... I found this...

So, I was trying to find an amusing but appropriate comic to put on my Print Communications test (I'm THAT dedicated)... and I found this timely comic on toothpaste for dinner.

It didn't work for my test, but it did seem appropriate to post here. :)

Tim Horton's tease!

So, this morning I had lemon spread on toast - a new taste experience for me. I commented to Zig afterwards that it was okay, but it made me want lemon meringue pie. Zig said it made HIM want a lemon filled donut.

Mmmm. That DID sound good. Already tasting the anticipated sweet treat from Tim Hortons, which I immediately promised myself for on the way to work, I stopped when Zig also commented that they have a new pumpkin spice muffin there - infused with cream cheese.

Mmmm. Cream cheese pumpkin spice muffin sounded just as good. Maybe better? Well, would have to choose just one. I decided I would go IN rather than drive through, in order to look at my two options.

THEN, on my way to work, I heard a Tim Horton's commercial reminding me about this new pumpkin season - adding that they have a pumpkin spice DONUT, which goes, they exclaimed convincingly, just perfectly with a medium coffee.

Mmmmmmm. Well, now I would have THREE delicious options to chose from.

So, I drove my 40 minutes to work, and made it just in enough time to swing by the nearby T.H. I couldn't wait to peruse my options and make a choice. To my dismay, their racks were FULL... except for the two empty trays with the lie below, "Try our NEW Pumpkin Spice Donut" and "Try our NEW Pumpkin Spice Muffin". I couldn't believe it. There wasn't a crumb in there, which made me suspect they had never had any out in the first place. Cruel fate. OR bakers.

With a sigh, I resigned myself to the lemon selection - at least it made my choice a little easier. EXCEPT... THERE WERE NO LEMON DONUTS EITHER!!! In fact, there wasn't even space for them. I asked, to make sure. The woman behind the counter, (who had absolutely no expression on her face or in her voice) simply re-read the only cream-filled options, "strawberry and blueberry".

I left empty handed. There's a second Tim's in town here, and I'm already plotting my trek there during my break.

Breakfast Foods

So, I've always had a dysfunctional relationship with breakfast. I mean, I LIKE breakfast, but it always creates problems.

For instance - people insist it is important for an efficient metabolism. While that may be true, if I SKIP breakfast, I'm not even hungry until lunch. But when I eat breakfast, I'm STARVING by 10:00. This makes me, of course, not only eat breakfast, but also snack. Again, people say snacks are great - but I think it all depends on the type of snack you have... and let's just say my snack choices are not always healthy ones.

Nevertheless, I don't skip breakfast anymore. I tend to be swayed by leading thoughts on health, so I dutifully make time in my busy morning to eat. But this brings other problems.

First of all, I like cereal in the morning. But for some reason, cereal (maybe the milk, maybe some other ingredients) makes me feel a little sick afterwards. This makes me eat MORE food to try to quell the sick feeling, leaving me MORE sick because on top of the cereal and milk, I've eaten too much...

Also, I'm supposed to be eating low glycemic foods and making healthful choices. This means whole grains and less sugars. These days - Bleeech. No thanks. So I've been having Cinnamon Toast Crunch instead, every morning. Mmmm. (But like all breakfast cereals, it leaves me a little sick - so I usually try to balance the unhealthy CTC with an orange afterwards.)

Today, though, I tried to go a healthier route, and selected a whole-grain muesli cereal from my cupboard. It also had raisins, cranberries, rice, oats, almonds, and lots and lots of fiber. Healthy! Too healthy. I followed that healthy choice with some Nacho Cheese Doritos. Then, more of them.

Breakfast is my enemy. Well, breakfast and my lack of self control, I suppose.

Anticipation -

The husband made this video today, but it said exactly what I wanted to post about today, so I copied it and placed it here. Enjoy!

Time Flies

Time flies by when you're having fun. And I am having fun - so I wish it wouldn't.

My daughter Rachel is no longer a little baby. While she'll always be MY baby, in reality, the truth is she's a toddler now. A sweet, funny, smart, active, totally wonderful toddler. And I love this stage - LOVE it. But as the husband pointed out the other day, now that she's two, she has completed 10% on her journey to 20 years old. Wow. Time REALLY flies.

But right now, we're having fun with our little toddler. For instance, she's potty training - which is way more cute than I thought it would be. She's had FOUR dry days in a row so far - wearing diapers only for naps and night. :) And she's highly insulted if you try to put diapers on her when it's not nap time. And she had her first pony ride and her first hay ride (the best part for her was getting pulled by the tractor). She plays imaginary games and makes us pretend tea. She says Mommy is her best friend - but then adds that Daddy is her friend too, and then says that we're all best friends. She sings songs and hums tunes and tells stories about her day. Every single day with my little girl is a gift. But sometimes I wish time would just slow down a little and let me savour it a little longer.

Then again, I hear every stage is equally wonderful. I hope it's true, because I'm sure having fun.

Email Housecleaning

So, I finally emptied my email again. I had 406 new messages and something like 508 in total. The "new" messages were all ones that I had looked at... For each of these, I had read the subject line and mentally dealt with the email... but I hadn't actually opened it or - obviously - deleted it. But, tonight, after months of harassment by the husband, I finally did it. The emails I wanted to keep for-ev-er, I put into folders. Then, I ruthlessly deleted everything else. But I read each subject line first, to make sure I wasn't deleting GOLD.

It still felt a little sad... and so final. But now... now, my inbox is completely empty. Ready to be filled up again. I can't wait! :)

The Great Shoe Dilemma

So, no women at my work really wear heels. They just don't. And I can get that. I mean, in a school setting, they're not terribly practical (Not that they'd be practical anywhere, I suppose).

But I'm a heels girl, myself. I wear heels for a few reasons. The first is because Zig likes heels. He does. He doesn't dictate my footwear, but he does have his preferences - and I do aim to please. :) Another reason is because I'm fairly short, and heels add some height. Also, most women know that heels do very nice things to a girl's calves (keeping them in shapely flex). I've also been wearing heels since I was fifteen, although back it the day, it was chunky heels, then wedges. Only recently have I moved into a skinnier heel.

I have, however, been beginning to question how long I can continue my relationship with the high heel.

I mean, I have to be honest here. They are not overly comfortable. I don't care how deluxe the high heel is, when your foot is at an unnatural angle, you're not going to be walking on clouds. And I don't spend the money on deluxe high heels anyway - I max out at $60. And let me tell you - my feet hate me for it.

Also, the high heels slow me down when I'm trying to book it from my classroom to the photocopier across the school. And they're far from stealthy. Try sneaking up chatters and skippers, and the rhythmic "clip-clop-clip-clop" gives me away every time. Not to mention the break in focus when I'm walking around the class to help students at their desks. So - in short - my high heel shoes are are uncomfortable, inconvenient, and disruptive.

Why not flats, you ask? Well, here's my problem. I don't' like flats. I hate my gait and my profile when I'm in non-heels. They make me feel less feminine, less professional, and less... well... less happy, generally.

I asked the husband if any women at his school (he's a teacher too) wear heels, and he said that many female teachers do - maybe even most of them! But in my school, I feel like an abnormality. And a vain one at that!

So - I'm torn with indecision. Do I wear the heels for the gait, the vanity, and the inner satisfaction, or do I make the practical decision and move to those "work shoes" sitting in my closet, promising happier feet, better mobility, and a quieter classroom?

(Sigh). Sometimes it's hard being a women.

I told a lie. A big one. But it was an accident - so it doesn't count, right?

Uug. I'm getting as bad as those OTHER bloggers who never actually blog. School has, of course, been busy, but that's not really an excuse. Just lazy, I suppose. I even had ideas and inspirations. But - no follow through. Anyway, something interesting...something interesting...

Okay, here's something: Did you know wasps don't sting, only bite? No, you didn't know that? That's because it's NOT TRUE. At least, not according to every site I can find on the topic this evening.

But here's what happened: these 2 Science teachers at my school told me it was - insisted that only bees sting, and wasps only BITE. When they told me this, I was SHOCKED. FLOORED. So I asked, more than once, "Are you sure?" They were. I clarified: "So if I tell other people this, I won't be wrong?" They said I wouldn't.

So I spread this fact. Oh, I told people. Many people. This was earth-shattering. EARTH SHATTERING.

And those people believed me. Little innocents... how could they know I was setting them up for future humiliation, as they continue to spread my misinformation. But why wouldn't they believe me, when I was so sure of this new, groundbreaking knowledge? Wasps don't sting - just bite!

Of course, I should have told the husband first. He never believes anything I say. Not that he thinks I'm lying (I'm the world's worst liar!) - no, he never believes anything I say because he knows that, quite often, I may just be wrong. Especially when I'm telling him a "scientific fact". So, when I finally told my husband the new truth about the non-stinging, only biting wasps, he wrinkled his nose at me, cocked his head, and said (without a question-mark), "Really." I told him that it was a scientific fact - that I had it on the best authority. Again, deadpan, he asked, "Who." I told him. He shook his head, as if that was all he needed to know. "Let's look it up" he said.

We did. We searched the Internet for evidence that I may be right. For once. But, much to my chagrin and his expectations, there was no evidence to support their claim, except a modest concession - as far as we can tell, male wasps do not sting. Great.

So if you hear a rumour that no wasps sting - only bite - just think: there's a good chance that it came from me.

This and That

It's grey again this morning. I'm pretty sure I could count the really nice days we've had this summer on one hand - MAYBE two hands, at the most. It's been a little disappointing. On the bright side, I've gotten lots of planning done for next year. I've also been making the most of every slightly sunny day we've had. And I've seen some movies - although I'm not really sure I could consider that a good thing, since most of them were pretty lame.

And you know why I haven't been writing in my blog, folks? I've seriously had nothing to say. Nadda. Just the usual stuff, I guess - Rachel is cute, and seriously talking -the doc asked us if she had 50 words in her vocab? HA! 100 is more like it - she's talking in 9 word sentences. My daughter is sooo brilliant :).

Zig is cute too, but we've been having a standard argument these days: sound vs. silence. He likes to be surrounded with sound: Music while we eat, tv while he naps, the buzz of the fan or the speakers at night. Not so me. Don't get me wrong - I like music. But not at the dinner table, when we're enjoying food and family. And any time I'm sleeping - napping or night - I like complete darkness and utter silence. If there's a speaker buzzing from across the room or the fan from the downstairs bathroom, I can hear it - and can't sleep until it's silenced. And once it is - ahhh, what rest and peace follows! There seems to be no middle ground though. I'm sure Zig would like to sleep with every fan, speaker, stereo, and TV on in the whole house!! :)

Anyway, the dog is good, the house is messy but not out of control, I'm sick but still healthy, and life is comfortably busy and yet not busy with anything of great importance or pressing deadlines. Things are, in summation, good.

So now, I'm off to brew myself some tea, settle into bed with my laptop, and make some handouts while watching tv. And I'm going to pretend I'm on the beach.

Parenting FAIL

So, I was driving my almost-two-year old daughter home from some errand a couple of weeks ago, and, as my luck would have it, she wasn't in the mood to be driven anywhere. After the fifth time of hearing her plaintive, melancholy little voice from the back pipe up, "Mommy! I'm all done now. I want to get out!", I decided I'd have to do SOMETHING. Since the husband and I were doing an "unplugged" week at the time, I did not have the option of radio (Especially since he'd decided to ensure I didn't cheat by removing my stereo faceplate!).

SO...I tried singing. I started with the classic favourites - BINGO, Jack-and-Jill, 5 Little Ducks, He's got the Whole World in His Hands... but she wasn't in the mood for any of them this time. Every time I'd start a new one, her voice would get louder, and she'd tell me sternly, "NO MOMMY! NO!" -

So, at the end of my rope, I sang the only other song I could think of: Rusted from the Rain - by Billy Talent. Billy Talent, for those of you who don't know, are a punk rock band, and Rusted from the Rain is their newest, fairly dark, single. The chorus goes like this:

Go'on, crush me like a flower
Rusted from the rain.
C'mon strip me of my power
Beat me with my chains.
And if I'm the King of cowards,
You're the Queen of pain.
I'm rusted from the rain.
I'm rusted from the rain.

(Then I verbally did the guitar part)


Well, Rachel loved it, I was relieved, and so we made it home without a mental meltdown.

BUT - now this song has made it into her regular request list. She asks for "The Pain Song."

Oops.

And today, the song came on the radio. To my amazement and dismay, when the chorus came on, SHE SUNG ALONG. Like, with all the correct words. WHAT???

Let me tell you, it is highly disturbing to hear a two-year-old, in her tiny little voice, sing the words to this song. Especially my two year old. Especially since I TAUGHT HER THEM.

Fail.

In case you're curious, here are the lyrics to the rest of this wholesome song:

Rusted From the Rain (Billy Talent)
I stumble through the wreckage,
Rusted from the rain.
There's nothing left to salvage,
No one left to blame.
Among the broken mirrors,
I don't look the same.
I'm rusted from the rain.
I'm rusted from the rain.

Dissect me 'til me blood runs
Down into the drain.
My bitter heart is pumping
Oil into my veins.
I'm nothing but a tin man,
Don't feel any pain.
I don't feel any pain.
I don't feel any pain.
I'm rusted from the rain.

Go on, crush me like a flower
Rusted from the rain.
C'mon strip me of my power
Beat me with my chains.
And if I'm the King of cowards,
You're the Queen of pain.
I'm rusted from the rain.
I'm rusted from the rain.

You hung me like a picture,
Now I'm just a frame.
I used to be your lap dog,
Now I'm just a stray.
Shackled in the graveyard,
Left here to decay.
Left here to decay.
Left here to decay.

I'm rusted from the rain.

(Chorus, etc.)

Oh, the sun will shine again.
I'm rusted from the rain.
I'm rusted from the rain.
Oh, the sun will shine again.
I'm rusted from the rain.

Irritating Pretenses

So, here's something you may not know: I can be cynical. Like, seriously cynical. Especially about people.

Okay, for the record, I embrace the many flaws of those fellow human being who inhabit this planet with me. I'm not generally a critical person: I'm okay with late people (being one myself), messy people (again, that's me), and neurotic people (check!). I'm also okay with people who show up early, who are obsessively neat, and who are boringly grounded. I'm okay with the fact that people lie ALL THE TIME and that some people are pretty good at it. (Not that I'm not disappointed when I realize I've been lied too - I am - but I also just accept it as part of who they are). I've become okay even with gossipers, although I try not to partake. Conceited? That's okay - you're beautiful! Unbelievably low self-esteem? Well, that's okay too - I'll try to build you up the best I can. Selfish? Well, who isn't at times. We're all flawed. Seriously damaged in various ways. And if we can't accept other people's flaws, how can we expect them to accept ours?

BUT, while I may accept the flaws, sometimes I can't help but roll my eyes at people who present such a carefully constructed image to the people around them. (In "real life" or in the bloggerverse). I think it's the pretenses that get to me.

For instance: Women who are constantly sexualizing themselves while pretending to simply be talking about their day. ("Then, I peeled off my clothes and took a long, hot shower. My soft skin felt so good to be silky clean"). Or people who talk about their firm muscles or shapely bodies or fantastic skills in the bedroom. Not that I have a problem with that - it's your conversation - talk about what you like - but stop pretending you simply like adjectives!!

Or women who are always complaining about men hitting on them (especially when they clearly don't get hit on as much as they make it seem). It makes me wonder- are you complaining about being hit on, or are you highlighting just how desirable you are?

Or people who paint themselves as so sweet, so nice, so darned innocent when I so KNOW they aren't.

I feel like telling them - listen, give it up already. You're totally transparent. But it's not true, because actually, they're not transparent. They can't be - because everyone around them seems to buy into whatever ridiculous picture of themselves they are painting. Are people really that naive?

(insert sigh here). Of course they are. Also, people are generally supportive - so even if they see through someone's pretenses, they don't acknowledge it. Which is nice, I suppose. You know, because I guess being full of - er - it - is a flaw too, and if I claim to be accepting of people's flaws, I should accept that one too. Or maybe I'm just too flawed to do it.

I don't know. But I'll tell you what I DO know. I DO know that I sure don't like cleaning my bedroom. Which is why I'm down here writing a blog about pretenses. But, I mean, it was a good one, right? Now I better go soak my long, soft, slender, fingers.

(Just kidding - I totally have kids' hands).

Peace out, people.

Toilet mirrors

You know what I think is a bad idea? Mirrors positioned right by toilets. I've been noticing lately that in nice bathrooms, it seems to be trendy to have these beautiful mirrors behind, beside, or - worst of all - directly across from - the toilet.

Does this seem like a good idea to the designers? Really?

Here's the thing - I don't really want to see myself going to the washroom. It's not a body image thing. It's just ... I don't really want to see anyone (myself included) dropping their pants and sitting on the can - it's just, well, just undignified. And when you have a mirror directly in front of the toilet, unless you close your eyes (which could tricky, I suspect), it's unavoidable. (Even when the mirror is positioned behind or beside - well, you still get an unflattering glimpse).

Maybe it's just my repressed North American personality, but I don't like it. Perhaps some people do. People who put their mirrors across from their toilets. Or maybe they just didn't really plan ahead. Or maybe they pee in the dark?

Passing time

So, it's been a great summer so far. Keeping happily busy. We've done playdates, beach days, pool trips. We've gone for walks, visited friends, walked the zoo, hung out at home in various states of undress. We've even had a few working dates (Zig doing freelance and me learning a program I'm teaching next year). So, it's been grand.

It's also been a bit of a sad summer, watching my little girl meet milestones I'm not quite ready for her to meet. I've had to pack away her little baby clothes, and although we're having such fun with her at this stage (I often say it's my favourite) it makes me kinda sad to see her "growing up" - time is just moving too quickly. She'll be 2 in August, and she's started talking in sentences (At this moment, she's sitting in her booster seat telling me "Right now I want to go have a bath-tub!" - Now, getting distracted, she's holding up her foot to me and asking, "Mommy, what's on my toe? What's on my toe?" looking at the food crumbs - "It's poopy on my toes!") She's also begun to occasionally ask to use - and successfully go in - her potty. And today... today we had to move her to a toddler bed (there was a recall on the crib she was using - a serious safety issue, so we figured we'd make the move now rather than risk any more time in the crib). And on Monday she's going for her first haircut. Sigh.

Watching her getting older also, of course, reminds me that I'm getting older too. ( Well, that and the lines around my eyes. :) ) But I'm okay with that, as long as I get to age with the people I love.

Life Lessons from a Rock Festival

1) Things that seem like a cool idea can get you killed

So, I almost died last week. No, really. Seriously. I was at this Rock Festival. Close to the end of the night, Rise Against (a punk band I like) was going to be up on the mainstage, and since I've been diggin a lot of their new stuff (pretty powerful), I thought it would be a good idea to go right up front and wait for them to start. So, here I was, floor level, 3 rows from the center stage - around me were throngs of people, standing in breathless anticipation and talking about how crazy it was going to get. I was a big talker. THEN, the band begins. Crazy does not begin to describe what happened. Suddenly, the crowd from the back begins to push forward - aggressively, relentlessly - but since there is nowhere for them to go, the weight of their bodies is as one against the bodies in front of them... and I realize that I can't breathe. Not because I am claustrophobic - I'm not. Not because the moshing was wild -I can handle wild. No, simply because their bodies were actually crushing my chest. And I physically found my breaths become shallow and gasping, because the force of the people against me was too strong. I tried pushing back - not even a dent, and it seemed if I managed keep them at arms length for a second, the mass would become even heavier as it rebounded. I tried ducking down - quickly realized this is even worse as I fought my way up from the ground. Tried yelling for help, getting out in any direction. No luck. Finally, as I began to get dizzy and feeling completely out of hope, I let myself simply fall. Just - go limp. I don't know what I was thinking - maybe I wasn't thinking - but suddenly a beautiful stranger's voice called out - "someone help her, she's fainting!" I wasn't fainting - well, I don't think I was, anyway, since I heard her calling that - but I was pretty close to it - and although the crowd didn't part to let me out, another pair of strangers' hands were suddenly holding me up, moving me, slowly but surely, away from the crush of bodies. They couldn't get me far - indeed, if I had fainted, I don't know what they would have done with me - but they moved me along far enough that I was able to see a break in the crowd and make my escape.

I also lost my left shoe. :(

2) Tall people really DO live the sweet life

I've always enjoyed being short. I mean, I'm not tiny (5' 2"), but small enough. And it comes in handy. You can sneak through small spaces, buy "petite" pants, and feel little. BUT, during the final concert, As Billy Talent took the stage, I had a brief glimpse into the world as a tall person - and what a world it is.

I was enjoying my view (at a safer distance now) from the floor level, looking through the gaps in the heads at Ben Kowalewicz (the lead singer), who I could see, at times, from the waist up. If I got the angle right, it was pretty good, I thought. And in fact, this is how I always see concerts if we're at floor level.

But then, Zig hoisted me up, holding me at his level for a while, and suddenly - the world was brighter. Literally. There's seriously more light up there!! And I could see the stage!! Completely! The band was right there in front of me. And I could suddenly see the whole sea of people - simply beautiful. Turns out there ARE advantages to being tall after all. I had no idea you guys had that kind of view!!

3) You will be killed if you cut in line in the girl's washroom.

Killed. Even. if. it's. an. accident.

4) Cheap shirts and rock festivals don't mix

It seemed like a good idea at the time, when I was selecting my outfit for this event. I wore a sweatshirt at first, but when it got hot, I took off my sweatshirt and hung out in this cute purple shirt with a white tank top underneath. However, due to the rain and the press of bodies, by the end of the night, every time I'd be jumping with the crowd, one shoulder of the shirt would promptly fall off, pulling the tank with it, leaving a strap and bare shoulder. I felt like telling my fellow rockers - "honestly, I wasn't going for "trashy" when I got dressed this morning.

5) My conscience is still pretty sensative - and I like that.

Rock Festivals - particularily punk rock festivals - I discovered today, simply aren't my style. Don't get me wrong - I had some seriously fun times. I LOVED running through rain with my girlfriend Sarah, holding her hand as we made our way to the washroom lineups. I loved the feeling of being protected from the jostling crowd by my husband's careful hands and hoisted onto his back, as he held me above the crowd to get a better view. It was great to see my homestay son seriously rocking out. And to be honest, the final band was an altogether awesome experience.

But while I loved the way the music sounded, being pumped through gigantic speakers into the crowd of people, my whole body vibrating with the noise, and while I loved the feeling of being one with this group of strangers, all moving to the same pulse, all singing the words to the same song - I just couldn't feel entirely comfortable there. Okay, there were MOMENTS when I felt entirely comfortable (the Billy Talent show was pretty amazing) - but for the most part, I never really relaxed - I just couldn't turn off the part of my personality that was quietly asking, "Really, Alyssa, what are you doing here?" Even when I was having a good time, I couldn't buy into the general atmosphere and I didn't like what the bands seemed to be promoting that day. I'm just not that girl - and I realized that I'm okay with that.

I mean, seriously. I lost my shoe!

But on the bright side - at least I didn't die.

Who wrote these tunes??

First of all, I know everybody says this about their own child - but seriously, could she get any cuter?

Anyway, I noticed something the other day, thanks to my budding musician.

Rachel, my just-under-two-year-old, sings three songs now in their entirety: "Tinkle, Tinkle Wittle Staa", "Baa Baa Back Seep" and "ABCD". I already knew that twinkle and ABCs are almost identical in tune - but sing "Baa Baa black sheep" to yourself - it also has the same tune.

Of course, the tunes don't actually sound that similar when she's singing them. But they sound beautiful nevertheless. :)