Photo/Glass Challenge

I did the photo after each glass of wine challenge. Okay, it’s not even a challege, whatevs.

First pic. It was still daylight and the kids were lighting shit on fire.

Husband made me laugh, I was not actually this happy after a second (small) glass of wine. 

This was after I went inside for the good (ish) lighting and more wine.

Yes, I’m this happy but I was texting my friend about getting high, so.
Going to bed, now, perchance to dream or passout.

Actually no, Husband said NUMBER FOUR so here we are. Stay tuned…
I don’t feel like accepting a fourth glass was necessary (also pics at night w the flash, whatever), but a good thing to come of this course of events is that the electric blanket has been on for that much longer…

THE Golden Girl

Yesterday at work, I saw all my fave choices in growing old in one, fabulous lady. The multiple piercings, the dyed (purple) hair, the fuck-you-I’m-walking-on-the-left. Maybe she was Australian, too.

I loved her and we crossed the road together and then she walked out of my life.
That was a real boon to my day since I (am) was tired from living and also from multie self-imposed deadlines. And also from wanting to do 100 things when I i have time for maybe 5.

Now I can add rad hair dye and piercings to that ever-growing to-do list.

Sponsors Needed

Walking past the bridal and prom shop to run an errand at work today, and any day I walk that way, really, I pick and choose from the window: yes no yes, no no yes, yes no fucking way. 

I did see a wedding dress in the window last year that I loved. I wonder if the shop would be interested in sponsoring wedding # 4?

Or even, how about, a day of wedding dress modeling starring yours truly, with Husband and boys sporting matching garb? Wecould leave the boys wearing the same outfit all day, of course, and probably give them a screen so they complain about fashion less, and limit Husband’s wardrobe changes to 2, or maybe 3, but crank mine as high as you like. I’ll wear every damn dress in the place, for a day, an hour, whatevs. I can go full Muriel Heslop and have an entire album of me in wedding dresses.
Let’s have our people get in touch, printo!

Sew, What The Hell Have I Been Doing?

​Before I landed a job last year, I volunteered to do three class projects at school. Or maybe it was after I got the job and I’m really that crazy, I can’t remember. Anyhoo, Ive put together a lego table, am in the process of making an Oregon-themed Monopoly table and I’m sewing another quilt for the kindergarten class. I did that when middle child was in K, and I put my hand up for it since 6yo resides there, now, and there were no other sewererers amongst the class parents.

I had the kids’ drawings screenprinted onto fabric and have sewn them onto the other pieces that I puzzled together. Yesterday I went and found some adorable fabric for the backing and also some brown to complete the design. I really need to complete the design because we have friends coming to stay next weekend and they’ll probably need the spare bed I’ve laid it all out on.

Anyhoo, it’s nearly finished and I’m relieved about that because, you know, I’ve got other things on my mind and there are other things I think about sewing, as well. I’ve decided to go as Moira Rose for Halloween, so I’ll need to make some hella outlandish couture pieces to match the wig and lipstick. 

I’ll probably need to start them pretty soon so they’re finished in time since I don’t have a lot of time. 

But there are other things that I want to sew that are less, say, obtuse fashion, that I might rock on a day to day basis as much as Moira sashays around in her teetering heels and metallic fabrics. 
For instance, I’m midway through making a skirt with fabric that I’m pretty sure was a set of drapes in a previous life. It’s an icy blue and is a bit Mad Men and will be perfect for work. The school function is coming up where the class projects will be auctioned off and I’ve decided on a dress made from a mustard lace tablecloth. Time is of the essence there so I really need to finish that quilt. I’d also love to make a couple of tops for work from linen tablecloths I have, too. I’d love to have sleeves that don’t ride up right into my armpits and apparently that is a pipedream unless I make those sleeves myself.

If you’re sensing a theme, you’re right – I’m a tight ass and don’t often like to buy clothes new. Partly because clothes are so fucking overpriced, but also clothes seem not often to be made with my smaller waist and rounded lady-hips in mind. Fabric is something I could blow cash on but I try to reuse stuff and buying vintage is so damn cool and results in very unique clothes. I’ve made a pencil skirt from a vintage bedspread, pleated skirts from vintage tablecloths, 

I made the red top from our Scottish wedding from a scarf and even my tartan dress from a pile of napkins a friend gave me. There is no end to what can be repurposed.  I even picked up two ruffled pillowcases the other day and wondered about fashioning them into a skirt. Ultimately, no, they wouldn’t have fit around my ass, but it was a fun idea before those lady-hips intruded. 

Do you sew? Do you repurpose? I’m always looking for the next fun project.

Schitts Creek

#spoilers if you haven’t seen the show.

schitts hotel

Oh em gee, I’m sure everyone has seen the show, though. Husband suggested we start watching it last year or maybe before…? But we don’t get involved in a lot of shows because TV is a monster and it turns you into another one, so I suggested not. Last night we changed that trend and I think it is THE BEST show I have ever seen in my life. Husband concurs.

Husband might know that I would leave him for Daniel Levy, AKA DaviD, because of so many reasons, not the least of which is that he is hot af and also his wit makes me think dirty things. There is not a character in the show that I/we don’t like, except maybe Roland the Schitty mayor.

Husband is all about Johnny Rose’s blue suits and I want to be Moira when I grow up, if I’m not already Stevie. We finished the first season at just past midnight and Husband is snoring his brains out (and mine) while I can’t get Moira’s faaabulous acthent out of my mind or the look on DaviD’s face as he drove out of town on the season finale.


I’m pretty sure that while I haven’t been to Schitt’s Creek, I have been up shits creek. The feelings I experienced there may be a tad less pharma than the Rose gang, but real nonetheless. That itchy feeling in your hands when shit gets real, the dewey sweat on your forehead when you have to think fast and maybe fast isn’t enough. Is that what DaviD realized when Stevie wasn’t going with him? Those feelings are my reality until we can sink our teeth into the second season.

It’s Adventure Time Again, Huzzah!

It’s not raining; there is blue sky and the birds are chirping. The roosters are also hollering themselves hoarse. Earlier, I sent the boys off with water, oranges and clif bars to either die or walk up and down the driveway a few times. I just saw the middle child traipsing into the backyard so I’m assuming the latter applies to all three.
It’s Sunday, post daylight-saving clock fuck-around and here we are. I woke up in the middle of the night because my bodyclock apparently lost 4 hours. After doodling pointlessly for that amount of time, I woke up after a nap feeling refreshed and relieved. I filled the boys’ camel baks and patted their heads on the way out the door to sit on my ass in peace and quiet for as long as they would be gone.

It got me thinking about what I was doing in terms of adventure at a similar age, and also about the articles of crazy crackdowns on parents who are punished by society (or police) for giving their kids different amounts of independence than what people other than their parents think is appropriate.

Cue the Wayne’s World guys doing the doodley-doos with waving fingers…

We lived on a flat street that was U-shaped and the sign at one end said Pelsart St and the sign at the other end said Pelsart Ave. I didn’t think this was a big deal until a teacher told me that Pelsart St Ave was not a thing and it had to be one or the other. Live a little, people! My sister and I rode our bikes up and down the street with the neighbour kids and were supposed to stay in view of the house but, you know. Sometimes when we thought our parents were in the backyard and I was feeling particularly daring, we would ride around the whole block. So adventurous! Mum and Dad never liked that. 

There was a house just past the Pelsart Ave sign that was not lived in. The path to school inevitably went that way and people talked about that house. There were holes in the windows from rocks (can’t remember if I threw any; I might have dared myself a couple of times on the insistence of other kids but I knew it was wrong) and some holes in the walls. We went in there once or twice, too. I think I was petrified that other kids (or teenagers) would be in there and dare us to do things. There was graffitti and probably poo in the toilet. There were bits of rubble and I can’t remember about condoms or clothes. Positive the parents would have whipped us if they knew – maybe they did, I can’t remember – and my sister would have been either shitting her pants because she was 2 years younger than me, or instigating the whole bloody thing because she was daring when you least expected it.

There was a football oval down the road and around the corner from the Pelsart Ave sign, too, which, incidentally, Husband used to play on as a kid. When it rained for days, the oval occasionally flooded and sometimes I went there with a friend from school and we hunted for frogs and tadpoles. She warned me about Electric Eels. 

I was skeptical because the water, you know, would conduct their electricity, but she was older. My folks have told me about the stink of dead tadpoles at the front door where they made me leave the large containers of stormwater we’d bring back, and the occasional frog hopping around the steps.

Flashforward to today: I tell the boys to leave outside animals alone, to only look and not touch too much because I don’t want other living things in the house and because I don’t want them to become  blasé about fawns and be trodden or gored to death by deer or fucking stags.  We live on a hill with no sidewalks and fast drivers so they don’t ride bikes on the road but they do do BMX riding which is fucking rad. They go “hiking” in the backyard and today they found bones down by the old treehouse. 

I think they’re doing just fine.

Growing Old Disgracefully

Glancing up from my desk at work the other day, I saw an old lady with thinning hair and a cane, and with dyed hair. I’m not sure if it was maroon or brown or some shade of dark, dark pink. Anyhoo, it got me thinking about my own inevitable decline into senility and inability and I came up with options for myself:

The Golden Girls

What colour will you dye your hair when you decide that too much grey really is too much?

  • Blue
  • Pink
  • Purple
  • Green?
  • Black – I refuse to grow old

Which preferred method of transport will you allow yourself to succumb to?

  • Limousine
  • Push-Walker
  • Wheelchair
  • Scooter Chair
  • Hover Mover – because they would have invented that by the time I get old


As my body shrivels and cries out for moisture (essence of wetness), I know what I will be constantly slurping. What about you?

  • Tea
  • Champagne
  • Gin
  • Other – not worth naming

When our minds are the sharpest part of our bodies, what will be your preferred card game to skewer your fellow captives at whatever retirement option you find yourself in?

  • Spades
  • ‎Rummy
  • Crazy Eights
  • 500
  • Bridge
  • Cribbage
  • Pinochle
  • Solitaire
  • Cheat
  • I Doubt It
  • Bullshit – apparently this is an actual game


Provided you still retain the use of your extremities and your hands, in particular, aren’t too arthritic, what will be your fave thing to Knit/crochet?

  • Baby booties
  • Beanies
  • Viking hats with attached beards
  • Lap blankets
  • Afghans
  • Rude pictures of Donald Trump
  • Mermaid tale blankets
  • Wine koozies
  • Teapot koozies
  • Cooter koozies


What will you do with your boobs?

  • Tie them in a knot
  • Tie them in a bow
  • Toss them over your shoulder
  • Get a nip and tuck so they look like hairless eyebrows
  • Get an enlargement – I refuse to grow old


Are you are waiting til old age to do any or all of the following?

  • Get your first tattoo
  • Get a piercing (perhaps these options won’t hurt as much when you have less sensory perception in your body)
  • Stay late and sleep at Ikea

How will you pass the time when all your friends are dead or dying?

  • Go back to school
  • Go back to bed
  • Stay out in the garden
  • Stay out all night


Let’s assume you will need and therefore get, a cane. It’s perhaps a little more regal than a push walker. You choose a cane tip that best suits your personality by getting

  • A middle finger, perhaps from an actual skeleton
  • The skull of your first husband
  • A spider encased in resin
  • A mosquito encased in amber

If you can still see well enough to pilot a vehicle, which car best suits your proclivities?

  • A smooth, spendy ride
  • A motorbike – no need for an overly large windscreen when you probably need the extra protein in your diet
  • A muscle car, no suspension – you’ll be happy to feel every bump in the road while you’re still alive to feel them
  • A monster truck – sure, you’re looking for excitement but at your age, it’s still hard to see over the traffic


Little old ladies and gentlemen often have collections, and I dare say mine will be something to distract me from my vertical deterioration. Will yours be

  • Decorative collars, RBG-style
  • Powdered wigs
  • Commemorative mugs
  • Decorative teaspoons
  • Stamps, coins, exotic postcards
  • A trail of broken hearts
  • A list of faux friends who died before you
  • Boyfriends still alive
  • Boyfriends will energetic enough to warrant the term

Levity aside, we all need to think of our “arrangements” at some point…

  • Standard coffin
  • Pimped coffin
  • Ice-cream freezer
  • Forget going in a box of any kind, just compress your cremains into a diamond on a piece of jewellery for your Daughter-In-Law, because even in death, you want the last word


Exit strategy – perhaps you’re indeed, next level and consider taking things into your own hands after a long and enjoyable life…

  • Gravitron
  • Skydiving – you either die in the air or when you hit the ground (going out with a bang, anyone?)
  • Massage chair set on the max setting

I dig the massage chair myself, I wouldn’t subject an actual person to pummeling me to death, though.