Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #18

Tags

baking, birthday, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, humour, humour course

Dear Diary – I’m living the dream. Wanna know how? I’ve learned to set the bar low. Today I rocked air guitar in the shower. I am living the dream!

Dear Diary – After the fiasco that was last week, my new credit card arrived Friday. Too bad it was not the replacement for the cancelled card, but the old card with a new expiry date. I still have to wait for the new card. [Note: new card arrived Monday…now I can pay some bills!]

Dear Diary – So another birthday flew by and I’m another year closer to death.

They guys gave a new Fitbit wristband. It’s pink and much more attractive than the one I had tied together with an elastic band. They also gave me a new cake pan that can make a giant letters or a set of numbers. I think I’ll make a “25” for my birthday next year.

I’m not old…I’m 25 plus shipping and handling.

Big Guy isn’t able to visit so he surprised me with breakfast from Cora’s. I enjoyed a buckwheat crepe with fresh strawberries and English cream, in bed!

We ordered in pizza for supper – both pies had lots of bacon!

I spent a lot of timing working on my cake again this year. Last year I did a pink sparkling champagne wine cake with pale pink rosettes in buttercream. This year I went with a vanilla cake with a twist…I made it purple. It looked so pretty in Pinterest.

The funny thing is, I don’t even really like purple!

While mine looked pretty too, the only flavour came from the sickly sweet buttercream icing, and it made a huge cake. Good thing I have a friend who is also asking, “did you bake this weekend?”.

Dear God –
Please make me skinny. But if you don’t want to make me skinny…please make my friends fat. Amen

Dear Diary – Hubby came home today with new equipment for work…but he still has the equipment he’s been using since last March. More and more, my dining room table is starting to resemble the bridge of the Starship Enterprise!

Beam me up, Scottie!

Dear Diary – It was Week #3 of my Intro to Writing humour course. During class, we were given 2 in-class assignments. In the first one, we had to fill in the blanks. Some of the questions were…

What if —————— ruled the world?

What if your ————————- wanted to kill you?

What if you are actually a ——————— instead of a person?

Absurdity was strongly encouraged.

Then we had to pick one and write a sketch outline where one thing leads to the next.

I was too embarrassed to share in class.

What if there was a tiny elephant living in your underpants?
It would be hard to go ask someone on a date because the elephant would get bored when you’re just standing and talking and it would start to roam around your underpants.
You would start to dance so the person you’re talking to doesnt’ see it roaming around your underpants and start to freak out.
Then you would start to sweat and the temperature in your underpants would rise. The elephant would start to get too hot and would begin to complain loudly.
You don’t want your potential date to think you’re farting so you try to discreetly slip some peanuts in your underpants.
But then your potential date catches you dropping peanuts in your underpants, so you point behind her to try to distract her.
Meanwhile the elephant would smell the peanuts and get really upset because he didn’t get any peanuts, and he begins to bellow. It sounds like a giant rump trumpet.
By now, a crowd has gathered to watch you dancing and trumpeting, and crushing peanuts under your feet. And you would realize that you and your tiny elephant would forever be alone.
You would run away to the park where you could be alone with your thoughts and feed your elephant peanuts. But then a police officr would catch you with your hand in your underpants and arrest you.
Instead of being alone, you and your tiny elephant would be making new friends in prison.

For the second assignment, we had to pitch a parody that used people and/or a familiar scene that would be familiar to most people. The best I could come up with was “ Hell’s Kitchen: Nerds & Birds” edition. Or the less popular title, “Boogers & Cougars”!

I was too embarrassed to share that idea too!

Dear Diary – It’s always fun to read old Facebook posts. In 2011, I had posted “M & I were lined up at Wal-Mart, and the woman in line ahead of me today pressed some change into my hand to buy M a choclate bar. Her grandsons are grown and she missed giving ‘surprise treats’!”

In 2016, I wrote “So one of my children informed me (out of the blue) that I won’t be getting the Best Mom of the Year award this year because some of my stories are ‘too gross’.”

Yesteday I ate lunch with that same child and I was feeling pretty good. I smiled at him. That was my first mistake. Then I said something witty. That was my second mistake. He gave me a dirty look and told me that this lockdown is hard enough and he has to live here too. He said, “you would make it easier for me if you were less you“.

I bit my tongue. Sure, it stung! What mother wants to hear that her offspring finds her repulsive. On the other hand, teenager! I wanted to retort right back that it would be easier for me if he was less “him”. Or to launch into a rant about how we are uniquely made and I’m an original. Or the less mature route of sticking my tongue out and making a face at him. Instead, I smiled sweetly, with a sparkle of mischief in my eyes. Let him figure out what I was thinking. Good things come to those who sweat…

Go ahead! Underestimate me…That’ll be fun!

Unknown

Dear Diary – I missed National Naked Gardening Day. On the positive side, it was a little chilly to be out for long on Saturday, even in a heavy coat. On the negative side, I missed scaring Thunder Nugget next door. I figured, if she’s going to scream and thunder around the house all day, I might as well give her something to scream about!

Dear Diary – I’m scheduled to be shot at High Noon on Mother’s Day!

For weeks, we’ve been a rose between two thorns…or rather, between two “hot spots” for Covid. We’ve finally arrived and I get my vaccination. Being immune-compromised wasn’t a good enough reason to offer it to me.

I’m not stupid enough to believe that life will return to normal any time soon, but getting my vaccination does feel like a step in the right direction!

I’m so excited, and I just can’t hide it
I’m about to lose control and I think I like it!

The Pointer Sisters, I’m So Excited

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #17

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, disappointment, disasters, food, groceries, humour

Dear Diary – Stop the world – I want to get off!

This week read like bad sitcom script…or just a never-ending Monday!

I hate Mondays!

Garfield

Last Thursday was a day of disappointment. The grocery store didn’t sell purple food colouring for next week’s birthday cake, and we discovered the restaurant I chose for my birthday dinner…is permanently closed. Despite being lactose intolerant, I’ve had my mouth fixed for 9 cheese ravioli (because anything less than 9 is just foolishness) for 2 years! I’m aware of the consequences of dairy, and I was prepared to deal with them, even if my family was not! Neither disappointment should be reason to mope, but with the long absences from family and with what should be a special occasion looming, it hit like a ton of bricks.

Friday began as a day of hope. My friend made some phonecalls and found purple food colouring at the Bulk Barn. I called them right away. Not only did I get my colour, I also replaced my star icing tip and restocked my spice cupboard. It’s the little things! When I went to pay in person, their debit machine was attached to a hockey stick. What a Canadian thing to do!

Friday evening, Hubby had his astrozenica vaccination. He felt lousy for the weekend and had a migraine Sunday night. Otherwise, he seemed fine.

Monday began with a jolt! Hubby woke me early with a very suspicious mark on his arm. I made him coffee, gave him my cell phone, because his was, of course, completely dead, and dropped him at the E.R. at 8.

Traffic was deliciously light. I made tea and a couple phone calls when I got home. I didn’t want my friend texting Hubby and getting mad at me because I wasn’t replying. I was supposed to pick up groceries for her and for my family at 10. Hubby was in and out quickly, and he’s ok! But when he called me to pick him up, our phone was busy (sorry), and his phone, we later discovered, turns off when it charges. By the time we connected, he was almost home. It was a long, cold walk…

While he was walking, he missed a text from Big Guy telling us he was not having a good day. His transmission blew up and he only made it halfway home from work. He was stuck on the side of the road, waiting for a tow truck!

I never did get my groceries. My grocery reservation magically “disappeared” and all the other time slots were full. I reserved for Tuesday. Turkey leftovers!

2021 got a lot crappier Monday night. I was supposed to shower Monday morning, but I’d had an early, uncaffeinated morning hospital trip…so I decided to stink all day and treat myself to a long, hot shower Monday night. Instead, I discovered that every time we flushed, did laundry or washed dishes, sewage was backing up in the laundry room. I called the town at 8 and after investigating, they connected me to a plumber. Even though we’d like to return the favour and make noise to irritate wake our neighbours, we arranged for them to come Tuesday morning. We could stink for the night and cross our legs for the next 12 hours. There’s always the tree out back! It’s just like camping, but without the lake.

Typical teen was “annoyed” Tuesday morning because he had to attend virtual school upstairs instead of his batcave. He immediately blocked out all the daylight. I wonder if coffee would’ve helped. He thought a “little water” was no reason to change routines. I had to point out it was “poo water”.

We managed to get through our morning ablutions before the plumbers arrived. I tossed our bowl of “washing water” out the back door like a true hick. But I don’t want to talk about the bucket.

The universe continued to conspire against me. First, my grocery reservation was lost, again. Second, the bank cancelled my credit card, for fraudulent activity in the amount of $4.16. The IT guy at Loblaws assured me my reservation for Wednesday was solid. I could pick food up after my physio torture therapy appointment. Maybe the third time is the charm?

I had stale mini marshmallows and toast for lunch.

Someone offered to uber me alcohol! It was very tempting!

Tonight is my second humour class. Our homework was to make note of humorous anecdotes in our week.

My whole life is anecdotal!

Good-bye “Monday”!

Monday is like a math problem. Add the irritation, subtract the sleep, multiply the problems, divide the happiness.

Unknown

Dear Diary – I woke up this morning optimistic that today I would feed my family. My grocery pick-up would go off without a hitch. I would bake my birthday cake without the usual disaster. And I would enjoy “Halo night” with Big Guy.

I drove to the grocery store in a blinding thunderstorm right after my physio torture therapy appointment, and parked in Space #5. I called to let them know I had arrived and settled in to play my Word game on my phone. I immediately got stuck.

While rain had cleared when I notified them of my arrival, it was a torrential downpour when the rather sodden clerk arrived with my baskets. Small talk was impossible over the white noise of nature. With the ineffectual wipers on full, I merrily headed home.

The rain slowed to a steady dribble as I began unpacking the jumble of wet plastic bags in the trunk. But under the jumble, was a haphazard layer of unbagged items. Someone had carefully tied my bags of milk in bags and knotted the handles, but didn’t bag 1 can of pasta sauce, 1 carton of apple sauce, 2 blocks of cheese, 2 blocks of butter, 2 cartons of eggs, 2 bags of hamburger buns, 4 loaves of bread, and 2 chocolate bars. The receipt was a soggy wad of paper. All the bags I had transported thus far had been full so those items had not slipped out on the slow trip home. There were simply no bags.

By this time, I had taken most of the bags inside so I had carry the odds and ends in my arms. I nearly dropped the eggs…twice. My bread was squished. My cheese was dented. I have no idea how the eggs survived.

Worse, I was missing 2 chocolate bars. I had ordered 4. One for the 3 of us (and one for my emergency stash)! After all this trouble, most normal people would cut their losses, but…chocolate!

With my vision darkening around the edges, I abandoned the bags at the door and called the head office number. The estimated weight time was 30 minutes. I wasn’t willing to listen to 30 minutes of covid announcements, so I called the store. Something in my voice made them send me straight to the manager. I kept my tale light-hearted, with a barely distinguishable quiver in my voice. I could feel myself finally slipping over the edge.

A shaft of light broke through the clouds, angels began to sing, and this lovely growly-voiced man refunded half of my grocery bill.

I’m still short 2 chocolate bars.

Dear Diary – It’s my birthday!

The purple cake is baked. I had a great evening playing Overwatch online with Big Guy and his friend.

My parent’s gift is waiting for me at a store nearby.

And Big Guy just texted that he ordered me breakfast. It’s arriving in 10 minutes.

I’d better get dressed…

Oh, yes I can make it now the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is that rainbow I’ve been praying for

It’s gonna be a bright, bright sunshiny day!

Jonny Nash, I Can See Clearly Now

It’s Halo Night

Tags

birthday, Halo, Overwatch, photography, sunsets, video games, zombies

It’s Halo Night!

Even though we haven’t actually played Halo in a couple of years, choosing to play Overwatch instead, Big Guy connect weekly on Wednesdays. It’s his fault I became a gamer. However, video games are good for me, I’ve learned some things, and there are a bunch of reasons that I play! I could probably add to that list now.

Big Guy has helped me try out some other things too! He ran in Mud Hero with me (so he’d know where my body was buried in the woods). He took me to the gun range for my 45th birthday. He also bought me my zombie killing axe after I won an axe throwing “tournament”.

Last year we were planning to ride in a tank. Instead, the highlight was my Tim Horton’s steeped tea, black (after a 40 day fast) and standing in line outside the liquor store with a group of scrawny, tattooed small town mountain men, to buy pink champagne!

My, how the times have changed!

Tonight, on the eve of my 48th birthday, I will be fighting for world domination as a battle angel with my Big Guy. Tomorrow night, I will be fighting for world denomation as a Spartan with my Little Guy (who is now significantly taller than me and loving it)!

I know I’ve always said I’ve wanted a daughter, but who better to have beside me in the event of the apocalypse, than my boys!?!

Happy Wednesday!

Pinky: In or Out

Tags

food, humour, tea, tea addict, tea lover, tea time, teacup

Just imagine…by some miracle, you have been invited to afternoon tea with the Queen. You have donned your best dress, coiffed your hair, and applied your “paint” (aka make-up). You are breath-taking! After accepting your dainty tea cup and finding a comfortable place to retire, it’s time for your first sip. Pinky in or out?

Have you ever wondered from where this affectation came, and is it really the “queenly” thing to do?

I’ll give you a hint…

http://www.giphy.com

Harley Quinn, the Queen of bat-crap crazy and girlfriend to Joker in the Batman franchise, (also a member of Suicide Squad), lifts her pinky!

So does this handsome fellow, Mako Rutledge, aka Roadhog!

tumblr.com

American author, novelist, and socialite, Emily Post, who was famous for writing about etiquette, was adamant that pinkies out was ill-mannered.

American columnist and etiquette expert, Judith Martin or Miss Manners, thinks it began around the 17th Century, when tea was first introduced in Europe. The hot beverage was sipped from cups without handles and naturally, fewer fingers were used to prevent burns. How does one balance a hot cup with one handle? Since tea was an imported luxury, the gesture was adopted by the elite and remained even after handles were added to tea cups.

A less popular theory is that finger sandwiches and dainties served with Afternoon Tea would be eaten with 3 fingers, not 4 or 5 fingers, like a common person. In order to distinguish themselves from the riff-raff, socialites adopted the pinky affectation. This might account for the attitude that this is a posh statement by the “elite”, and why it is often used as a parody for social climbers.

Tsk! Tsk! Pinky in darling!

The proper way to hold a tea cup with your thumb and index finger meeting in the handle. Your pinky may be used to balance the cup on the underside of the teacup. If seated at a table, the saucer should remain on the table. If you standing, hold the saucer with your left hand at chest level. Finally, if you are not seated at a table, hold the saucer in your left hand, balanced on your knee. Raise the saucer to chest level, holding the handle of the cup with the opposite hand to prevent spills, before lifting the cup to drink. You tea cup should always be on the saucer when you are not drinking.

Always Pinky IN.

A cup of tea would restore my normality.

Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #16

Tags

blue hair, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, hair, home, humour, toilets

Dear Diary – It’s week “Sweet 16” and I feel like there should be cake!

This week I started my course on Writing Humour (becaue Hubby says I need some)! I was really nervous and really excited. I mean, it’s being taught by a celebrity from the Arrogant Worms. I fixed my hair, put on make-up and laid out my pen and pad in plenty of time. I took a pic with my computer (which was terrible so I took another one on my ipad).

Ready to learn

When I went to join in, my keypad wouldn’t work. I couldn’t log in, shutdown or open the directory to find out why. I yelled for Hubby, but he had gone for a walk. So I did a hard shutdown and made tea…

Hubby set up his laptop for me but I missed the first 10 minutes. As for my laptop, Microsoft decided to delete the driver for the keypad so I have to use a mouse. I hate it!

I loved the class though. After brief introductions, we collaborated on a silly song about Apps. Trevor, our instructor, added a tune and by the end of the night, we were singing along. Our homework is to write down funny things that we notice during the week, something I do naturally because coming up with blog material, particularly during covid lockdown, is pretty darn hard to come by!

It didn’t hurt that our chronic lazy toilet issue is back with a vengeance. Instead of running slow once every few weeks, it’s almost a daily thing. One afternoon, I heard Little Guy struggling so I took on the challenge. I couldn’t get it! Hubby couldn’t get it! After 9 buckets of warm soapy water, I tried again. I will not be bested by a toilet!

After my success, Hubby made the comment that when it came to all of us trying to clear the toilet with a plunger, “Mom is the queen”. Without skipping a beat, I replied, “Yup! I’m Queen of the Latrine”.

I ran with the idea and started my own country song/poem:

1) A man’s home is his castle and the toilet is his throne
His children are all grown now but he is not alone
His wife, she is a beauty, and to him, she is a dream
Because this lovely lady is the Queen of his latrine.

chorus:
When the water slows to a trickle or the flappy thing is broke
When the methane gas is arisin’ and it’s not safe to smoke
Armed only with a plunger, oh! the nightmarish things she’s seen
She’ll conquer, that’s why he’s thankful
‘cuz she’s the Queen of his latrine

2) His wife is smart and pretty, her figure is the charm
But cookin’s never been her strength and that may cause the harm
To thinning pipes he’s addin’ beef and pork and beans
But he knows that she loves him ‘cuz she’s the Queen of his latrine.

Bridge: Logs and bogs and meadow muffins,
Drops and plops or squirts
Whatever’s left behind him, she’s cut out for her work

3) Maybe it’s the plumbing, the house is getting old
The bathroom paint is peeling and the stains are growing bold
But their love’s forever, though their match is strange it seems
Faithful to the end, she is the Queen of his latrine

What do you think? Maybe I should stick to my day job…

Dear Diary -This weekend we woke up to 10 cars in the driveway of our neighbour across the street. And people wonder why there are hundreds of new covid cases in our region every day? Way to social distance. Please…stay at home.

Dear Diary – If the sun shines when it’s raining, we get a rainbow. What do we get when the sun shines and it’s snowing???

Dear Diary – Last night, Hubby was scowling and looking at the bottom of the laundry basket. He turned it upside down and shook it. I told him everything would be ok. In a few days, the basket would be full again, with clean clothes, as if by magic.

Dear Diary – This week I finally coloured my hair. But, I was lazy and my arms were really tired so I didn’t comb it out or dry it before I stuck it in a bun on the top of my head. Now I have “Muppet Hair Syndrome”. It’s been 3 days since and whenever I let my hair out, I look like a female Grover who was struck by lightning. All I’m missing is the smoke!

As if that wasn’t frightening enough, last night, when I leaned forward to turn off the light, my hair was apparently tangled in the wrought iron headboard. I’ve had my hair caught in my zipper before, and a car window, the seatbelt, and the fridge door…my hairbrush, my necklace and my curling iron…but this was a new one for me. I’m scared to look in the mirror because there might just be a bald spot!

If this lockdown lasts too long, I’m going to become this…

…ONLY BLUE!

but I’m not crazy I’m just a little unwell
I know right now you can’t tell
but stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see
a different side of me

Matchbox 20, I’m not crazy

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #15

Tags

baking, birthday, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, humour, vaccination

Dear Diary – I took my friend for her covid vaccination about half an hour north of the city. Almost everything went according to plan. Minutes after my friend headed into the arena, an ambulance arrived, lights and sirens going. My immediate thought was, “what did she do”? Then my cell phone rang.

It was my friend.

Could I bring her driver’s license in to her? The ambulance was just a coincidence. Relief! Thankfully I had clean masks in the car and after digging in her purse and giggling over her license photo, I headed in. I received a lot of disapproving looks from seniors as I patiently stood in line. The staff were very friendly and efficient. I was “processed” and sent to the next staff member quickly. I found my friend, a red-head among haloes of white, and hightailed it out there.

The deed is done and I don’t have to take her back until July!

If I’m lucky, I’ll get my vaccinations before 2022.

Dear Diary – It’s March break! I’ve had a few people correct me saying it’s supposed to be “April break” or “Spring break”, but I prefer March Break. Covid has already messed up so much – let me have my fun!

Speaking of fun, May 1 is “Naked Gardening Day”. It’s been pretty dull in our neighbourhoods lately. Anyone care to join me?

Dear Diary – I was looking at job postings recently, not that I’m in a hurry to come out of retirement. With less stress, my body is letting me enjoy things again, like fresh vegetables and oatmeal! One posting caught my eye, although commuting 2 hours a day, 5-6 days a week didn’t appeal. I had all the qualifications save one: I am not a guy! It was subtle but unmistakeably there in black and white. Without going into a whole theological dispute, I understand from where they are coming but I don’t entirely agree. I was just so surprised with transparent wording in a public post. Obviously not the place for me!

Dear Diary – Every. Freaking. Time.

You would think by now that I would have learned that I was not created to bake and all the wishes in the world cannot change that. My friend was lamenting another covid birthday without a birthday cake, so I (stupidly) offered to bake her one. She decided she would like a chocolate and vanilla marble cake. I have never made one before so it seemed a do-able challenge. Then she decided she’d rather have a banana tear-away cake. A tear-away cake is basically cupcakes iced together to look like a slab cake or a shape, like a race car. I may possess some artistic genes, but this one required a lot more thinking outside the box.

First, I researched. A rainbow cake with clouds used 68 cupcakes. Nope! An ice cream cone used as many or few as desired, but it needs a long platter. Nope! A bunny butt uses about 13 cupcakes. Tempting! I picked a pattern. I found and printed a recipe. And I thawed my 3 sad, black bananas.

Sunday morning after church, I embarked…only to discover that I was short 1/4 cup of margarine…and my only block of butter was frozen solid. Before covid, I would have felt compelled to get dressed and go to the store. Instead, I felt utterly defeated and slighly panicked as this cake needed to be delivered in 2 days!

By afternoon, the butter was ready but my heart was no longer in it. It took me over 2 hours to put it all together. I delivered it Tuesday afternoon, all hyped up on buttercream. She didn’t know what it was supposed to be…

And I didn’t even get to taste it….

Dear Diary – My birthday is sneaking up again. Last year, I was still enjoying an extended March Break at my parents’, which kinda let my guys off the hook. I ordered my birthday present and waited impatiently while the delivery company lied about the delivery date. I baked my own pink champagne sparkling wine cake (I wanted to bake it), after standing in line with scrawny, tattooed mountain men outside the liquor store.

And I savoured my first Tim Horton’s after a 40 day fast (not self-imposed)!!

I’m really not sure how we’re going to top that!

I gave Hubby my birthday list in plenty of time. I agree, it was pretty underwhelming. We’ll see if the delivery company can keep their promise this year.

Dear Diary – You know that feeling, when you do something spontaneous and then you think to yourself, “what have I done”? Dum, dum, dum…

Or maybe it’s dumb, dumb, dumb! Anyway, I applied to take an 8 week online course on writing humour. It’s being taught by one of The Arrogant Worms. When I asked Hubby what he thought about me taking a “humour course”, he said I could use some.

What’s even funnier is that I was accepted! Class starts Tuesday night.

Keep your sense of humor. As General Joe Stillwell said, ‘The higher a monkey climbs, the more you see of his behind’

Donald Rumsfeld

Dear Quarantine Diary-Week #14

Tags

cheese, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, haircuts

Dear Diary – I thought I had COVID this week because my bedtime cereal tasted “funny”. I couldn’t decide if it was the milk or the cereal, or me. I had just opened a brand new box of mini wheats and the milk carton said it wasn’t going to expire for another 2 weeks. It smelled ok and there were no blobby chunks. I went to bed disappointed and hungry.

I made Kraft dinner the next day and I usually use my lactose free milk in it. I’m aware of the irony of using lactose free milk in Mac ‘n cheese. I decided to investigate this milk again. It smelled fine and it was blob-free. So I tasted it with a big gulp. I have never been fond of milk, unless it had chocolate in it. But I’ve always loved cheese. Apparently an aversion to cheese may be genetic, which means a love of cheese might be genetic too. My grandfather loved cheese, the stinkier the better. I can remember him cutting himself a piece of cheese and eating it with a twinkle in his eye, while I looked up at him with my big brown eyes imploring him to share. I was too shy to ask. Nana usually interceded for me by scolding him. He’d chuckle and cut me a thick slice too. I wasn’t lactose-intolerant then. I know they make lactose free cheese, but it’s just not the same.

I don’t have COVID. Even the world’s finest chocolate could not save this milk. Blech!

I had toast before I went to bed.

Dear Diary – This weekend I found someone in my family brave enough to cut my hair. I haven’t had it cut since November 2019. It hasn’t been manageable for my entire life, but a frozen shoulder has made it even more difficult. I’m seriously considering just shaving it all off in the hopes something better would grow back in, but I’m not that brave.

In fact, I’m not brave at all! I only had an inch removed, but I’m certainly feeling much lighter. Now if I could just find someone to help me colour it. It’s starting to look green…

I could be Lady Godiva for Halloween…really scare the children!

Dear Diary – Covid numbers are out of control again so the province has issued a “stay at home” order. The day before it came into effect, Hubby counted 9 cars in our new neighbours’ driveways. Way to go! The order doesn’t affect us greatly. Little Guy is still in school online in his batcave and Hubby continues to work at home, although he does have to go to the lab from time to time. The grocery store that I was ordering and picking up groceries is closing so I have to travel further to pick up overpriced groceries. Vaccination cut-offs are getting closer to Hubby’s decade and my parents have survived their first shots. It’s one step forward, two steps back.

Easter came and went. I didn’t get a chocolate bunny, but Easter is not about bunnies or eggs anyway (though I do love me a good bunny)! It’s about the greatest love story in history. It’s about Jesus dying and rising again, so I could have hope. Not just in this life, but in the one to come.

Hope is one of those things that our soul holds on to tenaciously in tough times. Emily Dickinson wrote:

Hope is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –

Despite the lockdown, I feel hope. As I walked the other day, laughing at the squirrels and enjoying the sun on my face, the song “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day” came on. I didn’t click “next”, but listened instead. Sure, it’s a Christmas song but without Christmas, there would be no Easter. And without Easter, there would be no hope. The lines “Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: ‘God is not dead, nor doth He sleep'” stopped my heart. It was just the reminder I needed. I wrote once before about straining the hear the bells. It was a special season then too and so many were broken by the actions of one person and wondering where God had gone. We may still be wondering but we know God is still in control. And yes, one day, there will be peace on earth. No more sadness. No more sickness. No more separation. For those who belong to Him…keep listening. Keep watching. Keep holding on to hope.

Dear Diary – I’m beginning to believe in miracles. Hubby asked me to help him go through his wardrobe. I’ve been suggesting he tackle this job on garbage week for awhile now. I’ve also been compiling a load to take to Value Village. We pitched the stained, threadbare tees and packed up a pile of good stuff that he doesn’t wear because he doesn’t like it or, like me, his closet shrunk them. We discovered nearly 14 pairs of pants, most of which still fit (jealous).

I dragged took Little Guy with me to help unload. Did you know that Value Village doesn’t accept encyclopedias? I’ve started purging my closet, again. If I tossed out everything I disliked, I’d be down to one drawer of clothing. Right now, I fear my drawer of pants the most.

As for Hubby, he has one drawer left to tackle – socks and underwear, and that, my friend, is a place where even the valiant fear to tread.

Dear Diary – I couldn’t believe my eyes! I popped into the drug store to buy yeast (now isn’t that a weird sentence?), and all the Easter chocolate was reduced. Before Sunday, the large crispy chocolate bunny was almost $6.00. On Wednesday, it was $0.49. What a rip off!

So I bought one. Who can pass up a bargain like that?

Like the majority of bunny consumers, I started with the ears. I figure that with no ears, the bunny can’t hear me sneaking up on it (Sally Forth didn’t want it to hear her lying that she didn’t to eat it!) Some websites on the psychology behind bunny biting say that those who nibble from the ears down are logical, determined, not overly sentimental and complete things quickly. But digesting a bunny feet-first means you hold things dear, wear your heart on your sleeve, and possess a wonderful, child-like sense of curiosity. Tail-eaters are either competitive and seek power, or are kind-hearted and unrestricted. Way to waffle…chocolate bunny on waffles sounds good too.

Q: What do you call a dumb bunny?
A: A hare brain!

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #13

Tags

baking, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, humour

Dear Diary – Week #Lucky13 started well because this arrived.

Actually, it arrived at the neighbour’s. I was eating oatmeal on the couch in my pjs, and playing my word scramble game. I heard the delivery guy knock. I also heard my neighbour yell at the poor delivery guy that it was the wrong address, and then yell out my house number. Yes, my neighbour was too lazy to put it on my front porch and knock, preferring instead to make the delivery guy trudge back through the pouring rain to get it. I made a point of profusely thanking the very soggy sojourner for delivery my wares.

Despite having a drawer full, I’ve gotten a little bored with my vast tea selection. At last count, in April 2018, I had 70 flavours. But in my defence, there was a good sale on…and mother’s day is coming…and my friend’s birthday…and they finally (FINALLY) had 2 of my favourites back in stock: Cardamom French Toast and Lemon Pound Cake. (Is it weird that I like tea that tastes like dessert?) So I set a budget and shopped. I stayed in budget and now I have a box full of wonders to entertain me for, like 5 minutes. Yeah!

Shopping is actually very similar to farming a field. You can’t keep buying the same thing, you have to have a bit of variety. Otherwise you get bored and stop enjoying yourself.

Sophie Kinsella, Confessions of a Shopaholic

Dear Diary – Speaking of neighbours, we’ve been hearing ours a lot more lately. We live in a semi-detached house so it’s like living in an apartment. There’s only so much privacy.

Thunder Nugget, aka Thumper, the little girl next door, has finally hit the “terrible twos”. She’s 4 or 5 years old. I chalk it up to a lot of energy + permissive parents. In fact, her Mom encourages her to be rowdy; Mom can cheer even louder than Thumper.

We have no objection to squeals of delight in a game of tag, or her joyous delight in bathtime. It reminds us of earlier days. We object to pounding up the stairs and between rooms for over an hour, and standing at the top of the stairs shrieking for a parent to entertain her, NOW. With the province on the brink of another heavy-duty lockdown (which, to be honest, is how I’ve been living for the past year anyway) with virtual learning full days, we may be enduring some rockin’ long days. It’s great that her parents are trying to set boundaries, which is a challenge at every age. I have a teenager, remember? But Thumper’s temper tantrums are the full-on, high-pitched screaming, wailing, stomping feet kind that leaves everyone exhausted. Us included.

There are moments when I want to full-on scream and stamp my feet in response. But I’m an adult, most of the time. These will survive this and they don’t need us piling on.

I’m just praying one of us will have moved before she turns 13…

Hey teens! If you think you’re angry now, wait until you have to spend your hard earned money on toilet paper!

Dear Diary – I baked shortbread cookies this week, shaped like hearts, with the last of my precious butter. I took meticulous care to ensure they were all rolled the same thickness, even rolling some individual hearts and recutting them so they were perfect. I took care to set the timer on the microwave (since someone broke my piggy timer) and set it for less time than they needed so I could watch them closely.

We don’t know what happened. The timer never went. It might have been messed up when Hubby used the microwave. By the time I smelled burning, it was too late. They were the colour of chocolate brownies. Hubby, who has no sense of taste, said he could taste them. Ugh!

If anyone suggests I write a baking diary instead of a covid diary, I would have to remind them that there are only so many adjectives in the English language for “burnt offerings”.

I finished meticulously preparing and baking the remaining dough and I am hoarding my hearts like Gollam, at least until I have time to make icing bunnies. And even then, if I am successful, they may remain forever on a plate under glass.

My bookie is open now if you want to lay your bets. The odds of success are not really in my favour! 😉

Dear Diary – I think I have a problem. I went to the craft store for meringue powder and came home with fabric.

Dear Diary – I started physiotorture physiotherapy this week, and she is determined to poke, prod and twist me like a pretzel so I not only regain the ability to shave my armpit without standing on my head, but also to have perfect posture. I’m diligently doing my exercises daily, despite the complaints and disturbing noises my body is making. Perhaps by the time I can line up for my covid vaccine, I can convince everyone to join me in doing “the wave”.Woo!

Dear Diary – Would Easter be Easter without hot cross busn? Absolutely! But I decided to try baking them anyway. True to form, I was well into the recipe, beyond the point of turning back, when I realized the recipe I chose used a bread machine. I am our bread machine. Once again, I was required to employ my baking instinct (and again, if I had any instinct, I would have ordered buns from the grocery store). I read a few other recipes to determine how to mix with my mixer (why not use it if I’ve got it) and how long I should prove the dough, and I did that. I had 12 beautiful buns. Then I realized that breadmaker probably did the first prove and those buns probably needed to prove a second time. I knew my guys wouldn’t accept dinner at bedtime; I was seriously out of time. I baked those buns with only one prove. They were light and fluffy like a dinner roll and I haven’t had any complaints.

The next day, I made another 12 buns using a different recipe, with more spices and 2 proving times. I even made a glaze for them. It’s supposed to be an orange glaze but I didn’t have any orange juice. So…they have a 5Alive glaze, and it tastes just fine!

Persistence is very important. You should not give up unless you are forced to give up.

Elon Musk

Dear Diary – Mom told me there was a multi-vehicle collision in town yesterday. One of the injured was on the way to pick up groceries…so the fire department picked them up for the injured driver instead. Just one of the blessings of small town life.

Dear Diary – Mother Nature has a sense of humour. It snowed this morning.

This afternoon, we’ve been advised to tune in for an important covid announcement. I think Easter will be “cancelled”.

I don’t need April Fool’s Day. My whole life is one big joke!

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #12

Tags

cooking, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, humour, parenting, spring cleaning, teenagers

Dear Diary – Spring is officially here, which supposedly means it’s time to tackle dreaded Spring cleaning (and I can’t say “I’m too busy” during quarantine )! So I pulled out boxes from under my bed and exterminated some dust bunnies. I sorted through a box of odds and ends and found some miscellaneous photos. Most were tossed out, but one out-take made me laugh out loud.

I had asked the photographer at my wedding to do a large family group shot including Big Guy, Hubby, my parents, brother and sister-in-law, grandparents, aunts, uncles and first cousins. I don’t know who took this snap but bless them!

Yup! That’s my mom giving my dad the ol’ bunny ears…

There’s one in every crowd!

Dear Diary – Complaining about my covid weight is like someone complaining about a politician when they didn’t vote. Especially when I’m inhaling goodies. So, I’ve been trying to find healthier experiments options. This week I tried eggplant parmigiana. It was much more labour intensive than I anticipated considering it’s 3 basic ingredients: eggplant, sauce and cheese. I ended up with such a pile of dishes: 2 colanders (for salting and draining the eggplant), 2 saucepans (because the first one was way too small), 3 bowls, a frying pan and a casserole dish (to bread, fry and store the eggplant), 1 dish to bake, and all the assorted utensils to cut, measure and grate. While it turned out beautifully, there was one problem: it turns out I don’t like eggplant.

My hobbies include eating and complaining that I’m fat

Yesterday I made a chicken pie from scratch. I also created another mess, albeit smaller than Monday’s mess.

But unlike the eggplant, this I liked! I mean, what’s not to like about butter and lard… Before you condemn me for not eating healthier, it did have vegetables inside.

Dear Diary – I’ve started sleeping with the new mouth guard. It won’t help me win any beauty contests. It takes me forever to get to sleep because it gives me a headache and it tastes slightly of perfume. Also, I am afraid of choking and drowning on my spit in my sleep. When I said I wanted to die peacefully in my sleep, this isn’t quite what I had in mind.

Dear Diary – This weekend I get to meet the physical terrorist therapist for physical torture therapy on my shoulder, now that I’ve been shot! Hubby went to her a few months ago. I take comfort in the fact that she’s shorter than me. It means maybe I can take her on. Put ’em up!

Dear Diary – Hubby and I have been pvr-ing and binge watching the Great British Baking Show. We’ve watched some of the same seasons more than once. Partly because we don’t remember who wins.

When did our interests switch from action adventure to cooking?

I suppose both genres could have explosions….and steamy buns.

There are other problems with watching so many British shows:

1. It makes me want to bake.
2. The voice in my head develops a British accent.
3. Hubby and I start using phrases out loud, in a British accent, which really annoys Little Guy.

I guess that last one really isn’t a problem. 😉

Dear child – I plan to give you love, nurturing, and just enough dysfunction to be funny. Love Mom

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #11

Tags

baking, cooking, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, doctors, groceries, humour, music

Dear Diary – I got shot today. I knew it was probably going to happen.

I showed up at the rheumatologist’s office full of pepto bismol and sweating through my t-shirt. I don’t think the doctor quite believed me when I said I’m in bad shape, until he asked me to raise my arms…his eyebrows went up and he grimaced and shook his head before commenting, “nope, definitely going to do the cortisone shot”.

I was prepared for “the worst”. I had envisioned a 6″ needle being forcibly stabbed into my shoulder, followed by searing pain right before I lost consciousness. Instead, it was just a small prick. As he went to sit down to print my prescription, I said “that wasn’t so bad”. Famous last words! No sooner had the words left my mouth, that my body realized the violation to which it had just been subjected, and it screamed at me. I bit my lip under my mask and with curled my toes, tip-toed to the pharmacy next door. I had to replace the shot for the next victim patient.

I texted Hubby from the car: “ow!” Both Hubby & Little Guy met me at the door at home. They cooked dinner and brought me my plate of spaghetti. They even grated cheese on it. The next day, before my “24 hours of rest” ended, Little Guy suggested I leave the dishes…for Hubby. I washed them anyway, but not with my usual vigour.

Now I have to book physiotherapy appointments.

You know you’re getting old when..your address book has mostly names that start with Dr.

Dear Diary – I was excited this week because a current contestant on the Great Canadian Baking Show liked my scone photo from Monday’s post on my Instagram account! He isn’t a celebrity, but it’s the closest I may ever get!

Apparently the CBC is accepting applications for Season 5 of the show. I told Hubby, just to see the look of panicked horror on his face. Even I know my limitations!

Dear Diary – It was Christmas grocery week again, and everything seemed to come together so smoothly. It shoud have been a red flag. When the guy came with my substantially loaded cart, he apologized because they lost one of my bins, and I had already been charged for everything. I was going to have to call and ask for a reimbursement. My stomach immediately twisted in a knot because I knew this was going to be a hassle. Then I had a moment of illumination, and asked nicely, “since you know what’s missing, might there be someone free who could grab those 4 items now”? He supposed he could, if I was willing to wait.

I was willing to wait.

Eggplant paremesiana, a new experiment for me, doesn’t work so well with no eggplant!

Dear Diary – Last weekend, Hubby was worried he was coming down with Covid. He only had to wait 24 hours for a testing appointment, and in that time he gave us all a wide berth. I started to feel like I was the one with the plague, and with such close contact in our small house, if he had it, it was toooooo late! Sunday morning he came home relieved that he had not been lobotomized during the testing. On Monday afternoon, I was in the process of calling to reschedule an appointment, when he hollered up the stairs, “I don’t have the plauge”!

On the plus side, he can now taste his coffee.

That might seem like an odd comment, but the man has virtually no sense of taste or smell. I believe him after, several years ago, he stuck his nose next to Little Guy’s horrifically smelly bum (I could smell it on another level of the house) and inhaled without passing out.

Dear Diary – Why are dermatology offices always pristine, minimalist, and white? Soft flute music was piped throughout. I felt like I was in a spa (or what spas look like on t.v. having only been to one once in my life). I could certainly have used a relaxing massage…and maybe a pedicure!

Dear Diary – Hubby farted and I asked him, “what is that? B-flat?”. I was close. He farted a perfect middle C.

We already know I scream in A.

Talk nerdy to me!

Dear Diary – It’s nearly time to clean the oven again. Little Guy commented last night that he thought he smelled smoke. The oven had just been on because I had just baked another batch of pumpkin chai scones, so I told him it wasn’t smoke, but the incense of many burnt offerings.

Today me will live in the moment, unless it’s unpleasant, in which case me eat a cookie.

Cookie Monster