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Dear Diary – Christmas is hurdling toward us like a run away Polar Express, and I’m starting to feel snowed under. This year I’m probably hosting the big family Christmas, which means I have to cook and clean, as well as bake, shop, wrap, and decorate. This year, Eldest Son is also bringing his girlfriend. I’m excited. And a lot terrified.

Not of the girlfriend. She’s lovely.

But all the work to be done.

Where will everyone sleep? Where will everyone sit? Where will everyone park?

If Christmas preps create heart palpitations, a recent article I stumbled on has me on the verge of an apocalyptic fit: palm-sized para-trooper spiders.

It’s the next plague! Brightly coloured Joro spiders from Japan and other parts of Asia have infiltrated south of our border and their hatchlings may soon be hitching rides north on the wind. They can parachute up to 160 km, making their time travel terrifying. They are also not adverse to hitchhiking on cars and trucks.

This species is timid and harmless to people…so they say! I predict emergency rooms filled with strained bodies, heart attacks, and car accidents victims. We’ll all be making karate moves every time we leave the house. I’ll also be wearing really big shoes. On my hands and feet.

I will no longer leave my gardening shoes on the back porch. I will no longer blindly stick my hand in the mailbox. And I will no longer leave the laundry out or take out the trash after dark. I can’t imagine the horror of suddenly squeezing a living baseball ball with legs. Eight legs! Nor can I abide the image of palm-sized spiders raining down from above, hugging my face, and getting caught in my hair!

Ginormous spiders: Nature’s way of reminding you that inside, we are all little girls!


As if that wasn’t bad enough, Hubby came home with quite a tale from his co-worker. His co-worker’s teenage daughter was followed by a man when she got off the bus. She called her Mom at home to watch for her. When she got home, the man followed her to the door and pushed his way inside.

He didn’t know that Mom and the daughter were black belts.

They beat him pretty good.

A short time after he ran off, the police informed them that a man had just reported being brutally attacked by two women.

They live among us.

Let’s face it. The gene pool needs a little chlorine.

Jimmy Carr

Dear Diary – It seemed like such a great way to clear precious counter space, so when we made a few changes to the kitchen, we moved the microwave. But there’s one little problem…

Dear Diary – With all this extra energy from my temporary medication, I get distracted easily. I call it A.A.A.D.D.: Aging Adult Attention Deficit Disorder. So it was no surprise when I went downstairs to see if we needed bread and I ascended an hour later with a pile of boxes filled with recycling, donations, and items to redistribute throughout the house. Probably to clutter another corner. My freezer was reorganized and delightfully spacious (just in time for Christmas baking), as was the space around the freezer.

I also dug through a bin of Christmas gifts. Sometimes I pick up things on sale to tuck away for someone special. And sometimes I’ve purchased things and forgotten, so they end up waiting for the “next year” and they never get given. Apparently I did just that in 2011. That summer we took Youngest Son for a mini-cation in the city. We drove downtown and did some sightseeing before dinner and a “sleepover” in a hotel. While there, we purchased a t-shirt for Eldest Son…which I found in the bottom of the gift bin.

I don’t think it would even fit him now.

It got me wondering…just how many secrets are hidden in the corners and closets of this house? I’m only on the medication for a few more weeks. Is there a way to channel all this energy productively?

And just where did my faux fur go? I have Christmas gnomes to sew. Maybe I should just eat a blueberry scone and call it a day!

A.A.A.D.D. also makes me hungry.

Dear Diary – Why is it every time I clean the bathroom, someone immediately needs to take a shower, trim their hair, or take a dump? And by someone, I don’t mean me!

Dear Diary – Youngest Son was having a bad morning and I thought I’d time my grocery grab so I could pick him up and save him walking home on a damp, windy day. With list in hand, I rushed out the door to grab my groceries. I raced around the store. I tore to the car and headed to the school. Halfway there, I realized I didn’t get the first and most important thing on the list: cream cheese. There was no time to go back.

I’m making Toblerone Cheesecake for Youngest Son’s birthday.

If I get cream cheese.

I should have checked my texts first.

It wasn’t until I had done a tour of the entire neighbourhood and arrived home, alone, when I did. Youngest Son, who now has a cell phone after a recent “disappearing act“, had been responsible and texted that his co-op class was in-person and he’d be home after school.

What to do when you have no cream cheese and no child? Get distracted until I’m late for the next errand.

Dear Diary – Youngest son and I passed a man in a bucket truck making some kind of repair on the hydro wires. Directly above his head was a tiny bird on the wire.

My first thought was: “oh, poop!”

Whenever a bird craps on my car, I eat a plate of scrambled eggs on my front porch just so they know what I”m capable of.


Happy Thanksgiving to my friends south of my border! Enjoy some turkey for me. Covid stole mine this year…