid week of springtime temperatures and winter thaw -- I woke up to a fresh blanket of snow covering the ground.

But...

Tonight I made it all better by enjoying a great conversation with my bestie; making summertime plans for some lake fun and sunshine.

Suck it, winter. You can't drag me down.

Service With a Smile.

I will just say that when you are likely the softest, bestest-smelling thing to walk into your local parts shop all day...

you get great customer service.

High five, Fastenal. :D

Grateful.

The Kid has a few nicknames... Nitro is one of them. He earned it young and he earned it fair; he's always going full out and loud.

It's one of his endearing qualities -- to be so full of "vim and vigor" as my Grandpa used to say -- but also something that gets him ripped on from time to time. And sometimes, I fear that I spend too much time talking about the testy side of his Nitro nature to others.

I was reminded today of just how many very cool things I've seen lately, little glimpses of his heart, of the man I hope he'll grow to be.

He writes a letter to his sister just about every night and has done for some time, now. They are folded in quarters and put in envelopes and stuck under her bedroom door. I've peeked. They're full of potty-humor comic strips he's drawn and the odd spelling mistake. But they are also full of encouraging words and adoration. I love that he's choosing to express his heart and that he does it so well.

He will often open the door for me or take it upon himself to be my aide and protector when we are out. It doesn't happen all the time, but when it does, there is nothing sweeter.

I'm seeing more of his compassionate side come out as he grows older. He very much does not like injustices or squabbles and will insert himself in a scrum between his friends to stop the scuffle. And he's not abrasive or rude. Just confident and ready to take action. I love it.

The other day we were getting groceries and I heard the clatter of cans hitting the floor. A lady further down the aisle had picked up a warehouse pack and the casing broke. Without me even saying anything, he ran to help her pick up the dropped items. He's starting to do this sort of helpful kindness to strangers more and more and I love watching how it almost makes him walk taller and be purposeful... like he sees his own greatness when he's helping other people. Very cool.

Parenting is a huge job. One that I feel that I am woefully inadequate for most of the time. I know that the good that is in our children isn't a direct result of Awesomeness on our part. But seeing it sure makes my heart all glowy and yes, a little bit proud.

I think it's one of the neatest things about raising children -- this opportunity to actually observe their Person develop. Even though I joke about Blunt Force Trauma and my lack of patience at times where the Kid is concerned, it remains that he is one of my biggest joys in life.

Cause You Had a Bad Hair Day...

(Go back and hum that title to the tune of the song, "Bad Day"... trust me, it's way more fun than just saying it.)

See?

That's my blog... spreading the choral sunshine around. :D You're welcome.

Now let me start with my sad, sad story. Brace yourselves. It's a teary one.

Once upon a time there was a Flutterby. Her tresses were stressed. Sassy and short and bleached to within an inch of their itty-bitty lives -- it was time for a change. And while it is true that Flutterby is prone to making decisions about her hair without thinking things through, and, while it is true as well that Flutterby has repeatedly attempted to grow her hair longer and endured months of agonizing "in-between" hair ONLY to chop it all off in a fit of PMS/boredom/frustration/insertreasonhere AND... while it is also true that Flutterby has not worn a consistent hairstyle for more than 3 months at a time; Flutterby resolved that THIS TIME would be DIFFERENT.

*sigh*

This certain Flutterby decided to grow her hair long. Like, LONG, long. Pictures were Pinterested on Pinterest boards. Whole wardrobes were planned around all the wonderful, creative and fun styles that could be created with said amazing LONG hair.

But woe is Flutterby. Her short style was hiding the fact that her hair is wavy. And wavy mid-length hair is decidedly not the "look" for Flutterby. So, every morning Flutterby's hair enjoys a 300 degree hot iron stroking it into shape. Straight shape. And... every month, Flutterby's stylist trims off the dry ends from this repeated abuse. An amount which apparently negates most of the new hair growth during that same time.

Flutterby wants to scream.

And not surprisingly, also chop her hair off again.

Flutterby is clinging to the merest strands of hope. New product has been bought. Keratin proteins and no sulfates... all which whisper the sweet promise of non-heat straightened hair. Flutterby does not ask for much... really. 4 inches will do. *snicker* Just enough to allow her to work with this waviness and wear long hair for at least a few months. Cause we all know she will eventually chop it off. She's kinda crazy like that.

Interview with a Flutterby

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
Every day is a bad hair day when you are growing your length out.

2. How much cash do you have on you?
About $17 or so.

3. What’s a word that rhymes with DOOR?
Is saying "adore" cheating? Cause it kinda already has the homonym for "door" in it. Which may not technically be a rhyme. *puzzled look*

4. Favorite planet?
While I'm rather fond of Earth for it's ease of survival and fun-loving inhabitants; nothing makes me giggle like saying the name "Uranus".

5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?
Client call.

6. What is your favorite ring tone on your phone?
Some techno jam from "2Fast 2Furious".

7. What shirt are you wearing?
black Roxy tee

8. Do you label yourself?
Maybe. Roller Derby has been a pretty defining involvement. If I would use any label it would be "derby girl", I guess.

9. Name the brand of the shoes you’re currently wearing?
MIA -- a value village find; ratty old converse-style sneaks that fit like my feet were born in them.

10. Bright or Dark Room?
Depends on what mood I'm in. Or what I'm doing. ;)

11. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you?
Not sure...

12. What does your watch look like?
I don't wear one.

13. What were you doing at midnight last night?
zzzzzzzzzzz.

14. What did your last text message you received on your cell say?
"Hahaha! I love it!"

15. Where is your nearest 7-11?
About a 20 minute walk; 2 min drive.

16. What's a word that you say a lot?
"Really?" It applies to so many situations.

17. Who told you he/she loved you last?
The Kid.

18. Last furry thing you touched?
The Terd.

19. How many drugs have you done in the last three days?
Advil Cold and Sinus.

20. How many rolls of film do you need developed?
Who uses rolls of film anymore?

21. Favorite age you have been so far?
Not sure how to answer.

22. Your worst enemy?
Procrastination.

23. What is your current desktop picture?
Skelanimals Kitty Cat

24. What was the last thing you said to someone?
"Probably Atom"

25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be?
A million bucks. I'm a little scared of heights.

26. Do you like someone?
I like a whole bunch of Peoples. Peoples are great.

27. The last song you listened to?
An old "Demon Hunter" metalcore CD that was playing in my car.

28. What time of day were you born?
Afternoon -- I think it was around 3ish. I tried really hard not to be late. ;)

29. What’s your favorite number?
I like doubles. Like 11 or 22, etc.

30. Where did you live in 1987?
North Battleford, SK

31. Are you jealous of anyone?
I suppose so.

32. Is anyone jealous of you?
It is entirely possible, although highly improbable!

33. Where were you when 9/11 happened?
At home.

34. What do you do when vending machines steal your money?
Stare in disbelief and press the button a few more times. I probably also check the coin return.

35. Do you consider yourself kind?
I'd like to think so.

36. If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be?
Below/beside hipbones. And I have to admit to liking the "tramp stamp" location, too.

37. If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be?
Hebrew or Mandarin.

38. Would you move for the person you loved?
Yes.

39. Are you touchy feely?
Depends on who's touching/feeling me. lol

40. What’s your life motto?
Keep swinging.

41. Name three things that you have on you at all times?
If I have my purse with me, then for sure these are in it: iPhone, lip gloss, gum

42. What’s your favorite town/city?
I'm really not very well-traveled. I've always thought I would really love visiting Denver, Colorado.

43. What was the last thing you paid for with cash?
Salad for me, hotdog for the Kid at the Costco lunch counter.

44. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it?
Does a greeting card count? Last week.

45. Can you change the oil on a car?
*blush* nope.

46. Your first love: what is the last thing you heard about him/her?
He was adopting children.

47. How far back do you know about your ancestry?
Tracked back to some scandalous combination of 1700s Russian aristocracy and Irish/German poverty on my Dad's side. Know very little about my Mom's side.

48. The last time you dressed fancy, what did you wear and why did you dress fancy?
Two years ago at our derby year-end party I wore a cute dark grey drapey shirt dress and some killer 6 inch leopard print and leather heels. Man, I need to get out more.

49. Does anything hurt on your body right now?
Nope. Spring allergies are well-medicated today!

50. Have you been burned by love?
Only in the best ways.

Kinda Having A Good Monday...

Anyone wanna dance? :)

Score One For the Weekend.

Scorecard for the weekend:

1 -- round trip to visit in-laws

3 -- baby shower games

1 -- baby shower game that induced gagging

2 -- full days of not caring what I eat

5 -- hours of watching roller derby

1 -- visit with some lovely friends we haven't seen in a while

1 -- fun lunch with my sis-in-law and kiddos.

2 -- pancakes: nuff said

2 -- mornings to sleep in a bit

1 -- game of cribbage won

1 -- birthday supper

= GOOD TIMES.

*********************************
Grateful for fun family times. :) And super grateful for an awesome family. Also am super grateful to jump back on the Paleo train tomorrow morning. My tummy is not so pleased with me right now.

*CHOKECHOKE*GASP*COUGH*

Someone is going to have to find a better hiding place for their toys.

...and it ain't the kids I'm talking about.

This isn't really covered in any parenting books, is it?

Adore.

As of tonight, I am full-fledged card-carrying Trainer in my derby league.

OK... so there's no cards. But there should be. I would carry one.
Just sayin.

I've ran practices before as part of my apprenticeship... but nothing could prepare me for how AWESOME it would feel to actually run My Own Practice. I love teaching/coaching -- it's always been one of those things that lights me up... one of those vocation things where you kinda feel made to do something. And to be able to do that with something that I truly love doing like I love doing derby. Well... it kinda rocked my world.

I'm still smiling.

A Little Self-Defense Saga -- How Flutterby Became the Paranoid Freak That She Is

I have lived very few places in my life. I grew up in a small-ish city (16,000 people -- we'll call it Fluttertown for now) and, while we moved around a lot within that city, I have never known Big City life such as is made famous in movies and TV and newspaper obituaries. ;) Even now, my current city of residence of 250,000 -- while seeming "big" to me -- is but a dot on the map compared to some of the metro areas of Canada and the U.S.

Nevertheless my small hometown was not left untouched by the stupider aspects of the criminal element and there were definitely places that you didn't want to work, walk or otherwise hang out in after dark. And some neighborhoods were known for being a little on the rough side.

Newly married, Mr.F and I bought a house (for a paltry sum that makes me LAUGH OUT LOUD when I think of it, now!! People spend more on an average compact car!) close to one of those rougher ends of town. It served us well: despite being woken one night by the sound of a shotgun discharging in the house next door, the various and sundry ne'er-do-wells drunkenly chatting us up as we worked in the yard when they walked by (or coming to our door and expecting to be let in to what they mistakenly thought was THEIR house!), and a small number of times having to chase some rotten pukes off our property who were scouting for an easy in. During the day it was a decent neighborhood, safe enough, really. But, by the time we brought the Baby Princess home... well, having a wee one in your care like that all of a sudden raises the bar on what you consider "safe".

Mr. F started working at night, moonlighting driving pizza while I took a contract working at home so I could be with Baby. We started saving our pennies, and along with a good turn in the real estate market, were able to buy a bit nicer home in a bit nicer area a few years down the road. Good thing, too, as one little Kid was on the way. We hastily found a house in the middle of winter and I had the dubious pleasure of packing and unpacking a household while 7 months along With Child. Good times.

The Kid was born and I took a leave from my job. I also took that time to go slightly bat-sh$t crazy with PostPartemDepression. Mr. F was still working ridiculous hours; we now had this new house he had to pay for after all. And it was probably really nice to get away from your crying wife and colicky baby, for that matter! :) I would've worked a lot, too, if I was in his shoes! lol

Concurrent to all of this action of the past months, there had been a growing tension in Fluttertown. Without getting into tedious detail, there were three outside gangs from the reserves in the surrounding area which were bringing their "turf wars" to the town. It was recruiting season and there were a few "ins" which involved either raping a white girl, knifing a white man or shooting a cop. Sorry if that's disturbing to read, but it's how it was.

There were a number of reports that spring of stabbings (thankfully mostly more-or-less superficial or at least non-life-threatening) and sadly, women and girls were targeted as well. I don't believe there were any actual attempts on an officer -- or at least none that were reported publicly.

And, during this time it became apparent that our "nice neighborhood" wasn't exactly what we thought. More specifically, as the snow thawed and people started being more sociable (really, that's how it happens round this part of Canada! The snow thaws and we come out of hibernation.)... we started seeing a lot of gang colors entering and exiting our neighbors home. The drunken partying found it's way to our side door many times -- and most times I was home alone in the evening with the children while some belligerent drunken fool yelled scarily at the door and tried to look in my windows. There were fights and just general discord and awfulness at any given time during the day and/or night -- all right next door. I would get up to nurse my baby in the night and there were times I would have panic attacks while listening to the mess going on outside, worried that it would end up at the window or door again.

And then, one night while working his (un)glamourous night job, Mr. F was accosted outside an apartment complex. A few metres from his car, two punks ran up behind him and cracked him with a skateboard. A blow that had been meant for his head met with his elbow thanks to some quick reflexes. They pulled a knife and he offered money. They wanted blood -- clearly a gang thing -- and he knew it was On.

I am thankful that Mr.F is the kind of guy who can handle himself. But I admit that it took me some time to understand the things that he did that night in order to defend himself. Never having faced that kind of danger, I was still thinking like most sheeple (I mean, PEOPLE)... "why didn't you just subdue your attackers and wait for the authorities to arrive?". Instead of that neat and tidy utopian scenario, I was facing the fact that my husband had been stabbed and that he left two men near dead in the process of defending himself.

I wasn't sure which part bothered me more.

In the weeks that followed, I became more and more worried. Three weeks after the attack, two very broken and casted men came into the pizza place where Mr. F. was working that night, gave him a nod -- and my worry became full-on paranoia. Fluttertown is a small town and if they wanted retribution, the kids and I were sitting targets five nights a week. And of course I was concerned that Mr. F would be easy to trail and find in all manner of isolated situations (delivery to outset rural parts wasn't uncommon if a call came in that warranted it).

I began to read everything I could about Self-Defense and criminal mindset. My mind was opened in the harshest of ways to all the chaotic opportunity that lends itself to senseless crime and the insidious ways that premeditated violence against individuals is often aided and abetted by the victims themselves as they comply with directives that only isolate and leave them further at the mercy of their attacker. Truly, embarking on that sort of reading and learning may not have done my fragile state of mind any good. But I am really grateful that I did gain a greater understanding.

Shortly thereafter, we decided to move. I would be lying if I said it had nothing to do with all that had gone on. It did, in part.

Now, almost 9 years later, it's been a long time since I lived with my brain on Red Alert 24/7. I don't scope out every venue for primary and secondary egress (no kidding, this kid did that.) or practice peripheral scanning in WalMart. (good lord, I was troubled!) I can laugh about it, now. Nevertheless there is a lot that I've taken away from that time -- things that were reinforced during my training in Krav.

And there are conversations that Mr. F and I have had that I'm very glad we did. Like the chance to discuss hostage scenarios and our plan to handle the kids should we ever find ourselves in a sketchy situation (ie: being accosted on the street). These things seem dramatic -- and it was HARD to talk about because who wants to contemplate the possibility of violence happening to your family, right? But, I think it's a mistake to not talk about it. Case study after case study of in-home violence shows that complying to a hostage directive (ie: wife is held a knifepoint while the husband is directed to submit to restraints or his wife "gets it" only results in the husband getting the distinct privilege of watching his whole family perish before his eyes, before the mercy of death comes to him) Sorry, it's harsh and it's ghastly... but it's the truth. And because we've talked about it, Mr. F knows that he knows that I would rather bleed out on the floor while he takes the chance to bolt/fight, etc. and rescue the kids to safety rather than the alternative. (In fact, I would kick his ass myself in the hereafter should he do anything else!) And he feels the same. There is no more question about what is expected. The kids always come first.

I realize that the chance of this type of horrific violence touching our home is very slim. I am eternally grateful for that. But, having had a number of brushes with the Chaos Factor, I will never again live in ignorance that I am safe everywhere I go or that our home is safe no matter what.

In my mind, self-defense is so much more about a mindset than any particular type of training. (although I highly, HIGHLY recommend Krav as a way to encourage and develop a great mindset for self-defense) It's a mindset that says that things happen to you on your terms. Someone pulls a weapon on me and demands I get in a vehicle? Eff that all to hell. I'd rather face mortality there on that sidewalk than get in that vehicle and allow my attacker to isolate me and give himself the distance and privacy needed for whatever sickness is in his mind. This girl's body parts will never be found at a secondary scene. I make that choice.

Giving yourself choices; whether through knowledge, skill, training, communication... that is power. And it's something I wish more people gave due diligence to. There might be fewer horror stories in the news if they did.

Kinda like Potato Chips.

It looks like the Flutterby Household will be adding one more member. Of the furry kind.

No, we're not adding another Mr.F.

That's just silly.

We will be adding another lil dog. We've kinda thrown the idea around for some time, now. And once I got over my "NEED" for a dog of larger stature (which, I begrudgingly agree does not fit in with our lifestyle right now)... it looks like we'll be searching for another little chi or chi-mix. The Terd can use some company and it might help remind her of her Dog-ness. Cause right now she definitely thinks she's People.

Looks like it is true what they say about Chihuahuas and Potato Chips: Betcha can't have just one!


**This pic has been posted for the benefit of certain *ahem* commentators who doubt the level of Adorable possessed by this breed. Turned up to 11!!!**

My Prrecccioussssss...

Please excuse me while I spend quality time with my cellular device.

I may call this a honeymoon. Cause I can't keep my hands off of it.

:D

Sunshine and Rainbows?

I won't lie. Homeschooling isn't always pretty. In fact, there have been more days in the past few weeks (months??) that have almost resulted in Blunt Force Trauma than I care to think about. Days that I fear that all my hopes for homeschool and helping the Kid overcome some of his challenges with Attention and Concentration are for nothing and that all I'm doing is catering to his deficits, rather than pushing him beyond his limitations.

And his attitude. And my attitude. *shakes head* It's a wonder that my kitchen table doesn't have a concave erosion from the regular pounding of my head against it.

It's not all bad, to be sure. But it's been enough "Bad" lately that the balance of that Pros/Cons list of School vs. Homeschool has been tilted. Next year's curriculum sits unopened in a box because even though I am so excited to dig into it (and you have no idea how geeky-excited I am about this stuff!) it remains a possibility that I might be sending it back. I'm not sure what to do. I'm not one of those homeschoolers that thinks public school is an evil scourge visited upon our children. It's just one imperfect option. Just as homeschooling is likewise an imperfect option. Homeschooling simply fit the Kid's particular needs and our particular situation the best, at this time.

So yes. Frustration. Lots of it.

Just a couple weekends ago, in the midst of the Crud Days, we ended up making a trip to Edmonton to see a Naturopath (the Dr. kind, not the practitioner kind). The Kid has a host of symptoms that conventional medicine wasn't doing much for. Anyhow, It's been a week since we started his treatment -- nothing crazy: some trace minerals, healthy gut bacteria (a specialized strain that he lacks), and some CoQ10/NADH and enzymes.

I've been somewhat skeptical (who, me???) -- even though I am a great supporter of alternative medicine and treatments, our doctor's explanation for many of his symptoms (particularly the troublesome ones such as Anxiety and ADD-symptoms) seemed so very simplistic.

But I sit here during our lunch break... AMAZED at the difference I've seen in my boy, especially today. He has been eager to work, focused (well, much more focused that usual!), compliant. A freakin pleasure to be around and teach.

And, he amazes me with everything he's stored in his head. Today, reading a reference in History about Thomas Alva Edison, he excitedly starts telling me -- no, TEACHING me -- all these random facts about Edison and happenings in his life. WHO IS THIS KID?!?!?!? And then later, the same thing about the Wright Brothers. I could only shake my head in amazement.

Now, it is entirely possible that this morning was just one sunshiney oddity in the middle of a cloudy patch. But, I must say that I am pretty curious -- and hopeful -- that perhaps our good doctor might have actually nailed his diagnosis. And I can't help but be hopeful that I might just end up opening that box, yet.

TWO MORE DAYS!!

I bet you all didn't know I was counting down to something. But I totally am.

In two days, my cell contract can be upgraded. Which basically means I sign on for a number more years of indentured servitude and my cell provider lets me get a way more cool phone at a fraction of the regular cost.

It's really a vulgar plan in it's simplicity, but I've totally fallen for it. Because... hello?!?!? iPhone! Yep, that's right. I'm trading in my old model BlackBerry for a sleek, pretty new iPhone. And I'm happy to do it. So very, very happy! Giddy, even.

Two.
More.
Days.

*sigh*

Leap Year Take Me Away.

It's been almost three weeks of illness and crud here in the Flutterby home and my oh my... this place needs to be rescued in the worst way.

In fact, I'm surveying the damage from my spot here at the dining room table -- the Kid's school books are spread everywhere and there's dishes from lunch on the table and island, the living room has been covered with materials for the Princess' big school project and there are two small boxes of "cabin stuff" that I have yet to find a home for after my parents dropped them off in the midst of the Crud Days a week and a half ago. And then let's look a bit closer to see the dust bunnies and toast crumbs (arghhh... the bane of my existence... TOAST SHOULD BE A BANNED SUBSTANCE. Says I.) and various and sundry items that need to be put away (hmmmm... Tylenol, bearing press, remote control for DVD, invoice book, more cold meds, bath salts -- and that's just the island countertop. WHO LIVES IN THIS PLACE??? It is UNFIT, I tell you!!!!) And let's not even talk about laundry. I may weep.

So, I think that with the remainder of the superfluous 24 hrs gifted to me by this day, I am going to embark on the Glamourous and Exciting tasks of resurrecting some standard of housekeeping to this abode.

Anyone happen to have one of those Animation Enchantments? Like on Beauty and the Beast -- I could really use some talking teacups, mops and brooms to help me out with this one.

Things I Want To Say But Won't 1.1

When you say something rude and patronizing about someone, putting a smiley face after each sentence doesn't make it all better.

*grrrrrrrr*

If Air Miles Were Money...

Heh. Wait! They kinda are. :)

Guess who just booked four flights to L.A. in April? It's almost like I'm a grown-up, doing grown-up things like choosing flight itinerary and travel insurance. Woah. When did that happen?

Now, if I could just convince Mr. F to actually pay for a guided tour of Hollywood instead of his dubious plan to just "wing it" in our rental car. Cause you know THAT is gonna end in bloodshed and at least one of us with the crumpled map crammed in our face. I'm all for spontaneous fun. But if I remember correctly, self-preservation ranks pretty high on the hierarchy of Needs...

Any of you seasoned travelers have any recommendations for some fun things to do and see in the area?

Does This Template Make My Butt Look Big?

Not quite spring, but am feeling the need for some spring blog cleaning. :)

One of my favorite parts of spring is RAIN. Beautiful drops that wash the world and make all the newly budded greenery look like God's Mercy, itself.

Enough snow. Bring me rain.

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I happened to notice that I've already posted almost as many posts in 2012 as I did in 2011. Clearly 2011 was not a good blog year.

I-I-I-I-I Can't Get This Song Outta My Head...

Let's forget for a moment that this song is surely loosely based around a worship song chord progression. Let's forget for a moment that Tyler Connelly spent more time on his hair than a woman does and still rocks it like a boss. Let's even forget that the radio version has this audacious spoken word voice-over that is all kinds of cheesy and, yet -- despite the Cheese(TM) -- makes me want to throw my panties at whichever dude said those words like that.

Forget all that.

Instead, let's talk about how this song can get stuck in one's brain so that one finds oneself throughout the day singing "IIIIIIIIIIII" and looking like a total tool to anyone who overhears. Cause there should not be so many vowels in a song. Word to your Momma. And Tyler's momma. She should have taught him that.

Insert Rant HERE

Please include details of sickness and snarky comments about reciprocity having died a slow death around here. Add postscript about medical procedure and possible infection and wishing you were somewhere, anywhere else but HERE.

Include picture of Kleenex and sad Flutterby face.

That is all.

I'll have an order of Crud with a side of Blurgh, please.

Alternatively, a re-do on this week would be appreciated.

Mr. F has been ridiculously sick with a flu virus. Best Valentines Day ever? Not really. I spent a good three days shuttling cold water and medications and bowls of soup and cereal up to the bedroom (hereafter known as the Germ Den). Poor guy was like that sad soul on the Cold&Flu medication commercial.

**scratchy whisper**
"Flutterby... Flutterby... please... call my Mom"

Yeah, he was that bad. He's still not 100%, not even close. And then, yesterday I am woken up by The Kid. Coughing, Stuffy, Miserable. I don't like this one bit. Add on to the List Of Aweseome the fact that we had to cancel a family vacay this weekend to visit old friends, my (not) comfy bed on the couch, fighting off the germs from hell myself and feeling like turd and then having a medical procedure yesterday that I get called directly after to hurry home from cause the Kid is now puking and incredibly miserable... let's just say that Family Life scores a big -1 in my books right now.

But, life goes on. And I really wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world than caring for my fam and doing what I can to make them comfy. Even when the Kid gives me the Stinkeye when I make him steam up his nasal passages one more time. :) I just hope that when the Germs From Hell finally hack away at my own defenses and I'm the one in misery that they all remember and at least hand me a few crusts of bread while I languish in the darkest corner of the house. lol

In the meantime, I've got some errands to catch up on, a house to rid of germy surfaces and linens to change and air out. Also... laundry. Cannot forget the metric ton of laundry. One more busy day, and then maybe some rest and relaxation for the weekend.

Notice to Next Week: You better bring your A-game, Week... I have high expectations and none of them involve me being sick. Word.

Doncha Hate It When You're In the Middle of Something Big and...

Your Batteries Run Out?


.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Oh. That was awkward. You thought I meant... hahahaha. Nope.

What I was talking about was being in the middle of a skate build and having my gutless... errr, CORDLESS drill flake out on me.

Tomorrow's another day, I guess.

Sharing.

Recently, Mr. F and I decided to "share" our Facebook and email accounts. Long story but it's all good.

Good but weird.

I do find that I'm less likely to talk about personal things with friends over email/facebook, now. Like, I won't share how upset I am that Mr F ate the last chocolate chip cookie I was saving for after my workout... (THAT PIG!!!! lol).

And, just yesterday when a friend said she would message me with some details about her private life, I found myself telling her to "just text me, instead". I'm sure if she knew my reason for asking, she'd thank me! :D

What are y'alls thoughts about personal privacy and it's place in a marriage relationship. And how does that affect other people's expectations of privacy in their relationship with you?

Negged.

I've come to the conclusion that derby is pretty much like a relationship with a guy who's running game. You know the one who's all "mmmbaby, you look so hot" and "I need you so bad, don't ever leave me" and then turns around and gives you a critical kinda look and says "why did you do that to your hair?" before telling you he's going out with the guys and you shouldn't have bothered doing it anyway?

Which only makes you want to a)flash double fingers and leave, and b) f**k him harder.

Which clearly only results in signing up for another season and contemplating all-star try-outs. (or whatever weird/sick relationship allegory matches that)

I know, the female mind is difficult to understand. But it seems I've got some need for speed and adrenaline to work out, still. Or maybe just a little of "a" and "b". I'm sure I'll figure it out.

:D

Crazy Like a Fox

I was going through some old pics and found a couple that I took of two of my favorite models last year some time.

I title this one "Fox"


And I think this is the "Crazy" part...


I swear the Kid gets all his talent from me. lol

Clown Noses and Butterflies Just For You.

Can I just say that I totally dig these guys. Such a tenderhearted song. Such great clown noses. And very cool Brit/Irish accents that come through their singing.

Deja Vu

Who knew parenting could be such a bittersweet endeavour? Not this girl.

It has been 13 and one half years since the Princess made her entrance into this amazing world and changed my life forever. Each year has brought it's own joys and challenges and this last year has been full of remarkable changes, seeing her mature into a lovely young lady. (see photo below... I know, right?!)



She has always been a very sensible girl and never one given to easily crushing on boys or centering her thoughts and life around their stinky boyish ways. And so it was terribly surprising when this past spring she was reunited with a childhood friend and fell hard for him. Their long-distance friendship has grown over the months following that time and the fact is that, well, she truly loves him and he appears to share the same kind of serious feelings for her.

********************************************
*record screeching* Oh. My. Gosh. Would anyone have a paper bag they could lend me? I may momentarily be having difficulty breathing.
********************************************

OK, calmer, now.

A little.

I'm finding this a very, shall we say, strange territory to traverse as a mama. I wanted to say "alien territory"... but the fact is that it's not at all "alien" to me. Because I found a Love very young as well. In fact, at about the same age as the Princess is now. And walking through all this with her, seeing this all unfold... is the strangest kind of deja vu that one can imagine. The scariest kind. I'm terrified that she will make my same mistakes. Terrified that we as parents will fail her. Not protect her enough. Protect her too much. Terrified that I will parent the girl that I was and not the girl that I have, if you can know what I mean.

We are trying our best to keep things locked down on this whole situation. There are lots of boundaries and conditions and communicating openly -- definitely the distance between our homes helps in that regard, as well as the fact that his parents are also keeping things together on their end in similar fashion. But the fact is that there is so much I cannot control. The heart wants what it wants and I'm not foolish enough to think I can control her heart. I feel that I am walking the fine line between honoring her as a growing young woman and protecting her as my child. Still, I'm so very scared for her. I know that sometimes approaching that precious thing you yearn for ends in broken dreams and a shattered heart. And I will absolutely die inside if I have to see my lil girl hurting like that.

********************************************
Bag, please. Thank you.
********************************************

I am reminded of some timeless parenting advice... "Just get them through it,". I just hope we can do a good job of that.

Things I Will Always Remember.

In five more days, our family cabin will belong to another family. My road trip a few days back was one with a purpose. It was time to gather up all our belongings and a few mementos, to get things ready for the new owners. Time to say goodbye.

I've been trying to remind myself this week, when my emotions get the better of me, that the cabin was just a location; that it's the memories that I love and that they get to stay with me. And so, it seems fitting to remember a few things in honor of this very special place.

-- I suppose it's worth mentioning that this cabin remembers me before I can recall time. Because before it was "mine", it was my Dad's childhood place. It was where he brought his high school sweetheart (my soon-to-be Mama) along with his family. And it was where they brought me as a baby. I don't remember those times, but there are pictures of my first stumbling "beach steps", hanging onto my Dad's hand at the water's edge, sitting with my Mum in the sand.

-- Some of my earliest memories there are of being asked to bring up some water for washing dishes. The cabin, in it's earliest incarnation was a three-room shack, no running water. I'm not sure if the women needed the water or if they just wanted to keep the little chatterbox from being underfoot, but I remember feeling pretty important toddling down the path to the beach with the pail in hand, trying to master the "art" of getting the pail full enough by tipping it in the shallow water. No running water also meant an Outhouse, of which I was deathly afraid of in the dusk/dark hours. And so, my Gramma found a pail -- yes, so classy -- young Flutterby got to use a honey pot instead of being swallowed alive by the snakes and monsters that lived in the outhouse at night.

-- The path to the lake is something that has almost taken on sentimental qualities in my memory. Not much more than a sandy path strewn with fallen pinecones (youchies) and wispy grasses and the odd gnarled, exposed tree root, it took great childhood grace to prance and tiptoe through the prickly bits and avoid the roots when one was running down to the beach. A number of times over the years, there was talk of installing paving blocks, etc... and my brother and I would always be adamant... Leave the path as it is. There is a sound that remains in my memory as a distinct "summer" sound, that of barefeet pounding irregularly across the hollow-sounding sandy-packed earth. I love that path.

-- I can't think of the beach without seeing in my mind my late Grandpa's balding head -- it was the view you would see from the cabin patio every afternoon as you looked down to the lake. Grandpa would drag a lawnchair down to the firepit and sit there in the shade, looking out over the water. Eventually his head would droop as he caught his "40 winks". Grandpa wasn't one to "play" with us kids -- not as our kids are used to playing with their grandparents. But the cabin was one place where he was eager to show us a good time. He was always quick to offer to take us boating, fishing, skiing, whatever. And there were certain hot days where we might even convince him to join us swimming. I'll never forget how he always wore his socks in the water -- as a kid I found that so strange. I guess children don't feel the rocks in the shallows the same way as an adult foot does... and there have certainly been times since spent in the water with my little ones, endlessly traversing the rocky shallows looking for special rocks and shells and watching the "perfect dive" that I have thought back my Grandpa and known EXACTLY why he wore socks in the water when swimming with us little ones.

-- Somewhere in my first 4 years, the cabin was added onto, a mad compilation of salvaged wallboard varieties inside and indoor-outdoor carpeting. We now had hot/cold running water and a bathroom with a toilet. My family spent just about every weekend and vacation up there through the summer. As a kid I loved May long weekend when we would go "open up" the cabin. A crush of activity and work and the novelty of the ice-cold lake water. I remember competitions with my brother to see who could bear standing in the cold water the longest. So cold it hurt your bones. I remember as we grew that turned into a competition to see who would be the first to actually swim. Not quite a PolarBearSwim, but the closest thing I've ever experienced!

-- Known as the family rock-hound, I was always on the the search for neat shaped, sparkly treasures. (To this day I am still a huge geek that way, sand is my personal LSD while sunbathing. I can get lost in gazing at that minute silica crystal world, letting it run through my fingers.) As a young kid I had a string of May Long Weekend finds. For about six years running, I would find a tooth in the shallows when exploring out in front of our cabin. A giant cow tooth, complete with roots and all. At the time I just thought it was incredibly neat; perhaps a sign from above that my rock-searching powers were a gift from on high. :) In later years (much later) I realized that there was a much more unpleasant reality, likely involving an old cow carcass washed up into the layers under the sandbed. Nature. *shakes head* It ain't always pretty. My Grandma was ever the encourager of my geeky rock-hounding nature. I think she was much the same as me, and it was she who gave me a box to keep my best finds in. Somewhere along the way, the box was finally discarded...but I do know that it was faithfully protected by her in the years that it counted to my young mind.

-- I can't forget the surety of waking up there in the morning to the sound of a noisy coffee maker percolating and the smooth rolling sound of the patio doors opening and closing as the early rising grandparents started their day amongst the still-slumbering cabin. The sound of the daily newspaper sections rustling and my Grandpa's grumblings. And always, the first thing I would do is peek out the curtained window in our room to see whether it was going to be a "good lake day".

-- Of course, there were also the sounds to fall asleep to. I loved the weekends when there was lots of family and family friends there. It wasn't uncommon for relatives or friends of my grandparents to bring up their camper and join in the fun. Those weekends, us kids fell asleep to the sounds of the fire crackling and card games, raucous laughter and the clink of bottles. Clearly, it wasn't something that was ever out of hand, else I'm sure it would not be a pleasant childhood memory.

-- Storms up at the cabin were something to be in awe of. The thunder could be tremendously loud, shaking the walls of the cabin -- the rain pelting the roof so hard you were sure it was bullets shooting from the sky. And some of the most awe-inspiring lightning shows around happened there over the lake. I can recall a number of nights being woken up by a storm, only to spend the next 45 mins or hour cuddled up in blankets on the couch or out on the porch with my parents, watching some of the most amazing, crackling skies. The smell of a kerosene lantern will likely forever be a "cabin smell" in my memory.

-- The cabin was always synonymous with Scrabble and board games and word games. There was no TV and radio reception was even sketchy that far up north. I was introduced to Word Searches by my Great Grandma who patiently sat with me as we would work out page after page on rainy days. My Grandma was the reining queen of Scrabble, ever patient and humoring when we were young and attempting to play the game with her, I remember the excitement when I grew old enough and realized that I was actually challenging her when we would play. Sadly, we also in later years saw her decline, when she couldn't play that game with the same finesse as in earlier years. It was Grandma who was also the queen of the rainy day. Solitaire, card games, homemade play-doh, mindless crafts... she would pull out the stops in her simple way to keep us busy and occupied for at least some of the day.

-- Kids screaming, trying to shake a leach off. Bad sun-burns and Noxzema cooling cream at night. Minor injuries and gaffes involving fish hooks and jumping when you should have ducked. My little brother howling cause he got stuck trying to climb through the space in a chair back and couldn't get out. Me getting seriously worried cause I told my little friend to sit in the sand pail and she sunk in and was horribly stuck, bawling her head off.

-- Learning to ski, my Grandpa and Dad patiently making the attempt over and over... my water-hating Mum standing waist-deep, holding us steady for take-off (a labor of love if I ever saw one!). My Grandpa, so eager was he to see us kids skiing, that we got paid a dime for every try and a quarter each time we got up out of the water and made progress. I remember it seemed hard... but once we caught on, we never looked back. Calm, hot days were spent tearing back and forth across the lake and I have so many great memories goofing off with my brother tandem skiing and learning a trick or two on the kneeboard, competing to see who could get the best air off the wake. I especially loved the hour or two after supper when the water would often be like a sheet of glass and Mom would shoo us off as soon as we had waited long enough after eating. Dad would grab the boat keys and us kids would run to get our gear together.

-- Growing older and bringing friends with us for the weekend. So much fun. Summers that seemed to never end. Evenings spent laughing til we almost peed our pants and days enjoying the sun. Sitting under the stars for hours with someone who made my heart pound like crazy. Nasty dishtowel-snapping fights with friends in the kitchen and music cranked up as loud as we could get away with.

-- All of that was wonderful, but nothing was really so great as bringing my first little one up there. I now have those same pictures of her toddling up on the sand, carefully holding onto her daddy's hand. It's been a huge joy to share my childhood place with them, to see them enjoy and love the very same experiences that I did, each in their own unique ways. My little girl/waterbug... so much like me. A little geeky rock-hound who needs to be dragged out of the water, even when she's blue and covered in goose-bumps. And my little action-man... building, digging, rock-throwing (just don't throw "Sissy's rocks"!!) never stop Nitro. The one who likes the water, but only if someone's in there with him. The Princess will tiptoe across the prickly path, attempting to keep her feet untouched by splinters and thorns. The Kid runs barefoot through the underbrush. They loved sharing a room there and often would talk and giggle way beyond the time when they should have been sleeping, even from a young age. The Princess who surprisingly loved to go fishing even though she hated that a fish got hurt because of it. And the Kid, who could only stand the wait because he knew in the end he got to clobber a fish over the head and then cut it open with Papa.

I am so sad as I realize that our time up at that cabin is done. But I am thankful for the time that I did have, for the weight of a thousand memories in my heart and mostly, for a family that knows how to make memories like that.

This.

I don't often do road trips on my own -- but is it wrong to admit how much I enjoy them? There's just something wonderful and liberating about setting your own course and all the freedoms that come along with doing that... BY YOURSELF. It's the small things like only having to stop for bathroom breaks when YOU need to, or cranking the music as loud as you'd like... or, even having it as silent as you like (oh my, THAT's something that doesn't happen much when you travel with kids.).

Yeah, at the risk of sounding like a selfish mama... I totally enjoyed tackling this stretch of road on my own. I perfected my urban hip-hop-krunk moves -- no small feat when in the driver's seat. I reached new heights of ridiculous, sing-along fun and generally followed my every whim across all 200 XM music stations and 800 kms. :) A little bit of mellow, a little bit of party up in here, a little bit of metal, worship, funk, 80s... whatever my little heart desired. Loved the "Good Feeling" vibe, the classic sound of Usher's "My Boo"...

And I definitely can say that this woman can do no wrong. This song got a ton of airplay over a number of the presets I was rotating through and I never tired of hearing her amazing voice. Such an evocative presence and crafting in her songs... one of those artists who leaves you breathless and filled with the emotion she wrings from every verse, every word.

Stranger and Strangerer.

What the crappity crap is that!?!? I totally heard something weird that afternoon, too. It didn't last long and I kinda just figured my ears were playing with my brain, or it was the super big drop in temperature that occurred that night... anyhow, didn't think any more about it until a couple of my friends popped up a status on Facebook about it, along with some of these links.

Oh my word. Toooo crazy.

Most people think it has something to do with the tectonic plates of the earth shifting and the hum resonates up through the earth's crust. I'm curious to see whether their predictions of an earthquake in the next few weeks is accurate. And of course, there is a lot of religious speculation. I don't know. While it is certainly an awe-inspiring event and notable that it has been heard at many locations around the world, I'm kinda skeptical (WHO??? MEEEE??!? lol)... mostly cause I kinda think that any sort of trumpet sound would be something that each individual person would hear. Not just pockets here and there. And while I'm digging my hole in the fundamental soil of Christian beliefs, I'll also just say that I would lean towards thinking that the timing is all wrong (cause yeah, I have an opinion about that) and that it will be the sound of a shofar and not some eerie War of the Worlds soundtrack. Just saying.

And... NAILED THAT LANDING on the "crazy" side of religious blog talk. A first for Flutterby. Mark it in your journals, people. *grin*

Anyhow, yeah... weird sounds. And very interesting to see people I know who have no belief system to speak of get all spooked and instantly start talking either Bible or Aliens. Much as everyone likes to rely on their intellect as the god of the age, when things get squicky, the fact that we are spiritual beings becomes evident pretty quick.

What do you think? Heard of this in your part of the country?

Got Random? Heck yes.

Holy nice winter, Batman! I simply can't tell you how much I am actually ENJOYING winter this year. Moderate snowfall and incredible, warm temperatures (-10 degrees C or warmer) have kept a smile on my face for most of this winter. I don't know if it's just a weird slice of Winter Anomaly, or if there's actually a reason for it... but I welcome it with open arms. Come to mama, baby Winter... I will make you feel right at home here while I, oh yes... BBQ steak on my deck. In a hoody. That's right. Cause that's how we roll around here.

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We also Zumba around here. Or approximate the general movements that are called "Zumba". Cause, frankly, we're not good, yet! The Princess and I scored the Zumba Fitness Wii game and have been shakin our booties whenever we have a chance! Who knew that flailing oneself around while trying to imitate great latin dance moves would be so much fun? I didn't. Score One for Zumba.

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Over the holiday season we took the kids snowboarding. They took home some great experiences and memories, one injured wrist and maybe even a skill or two. What we didn't count on bringing home was one case of head lice from the rental helmets. To make matters worse, it was my Princess with her luxurious long tresses who was the new home to these pests.

No word of a lie... this has been HOURS of work for me. Cleaning, washing, treating and combing. Oh my gosh, the COMBING. We have never had lice in this family before and I was super paranoid about it. It's been over two weeks and I still am checking her regularly. JUST IN CASE! *eye twitch* Thankfully nothing spread to any of us... cause I swear I probably would've gone all GI Jane if even one little louse decided to move onto my head.

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I am giving some thought to checking out our province's Homeschool Conference this year. I'm definitely in the homeschool game for at least another year and need to add some Canadian content to next grade's North American focus (cause, while I love all my American friends and all, I do need to teach the Kid a few things about his own country). With any luck I can check out some retailers and get that all sewn up. And, it sure doesn't hurt that my lovely sis-in-law and I can use it for an excuse to get together for some girl-time!

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My laptop may very well be hashed. I'm bringing it to a friend for one last Hail Mary try at bringing it back... but I just have this sad feeling when I look at it. It's like it's just a shell. *sad tears* It's soul has departed, I just know it. LOL I don't know for sure what did it, but I think it has a lot to do with the Princess' habit of leaving it running while it's laying on top of her bed/quilts. I think it's been cooked. And I'm just a little bit steamed.

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I'm taking a few tentative steps towards the edge of the Derby Retirement Cliff. I really think that this may be my last season. At least, I'm trying that sentence out in my head. Sometimes it sounds better than others.

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This house is now on it's way to being a Gluten Free Zone. I've suspected for a while that the Kid has some troubles with gluten... so I guess we'll see just how much it helps him to get rid of the stuff. I can't believe just how big a change it all is. And how expensive gluten-free products are. I'm definitely gonna have to find some extra time to be all Martha Stewart up in here if gluten-free is gonna be a permanent change for us, cause I refuse to spend that kind of money on teeny-tiny loaves of bread, etc.

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On a more serious note, there's been a lot of changes in my little world this past year. I've been amazed at how life goes on even when your heart is breaking. And how life, well, it's still good -- even when there is pain or grief. I've seen people I love come out of some tough, hard places. I want to think that the worst is over. I pray it is. I hope that 2012 is a really, really good year. God knows we all could use one of those. And as it all unfolds, I'm thankful for BBQ steak and Zumba and fun times and all those things that make up Life in between the heartachey bits.

Seriously?

Is it normal for a family doctor to go on holidays for a whole month, leaving his office closed, with no forwarding care or contact for test results? Unbelievable.

Apparently, for my doctor, this is entirely normal and OK. Apparently it's only OCD headcases like myself who are eager to find out if whatever the heck is going on inside of them is a simple matter of OkelyDokelyAllBetter or a more serious matter of HolyCrapNotGood.

Three more weeks and then I can get my results/treatment and my doc can get a piece of my mind.

What is the sound of one person drowning in busyness?

Not sure, but I'm pretty sure it sounds something like "GAKBERFLOOBURRRGGGGHHZZZZzzzzzzzzzz"

Just sayin.

My family is celebrating the first few days of Chanukah and getting ready to travel to my parents to hang with them over the Christmas holidays. It's slightly strange being a bi-holiday family. Even though we don't (as a nuclear family) observe Christmas traditions, the time spent with my parents sharing in their celebration kind of sticks us in a weird Chrismukah limbo.

We head out on the road tomorrow and I still have some gifts to wrap, laundry to do, a staff celebration to get ready for and cookies to bake. And yet, here I am, on the laptop, blogging.

Painful Irony.

OK, so it's not irony at all. Just straight-up procrastination. *sigh*

I wish you all a great holiday season, no matter WHICH holiday you celebrate. Enjoy your families and make some memories!

Honestly?

So the other day, I pop into our place of business to drop an item off and I happen to see a man approaching someone in the parking lot. It appears that he's asking for money and it appears that the other man politely turns him down.

I meet with my client and finish my errand. Admittedly I am hoping that this solicitous individual is not in the parking lot as I exit the store. He isn't and I breathe a little easier. However... As I continue my way a block or two over to the bookstore I am going to next, I see that he is now in that parking lot and I see him again approach people in the lot. I duck in the doors and am about 15 minutes into my browsing when he is there in the aisle in front of me.

He is polite.

He is also drunk. His every word washes me with the smell of alcohol and I have a hard time deciphering his speech.

His story? He is from out of town and his car (with his wife, 5 kids and a baby in it, no less) is stuck on the side of the highway, out of gas. If I just had some cash to give him, he could get some gas and get his family safely home to a town about 40 mins away.

Now, I'm not heartless and if I believed for one second that this man had helpless children stranded on the road in cold winter weather, I would not hesitate to help. What did I do? I told him I didn't have any cash (I didn't) and I offered to help him call a gas station to bring him out enough gas to get him into the city. I guess that wasn't what he was looking for as he shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

This whole situation plagued me as I drove home and I replayed it in my mind. I treated him well -- which I should have. He is a human being and deserves being treated with dignity. But I guess what bothers me is this notion: dignity is honored by honesty. And I wasn't honest. For the sake of politeness I bought into his ruse and played along. I played his own game if you will... (and won, I might add... apparently no inebriated brain is a match against this specimen of a thinking machine. lol) but what I really wanted to do is be honest. To say "Buddy. Really? I can tell you are drunk and I'm having a hard time believing your story at all. You need to leave this store and quit lying to people to get what you want."

It wasn't so much about this particular situation as it is how I often -- in so many areas of my life -- sacrifice being honest about what I think (Keeping it Real, if you will) for being uber-diplomatic and ingratiating.

But then, maybe I'm just over-analyzing. I have a tendency to do that, too. :) How honest are you with people trying to scam you?