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Dear Diary – Once again, that awesome job of grocery shopping has come around again. It come around so often that I feel like I’m feeding an army, even though there are only 3 of us in the house!

Occasionally I pick up a few specials at a local store. But generally, even though “everyone” says “Covid is over”, I’m still ordering online and picking them up curbside. It has its downfalls at times. Selection is limited, and I have to trust the shopper choosing my fruit and veggies. Sometimes the expiry dates are a little too close for comfort. But it beats dealing with stupid people and that one shopping cart with the wonky wheel.

This week, I was running late and the store was moving slow. It took me 10 minutes to get a live person on the phone, just to tell them I had arrived. As if they were waiting with bated breath. I feel guilty, as if I’m some sort of entitled princess, too good to shop for her own groceries., so instead of have an underpaid, underappreciated serf roam the aisles and slog through the slush so I can fill my gob with yummies. But, to be honest, with my bum ankle, it’s been a real blessing. And I don’t miss the cold slush sloshing over the top of my sneaks.

I was supposed to meet Youngest Son at the strip mall across from the school. It would save him from walking home in the fog and drizzle, and it would ensure I had help getting all the bags inside the house. It made no sense. Somehow, I defied all known universal laws and I pulled into the lot as he was crossing the road.

I whipped into a parking space and beeped the horn.

He did not appreciate that!

Sometimes grocery items get missed, and I have to call and complain. Usually I just get a refund. This is the first time the store noticed I was missing some items and called me. I don’t know how I missed missing a giant slab of pork ribs and 2 cuts of pork tenderloin. Still, while my freezer is now less pork-less, and I have no idea if I’ll actually get my refund (and what to cook those nights the pork was planned), the store didn’t miss passing on some free samples !

What a creative product name!

I started this blog over 10 years ago to enjoy my mid-life crisis. How? By pushing myself to go new places and try new things. And I did…at least at the start. I got a tattoo with great meaning. I nearly died ran in Mud Hero with Eldest Son – also a BIG deal. I tried axe throwing and shooting firearms. I had no idea I had such good aim in real life; I can’t seem to hit the side of a barn in video games.

Soon the adventures slowed down to dabbling in photography, dusting it up with baking, and learning Italian (in the hopes of an Italian adventure). Covid ruined the Italian adventure. I spent my 25th wedding anniversary eating take-out Italian and sipping wine in front of the t.v. on my burlap sack couch!

And this…[Scroll to view]

There were no places to go. Even the parks were overrun with people desperate to escape the four walls of their homes and I couldn’t snap any shots without infringing on the 6 feet rule.

All this to say, I threw caution to the wind and I drank my Not Milk.

It was delicious – rich and very chocolaty. And free. It was free!

Dear Diary – It’s been almost 2 weeks since I had my hair cut and I still haven’t decided if I like it or not. But I thought if I attempted to style it and take a selfie, it might help.

I’m still undecided.

I used to be indecisive but now I’m not sure.


Dear Diary – It’s Youngest Son’s final 6 days of Semester 1 in Grade 12, and this semester has been nothing short of an uphill battle. He’s smart. He’s articulate. He’s responsible. Or so I’ve mentioned to one of his teacher who has emailed several times. With every email, my PTSD kicks in. Getting Eldest Son through school felt like a full-time job. But we did it! One day. One class. One bloody assignment at a time.

I don’t know how, but despite loving school at home during Covid, Youngest Son has lost his love of school. Actually, “love” might be too strong a word. He loves sloppy joes. School, he tolerated. I don’t doubt that the looming deadline for college applications and just plain being sick of school has done a lot to dampen his motivation.

I can remember “hitting the wall” and having to push myself to get to the end. But I had the perfectionist, “good girl” type of personality on my side, as well as a deep desire to move out of my parents’ home. I had the added responsibility of a precious little guy and I wanted to give him a “good life”. I didn’t want to be stuck on government assistance, barely scraping by and wondering what might have been. So I worked. Hard.

I know we’ll get through this (Grad photos were taken yesterday). Grade 12 is just one of a series of challenges to come. In comparison, though he may not believe me, he’ll look back and Grade 12 will seem like a breeze. I’m not telling him that though. He may decide that if this is a breeze, he’d rather spend the rest of his life in bed. And since his bed is in my basement…my lips are sealed.

Being a parent means spending half your life convincing people to stay in bed and the other half convincing them to get out of it.


Dear Diary – Have you ever noticed that when you’re waiting in a cold car, you suddenly and desperately need to pee? I had to see my Dr. last week for an ongoing toe issue, but she was running late and I was asked to wait in the car. She’d call when I could come up.

It was a long 30 minutes.

The more I thought about not peeing, the more I had to pee. Watching the snow melt and slide down the windows didn’t help.

She put me on antibiotics, which thankfully has not caused any dietary distress. My toe, however, seems no better.

I see her again tomorrow. I won’t drink tea beforehand just in case. I’m praying she’s on time!

It’s going to be cold enough to snow and snow…

It’s so cold outside, I just farted a snowflake.