Photo Tag!

I've been tagged by the lovely and oh-so-cute Cocotte at Suburban Musings. The idea is to post a specific, yet random photo -- specifically (yet, also, randomly...) the 4th photo from the 4th folder.

I think I can do that.



This prime little piece of photo real estate was taken one summer morning at my family's cabin. I was walking down the little path to the beach and could see my Mom and Dad on the dock enjoying a morning coffee. (they are the two specks over the crest of patchy lawn, for anyone who's looking...) Unfortunately, all the lovely morning ambiance was lost as I totally suck at taking any kind of decent photo. Somehow the camera never "sees" what my eyes do.

I feel that I let our little lake down, being that the only pic I've ever posted on my blog of it is this piece of turd. I'll have to remedy that sometime soon.

Thanks for the tag, Cocotte! I hereby tag Sombra, Desmond and Xavier.

I Got Nothin.

I'm not entirely certain, but I may be able to verify the existence of the BloggusVampiriticus virus, whereby one's brain becomes sucked dry of any original or clever thought.

I really want to post something today cause, well, I actually have time to. It's my day off and I'm enjoying it like a day off should be enjoyed. In my jammies, with a coffee and absolutely no regard for the actual TO DO list that I made for myself last night.

It's scandalous, really.

But still... nothing.

Maybe I'll come by here again, later.

Entourage

I think I may have seen someone from the Otherworld. Or whatever you call it.

Yesterday, while dutifully doing my warehouse duties, my eyes rested upon a man whose appearance arrested my attention.

If Hugh Jackman ever stepped out of the pages of a Dicken's novel, this was the man. Shiny black shoes, long black dress coat with a grey woolen scarf and a... for real, now... a black top hat. I wouldn't have blinked if he had carried a walking stick. He had two, equally well dressed companions with him who called him The Butler and they, along with a number of members of our Merchandising crew were bring up flatbed after flatbed stacked tall with boxes of chips, crackers, chocolates, candies and the like. The counter next to mine was opened just for this purchase and as The Butler and His Entourage left their flatbeds there while they finished picking up the remainder of items they needed, the gossip grew.

Who is this man? Is he truly some rich family's butler? An eccentric, wealthy man living a persona? Or someone who simply looks delicious in turn of the century clothing and likes to make people talk about himself? Regardless, the amount of merchandise he was bringing to the front was astounding. A member of Merchandising came by and I overheard that this was a charitable donation to some children's charity, just as the Butler came strutting back to the front end.

And, how, you may wonder, does a Butler (The Butler?) in the middle of Saskatchewan speak? With a proper British accent of course; leaning a bit towards the Cockney, rather than a crisp London. Oh, and he opens out in song (the last line of The 12 Days of Christmas, for those who would like to know) without the slightest discomfort.

Which all leads me to believe that he was a very rich, very interesting Apparition. A spector of Christmas Past.

That, or a very strange and extremely mysterious man. Who wears a top hat. And sings. And gives large sums of money to charity.

Nope, I'm still leaning towards the Spector-thing.

Impossible Things I Would Kill For at the Moment.

1) Being Someone Else. Cause my sorry piece-of-crap body is letting me down big time. I know that I just have to get used to the demands of my new job, but... yikes. Between pushing rows of carts through the snow, running lengths of the warehouse, loving the crap out of the concrete beneath my Adidas and constantly lifting and transfering 20 - 60 lbs from belt to cart, I am one hurtin' little unit.

2.) Summer. Cause -30 Celcius is not doing a thing for me, honey. 'Cept chap my skin and frost my car and make me swear more than usual.

OK... so those are the only two things that I'd be well chuffed to fix up.

Oh, and...

3.) Something interesting and fun to blog about. Cause, well... that's self-evident isn't it?

Play by Play for the Day.

10:45 a.m. I check in at Member Services as per instructions to find out where to go for my orientation. Downstairs it is.

10:47 a.m. I take a seat in the common area, hoping to see one of the five management people I've met thus far.

10:49 a.m. I can't help but wonder if I'm in the right place.

10:53 a.m. No sign of management, no sign of a sign, even. Gah!

10:55 a.m. I really must not be in the right place. See people down the hall. Ask people if they would direct me to the orientation meeting. Down the hall and past the closed door, you say? Why thank you, kind people.

10:56 a.m. Mutter under my breath about incompetent directions and an almost tardy arrival to the orientation.

10:57 a.m. Walk in the door with a smile on my face that doesn't show how much I don't like wearing this collared shirt and my previous irritation with not knowing where to be for something that is rather important.

11:00 a.m. Commence orientation with soon-to-be coworkers; a very nice older woman and a cute (in a clean-cut adorable way) pre-med student.

11:15 a.m. Learn how to properly lift stuff by watching videos of numerous people lifting stuff in exaggerated motion.

11:28 a.m. Learn how to clean up spills of a nefarious nature: chemicals, acids, vomit and all other manner of yuck.

11:42 a.m. It's Freezing in here! I wonder if it would look weird if I put on my coat? I don't want to look like I want to leave or something. Brrrrrr.

11:55 a.m. Really, really cold.

12:08 p.m. Help me. My heartrate is slowing into hibernation mode. Suck it. I'm putting on my coat.

12:11 p.m. Much better.

12:30 p.m. Learn that schedules are posted in military time. Hoo-ah! Secretly hope I don't screw it up. Man, that's a gimormous schedule.

12:34 p.m. Ha ha! Pre-med student is funny!

1:00 p.m. My tummy is growling. I should've had breakfast and normally would have except that I was told that Costco was treating us to lunch and all I could think was "mmmmmmmmmm, Poutine." and do you know how many calories and fat is in Costco Poutine?? At least 5,031,990. Enough to finance the clogging of a minor artery. Enough that I shouldn't even be considering eating it at all. It should not be considered "food".

1:05 p.m. Funny and adorable Pre-Med student orders poutine. SOLD! I'll have mine with a diet Coke, thank you. Cause I'm sensible like that.

1:35 p.m. Get to use the bio-metric retina scanner to clock back in. Kidding. But that would be cool, wouldn't it? Instead, I got to scan a barcode.

1:38 p.m. More safety stuff. Look, we're watching ANOTHER video about how to lift stuff properly. WHMIS, MSDS, HAZCOM, ZZZZZZZ...

2:45 p.m. Huh? What happened? Where am I? ... Ha ha. I'm only kidding. I totally paid attention.

2:47 p.m. I've signed more forms and contracts than an ambassador at a Head of State meeting.

2:48 p.m. What exactly do ambassadors do, anyhow? Sounds like a cushy job... I wonder how one gets hooked up with a gig like that? Ambassador degree? Charm school?

2:49 p.m. Night merch guy has a very interesting beard thing going on. Intriguing.

3:00 p.m. Quick break. Check out schedules for this week and next. Six days in a row and forty hours. Not bad. Double check my military time. Don't screw this up, Flutter.

3:10 p.m. My manager; my entertaining, talky, cool manager takes the floor. Some rules and do's and dont's.

3:15 p.m. Harassment guidelines. Or rather, guidelines to avoid harassment.

3:23 p.m. More forms. For realsies. My signature is by now looking like a wavy line.

3:45 p.m. Glad we're almost done cause my butt is feeling a little square-ish from sitting so long.

3:48 p.m. I wonder if the key will work for the kiddos. Will they remember to go to the neighbors if it doesn't?

3:51 p.m. Man, what if they can't get in the house and the neighbor isn't home and... holy cow it's freezing outside. C'mon. This better end on time.

3:52 p.m. Get a grip. Everything will be fine.

4:00 p.m. OK, entertaining and wonderful manager. We are supposed to be done. I have kids ALONE IN THE HOUSE. OR HUDDLED ON THE PORCH IN -30 DEGREE WEATHER. Well, likely alone in the house, but still... Smile, Flutter. Stay engaged.

4:09 p.m. Please, please, please can we go? Oh, more forms. Sure. I'll scrawl, I mean SIGN those.

4:15 p.m. Done. Finally. Scanny thing again. Oh, how I wish it was a retina scanner.

4:20 p.m. Where the heck did I park and why is it so unbelievably cold out? Rocket better start. The kids! Check cell phone finally. No messages. Breathe easy, I'm sure they're inside and just fine.

4:30 p.m. Home. Kids are inside... not fighting. BONUS!!

4:38 p.m. Survey damage in the kitchen from the night before. Yes, the night before. Cause I had to go out after supper and run errands and did NOT feel like cleaning up afterwards. I am soooooo stupid. Stupid, stupid stupid. Where's a fairy godmother when you need one?

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And, now... with my kitchen clean and my blog taken care of, I just have to wait for Mr. F. to get home and take us out to celebrate my First Day at Costco. Good times.

Tweet.

Tonight I got in tune with my inner bird and became a Twitter member. What's that? It has nothing to do with birds, you say?

Darn. I should probably return that little feathered chicken costume, then.

Well, it remains that I have joined the ranks of eager Twitterers. I really don't know exactly how the whole thing works, but it seems that all the Cool People are doing it, and if there's anything I can't resist, it's the chance to try and do whatever the Cool People are doing. Only thing is I manage to do it MONTHS after it's caught on with... oh... Everyone Else and I'm hopelessly behind and noticeably Not Cool.

But, hey, at least I'm not wearing feathers and a beak. That would've blown my Cool Cover all to crap.

Cuts You Up.

Sometimes I'll hear a song for the first time, only to have an odd sense of deja vu over a lyric -- particularly metaphors -- that I've used in my journalling or writing before. Whatever the reason for this collective shared consciousness, be it fanciful or explainable, it never fails to spin my head a bit.

I first heard this song just yesterday. Apparently it's been around a long time (think 1990), albeit a somewhat obscured existence. I've not had opportunity to listen to Peter Murphy's larger body of work, or appreciate his artistry -- which apparently is great and notorious. (but, what would I know...) -- the jury is still out as to whether I can say I "love" this one. But, hearing this song brought one of those deja vu moments to me and for that alone it deserves some blog space.

Long live the metaphor.

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While I may not absolutely LURRRRVVVE this song as a whole, I will say that I am awed by the man's glacial eyes. And possibly the carved cheekbones.

Brrrrrrrrr...ing it On!

I promised myself I wouldn't yak on about the cold again on my blog. So, instead I will tell you all the many and varied ways I employed to keep myself warm today.

1) Went to the gym. This was by far the best thing for staying warm. I started SimpleFit level four (20 mins; 26 pull-ups(modified), 52 push-ups, 78 olympic squats (20#)... I'm so going to be hurtin' tomorrow) and then wrapped my slick, sweaty self into my parka and drove home with the steam puffing from the top of my damp head. Didn't even feel the chill.

2) Clunky, Fuzzy Winter Boots and Ski Gloves. Now, if someone would invent a way to plug these into something that would make them roasty, toasty warm... a thought which inspired my next attempt at keeping warm.

3) Hair Dryer. Yes, it was chilly in the store today and the hair dryer that we use to dry paint samples found it's way under my shirt a few times today and maybe even down my pants (At which Mr. F. could only ask "What in the world are you doing?" and I could only reply "Warming up dinner, baby"... heh heh). But we won't talk about that one. Lucky hair dryer, huh? :D

4) Jumping jacks. Reference #1. Thought this might help. It didn't really do much.

5) Extra clothes. Self explanatory. I also felt a little embarrassed by the lecherous stare of the hair dryer after our little rendezvous and felt I should cover up.

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I have to go out tonight to get groceries and I cannot tell you how much I'm dreading it. But, unless I want to pack dry crusts and moldy cheese for my kid's lunch (How Hansel and Gretel of me, hey?) I really need to go out shopping.

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Last night I totally re-did the Princess' room. Her room used to have a loft bed, but this summer she got a regular twin-sized bed. (which is apparently, soooooo much more grown up, Mom, like, REALLY.) It was set up in the same place as the loft bed, which was no biggie in the summer time, but come winter time... it's quite obvious that the heat register is blocked by it's placement. And a chilly Princess is a grumpy Princess.

So, last night I rearranged her furniture, which also meant vacuuming and wiping baseboards and sorting through her toys and papers and -- holy cow, the girl has STUFF. I swapped out her big computer desk for a smaller one and threw out at least a gigawatt of junk. I found some missing socks and CDs and was very thankful that I don't allow her to eat in her room as I certainly would have found regrettable rotten stuff, as well. I also slipped a fleecy blanket under her flannel sheet for warmth and added a down throw to her bed.

The Princess usually doesn't like change, not one bit. But, I think she was pretty pleased to see the new configuration of her room. And, now that things are a bit more streamlined, it should make it easier for her to maintain. Cause I was reminded that I need to expect much more from her in this area and we've had a talk to that effect. HandiPoints chore charts have been explained and Mom is in drill sergeant mode. I'm trying to find the right mix of Benevolent and Scary. Will let you all know how that works out.


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Mr. F. and I have volunteered to be a part of the Ronald McDonald House. There will be a home opening in Fluttercity in the near future and I am so excited to help out.


About nine years ago, the Princess needed a couple surgeries that involved us travelling to another province's Children's Hospital for a week each time. The Ronald McDonald House was a huge blessing to our family then, providing a home away from home where it was easy to function as usual; cooking, accomodating a toddler, hanging out, etc. We met some incredible and unforgettable families and children there and we always vowed we'd find a way to give back.


We spoke with the Executive Director last week and are simply waiting to hear what needs to be done. :)


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This week, I'm signing the grommets up for ski lessons at our local "mountain". I've decided that, what with selling all our worldly goods and moving to warmer climates being a bit too far out of reach, we will have to find ways to enjoy this season we call The Freaking Freezing Cold Part of the Year (traditionally known in many cultures as Winter). I have vague memories of actually Liking this season growing up and it largely had to do with being able to go downhill skiing. The prairie town I grew up in had a ski hill close by... nothing at all like the mountains, mind you... but I daresay it was the envy of the province when it comes to skiing as it's the most "mountain-like" (and if that just isn't the saddest commentary of prairie living, I don't know what is.) So, along with a bit of territorial pride in this ski hill came the snobbish derision of all other provincial ski hills (and surprisingly, there are a few). Needless to say, it actually bothers me a bit that my kids will be learning to ski on *nose in the air* THAT excuse of a ski hill.


But, learn they will. I'm actually really looking forward to skiing and boarding again. (although my snowboarding efforts were sub-par and injury-ridden... maybe I'll rethink the snowboarding!) Hopefully the ski hill isn't too much of a disappointment. I know that there's a pretty active Alpine club here, which is great. There's a trip to Kimberly, BC in the works for the New Year and if the grommets catch on fast, we might just join in the fun.


Vive la SNOW~!

Sold to the Highest Bidder.

The past couple months I've been pimping my skills at our paint store. I love helping people design their space and choose colors and I work with some really wonderful people so that's always enjoyable. Tinting paint is just way more fun than I expected, but then I tend to be all silly and "OOOOOHHHH, LOOK AT THAT..." about lots of stuff, so it's no surprise that the swirling and mixing of vibrant colourants into the bases would captivate my little ferret-brain. And, there's always the odd surprise, like when you tint up a green paint, expecting to see a formula with lots of blue and yellow (just like grade five art class, yes???) and find that the only colourants in it are black and yellow. HUH?!?!? Like I said, it's trippy for this little mush head.

We've been working on revamping our store, so there's been a lot of cleaning and sorting to stay on top of. I've crashed the computer system a time or two, switching out components for nicer, newer bits of sleekness. And, in a smashing moment of brilliance, I brought YouTube viewing to all the employees. One small step backwards for productivity but a giant step forward in employee morale, if I do say so, myself.

I had a few other resumes out in the ether of Fluttercity, though... and this weekend I finished up the last in a series of interviews and was offered a position. (Side note: Do you know how difficult it is to be interviewed about past work performance when your last job was EIGHT YEARS AGO??? I seriously would have done just as well to totally Make Stuff Up as to try and remember that crap. Meh.)

Anyhow, as of Wednesday this little Flutter will be working front end at Costco. Part-time. Seasonal.

I know. I KNOW! The career path doesn't get any more long and winding than this. What can I say, I am a slave to the big bucks. No? Errrr... would you believe that I'm a slave to Costco??

Awwww, you guys know me so well.

And if you treat me nice, I just may let you all know whether or not working there is at all like the movie "Employee of the Month". Cause, really, you can't watch that movie and not wonder if there's a poker game going on up in the stacks or forklift races after hours. And you KNOW that I'm on that action like stink on socks. I am your Inside Man. Girl. Whatever.

The next few weeks are going to be a little bit nuts between working two jobs, hitting the gym and keeping the house from falling apart and my kids in clean underwear. But, I think I'm up for the challenge. I mean, it's not often that one gets called upon to make such a significant contribution to society and all. And, when Costco has given so much to me, how can I not give back? That's what I'm talking about.

If Anyone Sees My Pride Walking By, Could You Please Send It Back Home to Me?

First time back at the gym in for-freaking-ever and I was so not prepared.

I was not prepared for the fact that my favorite little pair of low-rise grey yoga sweats hugged my booty more than before. It appears that when you sit on your arse for three months and eat more than you should... the booty? It grows. Really, should not be a surprise and yet, strangely? It was.

I was not prepared for being nervous to go to a co-ed gym. My last gym was a Ladies Only thing-ey and while Krav was co-ed... it was just Different. Thankfully it was not a busy night and I was only moderately shamed by the sexy skinny girlies in their workout gear and just slightly intimidated by the buff college dudes lifting ridiculous amounts of weight.

I was not prepared and forgot my water bottle in the car. Which might not be bad if I wasn't such a mouth-breather during sprints. Seriously, a mouth full of desert sand would feel better than that parched mess of lips and tongue I called my own after sprint intervals. Yuck.

I was not prepared to open my gym bag in the change room and have my eyes well up with tears... really, real TEARS at the sight and smell of my leather sparring gloves. I wanted so bad to put them on, but knew that for sure I'd be a blathering mess if I did. So I just held them to my nose like a freaky little freak and wondered what the HECK was going on with me that I'd be so messed up by this.

I was not prepared to be so disgusted with myself about how much progress I'd lost. Strength, cardio, flexibility. Gone. Tonight I only tackled about 25 mins of interval training and some ab/core work (about 1/4 of what I previously did) and, while I can't say that it Finished me... I do think I'll feel it a bit tomorrow, which really sucks and shows just how far things have regressed.

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Right then. So, what I'm going to do is take this awful, negative experience and channel it into some good, old fashioned FUEL for CHANGE. Also known as Crazy Attitude that will keep me working and pushing and smiling through all manner of bodily punishment. *wink* That's me... the hard-core chiquita with the regrettably snug yoga sweats.

Stuff I'm Using Lately.

1) I'm loving the new Gmail templates. Nothing brings a smile to my face like cute little ninjas doing ninja-stuff around my email. Doubt? Have a lookeyloo.

Isn't he cute? And no... that is not my real email page, you SnoopyMcSnoopertons.

2) Burt's Bees Balm. Say that ten times quickly. This stuff is the Bomb, though when winter hits round these parts. It doesn't smell particularly gorgeous, which usually rules out a product for Flutter usage. But it is just That Good at fixing winterey skin. I'm also experimenting with going without gloves this winter. The last couple years I've worn driving gloves and it seemed that my hands got even drier than usual. I've met a few people who swear that au natural is the better, if not more painful, way to go. Of course, doing work outside and playing in the snow, etc. will mandate wooly mittens as usual... but otherwise, I'm giving it a go and so far? Less dry skin on my hands for sure. Hmmmmmm. I will say, though, that it is difficult to drive a Stick when you are sitting on one hand trying to warm it up. (And that somehow sounded a little perverted, so I'll stop there.)

3) HandiPoints. A sweet little on-line chore chart and points system for the grommets. Keep track on line or print out your chore charts. Kids earn points and you get to set the point values for treats or priviledges that they can earn with those points. Such as a family movie night or making a ginormous ice cream sundae together, skating or other outings or what not. There's also a bonus play section that's a bit like Webkinz, where the kids can use the bonus points earned to interact with their HandiCat, furnishing it's home and "purchasing" outfits and playing games and such. And best of all... it's free and safe.

4) DryerBalls. I'm not sure what that says about my dryer, but it might explain the regular groping encountered when I walk past it. Yes, my dryer is a manly dryer. And perhaps a bit more noisy when running. But, the noise and the groping is worth the trade-off for less wrinkly clothes and no static cling (even when throwing in fleece blankets). And heck, who am I kidding. The groping is a BONUS, not a trade-off. I also use the Nellie's Naturals laundry detergent which simply does it's job with no chemicals, scent or phosphates.

5) Kashi Go Lean Crunch. Cause it's yummy and crunchy and has 10g of protein and a metric tonne of fibre. Extra yummy points with banana sliced in it.

6) My gym pass. HA!!!! Sorry... not using that at all like I should. Just had to put that in here to publicly humiliate me enough to go face down my workout like a good girl tonight.

Break a Leg

Last night was the grommet's school concert. This year the school went to a lot of trouble to produce a drama/musical called Polar Mountain. An Inuit tale of two lost children who find their way home with the help of an Abominably Cute Snowman and Aurora the Ice Princess.



And let me say that the Cute was turned up loud in that joint.



The Kid's musical number was during the village party and their song had them bopping and grooving and.. yes... the little boys even did a little polka-type dance with the girls at one point. And you know that parents eat that up like chocolate cake with chocolate sprinkles. The Kid so enjoyed himself and I have to say that I hardly noticed any of the other little kids on stage cause I was so amazed and astounded that that cute little blond kid with the million watt smile was MINE. I don't feel bad, though, as I'm sure that no other parents noticed my kid, either. Strange how that works.



The Princess' class came out to a dark, rock number. The two little girls were lost in a snowstorm and the Princess and her classmates provided the storm. Dressed all in black with flowing white and icy blue streamers from their arms and sparkling face paint, they whirled and thundered and threw themselves across the stage in a totally mini-broadway manner. The song crashed to an end and all the class fell to the floor, revealing the two lost girls huddling together for warmth at center stage in the spotlight. This song couldn't have been more perfect for the Princess as she thrives on the dramatic and I could tell she loved every minute of it.



Anyhow, it was a sweet bit of entertainment for a cold winter night and I was really glad that the school and the teachers involved went to all the effort to produce something pretty cool that all the students could be involved in in a creative manner. The students with speaking parts all did so very well and the snowman was truly adorable.

Open Letter To My Hormones.

I realize and appreciate the great effort you've gone to during the previous years of my life to keep things orderly and timely. You have had an important job to do and have done it well -- probably better than I could do myself, truth be told.

We've had some good times, you and I. You quickly rose through the union ranks with your work on the Great Complexion Project of '89 and while I wasn't crazy about the whole Time of the Month Endeavour, it was a brilliant marketing ploy to throw the Girls and the Butt in on the deal. We've had a pretty easy-going work relationship and I took for granted that you didn't crack me out on the PMS train each month. I always appreciated that you didn't jump in on the water retention trend. Maybe I never told you that. I was especially proud of you when you revamped the Girls that first pregnancy. That was sweet.

I know we've had some rough patches. Hair and Nails wasn't your forte and there were a couple times you were, uhhh, late for the party and stressed me out a bit. But, you know... we communicated. We moved on.

I thought we were a team.

So, what I really need to know is... what's the dealio with the gazillion blemishes you've been letting in the gate? We have Standards up in this place. And me looking like a spotty troll is not on the agenda last I looked. I know you are capable of doing Better, little hormones. I have seen it with my own eyes and have the yearbook pictures to prove it.

I've got my eye on you. Year end review is coming up and I may just have a mind to outsource this job. Buck up, cowboys.

Roadtrip Recap Hijacked.

So, this is the spot where I would normally be telling all of you about my weekend away with the kids. I'd tell you about all the funny fun and all the exciting excitement that comes with travelling four hours with two kids in the backseat (cause that was more joy than should be allowed... if you're into bloodsport and vitriolic debate.) on icy roads. And I'd maybe mention that packing for two "big" kids STILL takes a lot of work and trunk space despite what you always told yourself when you had babies in tow. I could also tell you all the other truly great parts of my trip; my cute little niece and visiting with my parents and grandparents and brother and sister-in-law.

I would be telling you all about it except for the fact that, well, I blew my brains out before the weekend even started...

Something like that. But it will make more sense if I back up a bit. I spent the day before leaving feeling really pretty awful. You don't have to know me (or read this blog) for long before you know that I have sinus Issues. Behind this cute little nose is satan's playground, complete with sharp objects and stuff specially designed to make a head miserable.

So, this is how it goes for me. Things are normal until one day, usually by afternoon, I get feeling chilled and flu-ish. The playground starts winding up into full carnival mode by evening and I spend the next day or so working all my tricks to pull the plug on this. If I can get things under control within a week, I'm usually back in business for at least another week or two until it's time to Rinse, Repeat. And if I can't kick it, I know I'm in for the long haul which really, really, really sucks.

Thursday was Flu and Chill day. I finished out my day at work feeling crappy and resigned myself to the fact that I would be spending my weekend away steaming my brain out with saline spray and hot Magic bags which I packed carefully into my luggage on Friday morning.

And never took out of my suitcase. Cause I found THIS:

(picture removed cause it crashed my template.)

My Mama was given this by her chiropractor (totally The World's Greatest Chiropractor, btw) and she passed it on to me to try out. It is a homeopathic formulation which means it is meant to be taken orally. Mr. Chiropractor recommended it be, well... snorted.

I was desperate/foolish enough to pony up with what looked like a little coke spoon and measure out ten drops of this stuff. Clearly, there was a high alcohol content as just lifting it to my sweet little nostril brought water to my eyes. Primitive instincts fired up in warning and I swear that I saw red before tipping back my head and sucking what I later found out was 45% vol. alcohol into my cranium.

HOLYCRIKEYGAKFLAKKINGBRRRRIFFFNAAHAAAH*breatheFlutter*MOTHEROFPEARLSHEEPDIP!!!

The word "pain" cannot even describe that Mack truck. It was like my face gave birth to a very large, spiny cactus. Explosively.

It was staggering. Literally... I staggered trying to stay upright before I found something to lean against. My eyes were pouring water and my teeth felt like they might fall out. I managed to breathe only cause I reminded myself to. Somewhere in that firey fog in my head I remembered that I still had Round Two to finish. I clenched that heinous little coke spoon in my trembling hand and measured out those dreaded ten drops much like dropping lead bullets into a six-shooter before facing down an enemy. I was committed. Deep breath. A bit of inspiring trashy self-talk and... Tip and Snort.

ARRRARRAARRRRRRRRGGGHHHHH*burrrblesnort*FRICKINFRACKSOMOFA!!!!!!

I heard a pounding in my ears and it took a moment to realize that I was hearing the heel of my hand banging on the countertop I was bent over. Sweet baby Jesus have mercy.

And He did. Cause four hours later? After the throbbing in my jaw and burning in my cheekbones had abated? I was TOTALLY all better. Whether through the medicinal herbal component which treated my sinusitis, or the frank, raw sterilization and stripping of my mucus membranes by the alcohol content... I was healed. Alternatively, it is entirely possible that my sinuses packed their bags and left FlutterTown under the cover of night, never to return except to sue my ass for Assault and Battery.

No matter. I am a happy camper... and the new mother of two spiny cactuses named Frick and Frack. What a ride.

Cause I Love Them So.

Tomorrow the kidlets and I head out roadtrippin' to visit my parents. Beyond all the regular reasons why it will be lots of fun is This little bit of iTunes shopping I did last night. Behold... the HAVING FUN IN THE CAR PLAYLIST:

Axel F -- Crazy Frog
The Hamsterdance Song -- Hampton the Hamster
Unbelieveable -- EMF
Boom! Shake the Room -- DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince (Holla! Will Smith!)
Walk This Way -- Run DMC (sneaking a little Aerosmith in there...)
Jump, Jive and Wail -- The Brian Setzer Orchestra
All Star -- SmashMouth
Le Freak -- Chic
We Got the Beat -- The Go-Go's
Jump Around -- House of Pain
Hey Baby (feat. Bounty Killer) -- No Doubt
Oh Yeah -- Yello (remember Ferris Bueler?...)
Who Let the Dogs Out -- Baha Men (OK, I can't stand this one but the kiddos love it)
Tubthumping -- Chumbawumba (I'm hoping the drinking refs are missed)
U Can't Touch This -- MC Hammer (why did I download this one??)
Let's Get It Started -- Black Eyed Peas
Hey Ya! -- OutKast (clean edit)

Rocket will be jammin' all the way down the highway.

Also, since the Kid has his DS to keep him busy, I had pity on the Princess and downloaded the entire Season 1 of Heartland. You KNOW she'll be lovin' me til the day I die.

And, I know that you all are looking at this list and wondering where all MY downloads are. Honestly... I didn't really get much. Just the new GNR single "Chinese Democracy". Which did not disappoint -- that much (but let me say there's a reason I didn't download the whole album...). Also, I endured an embarrassing five minutes where I contemplated Bret Michael's four acoustic session singles. Yeah... let's forget that.

I've got my eye on a few things (of more substantial interest and quality than Bret Michaels acoustic sessions), but it will have to wait for another day when I'm not busy blowing money on my kids. That day does come, doesn't it??

See y'all after the weekend!

I Can't Think of a Title Cause My Brain Is Frozen.

Yeah, that thing I said about the unseasonably lovely and just really, really NICE weather we've been having?

I should've kept my big mouth shut.

Things are blow-ey and cold around here and I got caught without my winter coat on (cause, you know, the warm-ish weather and all...) and I swear that when that icy wind blew through my oh-so-sporty navy breaker; my nips attempted to wrap themselves around my spine in .05 seconds and my lungs didn't know whether to cry or shatter into a thousand pink crystals.

I always pictured Mother Nature as some sort of serene, lovely, regal woman.

Clearly, she is a cracked-out, psychotic meth ho on some sort of wrathful binge, bent upon the torment and destruction of us all. Clearly.

Let It Rock.

Official New Workout Song of the Flutterby.

Also, the Video which features the Striped Hoodie Which Has Captured My Heart (tm).

Also, a possible Rockstar Keyboard Moment.

Lil Wayne is regrettable.

That's Why.

*phone call*

Me: Hello.

Mr.F.: Hey, how's my 13 yr old Ball and Chain?

Me: Very Funny. Happy Anniversary to you, too.

Mr.F.: So, do you mind if I go out with the guys tonight?

******************************
Such a funny dude. Such a funny dude who's going to get the smack down on his WRY, SARDONIC self.

FYI, he is taking this certain, cute Ball and Chain out tonight. No guys allowed.

SuperSpy Lite

With the new Bond flick, Quantum of Solace, out in the theatres; our cable provider has placed all of the old Bond movies on their On Demand video feature.

I sheepishly admit that I previously had only watched a Bond movie accidentally. As in, "I accidentally passed out on the couch and when I woke up there was an old Bond flick on the tube and I was too tired to move." It's not that I don't like spies. I totally crush hard on them. Love the intrigue, the drama, the tension, all the naughty trouble they get into. Where's the downside? It's just that I expect a certain level of competency from my spies.

And herein lies my issue with Bond. Sure, he's smooth. But he's not dark. He trusts too much.

He drinks the COFFEE that the bad guys give him after he's captured. I mean, getting captured in the first place is at least a strike or two against you having a long career as a spy, anyhow. But, really? Must we also partake of the foodstuffs given to us by our captors? I realize that I am but a lowly layperson in the world of an International Man of Mystery, but I think it's pretty self-evident that the bad dudes probably put something sinister in the food. I mean, barring the real lethal stuff that burns a bloody hole through your body, chances are that at least one person spit in it. Really, Mr. Bond. Don't drink the coffee. What's that? You feel woozy?

Too trusting.

Also, too bumbling. Walking into traps, touching stuff that shouldn't be touched. Generally being clueless of his environment.

Now, maybe I just expect too much of my spies. Call me jaded.

Call me hard to impress.

Maybe I'm spoiled.

I can appreciate the shows from a historical point, even from a genre perspective. But old-Bond as lethal spy? Hardly believable. Jason Bourne would crush him. On his worst day, with one arm tied behind his back and while breaking code on his blackberry to boot. Craig's Bond might be more of a challenge... hard to say.

What do you think? How does Bond match up against your favorite spy?

I Ain't Cheap And Neither Is My Time.

This is going to be another one of those bulleted List posts where I just babble on and on about myself and the events of the past few days. After all, I am ALL about the Economy of Words and, frankly, attempting to segue is beyond my capabilities this morning.

• Friday afternoon, our business did a contractor appreciation lunch. Really very informal and fun. Like a "Come And Go Tea" kind of thing, except without the Tea or the nicely dressed and Clean people. Also, without the breakable plates and real silverware. Also... OK, so it's nothing like a Tea. But, the guys did come and go as they were able. Our store has been doing this thing a few times a year for a while, now. And it's been pretty successful in doing what it's supposed to do, which is make the trades feel welcome in our ritzy *murphlegasp* little corner of decorating heaven *HA!* and gives us the opportunity to do business-ey kind of things with them such as Inform, Collaborate and Communicate. Also, Sell Stuff. What it also means is that I get the dubious pleasure of making more Chili than the law should allow the night before. How much is More Than Should Be Allowed? Try somewhere between Commercial Pasta Pot and Industrial Vat of the stuff. Yes, that is an amount that is officially described as A WITCH'S CAULDRON of chili. Except it's rather hard to come by Cauldrons in this day and age, which is unfortunate as one would have been extremely handy. So, I was left piecing together four batches of chili into numerous, very large slow cookers and hoping for the best. At 3 a.m. Cause I'm dedicated to the Chili like that and wouldn't want it to get scorched from too many cooking hours. Mission accomplished, bee-yatches. That was some Slammin' chili -- got "spoons up" from contractors around the store. My wounded pride (I refer you, dear reader, to the Beef Stew CookOff post) was healed and I once again walk tall in the kitchen.
• We are having some the THE NICEST winter weather, ever. I'm sure we'll pay for it somewhere down the line... we always do. But, yeah. For now, THE NICEST.
• Chanukah. Our family just wrapped up a super fun eight days with, uhhh, more Fun. Special thanks to the lovely JJ for hosting the gory lot of us. I promise the next one's on me, sis!
• Nothing says "family" like a little GNR. Take one Paradise City video:
  and add four wildly flailing, dancing, stalling, flipping and headbanging grommets. Add way too much laughter and an inordinate amount of Mommy/Auntie pride (cause, yeah... out of all the songs these kids could pick? GNR, dudes!!!) and you have a recipe for happiness. Or societal anarchy. Take your pick.
• New Zealand. Yeah, I'm doing it, again. I'm one step away from phoning the Consulate to request an immigration packet. You can't tie me down. You can't fence me in. I was made to ROAM. ...Or at least to crazily contemplate roaming while being safely entrenched in my life and home Here in the frozen part of the Frozen North. Which, granted, has been unseasonably lovely and all of late. But, it's no NewFreakingZealand, I tell you that much. I do give Mr. F. grand and glorious kudos for understanding this part of me -- this little unconventional bit of me that comes up with these idealistic dreams. I'm not sure if he's just humoring me or really is willing to go on the wildest adventure with me, but he's being exceptionally accomodating of all my enraptured babbling about this. High Five, Mr. F.!!!
• And now... now I must go deliver paint. Excitement like this does not come cheap.