I'm Working on a Big One

I have a story to tell you. Unfortunately, I don't have the energy right now to tell it. Why not? Well, frankly, because people are exhausting me. Truly. I'm not going to spend this time whining and complaining about them... much as I would like to. But I'm not the happiest camper right now.

Unless I think about this duo. They make me smile:



And this lady. She might be a mister, but she's pretty damn awesome online and even better in person. Plus she and her husband bought me free drinks:



And this guy. He makes me smile too:



So I'll work on my story tomorrow and try to catch you here before the weekend.

In Which I Discuss Bodily Movements

I never really gave toilet paper much thought until I was 8 years old and sitting on the toilet in my grandparents’ house in Britain. Which actually means I was in the john, or the loo, or something to that effect. In any case, it was not a place I wanted to be.

Wanna know why? Head on over here to find out!

Junos in Vancouver

Are you a Canadian music junkie? À la Cowboy Junkies? Maybe you rock out to Nickelback? Love Feist? Indies like Moxy Fruvous or The Grapes of Wrath?

We're discussing it over at Canada Moms Blog. I've got my vote in for the best Juno performance ever. I might even put it up there as the best Cohen cover ever.

Gauntlet's down. What do you think?

It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood...

For the last couple of months, well, really since Labour Day weekend, David and I have been couple dating. No, not wife swapping! Couple dating. You know... when you find a couple that you really like, and you hope really likes you. Of course they'll have kids the same age as yours, and said kids play together without killing each other. You know, that kind of couple dating.

So, we've been couple dating the people across the street. It's been going well, but it wasn't always smooth sailing. The second time they met David, he rode home on his little red Honda 50cc scooter which tops out at 60km/hour (downhill). It's a bit, hmmm, emasculating. It didn't help that he arrived home wearing tan cords a bit too short, white sweat socks and black dress shoes. I'm not sure why. I'm not sure why I let him out of the house like that. I probably didn't see him, at least that's what I hope.

Anyway, he cruised back home down the street while I was busy chatting up our neighbours on our second date, watching the kids play, generally charming them with my witty repartee.

They took one look at him and, well, laughed. It was hard not to. David, at 5'11" towers over his scooter. His outfit was ridiculous, and when he told us that some redneck drove by him and yelled a totally politically incorrect name at him, we, well, we laughed. Our date dubbed David "Scooter Boy" and the name has stuck.

Since that fateful September, we've become steadies with our neighbours and they've been there to help us out many a time. They babysat while I took David to the emerg on Christmas Day with Norwalk virus. I paid to allow Ard to torture me in the name of "exercise". They lent me their car when my own decided to overnight at the repair shop. Acting as their real estate agent, I put their house up for sale during their Mexican holiday.

But the scooter has remained an ever-present running joke. During an unexpected snow, they "protected" David's scooter building a snow fort around it. In the middle of the street:


Note the use child labour.


Trust me, there's a scooter behind that pile of snow!

Recently, David celebrated his 42nd birthday. And here, with nothing but true love, was their most recent act of generosity. Isn't it every couple that hopes for a bouquet of flowers when dating?


Note the basket of plastic carnations, the handlebar streamers, the pink airhorn.

Needless to say, we have found a great match. Our sons now play together for a solid hour or two before the fight breaks out. Ard and I have discovered, to quote her, that, "Our husbands have a split personality; they both share the same one."

I can only hope that as we approach our 7th month anniversary that the spark stays alive. I have high hopes it will.

Living la Vida Loca à la Casa Gratton -- Part Three

Really, there's a simple explanation to reasons why life à la casa Gratton has been so crazy the last few weeks. Alarm bells, car bells, they were all ringing for a reason.

Because there's some sort of balance that needs to be achieved in the universe. Or so I've been told. Apparently, those who do good have that good come back at them. Those who do evil not-so-good, have that come back at them too.

So, as I said, there's a simple reason why my life started unraveling around me.

.
.
.

Last month, I tried to sell my neighbours' house.

While they were away on holidays.

And when they may not have been privy to that plan.

Okay, they had no clue. The day after they left, I went down to Home Depot and bought one of those obnoxiously orange and black "House for Sale by Owner" signs for a bargain $6.95. And it would've been so much funnier if they had left their cell phone on for the holiday instead of turning it off.

But they had a few interested callers. And it definitely made them do a great double take when they arrived home.

I guess I'll need to savour those memories for the next little while as the universe tries to balance itself.

images.google.ca

I'll finish my weekend trilogy tomorrow (or perhaps Wednesday cause I'm a bit behind on life at the moment).

But for now, I have a new post up at BlogHers ACT Canada. It's all about hockey, Dolph Lundgren and Malibu. No word of a lie. Check it out.

Besides, I have a question there I need your input on. So don't lurk. Read it and show the love.

Living la Vida Loca à la Casa Gratton -- Part Two

** Thanks to everyone for showing the bloggy love over at Canada Mom Blogs.

So after a not so restful sleep, Jakey was up at 5:15am. Naturally. There's some law in the world that states, "The less sleep you and your progeny have, the earlier everyone will have to get up in the morning." You know it's true.

The alarm panel was blinking Area 17 FIRE in an ominous way, but the sledgehammer I had readied in the hall didn't need to be called into action yet. Bleary-eyed, I stumbled through the morning routine, got Nate out to his skating practice and realized that we would have to hit Toys R Us afterward to get a present for an afternoon exercise in torture birthday party. The only thing stupider than going to Toys R Us with two kids on a Saturday is hitting up an IKEA on a Sunday afternoon.

10:30am: On the highway to get to the big box store asphalt jungle, a message flashes onto my dashboard LCD display: Check Charging System. Which reminds me I haven't activated my new Visa card yet.

10:34am: Notice flashes off.

10:50am: Kids and I reach our destination and walk through the doors. The smell of fresh plastic is everywhere.

Apparently, it's Barbie's 50th birthday and the store is celebrating with icing-laden cupcakes.

11:00 - 11:18am: I contend with increasingly shrill, sugar-fueled, "I wanna bike. I wanna scooter. I want this. I want that. I never get anything. I want a toy. MooooooooMMMMMM!" complaints, while Jakey runs in rabid circles around the aisles.

11:30am: I load two sobbing kids in the car and drive the highway home. Check charging system appears for a while then disappears. Car seems fine. Besides, it was just in for its 73 kajillion dollar "tune up" last month.

noon: We reach home and I have a quick stare-off with the alarm system panel. It blinks once. I stick my tongue out.

1:20pm -- I hit the highway again to get David. This time the charging system warning stays on most of 45 minute drive to the airport.

2:30pm -- Pick up David and point out the intermittently flashing warning again. David mentions that means the alternator is having trouble. At least there's no air raid siren alarm attached to the warning.

4:06pm -- Having dropped David and Jake at home, Nate at his party, I pull into the Ford dealership only to be told that the they closed at 4:00, the technicians are all gone and that yes, indeed, something must be wrong with the alternator. Don't drive the car.

Since it's our only family vehicle, and they're not open Sunday, I leave.

4:15pm -- I pull out of the dealership, ask David to call Canadian Tire. He calls back and says they're closed, bring in the vehicle tomorrow.

Sunday

8:30am -- I drop David and kids off to swim for 2 hours while I go to Canadian Tire to see about an alternator.

9:30am -- They tell me that my alternator is not working, but they need to order the parts. Don't drive the car, leave it there until tomorrow.

Since it's our only family vehicle, I have them charge the battery for an hour, then drive to get the boys and go home.

4:30pm -- Nate splits his top lip open, forcing us to drive to the clinic for stitches. Fortunately, they suggest glue. I spend the entire drive there and back convinced the car will die. The warning is on for good now.

9:00pm -- David leaves for another, week-long business trip.

Monday

8:30am -- I drop off kids at school/daycare, dog at doggy daycare, the car at Canadian Tire and am assured it will be ready by 4pm.

2:30pm -- CT calls to tell me that they've had three different alternators delivered, none of which are right. The correct one costs, get this, $1000. They decided that was too expensive, so they sent the alternator to be rebuilt. (Would've been nice to be consulted on that executive decision.) Problem is, the rebuilt alternator isn't back since the garage they sent it to needs to order another part for the rebuild. My car might not be ready at 4:00pm.

Uh. huh.

4:30pm -- They call. My car won't be ready until tomorrow.

4:35pm -- I frantically call neighbours to pick up my sons, call the doggy daycare owner to drop off my dog (since no taxi will take him with me), and arrange for a cab ride home.

Tuesday

8:30am -- The same neighbours who picked up my kids give me their much-more-expensive-than-my-vehicle car so I can function for the day.

2:30pm -- CT calls to ask me for the alarm code for my car.

Me: What alarm code?
CT: Well, the horn alarm's going off and the immobilizer's been activated and we can't turn the car over.
Me: My car doesn't have an immobilizer.
CT: It must have because the engine won't turn over.
Me: I don't think so. No immobilizer. Have you called Ford?
CT: They said they don't know. But do you have the code?
Me: There is no code. I have no code. There is a keypad on the door, but we've never used it, never set it. No code.
CT: Is it a previously owned car?
Me: No.
CT: Well can you check the manual, because the code might be in there.
Me: No. I'm at work. But I'm pretty sure there's no code.
CT: Okay, we'll figure it out.

2:50pm -- My cell rings again.

CT: So, you really don't know the code, right? The horn's driving us crazy.
Me: NO. CODE.
CT: Okay. Thanks. Bye.

4:00pm -- I call Ford to see if I am going to be able to get my car.

CT: Oh yes, no problem.
Me: Soooooo, you turned the alarm off?
CT: Hmmm? Oh yeah. Turns out we hit the FLIBBEDY GIBBIT and it set off the alarm and immobilized the car.
Me: So, everything's okay?
CT: Sure.

** To Be Continued

New Bloggy Job

Hey all.

So I figured I didn't have enough stuff on my plate. I've added a new writing gig.

Do you think that your daughter should get the HPV vaccination? Or will you "just say no" to these drugs?

Check me out at Canada Moms Blog. Keep in mind the site is Beta and soft-launched. If you really love me, leave a comment and show the love. (I'm afraid of being the only poster without a lot of traffic.)

So click here and tell me if you'd do it.

We Interrupt Your Regular Programing...

... to bring you a cute photo or two.

I needed to do head shots of Jakey. Here are a few of tonight's efforts.

Living la Vida Loca à la Casa Gratton** -- Part One

Weekends are a time for rest, for relaxation, for rejuvination, non?

Friday night, while David was still out of town on business, I was looking forward to putting Nate down by 8:45pm (weekends we stay up a little later) and having a few hours to catch up on my PVR viewing. Things were going like clockwork until, oh 8:30pm.

8:31pm -- It takes me a minute to realize that there is an air raid siren going off in my house. Chilco wakes up and starts barking, 'cause, you know, that's going to help.

8:32pm -- I run into the hallway realizing that the smoke detector is going off. I race to Jake's room to see if the space heater has caught on fire. I see no smoke.

8:34pm -- I still see no smoke. Anywhere. I frantically wave Nate's book underneath the detector to clear the air. (Don't ask me of what. Stray dust particles, maybe?) It's not helping.

8:35pm -- Nate is standing in the living room hands plastered to either side of his head, elbows sticking out at 90 degrees. Jake finally wakes up out of deep sleep, screaming. The noise is driving me insane. Chilco is helpfully adding to the din.

8:36pm -- I realize that the smoke detector might also be a carbon monoxide detector. (I disabled our funky CO monitor last summer.) Scooping up Jakey and my cell, I run to the front door. Nate refuses to come outside into the cold. Chilco takes advantage of the open door to bolt outside the house.

8:37pm -- The noise is melting my brain. I also wonder why none of the neighbours are rushing to my aid. Surely they can hear this thing. Meanwhile, Chilco decides to rush at a car parking on our street and bark at the occupants, threatening to chew them alive if they step out of their car.

8:38pm -- I keep trying to shepherd Nate outside while holding a shivering, shaking Jakey who is still not really aware of what is happening. While intermittently screaming, "Come! Chilco! Come now! Chilco! Come!" I stare at the cell phone I'm holding and I can't remember our landlord's names (they live in the basement suite). I'm staring at the phone like I've never seen it before, while out of the corner of my eye I see Chilco run out on the street into the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.

8:39pm -- I finally remember, get C and B on the phone, and they say, "Hey Mandy.... Yes, we hear the noise. We thought maybe Nate had a new toy." (I think, "WTF? Seriously?") They tell me they think it's the battery in the smoke detector and they'll come up to help. I've decided that I can't hold Jakey, keep running to get Nate and worry about the dog, so I sacrifice the dog (and the people in the parked car he's decided to "attack") to their fates.

8:41 - 8:45pm -- C and B arrive, pull the smoke alarm down, take out the batteries, and wouldn't you know, the damn alarm is STILL SOUNDING. C figures out that the staticco blasts relentlessly destroying what's left of my hearing are coming from the house alarm system, not the actual smoke detector.

8:47pm -- They disarm the alarm and there is merciful silence. For one minute.

8:48pm -- The alarm starts up again, not to be defeated by mere 4-digit codes and OFF switches.

8:50pm -- Nate is now bawling in the living room, scared out of his wits.

8:55pm -- Chilco has given up on the black Audi and has come back into the house, running in circles, getting tangled up in everyone's legs.

8:56pm -- C stands by the alarm, punching in the code and the OFF switch every minute while B leaves to go to the store and buy 4 9-volt batteries: 2 for our detector, 2 for theirs downstairs.

8:58 -- 9:10 pm -- I decide to go into the living room and sit down while Jake rests quietly on my shoulder and Nate, still sniffling, sits next to me. I take this opportunity to teach Nate that if he ever hears this noise again, he should leave the house immediately.

9:12pm -- Chilco comes and velcros himself to my leg.

9:13 pm -- Jake decides that since he's up, he should get down and start playing. I realize that I am going to have to put him to bed, even if the alarm is still making a valient effort to KILL US ALL.

9:14 -- 9:34pm -- While Nate stands in the hall talking with C, I stand over Jakey's crib rubbing his back. Chilco is still crazy glued to my leg. Jakey keeps falling asleep and waking up within a minute. I decide to put Nate in his bed (same room) and keep rubbing Jake's back in an effort to get everyone to settle down. C is still wielding the magic combo over by the door as needed.

9:34pm -- I pat Nate's bed and Chilco immediately jumps up and huddles into Nate, resting his doggy head on Nate's neck and shoulders. Save for the sheer terror in Chilco's eyes, he looks like he's trying to spoon Nate. This makes Nate giggle. And remark that a) Chilco's head is heavy and that b) Chilco has bad breath. All true.

9:44pm -- Jakey is finally asleep, and Chilco shows no sign of abandoning his 4 year old protector, so I squish into the bed for a few snuggles.

9:54pm -- Nate is still wide awake, so I go out to talk with C and B, who has returned and replaced the batteries. We confer and, while the alarm seems to have admitted defeat, I am still worried.

10:00 -- 10:10pm -- C and B get a ladder and go inspect the crawl space in the attic at my insistence request to make sure there are no smoldering flames from a chimney fire.

10:11pm -- We agree to reset and check the system tomorrow.

10:12pm -- I crawl into bed with Nate (still awake), and Chilco and fall asleep, later waking and stumbling to my own bed at 11:30pm.

3:00am -- I awake bolt upright in bed, realizing that the alarm has sounded a warning beep and is about to go off again. I rush into the hall, type a random 4-digit code that I hope approximates the correct one C told me however many hours ago and hit the OFF.

3:05am -- Nothing has happened, yet, but I can't peel my eyelids apart, and I refuse to sleep on the hall floor, so I stumble back to bed and mutter, "Just try it, you #$&!" at the alarm bell as I crash onto my pillow.

To Be Continued...


**You can mix French and Spanish in the title of a blog right?

Randomly Ranting

I don't have anything profound to write today. Perhaps tomorrow. But there have been a couple of things swirling around in my brain, unconnected except for the fact that they keep nagging at me. So I thought I'd put them out there and let them nag at you. Possibly. I'm willing to accept that what bugs me might not phase you, but here it goes.

1. Apostrophe "s" never denotes the plural of a noun. Ever. I get that we all make spelling errors, especially when we don't proof read carefully, but persistent use of the possessive for the plural is not a typo.

2. Why do I do all the work online to get a Ticketmaster ticket and then get charged a convenience fee? Let me get this straight. I'm being charged for conveniently not having to bother any of your peeps with finding, selecting, or processing the payment for the tickets? I think you also charged me to print the tickets on my own paper, with my own colour ink from my own printer. Great deal! While you're at it, can I pay for your morning coffee and paper?

3. "It is what it is." Seriously. Can we retire this phrase like forever? Gag me with a spoon.

4. I can haz no moar. Who came up with this "new" language? See the point on retirement above.

5. If you're going to make a toxic statement in the office building's fourth floor washroom, could you go down the street to the coffee shop instead? People linger too long over their lattes as it is.

That's what I got for today folks.

What's been bugging you?

Eating My Words

Fourteen years ago, when I was young and footloose, fancy free and all sorts of other clichés, I moved overseas. I spent 6 years living on 3 different continents and was fortunate enough to see the world through a constantly shifting set of parameters. Now, having been back in Canada for 8 years, those experiences seem further away, dulled somehow by the realities of time and kilometers and a busy life in the present. And then, suddenly, some event, some sensory moment will bring that buried past hurtling quickly and sharply in front of my eyes. And for a moment I will hold hands with my old self and bridge a wide divide.

Want to read the rest? Head over to Bloghers ACT Canada to see where the story goes.