BBQ, Firepit and Snow...... Must be Canadian, eh?

On my first day off, 1 week ago, I purchased a new BBQ. I was soooo excited. I have been without a BBQ for a while. When I saw that deal that was to be had on this one I jumped at the opportunity (Regular price was $500, sale price $200).

I brought the HUUUUGE box home. Thank God for room mates, the box weighed over 200#. We manuoevered it onto my deck and there it sat until the next day.

I excitedly put the BBQ together, my mouth watering in anticipation of the rib eye steak I was going to grill that night.

I BBQ'd my steaks, melt in your mouth good!! The next day we BBQ'd chicken on it. Then....

Then the snow came. And came ... and CAME. In fact, today, five days later it is STILL snowing.

Last night I said "screw this" and I dug my new BBQ out and I grilled my chops.

Did I mention that I bought a firepit on the same day as the BBQ? It was Spring, the birds were chirping, the grass was greening.... I was ready to pull out the patio furniture.

Then the snow came.

Tomorrow I go back to work. It is supposed to warm up tomorrow.

Go figure...

Special Place in Hell for Me.....

It has just occurred to me that there is something wrong with me, well not really, but in the eyes of some I'm sure.

I laugh when people get hurt. I mean, I laugh until I have tears and my belly hurts. I gulp out the words "can I help you" in between fits of laughter; but I laugh nonetheless.

Sometimes it just looks darn funny when someone hurts themselves. And sometimes, when you can see it happening before it happens, something inside you prevents your mouth from forming the warning words. Subconsciously you want to see it, you want to laugh.

Don't get me wrong, I do feel bad when someone gets injured...but damn it looks funny sometimes!

I think I'm sick.

Excuse me, I have to go say a Hail Mary or 2 dozen...

Speaking of which, it reminds me of a confessional joke...

A drunk enters the confessional... Scratch that, I'm in enough trouble as it is.

My Kitchen...Imagination Station

I went grocery shopping yesterday and while I walked down the seafood aisle I noticed ground salmon. Interesting, ground salmon. I picked up a couple of packages, thinking I can find something to do with this.

I came home and unpacked my groceries. I looked at that ground salmon and started thinking.

I decided I make homemade fish cakes for my girls, instead of the frozen crap that is pre-chewed and then pressed together prior to being breaded. I hate mechanically separated meats, it always seems to "regurgitated".

This morning my youngest, slug girl, mentioned that she needed new undies. While I was shopping for those I wandered around the store. As I aimlessly went up and down the aisles I had a thought, an idea ...I KNEW just what I was going to do with that salmon.

I raced to the canned meat aisle. I picked up a can of cocktail shrimp and a can of crab meat.

Once I arrived home I got busy.

I mixed the ground salmon, crab and shrimp together. I sprinkled some black pepper, some dill and a little bit of celery seed, along with finely diced celery and thinly slice green onion into the fish mix. I combined it all. Then I added one egg to provide binding, and some fine bread crumbs. I mixed it all together.

I sprinkled some bread crumbs onto a plate, into it I mixed a bit of seasoning salt, some black pepper and some dill into it.

Taking some salmon mixture I formed a patty, which I then coated in the bread crumb mixture. I repeated the process until all the salmon mixture had been used.

I pan fried them in butter (fattening but ooohhhhh so good) until they were crispy golden brown. Sooooo tasty.

Now they will go into the freezer for yet another make ahead meal for the girls.

I like being inventive. I have never seen ground salmon before, but I will be buying it again.

Sugar and Spice ...and Everything "Not so Nice"

My youngest daughter phoned me at work the other day to let me know she was home. We chatted briefly about her day as I wasn't overly busy. In amongst the general ramble she casually says:

"Oh, I found slugs in my backpack."

I thought I had heard wrong, "Slugs... is that what you just said?"

"Yes, I found slugs in the bottom of my backpack."

I had to go as work beckoned, however I had slugs on the brain. I was horrified. Slugs.... in Alberta ??WTH?? I couldn't focus, all I could think about was the slimy grossness in the bottom of her backpack, that was IN MY HOUSE!!!!

I quickly dialed home, "Get that backpack out of my house!!! I don't want those things in my house!!!"

"Where should I put it?"

"I don't care, anywhere but in the house" I was thinking the trash, the neighbors yard, the box of the truck across the street...frankly I didn't care as long as it was outside.

Then a thought occurred to me.

"Did you leave food in your backpack??"

"Nooooooo" (giggle)

"Welllllll, maybe I lost a banana and my orange in there." (more giggles)

I'm fairly certain my jaw hit my desk as I shook my head.

"You LOST fruit in your backpack?" How the hell does one lose food in their backpack? How do you lose anything in a backpack?

"Uummm, yeah"

"Are you sure it's not worms?"

"I dunno, it's slugs"

"What do they look like?"

"Well they were moving and they are green and black"

I choke back a gag.

"Did you empty your backpack?"

"NOOOOO!!!! I'm not touching that"

I take a deep breath, "Well, I'm not touching it either. I suggest you take your things out of it. I will buy a new one on the way home."

A meek little voice answers, "oooook... I have to go now"

A short while later my phone rang.

"We got my stuff out and guess what we discovered Mom?"

I was stuck on the "we" part... had my child been so traumatized by this ordeal that she'd developed multiple personalities? As far as I knew she was home alone. So I bravely asked the question, "Who's "we"?"

"My friend from down the street. He came over and looked in my backpack, and took my stuff out for me."

Ahhh, and so we see that the act of seeking out a member of the male species to deal with the nasty jobs seems to be ingrained in us female types from birth. AAAAWWWWWW, how cute, she didn't want to touch the icky stuff so she phoned a boy.

But I digress...

"But Mom, guess what we discovered"

"What did you discover?" I cringed as I awaited the answer, not sure that I really wanted to know.

"There were no slugs in my backpack"

"Hmmmm, no slugs ... that's good..but what was in there?"

"My smooshed up banana hahahah, it was really slimy Mom!" She's laughing now.

"Ohhhhh", big sigh of relief ... Thank God it wasn't slugs or worms. (shudder)

We hung up and I finished my day. I kept smiling to myself as I thought, yep, my lil tomboy isn't so tough after all!! When it comes to gross, nasty, icky stuff she's all girl.

I came home to find yellow rubber gloves in my garbage can. I asked where they came from. Well didn't her friend take them from his Mom's kitchen to wear while he poked through her backpack; I had a chuckle at the visual that came to mind. I could almost see two little kids poking gingerly through a backpack thought to contain slugs. Gasping and jumping, screeching and laughing.

Ohhhhh to be young again!

Teacher .... I have to goooo....

Recently my teenage daughter was punished by a teacher for needing to use the washroom facilities during class. She was told that if she went to the washroom she would have to stay after class to "make up" the time. This teacher seems to have singled my daughter out on more than one occasion and she feels picked on by him.

Now I could see this being an issue if she was one of those students who "always" had to go the washroom during class and seemed to take the whole class to do so; however, she is not. She is a teenage girl who happened to be in her monthly cycle and "suddenly" had to go take care of business (all of us women have been there at one time or another). She chose to rebel and go to the washroom rather than be faced with an unfortunate "incident" that would most certainly result in ridicule.

She had to stay after class.

When she told me this I was livid. How dare she be punished for having bodily functions. I wrote a note to her teacher. In it I outlined WHY she had to go to the washroom and asked that in the future he take into consideration the fact that she is a girl and she may have female things to deal with. I told him that he should realize that an event such as having a leakage issue as a teenage girl, in the middle of a class surrounded by her peers would have been catastrophic to her. I was hoping he would feel some chagrin.

Then he phoned me and we had a "discussion". He tried to tell me that he didn't keep her after class because she'd gone to the washroom, but did it to help her "catch up". I asked if my daughter was behind in his class. He stuttered out a "no". I told him that it seemed to me that he did indeed keep her back because she went to the washroom after he had expressed his displeasure at her leaving in the middle of class. I also informed him that she feels picked on and singled out by him; an observation shared by many of her peers. I asked him to please try to change his treatment of her in the future.

He has constantly reprimanded the girl for doodling during lectures, forcing her to look directly at him and maintain eye contact with him while he lectures; an act I find rather creepy. I was a teacher assistant, and I know that there were studies done that have shown that children focus better on a lecture when they are doodling or otherwise fidgeting (as long as it is not disruptive to others). All children learn differently, apparently he skipped that class.

Two days ago he looked at my daughter and asked her if she was handicapped.....

I think I may be visiting her school. He obviously has a conduct issue that needs to be addressed.

I am a WRITER.... The Story Must Be Told

I am a writer.

Yep, that's right, you read correctly...I AM A WRITER.

It has taken me a lifetime to get that through my head. I have tried various career paths and none ever seemed to be a fit. I have always written, and that always fits.

Sometimes it is just too easy to ignore what is right in front of our eyes, it is easy to overlook what we already possess and seek to obtain something more. I am done overlooking and I am done seeking. I am ready to embrace the talent God gave me. I am ready to face my fears and just write.

Fears you ask? Well up to this point I have written a smattering of poetry; good poetry mind you; and children's stories. But now... Now I want to write a novel. It is going to be a fictional account based strongly on true events. Going from writing short stories and one page poems to a novel scares the begeezus out of me. I don't feel disciplined enough, I don't feel experienced enough, what if I cannot focus... what if I cannot get it right...

I am writing it in memory of my dear, dear friend. My friend who was so much like the sister I never had and always wanted. The friend who was never afraid to say it like it was, to say, "yeah, ummmm it's not the jeans that make your ass look fat ... your ass is just fat". God, I miss her. I miss her everyday. I miss her kids who were so much a part of me that they seemed like my own. I miss phoning her in a crisis and ending the conversation laughing so hard we would cry.

Sadly, I miss my friend, not because she is dead, but because someone who was supposed to love her wanted her dead. He tried and thankfully did not succeed. However, because of his heinous act she and her children were removed from their lives and given new ones. So for all intents and purposes they are dead to those who knew and loved them. I think knowing that they are out there somewhere but not knowing where and being unable to contact them is in some ways more difficult to deal with than if they truly were gone. Don't get me wrong, I am so glad they are alive and well; I wish them nothing but health and longevity... but I miss her so much, I wish I could visit.

I promised her I would tell her story. I promised her that what happened to her would matter, and it wouldn't be for naught. I promised her that I would use my words to reach even just one woman in that situation...to give one woman the courage to take a stand and say "I am worth more than this and I won't tolerate your beatings anymore". I gave her my word, my word is my honor, so for her I will conquer my fear and I will write.

I will write, I will remember... I am sure I will cry buckets of tears, but I will counter them with belly laughs so deep I can forgo my ab workout. I will do it because I love my friend.

Stomach Aches, ER,... Sickly People ... Ohhhh My

Soooo I haven't really been feeling very bloggie lately, but here I am.

My daughter had her ultrasound last week (there's a big long story to that, however I am choosing not to bore you). As the tech was passing the "probe" over her intestines I could see HUGE bubbles, I mean, the girl is full of gas!!! So the tech tells me that is generally an indicator that the body is not tolerating something that it is ingesting. She commented that perhaps it is lactose, as that seems to be a common agitator in a lot of people. Nope, can't be that the girl drinks soy milk ever since her Dad and his g/f took her to see the homeopathic doctor last summer. Tech says that soy can be more intolerable for some people than lactose. So of course that gets me to thinking. Her stomach aches became worse and increased in frequency AFTER she started drinking the soy milk as recommended by the homeoquack, errrrrr I mean doc. So I told her NO more soy milk, bought some lactaid tablets for kids and she has been taking those prior to consuming anything dairy. Guess what .......SHE HAS NOT HAD A STOMACH ACHE!!!!! I feel AWFUL that I didn't clue into this before. Poor child.

A couple of days prior to her ultrasound her father had brought her and her sister home from a visit. I arrived home from work to find this child curled up on her bed in tears with a bad stomach ache. So off the the ER we went. We sat for 2.5 hrs without seeing anyone, amid sick, hacking, barking, puking people. Finally, I decided to go home as I was starting to become gravely concerned as to what we were being exposed to while sitting waiting. I want to know, why, when they have all these signs posted stating "if you suspect you have a respiratory illness, or if you are coughing....", don't they hand out masks as these people come in? But noooooo, let's share the wealth people, EVERYONE get sick, that's right, inhale those spittle particulates as they are coming at you Mach 9...yessssssss breathe deeply. Ahhhhh, ain't the ER grand.

Oh yeah, and here I am, on my set of days off SICKER THAN A DOG.... thank you ER sickies.

Now I must go and see about de-snotting so I can carry out my chores for the day.