Who knew?

...That taking the memory foam mattress topper off my bed would be so awesome?  No more waking up feeling super overheated and my back feels so much better in the morning.  Like, seriously, "TenYearsYounger" feels better. 

Man, I Feel Like a Woman...

-when you walk into the prep area at your local powdercoating shop and two workers drop their stuff to help you...

-when you get the manager to agree to an impossible turnaround time for a job...

-when said impossible turnaround time is agreed to with a smile and wink...

-when said manager remembers how to spell your first and last name from a job he did for you almost two years ago...

Yeah, that just happened.

I totally need to be working in the trades. Life is good for a girl, there.

Very Pinteresting.

Two things I have learned from Pinterest lately that have BLOWN. MY. MIND and maybe even changed my life a little.

1)  I have been cleaning my bathrooms wrong.  I scrub too much.  Use too much water.  The pros do it different.  I tried their method and it cut my cleaning time by AT LEAST two-thirds and my bathroom looks just as fantastic as it does after my old-fashioned scrub-fest.  OMG, guys.  This is a revelation.  Angels are singing.  I may have shed a happy tear.  Life as I know it has changed.

2)  Monistat.  Cooter cream.  I know... ewwww.  BUT...  Apparently, when diluted and applied to one's scalp daily, hair growth increases up to 400%.  Not just for girls.  Guys with male pattern baldness are growing back their own hair with this and I totally will be heading out to London Drugs next week to purchase supplies and give this a whirl. 

... also, in other news.  I just used the word "cooter" in a post.  This is a First.  And hopefully a Last.  I apologize from the bottom of my classless, bourgeois heart.  Carry on.

So Random It Hurts.

School is well underway and things are going pretty well for both my kids.  The Princess brought home her first term marks and it's clear that she takes after the smarter one of her parents.  When we get figured out which one of us that is, I will let you know.  I'm very proud of her work ethic thus far -- this is absolutely one of the ways in which she doesn't favour her mother.  I was rather a slacker at school.  A good kid who managed good grades; but I procrastinated way too much and often was docked marks on assignments for being late.  *sigh*  So glad that I am totally not like that anymore.    This first month or so of high school has brought a few challenges our way as parents -- as baffled as I was by some of the conduct of kids and families in elementary school... high school makes elementary school seem like a sheltered commune in comparison.  All in all, I am glad that The Princess seems to be making some good decisions thus far; even if some of them had to be strong-armed.  ;)

The Kid is quite enjoying his teacher and classmates and all the enrichment stuff that we didn't always get to include in our daily homeschool grind.  Almost daily I am thankful that we took time to homeschool him; it has really made such a difference in so many ways.  To be honest... I quite miss having my boy around and learning things with him.  We had so many amazing conversations about some fun and deep and interesting topics; read such great literature together, shared some wonderful times... and I miss that a whole lot.  My inner geek LOVED homeschool, LOVED diving into novels and most of all LOVED seeing that look on his face when he "got" something.  An idea, a skill, a thought that resonated deeply... I loved being a part of that.  I sometimes wonder if homeschool is yet something that we'll do again in the future, but for now, it seems very timely for The Kid to be where he is.  He's working through some pretty heavy stuff -- and school actually is creating a great environment to grow and be pushed to move ahead.  I'll maybe post more about this another time.

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My piercing is doing well and I actually really, really love it.  It was a strange thing to first see it on my face.  Even though I wanted it -- and had for some time -- my eyes first saw it as something Foreign/Other and I had a couple days where I wasn't sure if I had done the right thing.  It also took a couple days to not be grossed out by the whole queasy reality of some steel having been driven through your flesh, because I am just such a girl about that kind of thing.  The hardware currently in it is rather large and utilitarian.  It was sized to accommodate swelling -- which I am glad for, as it actually did swell to a degree that the extra post length was needed for a few days -- but now that most of the swelling has subsided, I'm really looking forward to when I can switch things out for something smaller and feminine and sparkly.  

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As much as I admit to missing my homeschool adventures with The Kid, I must also admit to enjoying having a bit more time for my own stuff.  I have finally been able to head back to the gym on a daily basis and, let me tell you, it's not a moment too soon.  Skating has been my only form of exercise for the past couple years; and I just don't get to do it often enough.  I am way plusher than I want to be.  I am also 36 years old and totally realizing that this body doesn't work as efficiently as it did when I was younger.  And seeing as how I like to eat super-yummy food and ALSO seeing as how I don't want to one day be featured on a TLC special involving a forklift to haul my butt outta my house... daily gym time is gonna have to be a way of life.  Having time means I can schedule my clients and housework and errands freely throughout the day and not worry about whether the Kid is staying on track with his work.  And I sheepishly admit to liking the privacy and quiet at times.  Especially when I can fill the quiet with blaring loud music and dance like a freakshow while I do my housework and chores.  

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The countdown is on until I head off to Vegas with Mr. F.  We are joining my sis-in-law and her hubby and another couple of friends for a few days of "Post-Black-Friday" shopping and fun.  And shopping.  And cirque.  And shopping.  (did I mention shopping already?)... and, if I can get over my trepidation, maybe a 5 storey zip line down and across Freemont street.  Let's just hope that won't be another one of my "Flutterby almost passes-out" stories for the blog.  :)

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Derby will not release me.  lol  And truthfully, maybe I'm not entirely ready to let go.  I've been asked to fill a roster spot with a northern SK team for a game mid-November and couldn't help myself... I said yes. I get to play with my derby wife (who was also invited) and that will be a treat.  She was out all season with a torn MCL and we didn't get to play a game together except for the last one of the season.  I've been working hard at strengthening my back and was working at changing up my contact style at the end of this past season.  A lot more hip checks and booty blocking and less shoulder checks... it has actually helped a lot; although I am sad to say that I am far less formidable.  Whether that's just a result of still needing to get used to and master a different style of play, or whether that's just how it will be... at least I get to play a game I love.  My ego will have to take a back-seat.  ;)

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Rocket got some new winter boots... I am actually not dreading driving this winter.  I find as I get older, I hate winter more and more.  I remember when waking up to the first snowfall was a thing of wonder and excitement.  Now I just humbug and crawl deeper under the covers. I have a plan for this winter, though.  Winter tires were just one part of it.  The rest involves a car warmer, proper winter outerwear and a large stash of those hot pocket thingeys that I can stick everywhere under my clothes.  Oh, and lots of coffee and hot chocolate.  And extra gym time to make up for the gallons of hot chocolate.  I feel good about this.  This will work. 

Dance Party

Cause cleaning your house isn't as fun if you don't dance your way through it.

Love the hook.

Seriously. Just happy, happy fun.

Great classic Police sound. Can't. Stop. Dancing. ;)

All I know is I want to dance in a pool before I die. Just one simple wish. lol

The One Where I Am Ridiculously Non-Rockstar And Almost Kill Everyone in a Bloody Mirror Death.

1) whereby, Flutterby has wanted to rock a fun piercing for a very long time, but has repeatedly chickened out, and, 2) whereby it is deemed that after four years as a derby girl, one must either have a tattoo and/or piercing OR a drug and alcohol abuse problem, and, 3) whereby Flutterby's friends imposed their plan involving frivolity and companionship and many hands to hold, and, 4) whereby Flutterby's advancing age made necessary to commit to this plan of action posthaste; It is forthwith concluded that Flutterby had better like this new steel addition to her face:

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OK, so seriously... I would love nothing more than to tell you I was a total rockstar and aced this whole endeavour with flying colours. But I can't.

First, I must admit that I had every intention of cancelling this appointment. Not only was I just a little nervy about it, but it had been rescheduled and the new date didn't exactly work well with my hormonal state. But, my friend wanted me there to at least hold her hand, and it was the least I could do to show up and be there for her as originally planned.

 However, I did have some intention of possibly following through; I had taken out cash for the procedure. I was just going to see how things felt when I was there. I arrived just in time to be there for my friend (who got a super trippy piercing, she is my hero) and frankly, considering all... I thought things went awesome. While I didn't watch the procedure, it didn't really bother me at all to be there and see it right after. So, when Mr. Piercer with his friendly smile and cute double nose studs asked if I was game, I hopped onto the table and said, "let's do it".

Mr. Piercer was very efficient and put me at ease, I really wasn't just too nervy at all. He marked the spot and my girlfriends in the room all smiled in approval at the placement. My lip was clamped, a deep breath and one big pinch later, I had a 16 gauge needle imbedded in my lip. It was switched out for the jewellery and after a short struggle with the ball (which totally didn't feel good, but I handled it alright) I was golden. I could feel that I was amped. But I sat up and conversed with my friends while we paid for our new piercings. It felt weird. And numb. And I could see the stud when I looked down my nose. It was seriously huge. I looked in the mirror. What the heck? I have a steel post sticking almost a half inch out of my lip? This was not what I planned! (to accommodate for swelling tonight and tomorrow I was told)

Somehow the conversation got turned to infection and crusty abscesses and it was then that my adrenaline dump got the best of me. I decided to lay back down. It was just my ears feeling funny, but I KNOW my body, and that was not a good sign. *sigh* Really, self? We're gonna do this NOW, 5 minutes after everything is done?

 I knew that driving wouldn't be a good idea at that moment, and so my friend (who is a regular with this shop and crew) suggested that I come to the back room with her while she had a smoke and I could rest on one of the couches. We meander through the hallways and doorways to the back room and I am feeling worse by the second, only to find that the couches are all occupied with burly tattoo artists on drawing breaks. They pay no mind to the pasty, flushed wobbly chick and I decide I had better double back to the first room we were in. Which is where thing get weird. Cause my eyes decided not to see stuff normally. And what I thought was a doorway was just a giant mirror. And I almost killed us all. Thankfully, my girl grabbed me and I spent the next 5 minutes leaning against the legs of Cute Tattoo Dude while Mr. Piercer and my friend keep me conscious.

 Aren't I so much fun? Good grief. I've got to find some less embarrassing pastimes to share with you all.

The story ends well. I managed to pull myself together and drive home just fine and I can now almost look at this thing in the mirror without wanting to lay down for a moment.  Yay, me! 

The Kid was shocked and appalled that I would do this cause it hurts.  I am now his Fear Factor Hero.  The Princess can't look at it without feeling faint, herself.  And surprisingly, Mr. F really, really likes it. He thinks it's hot.  Rawr.

A Kid by Any Other Name Would Still Smell...

It's happening. 

He is getting older and bigger.  I can't keep enough milk in my fridge.  Or food. 

A daily bath or shower is a necessity and his shoes smell like they could be considered a biological weapon.

He is growing out of clothing before it's worn out. 

*sigh*

My baby doesn't seem much like my baby anymore.

An Evening of Rocking Out with Your... Guide... Flutterby.

I promised a hard-rocking selection of 80s greatest hairband rock hits.  I will deliver.  ;) This may also serve as a little tour of Young Flutterby's psyche during her adolescent years.  It's amazing I did not ruin myself entirely. 



I recall that my best friend had snuck a copy of this album into her room.  And like true rebels, we would listen to it at night... very quietly.  Cause we wouldn't want to wake up her parents, you know.



For serious?  How can this song not fire you up and make the room just a little bit warmer? Just as an aside, I love how their drummer adapted to his injury and how his pared down, powerhouse sound really became one of the band's signature elements.



I remember the first time I heard this song at my second cousins house in a basement bedroom.  I was young and impressionable and my older twin cousins were way too cool, and even though I knew I "SHOULDN'T LISTEN TO BAD MUSIC LIKE THIS"... I kinda loved it.  It is also possible that in a moment of weakness, I did a karaoke duet to this song.  If loving Bret Michael's is wrong, I don't want to be right.  lol


OMIGOSH.  This video is all kinds of disaster... which is why I probably can't stop grinning the whole time I hear this song.  But seriously now... why can't chainmail still be in style??



I remember rollerskating to this song back when our little city had a rink.  I'm pretty sure it was songs like this that made my parent's discourage me from rollerskating.  And look where that got me...  ;)



It must be said.  Going to an Alice Cooper concert is a bucket list item of mine.  His gift for the theatrical is tremendous.



I kinda love how campy and fun the video is, classic, bawdy 80s rock. 



Parts of the beginning conversation remind me of muppet voices.  I can't help but giggle.  And while I heard this song back when I was but a wee teen Flutterby... I probably rocked it best every week when I trained Krav.  It was often on the playlist during stress drills.

And this, dear readers, concludes our little journey through the 80s with your guide, Flutterby.  Please sign the guestbook on your way out.

A Wuss By Any Other Name...

I remember during high school, Canadian Blood Services would set up a clinic periodically.  It was a good deal to donate -- every donor got a free pass from attending a morning or afternoon of classes and yummy snacks.

Now, it's true that I wanted to skip class and eat donuts as much as the next student.  And, of course, the fact that your participation was helping someone in need by your donation was only icing on the cake. However, the truth is that I never, ever did line up to donate blood.  At the time, I truly hated needles.  And so, the idea of voluntarily lining up to have a large bore needle hang out in my arm for ten minutes or so never really appealed.  And when I say it never really appealed, I pretty much mean that I'd rather be eaten by wild animals.

Life went on, and somewhere between many exposures to needles of differing kinds, messy/bloody childbirth experience and various surgeries and procedures  (you apply drops to the STITCHES in your daughter's EYEBALL and see what that does for your quease-factor!) I somehow became much better about needles. 

Truthfully, though... while I thought of donating blood from time to time, life just provided many more oppotunities to put it off or forget about making an appointment than to remember and act on it.  Because, really... it's still hanging out with a large-bore needle and, well, easy to want to forget about.

This month my derby league accepted a Blood Donor challenge for the month of September; and two days ago I finally was able to donate blood for the first time in my life.

My day was a disaster in the making.  Filled with appointments and errands, I barely managed to eat lunch.  I didn't get to eat supper.  Which, apparently isn't a really awesome thing to forget to do on the day you plan to donate blood. I pulled up a bit late for my evening appt. and the nurses on shift were just able to fit me in to the last donor spot for the night.  I filled out forms.  I answered questions.  Really, really personal questions.  (which thankfully I had really good answers for, because, really... a person would have good reason to evaluate their life choices to date if they didn't have good answers for some of them.)  I was given what looked to be a GIANT plastic bag in which my blood was to be collected.  I do realize that only a pint is collected, but seriously... that was one huge-looking container.  Way to freak out the donors, CBS.

I was escorted to this comfy recliner.  My nurse was excellent and the needle didn't bother me a bit -- I even wasn't bothered by seeing the blood-filled line.  Kinda pretty.  I just hung out there for a bit, visiting with a couple league-mates who stayed to see the last of us through, and thinking that this was super easy-peasy and why did I never do this before. 

My blood was quite happy to leave my body, too.  While most of my friends had 8, 9 and 10 minute times; my blood ran screaming from my body and I came close to a record-donor-time.  Just under 5 minutes.

I was actually kinda proud.  Which I totally realize is a ridiculous thing to be proud of... but I seriously was thinking as the nurse unhooked me that I should try some relaxation/visualization techniques next time and try to beat the record.  Oh gosh.  I am a dork.

And then, in the middle of my prideful inner monologue, the recliner was raised... and the fact that I didn't eat supper, that my blood was just hoovered out of me without allowing my body a slower time to adjust, well... it became very apparent. 

I don't know how this works for everyone else, this almost-losing-consciousness thing.  But I get super hot and my vision narrows and my ears start humming/whooshing.  It's incredibly lame and unpleasant... and super embarrassing.  Seriously.  What the heck.  I just powered through my first donation and should be off eating Fudge-o's and slurping slurpees like a champ and instead I have a nurse telling me to lay back down and placing cold compresses on my neck and face (I can't lie, the cold compress thing was like heaven, itself.)  All I could think was, "Killswitch, don't be the only derby girl who faints".

I at least accomplished that much.  Consciousness preserved.  Way to go, me!

But now I have severe reservations about my piercing appointment next week. lol  It will be interesting to see how it all goes down.  Or how I do.  Whatevs.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow.

Speaking of the 80s... If I had old pictures and/or a scanner, I would totally post a picture or two of myself as Young Flutterby. The 80s were known for a lot of things, but nothing more than HAIR. Big, curly, poufy hair. And I freely admit that I tried my darndest to accommodate the trend. Spiral perms, bottles of gel, cans of hairspray, ratted bangs... oh, the trend was rocked as much as I was able. In fact, all my teen years I had longish/long hair. At it's longest, my hair hit around my mid-back. I can't recall just how healthy my hair was -- it was probably in awful condition from all the alcohol-based products we used back then -- but I did love it.

 I think I was about 17 or so when the trends changed. Cute little Josie B from Melrose Place with her adorable short locks... skate boarders and grungers with their bowl cuts... it was now fashionable for girls to have short hair. And with a little bit of trepidation, I sat in the chair as my stylist chunked off great swathes of my hair. I emerged with a short, sassy little highlighted cut that I really loved (I think that Josie's cut was actually my template example). I couldn't believe that it could only take 5 minutes to wash, dry and style your hair! It was a revelation... new life... freedom!

Since then, I have worn the shortest of pixie cuts, assymetricals, bobs, bangs/no-bangs... whatever. But I have never been able to get back to that long length again. The growing out process just takes forever!! My hair grows at a fairly normal rate, I think. However, I hate dry ends and probably instruct my stylist to trim off more than should be if my goal is to grow length. Anyhow, the story usually goes that I struggle with growing things out and somewhere around that annoying almost-shoulder-length stage where it's not laying right and not behaving right, I cut. It. Off. Every single time. And so, for the past ?? years (hahaha... just read "A Very Long Time") I have never once had honest-to-goodness LONG hair.

Two years ago, my hair was short and bleached blond. Very damaged from over a year of constant bleaching. And I decided it was time to grow again. I missed the feminine appeal of long, bouncy waves and this time I would not be denied. I conditioned, and trimmed. Good lord... it took almost a full year to just grow out and trim off the damaged inches of bleached hair. I went with a darker hair color because, well, clearly the blond thing was not working for me. I conditioned some more. I cursed my way through so many awkward and strange hair lengths as I had done so many times before, feeling like I was getting nowhere. And then, two years after I first decided to grow this stuff out and it was once again at that awful almost-shoulder-length stage, I found that the predictable little thought was dancing through my brain, again. I started looking at short, easy hairstyles, fun colors and thinking about... ACK!!! NO!!!!

And so, I went and did this, instead.

They are tape-in extensions and they are rather fun and awesome. They will be with me for the next 6 - 8 months and when I finally say good bye to them, my hair will be this exact length. I am in love with my feminine, bouncy curls and my fun highlights. I may even be tossing my head around like a pro shampoo commercial chick. Just for today. And not in public (that much).

Welcome back, 80s. I missed you. ;)

Indulge Me.

Oh man, I love the 80s. When the girls looked hot and, well, the hot guys looked like girls. Just sayin. Tonight's a ballads-only, slow-dancing, lip-locking trip down memory lane. We'll rock out with our... well, we'll check out the heavy rockin stuff another night. ;) Arguably the most technically perfect metal voice of the time, and definitely the sexiest mouth in rock. Ever. A sweet, tender song from a classic band. Quite simply the sweetest, most melodic way for a guy to tell a girl he just wants to get in her pants. Pure panty-remover for your stereo. Or guitar. Especially your guitar. Clapping. So cool in the 80s. No one wears a bandana like Axl. And I am a total sucker for the whistle. No joke. Love the crap outta that part. I'm pretty sure I made out a ton to this song. Good times. OK, so technically not the 80s... but Bon Jovi will always be an 80s icon and this is such a (corny) theatrical gem. Love his voice. Love his muscle shirt. Second best mouth in rock. Easily. Poetic, passionate and full of longing. "Baby, it's all I know that you're half of the flesh And blood that makes me whole" *swoon*

180 seconds.

From the day my Princess was born, everyone who met her and saw her little face said "she looks just like her daddy". Which is lovely and scary all at once. Lovely, because, "AWWWWW... what a sweet thing to say" and Scary because Mr. F. would not make an attractive female. Just sayin.

It is with relief I can say that she has not grown to be a hairy, large, Viking-esque young woman. *whew* (Not that I wish to insult hairy, large, Viking-esque women. Not at all. You go girl. *eeep*) What people were referring to was many of the Nordic traits she inherited from that side of the family. Broad cheeks, sloped nose, small mouth... things which look lovely and feminine on her, thankfully. **Picture removed because I was alerted that some creepy person found this post by searching "women with small mouths". Fricken creep.** Things which also make her look "not like me".



And so, I guess as she has grown -- while I've always seen her as MINE -- I rarely see parts of "me" in her. To be certain, from time to time, someone will comment that she looks like me or reminds them of me. But if I'm honest, it's not something I've ever seen for myself and I find myself saying in disbelief, "really!?".

Which is why I was surprised -- shocked, even -- a few weeks ago.

The Princess and her girlfriends will often make entertaining little video shorts. I'm sure they have dreams of youtube stardom except that some grouchy Mum won't let them post videos online. Stupid grouchy mum.

This particular video was actually pretty hilarious and starred the Princess as a stereotype. She was wearing a short wig and acting her part rather flawlessly, complete with accent -- this kid has pretty terrific comedic timing (sigh, likely something else from her father). But while my outer self was busy laughing and enjoying the show, my inner self was staring slack-jawed at the little playback screen.

It was like watching myself.

So many little mannerisms and facial expressions. Her eyes. Even her voice and speech.

Holy sh!#.

I found myself actually holding back tears while looking back and forth from this screen to her face... crazy stuff, this. I had never, ever seen this before. Had never realized how deeply this would touch me.

A very profound 3 minutes, my friends. 3 minutes that I am super thankful for.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year...

No Winter Wonderland just yet.

However, it is the season for WFTDA Regional and Championship competition. It's Women's Flat Track Roller Derby playoffs and that means Four Regional tourneys, followed by Nationals. And THAT means that I am a very happy girl. I am definitely planning to spend more than just a few hours over the next few weeks to put on my "raving spectator" cap and watch some of North America's most awesome teams do their thing on the track.

And, more immediately; tomorrow is our own league's championship game. I was hit earlier this week with a bit of a flu and my fingers are crossed that I will be feeling 100% come tomorrow night.

My juniors are also playing their first home scrimmage tomorrow and I am super excited to see them shine on the track. Coaching has been one of my sweet derby surprises, it's something that gives me a lot of joy and these kids are pretty terrific.

So, here's to a great weekend with just a few more to follow!

Fun with the Folks.

Today my Dad got an iPhone.

I know this because for the first time, I received a text that was longer than one T9 word. And two picture texts. And a full text conversation that included smilies.

Say what you will about iPhones -- they are super intuitive and fun. I know of more people who never saw a use for smartphone technology become overnight tech sensations with this phone than any other.

He is totally impressed with all the cool stuff he can do with his new smartphone. I am pretty impressed, too -- he really is taking to it. But I just can't let him think he knows EVERYTHING about his iPhone just yet. Exhibit A:



I love my pops. <3

Country boys.

Simply love this cowboy. Can't quite get enough of his Georgia drawl.

Just sayin.

Some questions never get old. ;)

Defeat.

So, you'll remember this pool that I talked about before, right? And it was going to be glorious and splashy and fun and make our summer awesome, right?

Well, it's been a little less awesome and definitely not glorious.

It was one thing to deal with the prep work; Mr F worked like a beast shoveling and prepping and what not. There was the interminable wait for the weather to cooperate and allow the bobcat to do what it had to do. And there was some frustrating tool rentals and loads of crusher dust to haul out. Me? I managed to get heat stroke the one afternoon that I spent out with Mr. F. working on it. I'm awesome like that. (But seriously, it was a crazy hot day. And hard work, too... OK, so I know I should have the good sense to be embarrassed, but really want to make excuses instead. lol)

So, this past Friday, the day finally came that our pad was level and the supports dug in and leveled. We had a good friend come by to be an extra set of hands and set to work assembling this awesome monstrosity. In theory, it's a fairly simple installation. But definitely one of those things where, if something goes wrong, it will totally gut any hope for success.

The pallet was unpacked. Tools were readied. A quick conference with heads bent over the instructions and we were good to go.

Pool Power!

Things were going smoothly. Channels and plates were joined and aligned on the bases. The beast of a wall was unrolled and threaded into place (much more difficult and fussy than one sentence can do justice). At least 20 bolts sewed this whole thing up along the seam -- two of which ate my knuckles in a most unwelcome way. Perfect "round" was verified. Then came the work of laying the felt floor liner and gluing the stryofoam coving alongside the inner wall. Meticulous vacuuming of said liner to ensure that not a speck of crushed dust existed on the floor. Wall supports were installed. The sparkly looking vinyl liner was brought into place and...

***SCREECH***

What is this?!?!?! The bag which was supposed to hold the Beaded Liner receiver strips held something that was definitely NOT what we needed.

Sweet merciful crap.

It was just after 4pm on Friday afternoon. A quick phone call to the company we purchased our lovely sparkly Pool Of Wonder from was met with voicemail. They closed at 4pm. For the weekend.

I then proceeded to phone every single pool supply store in our city, to see if ANY solution could be found. Heck, I would even buy a totally different liner if that would help at this point. No help to be found.

We were left with the equivalent of a giant metal SAILCLOTH erected in our yard. So far, the weather had been mild, although the sky was threatening rain. I braced all the wall supports with stakes and guys and we crossed our fingers in hopes that the wind would stay away for the weekend until we could at least get the right parts shipped out and our Pool Of Wonder filled with the gazillion gallons of water that would make it a stable, unmovable structure.

I swear I gave myself an ulcer that evening -- every gust of wind sent me headed to the windows to look out over the yard and make sure that the pool wall was still standing. By 2am, the wind was definitely coming up -- it looked to be a storm brewing and I had a small inner fit and then gave myself up to try and sleep. I pretty much knew how this story was going to end.

The morning didn't disappoint -- the sounds of metal shimmying freely in the wind was our first clue. But even that didn't seem real until I looked out the window to see the bent and crumpled frame/wall. And somehow, spending the next two hours undoing all the hard work of the day before, in gusting winds, did nothing to improve my mood or outlook.

Bah humbug.

Today, we are finally able to able to deal with the company on this. They are so far being pretty peachy about working with us and hopefully replacing the bits that were ruined. Had they packaged things properly, the pool would have been filled and immovable by that evening and the storm would have meant nothing.

At this point, though... I am rather not eager to set everything up, only to have to basically winterize it in just a few weeks.

Sparkly, splashy, fun, awesome, Pool of Wonder, huh?? I swear that next summer, I will only be leaving the pool for basic bodily survival and sleep. Heck, I might even sleep in it. I have a whole missed season of swimming to catch up on.

*wheeeeee!*

Don't mind me, I'm just having a small spaz about my new favorite phone app.

SongPop.

It's like Name That Tune played with all your (real and cyber) friends. I can't lie -- I should be deadly at it, but my weird nervy brain often makes me jump to the wrong conclusion on a song (cause the people I'm playing with currently can guess songs with less than A SECOND's worth of play time!! That's crazy!!) or stab the wrong button when I'm aiming for a different one.

It's not easy being me. True that.

Check the app out. Totally a good, fun time.

Wahhhhhh...

I'm beginning to think this swimming pool will never, ever, ever get installed.

We just spent an hour trying to fine-level the hardpacked clay ground after the bobcat finished excavating.

Oh. My. Lord.

It's like digging into the side of a mountain. Like granite.

On to Plan B... Mr F is off to get a load of crusher dust. I figure that with the ground being so solid and unmovable, settling is the least of our worries. We'll just build the level base. (and yes, I said that with a wrinkly-nosed snarl and derisive look out the window at the stinking Clay Ground patch that is mocking me with it's non-swimming-pool-existence)

So, tomorrow I will have tamper and transit level in action -- I feel the need for some theme music. Something inspiring and superhero-ish. DA DAHDA DAH!!! And with any amount of luck, we will get this thing pulled together before the middle of next week.

I feel like this might be a good time to also say a prayer for cooler weather. Apparently I am a grouchy bear to work with in the heat of the afternoon. Or he is. One way or another, a cool breeze and some shade clouds would be mightily appreciated. ;)

Wild horses.

Some songs just take you back.