Dear Quarantine Diary – Week#27

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covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, humour

Dear Diary – School’s out for the summer and holidays have officially begun, so why does every day still feel the same?

Even though many restrictions are still in place, I ran away from home! I love summer, not so much the heat and humidity, but the sense of freedom it brings. No deadlines (or emails from teachers when they get missed). No jeans pinching my waist (sundresses, baby)! Fewer commitments hanging over my head. Just tousled hair and sun-kissed cheeks, rainbows after a storm, and flowers, birds and butterflies displaying their colours.

And a fresh basil from the garden.

But here’s a sobering thought, we’re half-way through the year, and what do I have to show for it…

Dear Diary – After the tears, the yelling, the near “mental breakdown” trying to book an appointment for my second vaccination, and my friend’s lucky break, I finally got shot…on Canada Day! I had packed my suitcase ahead so that as soon as I no longer “crummy”, I could hop in the car and “run away from home”.

Hubby drove me to the community center and waited while I did the deed. The line up was remarkably small. My nurse’s name was Jennifer. She was born in the same month and year as me. I took this as a good omen. Everything went swimmingly, and I was soon seated in the centre of the soccer club, counting down my 15 minutes, to freedom!

The pins and needles started almost immediately, and continued to ping me for the next two hours. By the time, they disappeared, the fatigue was rolling in. We went to bed early. I spent the next day snoozing and sweating on the couch, nauseous, with a dull headache and achy bones. I continued to boil through the night, waking the next day twisted in my sheets and feeling limp. My physio torturer therapist took pity on me and we did gentle exercises, lying down. My chiropractor kindly snapped a misguided rib back into place; too bad it won’t stay there! Overall, I would say I have survived. It’s Hubby’s turn next, then Little Guy. The only one left to start the process is Big Guy (hint, hint)!

Dear Diary – I packed my bathing suit and sundresses for a summer vacation…but where did the sunshine go? For 3 days, I’ve hunkered down inside in a sweatshirt and wool socks…and a sundress! I would have braved the pool except the pool heater broke on the weekend, and the temperature has dropped radically. I suspect there are icebergs floating under the cover. It probably would have felt great when I had my vaccine fever!

I am not amused!

Dear Diary – I found a new way to torment my long suffering Mom, besides hiding her stuffed lamb in odd places, and naming the eggs. The other evening, Little Guy and I played Carcassone with her. Carcassone is a tile-based game and points are earned by laying tiles to build roads and cities. After accidentally knocking some tiles akilter and watching Mom adjusting them, we started to tilt tiles here and there to see if she’d notice. She’d notice and scold, we’d laugh…and do it again. What can I say? I’m a brat! We laughed so hard, we almost had tears running down our faces.

He will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy.

Job 8:21

Dear Diary – This morning, I made the mistake of perching my glasses on my head. My hair immediately snarled in the nose pieces. The more I tried to pry them off, the worse it became. By the time I left my room, my glasses were firmly affixed to my head. It took 2 parents to set me free. That was almost as embarrassing as the time I got stuck in my bra.

Dear Diary – After a chilly evening walk, I settled down with a hot cup of tea and a book. As I went to drain the last of my tea, I discovered I had added protein in my cup. An ant had drowned.

At least he wasn’t a spider!

Maybe he was just trying to get warm too.

Dear Diary – I went shopping inside a store, and left delighted with my newly purchased package of knickers. Now when I’m told to put my big panties on, I can! The province may have deemed some items as non-essential, but after a year and a half, they were becoming pretty essential. Little Guy now owns 1 pair of pants that aren’t highwater, and socks that are larger than a hummingbird. It’s often the little things that bring great delight!

Dear Diary – Someone in Belgium used my photo in her blog post and business instagram. Pretty cool!

Fennel Tea

Dear Diary – Little Guy would like to wait as long as possible for his next vaccation. So after surfing the net and making some calls, I booked for his second vaccination next week. Not because he’s anxious (that would be mean…kinda funny but mean), but because it’s important. I haven’t woken him up yet to tell him the good news!

It’s going to be a looooong week!

Dear Diary – Hubby made a startling discovery this week. He has mice IN his car! Not just under the hood. In. The.Car. He found poop in the console. Personally, I think we should just sell the car!

A mouse can be just as dangerous as a bullet or a bomb.

Lamar S. Smith

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #26

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covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, Geek, Halo, humour, marriage, photography, video games

Dear Diary – I could procrastinate no longer. I finally got busy cancelling Little Guy’s cell phone and my sucker tablet. Just to clarify, I was the sucker. I started with the online chat, which was relatively painless. Except he really thought I should convert the tablet to another new phone. No. Thanks. I’m trying to get rid of a phone. He also kept insisting I must know some one who would be thrilled to assume the number and the plan for the tablet. So I fired off a few text messages and suggested we proceed with cancelling Little Guy’s phone.

Little Guy’s phone was his birthday present, but it was partly for me. If he decided not to come straight home after school, he could let me know. He “disappeared” after school once and it was the most terrifying hour of my life! But he doesn’t like cell phones. It’s been dead and buried in the batcave for the last 18 months. So it needed to go!

Nicky called me on my phone to proceed, just as someone else called and the texts started flying in. I have never been so popular. I answered the second call and diligently waited on hold. Until they hung up on me. Undeterred, I called them after a short wait, kept saying no…repeatedly, and I’m happy to say, my phone bill just got a lot smaller.

Dear Diary – For our 15th wedding anniversary, I wrote:

“I love you. You annoy me more than I ever thought possible, but… I want to spend every irritating minute with you.”

Scrubs

This week we celebrated our 25th! We’re both pretty sure I’m one miracle away from sainthood. I always say, the first 15 years were the worst! Learning to live together and to blend as a family took a lot of prayer, a lot of tears, and a lot of commitment. Was it worth it? Yes. We may not have the same passion and romance as in our youth, but there is something to be said for familiarity and comfort, like a cozy, warm sweater. Some days we’re soulmates; others, were cell mates. Unlike some couples we know, we are still more than really good roommates, and will continue to work on our relationship. Best of all, we’ve learned to laugh together, and I have a feeling, the older we get, the more we’ll have to laugh about.

An archeologist is the best husband a woman can have. The older she gets, the more interested in her he is.

Agatha Christie

Since we couldn’t celebrate in Italy this year, which was to be our first (and probably only) honeymoon, I suggested Italian takeout and white wine for dinner. We ate it in front of the t.v. with Little Guy. That’s more our style anway! We exchanged gifts this year too. Hubby received a new watch with a silver face, for our silver anniverary. I received tiny white gold and diamond studs (the link for which I sent to Hubby and said “buy these”). It took me 10 minutes, a lot of straining, and a consultation with my kid before we figured out how to release them from the packaging. The backings on the earrings are tiny screws, which is why I couldn’t pull them apart. Who knew? 🙂

Finally, I suggested we get Little Guy to take some goofy photos of us in the back yard. My intention had been to wear our wedding clothes. Hubby’s suit stopped fitting after the first year, thanks to my sub-par cooking, but he still owns a suit. I think he makes James Bond look like a goober! My wedding dress, however, was cause for many tears. Part of that was the timing. I tore my closet apart in a fit of panic because I had to sing at church in the morning and I had nothing to wear. My clothes fit into 3 categories: 1) too small; 2) almost fits; and, 3) isn’t fit to be seen in public. I now have 3 piles: 1) to give away; 2) to throw away; 3) to store in case I lose 5-10 lbs. Now my closet is full of cardigans. I may have to shop online, and I hate shopping online.

Back to my wedding dress. Sometime in the last 12 months, the girls outgrew it. The zipper wouldn’t go up all the way and the sleeves drooped like sad, satin butterflies. We tried. Believe me, we tried! I confess, after Hubby left, I sobbed on the floor like a 3 year old. I’m not proud of it, but it was the day before our anniversary and I couldn’t just wear a cardigan!

I finally settled on my going away dress, which my sister-in-law made for me. It was the same pattern as my bridesmaids, but red, because our song is….Lady in Red. It’s corny but when you’re “in love”, you can digest corn better. The dress zipped and if I stood up straight and sucked it in…and maybe if we angled the camera just right, and I thought skinny thoughts, it would work?

It was 29C but felt closer to 40C when we stepped into our backyard at 4:30 p.m. The thunderstorms had finally blown through, and everything was dripping. The air was still. I knew I had a short window before Hubby would start to complain about the heat in his black suit. My dress was already clinging to me like bare skin on a vinyl car seat, so we posed quickly.

First with Halo weaponry, provided by Big Guy’s friend. Why? Because I was out of creative ideas and I play Halo. I told Hubby to think Mr. and Mrs Smith. Except I was smiling and he was not. Sigh…

Then “Covid shots” because it’s as much a part of our history as our wedding day 25 years ago.

Finally, zombie apocolypse? Why? Because together, we have survived just about everything else.

I’m not sure which I like best. What’s your favourite?

My husband and I have never considered divorce…murder sometimes, but never divorce.

Dr. Joyce Brothers

Dear Diary – Tonight is the night. What a way to celebrate Canada Day! I’m getting my second Covid vaccination! Two boys to go and I can breathe a sigh of relief! With my mask on. 😉

Dear Quarantine Diary -Week #25

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bad hair, baking, blue hair, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, food, hair, humour

Dear Diary – We celebrated Father’s Day on Sunday – with one kid in another city, and my folks in another. It sucked! But we did our best to celebrate anyway. And, as with all celebrations, that included the pre-requisite gifts of tees, snacks and undies, and more food.

Great gift, Big Guy!!

Dear Diary – Hubby and I went looking for something to watch one evening and we found a perfectly ridiculous movie:

Planet Terror (2007) A one-legged go-go dancer and her ex-lover join forces with other survivors to battle a horde of flesh-eating zombies invading their Texas town.

I may be creative but even I can’t come up with this stuff!

Dear Diary – I overbaked! In this instance, I do not mean that I consumed an extraordinary amount of maryjane, but that I baked too many sweets AND consequently, with so much sugar now at my disposal, all hope of sweating off that covid weight is flitting away faster than a gold finch! Those extra pounds will party around my middle longer and likely invite friends. I’ll be sweating, but not in a good way. I immediately chucked the donuts, jelly busters, cookies and muffins in the freezer, so at least I have to venture into the batcave basement to retrieve anything, which will cause me to sweat…

Speaking of sweat, I still wake up in the night, tossing and turning, and sweating. A few years ago, I made a commitment to my love, my bed, that I would work on our relationship. I bought new sheets. I’ve tried sleeping with my head where my feet should be, the sheets a tangled mess by morning. Conscious of the alarm clock’s jealousy, I’ve cloaked it at night to dim its light, its presence when we’re together. But alas! I’ve held on, longer than I probably should have, hoping it wasn’t over. A relationship takes two and I’m just not feeling the love. When things open up, I think (sob), I think I have to kick it to the curb. It will be so hard, but I’m ready to begin again.

Dear Diary – It’s going to be a long summer. My noisy neighbours have taught their loud, elephant of a daughter, how to play Marco Polo. It’s a game where one person keeps their eyes closed and searches for the other players by yelling “Marco”. They reply by yelling “Polo”. My Mom came up with the perfect solution – confuse them by hiding in the yard and playing Marco Polo too.

Dear Diary – This.

This has to stop.

The tears, the tangles, the tearing… Every morning. After every shower. When I walked outside on a breezy day. Thursdays.

The combs get stuck in the rats’ nests, the rats themselves nasty invisible things. I pull hairballs from my brush that would rival Garfield, and fill my garbage can with enough balls to knit a sweater. We’re finding long strings on everything. It clings to Hubby’s socks on the clothesline, and occasionally, he finds it in his dinner.

And once the knots are removed, I look like a muppet version of an 80’s rock band. Frizzy. Blue. Out of control.

No amount of hair product or appliances can tame the mane. Colouring has become an hours’ long production. It’s nice to have long hair in the summer because I can put it up, but with a shoulder that’s taking forever to make a comeback in physio torture therapy, I start to sweat. Which heats the house, the humidity from which causes the frizz to really pop. It’s a never ending cycle. I need “hair-apy” and soon!

It’s been almost 2 years since I’ve had a haircut.

I googled “how to deal with bad hair”. One solution was to wear a low-cut blouse. Geniuses everywhere. Sigh…

You can’t control everything! Your hair was put on your head to remind you of that.

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #24

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comedy, cooking, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, humour

Dear Diary – It’s week 24 in 2021 and it’s beginning to look like there’s light at the end of the tunnel. It could be a freight train bearing down on us…or maybe it’s just the roadrunner on a push and pull. Either way, like a truck, we’ll know when it hits us! I’m just worried it’s going to hit us right before the official start of summer!

A few provincial restrictions were lifted on Friday, 2 days early because of “good behaviour”. Which is always questionable, but I digress. As expected, the restless, housebound natives behaved like teenagers when Mom and Dad are away, and partied hard with their friends. Patio lights, fireworks, and the foul speech of a drunken sot lit up the neighbourhood all weekend. Remember, I’m Gladys Kravitz! I see everything! Part of me just doesn’t care anymore – no one listens to me anyway! The other sanctimonious part of me is silently hoping for an inconvenient consequence to present itself to them, one that won’t trip up my trip to the country. Like everyone else, I’m ready to blow this pop stand!

My anxious friend has spent a few days now, off and on, trying to book my second covid vaccinations. It seems everyone is panicking to get it, as if that will somehow “save summer”. People are triple booking appointments, and then choosing which one best accomodates their busy schedule. Except there’s still nowhere to go, and we all still need hair cuts! Now they’re temporarily “out” of vaccine. It’s like a twisted virtual version of the hunger games.

May the odds be ever in your favour.

Suzanne Collins

Dear Diary – Hubby and I picked the hottest day of the week to make the necessary trek to mail a cheque. To pay a bill. It’s the old-school way, but after my 27 hour long day last month, I didn’t want to risk my credit information falling into the wrong hands. My nerves are still a little raw. By the time we arrived 15 minutes later, I was mouth-breathing heavily and sweating glowing like a pig.

Twenty years! We’ve lived in our crappy house in this crappy neighbourhood for 20 years, and the dinged red postal box has always been there. Except today.

Was it stolen? Abducted by aliens? A Canadian time machine? Maybe some intoxicated middle-aged hooligans went on a mailbox spree, because anyone younger might not know what a mailbox is for…

Suffice it to say, the walk home was faster because now I was on a mission and I was going to be late for my comedy club meeting. We hopped in our air-conditioned car and drove to the next closest mailbox…only to discover that it too had vanished into thin air.

Mailing a letter is no longer an environmentally-friendly and health-conscious activity when we have to drive 6.8 km to the nearest box!

Dear Diary – I feel so stupid. I threw leftover potatoes in the microwave at the last minute, tossing a cover over it and slamming the door shut. Twenty seconds later, something exploded. I shrieked and opened the door. I had covered the potatoes with the metal lid from my stock pot and the end of the lid had blown off. Thankfully no potatoes were harmed in this disaster, and the microwave still works. My ability to handle household applicances has, however, been called into question, but since no one else wants to cook…

Dear Diary – It’s been 2 years since I knocked “Attend Skillet Concert” off my bucket list! Not only was it an awesome evening, I got to share it with my boys. By the night’s end, our muscles were sore from dancing, our voices were whispers, and we were flying high! We even stopped for donuts on the way home. It was legendary!

Speaking of donuts, I stopped at Tim Horton’s on National Donut Day. With the long drive-thru line, I went inside to avoid the long drive-thru line. Usually it’s way faster! Not that night. I hate how the people, who are too lazy to get our of their cars, get treated like royalty, while those of us who enter are treated like parasites. I know my legs are so white but are they really objects to be reviled? Does my terrific tush not deserve donuts too?

Four people worked the window while two others made food; no one was watching the restaurant. I seriously toyed with the idea of self-serve. I mean, would they really notice? After 5 minutes, I asked the gentleman standing at the cash if he’d been served. He rolled his eyes and nodded “no”, so I yelled. Yes, I became a Karen and I used my “Mom” voice: “Excuse me!” Every head twisted in my direction. “Is anyone serving the customes IN your restaurant?” I asked. The teen behind me snickered. The employees exchanged glances, with slackened jaws and fearful eyes.

I won’t lie – it was satisfying.

I was polite to the lady who finally stepped up, and, by golly, I got my 3 donuts, but it shouldn’t have taken fifteen minutes! That’s why today, I’m making my own! Hopefully… I won’t blow anything up!

Dear Diary – The regional gardening facebook page patrons confirmed my fears. I’m growing grass, and not the kind you can smoke. I planted 5 different types of herbs and only 2 are making an appearance. The rest of the planter is weeds and really healthy grass. The irony is that I can’t get grass to grow in the yard.

Dear Diary – The next time someone tells me I’m over-reacting when I complain about physio torture, I’m showing them this photo. It felt WAY worse than it looks!

It got prettier and prettier…

I couldn’t wear a bra for 2 days and I was afraid I was going to turn too quickly and give someone a black eye.

Dear Diary – What does a killer fluffy bunny, harem-loving, basket-weaving sweat shop cult leader look like? Occasionally I like to re-read former blog posts. This one came from Dashboard Batman and I can’t help wondering, what happened to that creative, off-the-wall person inside. I’ve known for awhile that my blog is lacking sparkle. That’s one of the reasons I took an Intro to Comedy Writing course. A course offered on Facebook has to be of the highest quality, right?

I decided to start my midlife crisis because I had spent too much of my life crying and it was time to laugh. I want to be that crazy, blue-haired lady in the nursing home, who, when I’m stirring up trouble in the halls, sits quietly in the corner laughing to myself (or at myself) because I have some great memories.

My point is this: I just want to say thanks to the 3 readers who tune in regularly and comment often to encourage me. It’s so much more fun to laugh at myself, when someone else is laughing with me. Let’s all keep our eyes open and just enjoy the opera of the every day. One day the fat lady will sing and the opera will be over, and I don’t know about you, but I want those who have journeyed with me to be able to say, “she lived life fully, even if she never had a “full” life”!

Life is too short to be serious all the time. So, if you can’t laugh at yourself…call me. I’ll laugh with you.

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #23

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, humour

Dear Diary – My brother was responsible. He’s responsible for a lot of things. Like my fear of dark, confined spaces. I don’t remember exactly how this one came about, but it’s been a family joke for years: 23 is “OLD”. We threw my brother an “Over the Hill” party for his 23rd birthday, complete with sympathy cards and mittens with strings.

I don’t know about you, but this year is starting to feel old. We’re in our 23rd week of 2021, and while patios open tomorrow and 15 people can now attend a funeral, we still can’t get our hair cut or have a bbq with our neighbours. Which is ok with me. I spend enough waking hours listening to 5 year elephant having temper tantrums next door Quarantine got “old” a long time ago.

When we begin to merge back into society from our isolation, I just hope some of our judgmental and “me-first” attitudes will have died off and we’ll think more of others. I hope we have learned to slow down, to breathe, and to appreciate the blessings in our life, especially the people we have missed. And I hope that we learn to shower, and brush our teeth, maybe even dress in something other than our pajamas before we leave the house.

Dear Diary – I totally misread the subject line of my Michael’s flyer. It said “liquidex” but I thought it said “Mix your painting style with liquor”. That could be interesting!

Dear Diary – Tuesday was my final Intro to Comedy Writing course and “presentation” day. Some people went all out with costumes and sound effects. I sang my song, “Queen of His Latrine” for the class, but I wish I had done more. I could have borrowed a cowboy hat. I could have blackened my front teeth. I could sung it with much more of a country twang. It’s probably a one-hit wonder (and by one-hit, I mean one person laughed), but you never know. I have some ideas for church-based skits, if I can russle up some partners in crime. And as a “grad”, I’ve been invited to join a private monthly comedy gathering to share ideas. I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t leave my day job just yet, sewing facemasks and pretending to cleaning the house, but one of these days I’ll figure out what I’m supposed to do when I grow up.

Growing up is mandatory. Growing up is optional.

Walt Disney

Dear Diary – I did a push up today. Well, actually I tripped over a pair of shoes, but I had to use my arms to get back up, so close enough. Now I need chocolate.

Dear Diary – The gift I ordered for Hubby for our 25th wedding anniversary arrived today. I now know why people steal packages from the front porch…because it takes too freaking long to open the package to steal its contents!

Dear Diary – All winter we looked forward to the day when we could go out and walk, and start to lose some of this covid weight. There were some glorious evenings when we did just that. I have yoga pants that have been worn thin at the thigh to prove it! Now it’s getting hot and the covid weight is clinging to me like skin on a hot vinyl car seat. Peeling it off is going to be a long, painful process!

This week, Hubby and I pulled ourselves from our stinky couch, the one with butt impressions that hug our huge hynies so perfectly. Even though the sun was low on the horizon, the temperature was just above body temperature, so that as we perspired, the evening breeze offered no relief. It did not deter our neighbours from having a party. These daddies ducked their ducklings for an early Boys Night Out.

Only one defiantly stared at me when I took a picture so I could inform on their illegal, non-social-distanced gathering.

Farther down the street, we discovered a “private party” at another bar, as well as an unsavoury character in the shadows.

We’ve had drug dealers on our street before, but I never expected this kind of shameful behaviour in plain view. I mean, there are innocent, wide-eyed children playing soccer and riding bikes on this street. There goes the neighbourhood!

Good fences make good neighbours. Bad neighbours make good fertilizer.

Unknown

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #21

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, humour, humour course, song writing

Dear Diary – It’s been a quiet week, watching the grass grow. Or not. Every morning, with my tea cup in hand, I faithfully water in my nightie and robe. Even in the front yard. I’m just trying to add a little class to the neighbourhood.

You can take the girl out of the country but you can’t take the country out of the girl.

Dear Diary – It’s true. They really will televise almost everything. That, or people are so desperate for sports that they’ll watch anything. After spending Saturday of the long weekend shovelling and raking a giant bag of dirt, Hubby and I crashed in front of the television. CBS sports was broadcasting the American Cornhole League Championship. For those who don’t know, Cornhole is pretty much a backyard game of tossing a bean bag (filled with corn, hence the name) into a hole in a board, across the way. It’s one of the few sports where you can compete in leggings and flip-flops.

This particular championship was sponsored by a sausage company. Some of the spectators (yes, there were fans in the stands affirming my belief that some people are desperate for sports) had banners. They jeered. They cheered. They especially cheered when the competitor threw a “4-bagger” in their round. In cornhole terms, that means they got all 4 bean bags in the hole. In my experience, 4-bagger was the number of bags needed to go over a girl/boy’s head before you could make out because she’s soooo ugly.

Speaking of ugly, I’ve been wrestling with a song about dating during Covid. It’s loosely based on Big Guy’s experience. He was scheduled for an in-person meeting with a girl he met online the week Covid restrictions went into effect. From what I’ve heard, she’s lovely. Dating, however, is a challenge when everything is closed. Especially during Canadian winter. So while they’ve been “dating” for over a year, they haven’t actually met in person that many times.

I’m open to suggestions with my song, In too Deep:

Verse 1

It started with a campfire and a couple 10 mile walks
They keep 6 meters apart which makes it hard to talk
The mask makes it hard to see her face, does she have a wonky smile?
Covid measures can’t last long, he’ll see her by and by

Verse 2

Tucked in a yellow touque, her hair is tied up in a bun
Mittens on her fingers ready for some winter fun
Her figure resembles the Michelin man, she’s thick and round and short
Still he’s falling for this girl, he loves the way she snorts

Chorus:
Dating during Covid means a blind date o’er and o’er
Until the pandemic is over, he doesn’t know what’s in store
She could be buck-toothed and ugly, the reveal will be a treat
But by then, oooo, the boy’s in too deep!

Verse 3

The city is in lockdown, the flower store’s not open
He’s trying to woo his lady ‘cuz he’s still hopin’
That this girl he met online , well maybe she’s “the one”
He can’t wait to see her when this nightmare is done.

Verse 4

Restaurants are empty, there’s no picture at the show
Right now, Tim Horton’s is the only place to go
When she sees him, her eye sparkles, it might be made of glass
When she finally sees him, it might be a hard pass.

I think we’re all just trying to find that one who will simply love us for the awesome freaking disasters that we are.

Unknown

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #20

Tags

bees, biking, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, fire trucks, garden, humour, neighbours

Dear Diary – Call me Gladys Kravitz. Just like the nosey neighbour in Bewitched, I keep an eye on my neighbours. I see your deliveries. I see your unauthorized gatherings. This week, I called Fire Prevention Services, twice. (They also hung up on me, twice). You can’t burn leaves (or even have a campfire) within town limits without a permit. I have overlooked little campfires, but when the plume of thick, black smoke rises 20ft in the air, covering the neighbourhood like a blanket, and it looks like your whole house is on fire, I’m callin’ it! The fire department has to catch you in the act and when I squealed called about the second neighbour, they sent a truck. Love those red trucks! So, yeah. I’m that neighbour…

Pinterest

Dear Diary – I have continued with physio torture therapy on a weekly basis. I had no idea that an elastic band could become a feared instrument of torture, or that my posture would threaten the friendly relationship I’m trying to maintain with my torturer therapist. Yesterday she gave me a deep massage by grinding my spine with her elbow! I feel like I’ve been in a car wreck. But on the plus side, I probably won’t have to shave my head because I can put my hair in a ponytail again. I’m still working on putting on my bra like a normal person. Little Guy, who has always been extremely flexible and boasts several double joints, continues to taunt me whenever he sees me doing my exercises. He can pop things that I didn’t know could pop. His body sounds like a haunted house, with creaky doors, squeaky floors and weird thumps in the night. It’s scary!

Dear Diary – While churches remain limited to 10 people on a Sunday morning, our church has elected to livestream services rather than use recordings. While I’m sorry the scheduled musician wasn’t feeling well, I was excited to be asked to join in. On Sunday morning, I put on a dress and high heels, fixed my hair and put on make-up. It felt SO good. I haven’t attended a church service since March 2020! We spread out on the platform and only removed our masks to sing. Which was a challenge for me. I had 2 in-ear monitors and a mic that hooks over one ear, all of which had to be attached under the elastics of my facemask. And every time I removed the facemask, inevitably something would fall off. I never did get the in-ear monitors to stay for the last song. Still, it was wonderful to sing and play in a group again, and most of all, to lift my voice to the Lord (and not worry about who I was irritating in the house).

Dear Diary – I ordered stuff for Hubby for Father’s Day, and after it arrived I realized I probably could have shopped for me too. Missed opportunity!

Dear Diary – Facebook shared another memory this week from Hubby. He wrote: “Here’s a picture of Jenn going up hill. She said that it was so easy for her. Hmmmm!”

It was the one time he took me mountain biking. Downhill wasn’t a problem, but that bridge nearly killed me. Don’t worry – I found the shoe I lost, and a tree broke my fall. Good times!

I haven’t been on my bike since.

Dear Diary – I was really excited to share one of my latest songs with my Intro to Comedy Writing class Tuesday night. I even worked up the nerve to sing it. It didn’t get rave reviews. Maybe I need to ham it up more? Or maybe you have to be a gamer to get it?

I’m A Gamer

verse 1
I can’t shoot stupid people, but in a virtual world
I can get lots of satisfaction
I get to be the hero, I am never a zero
I’m a gamer and I rule that world

chorus:
I’m a gamer, I’m a gamer
I’m a gamer, and I rule that world

verse2

In the real world I am no one, but in a virtual world
I’m a fighter with lots of passion
I am strong and fierce and sexy, don’t ever mess with me
I’m a gamer and I rule that world

bridge:
I can be a spartan like masterchief
A battle angel bringing both mercy and grief
Laura Croft, or a grand car thief
A master builder, an Olympic athlete

verse 3
My children ignore me but in a virtual world
They have reason to fear me plenty
They no longer think I’m lame
I wish the real world was the same
I’m a gamer and I rule that world

Final Chorus:

I’m a gamer, I’m a gamer,
I’m a gamer and I rule that world
I’m the Queen in that world
I wish it was the real world

Dear Diary – Our house is being patrolled. On Monday, I noticed a large bumblebee hovering over our back porch stairs. I wondered if it was admiring our lilac tree, which is in full bloom, just as much as I was. Or maybe, he was meeting someone he met online. Or he was blind and he could smell the lilacs but a misguided sense of direction kept him from them. Whatever the reason, I watched him for a while and discovered there was a flight pattern, and he was chasing anything with wings.

I don’t have wings, but I didn’t know if he’d chase me. I wanted to plant the herb seeds I ordered. Maybe he’d go away after awhile?

This may be the closest I get to an herb garden.

Hours later, he was still flying his beat. I tried simulating rain with the hose, but he’d just fly out of range of the water and hover, confused. I went on with planting, careful to avoid him as much as possible. He only bounced off my forehead once.

I looked it up. Our bumblebee is a carpenter bee and he’s guarding a nest. Carpenter bees burrow into wood and lay eggs. The female will feed the babies while the males patrol. Though aggressive, he has no stinger, but he can still “bee” annoying for most of the summer!

Every breath you take
Every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
I’ll be watching you.

The Police, Every Breath You Take

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #19

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, groceries, humour, writing

Dear Diary – My phone alarm saved me. I’ve been reluctant to use it. And then I was annoyed by it when I couldn’t make it stop chirping. This morning, I was writing to you when it chirped. I had a chiro appointment in 15 minutes. I wasn’t dressed. I hadn’t showered. I hadn’t brushed my teeth. My hair looked like a bird was nesting in it. In 5 minutes, I was out the door. I was dressed and masked, and still sporting a bird’s nest but I made it in time.

My chiropractor is awesome. She’s a very understanding woman, willing to overlook my leggings and hair. I love her.

We all need people in our life who will pick us up when we fall, after they stop laughing.

Dear Diary – Groceries continue to be an arduous undertaking. This week, the website had odd pricing on2 items I normally purchase. For example, the store brand club pack of chicken thighs was listed at $8.80/kg, but the estimated total cost was $92. Drumsticks weren’t much better at $79. Those must be Sumo-sized chickens, or they’re plated in gold.

So I called the main customer service line, but the operator had no idea. Shocking! She transferred me to another department. That operator agreed they must be extraordinary chickens! She promised to get answers and call me back. Sure, they probably weigh the package and charge accordingly, but with my luck, I’ll be overcharged and spend the next 6 weeks fighting for reimbursement. I’d rather make the call now!

She did call back. It was an error. It couldn’t be fixed. I should place my order and check my bill at pick up time. The whole point up picking up is so I don’t have to get out of the car. Especially in the rain. Which it was… Instead, I cooked a family-sized roast of beef, which we’ve been eating now for 4 days. I think it will last another 4.

Still, I’m thankful for groceries.

Be thankful for what you have. Your life, no matter how bad you think it is, is someone else’s fairtytale.

Wale Ayeni

Dear Diary – I plugged my video game headset in this moring to charge. I wish they had chargers for people too.

On Sunday, Mother’s Day, I was shot at High Noon. Or close to noon – they were running late. The experience was relatively painless. My only frustration was the couples and groups moving through together, after being clearly told to come “alone”. I will never cease to be amazed by stupid people.

But I got my shot! And while lockdown life continues, it feels like a giant leap forward.

The rest of Mother’s Day was lovely. Hubby made waffles for breakfast and I was showered with a few gifts: an ipad cover (because I’m clutzy), pink icing bags (because I still hope to master the craft), a digital thermometer (so I can make brittle without burning…), and some other craft supplies for tie-dying fabric (because I will never cease to play). Supper was frozen pizza and chocolate turds stumps “logs”. I tried to make Prue Leith’s mini chocolate swiss rolls, but the cake was so thin and airy, it was nearly impossible to roll without it all sticking to my fingers. And the chocolate didn’t want to stick to the cake.

Sprinkles covers a multitude of sins

By the end of the day and for most of Monday, I was really tired and slightly lightheaded. I managed to do the essentials: hang out laundry, wash dishes, and cook dinner. I tried to nap, but it started raining on my clothes. I tried reading, but I couldn’t focus on the words. The only other option was to waste time mining ore in Minecraft. It was grand!

By Tuesday, I was back to my normal amount of tired and sore, and I had to hype myself up for my Intro to comedy course.

Those who can laugh at themselves will never cease to be amused.

Dear Diary – I just looked at my grocery bill. I’m missing meat for 2 meals, but my pork tenderloin only cost $0.56 and my 6 loaves of bread cost $2.19. Rarely are mistakes made, in my favour.

Dear Diary – We tackled song writing again in my Intro to Comedy course. We started with writing a parody of an existing song. Mine were:

Before
Time After Time
When Doves Cry
You Make My Dreams Come True
Looking for Comets

This One Goes Out to the One I Love

After
Mime After Mime
When Doves Poop
You Make My Nightmares Come True
Watching for Vomit (have you ever had a pet barf in the night? The terror is real, people)
This One Goes Out to My One-Eyed Love

I have to credit Hubby for ” This One Goes Out to My One-Eyed Love”.

I’m in the midst of writing 3 songs (or poems). One is about being a gamer. Another is inspired by Big Guy, who had a date set up to meet a girl he’d be wooing online…the week lockdowns began. Dating in person during covid (and Canadian winter) was a challenge!

This song is also a work in progress:

verse 1:

The morning started slowly; there was coffee on the stove
The sun was shining brightly, a thing of beauty to behold!
And then I heard a door creak, silence filled the room
A dark creature came forth, a spectre of doom

verse 2:

The figure stumbled toward me. It gave me quite a scare
Its face was white and pasty surrounded by wild hair
Its lips twisted downward. Was it a grimace or a smile?
I knew I’d get an answer if I stayed still awhile.

Chorus:

It was my teeeeen, from the batcave
Awake for his day school.
It was my teeeen from the batcave
I dare not flinch, I am no fool!

Like Stephen King, I scared myself and had to put this away until I could face my fear and start to write again…

Dear Diary – Occasionally I’ll catch a post on FaceBook from my home town. It’s a small, farming community. Little Guy has grown up where every other vehicle is a mercedes or a BMW. I grew up where every other vehicle was a beat-up pick up truck with a broken tail light. Traffic jams were 4 cars stuck behind a tractor. On May 10th around 6 p.m., the police responded to call about a criminal at large, or rather, a large criminal, terrorizing downtown. Actually it was an unmasked brown cow moseying down the street, window-shopping. She’d grown tired of lockdown restrictions and escaped her trailer by kicking down the door. Police corralled her into a new trailer and moo-ved her on. Sometimes I miss the excitement of small town life!

If nobody knows the trouble you’ve seen, you don’t live in a small town.

Unknown

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