WEE HOBBIT MCNASTY

In 1990 somebody gave my brother the smallest kitten I'd ever seen. She must certainly have been the runt of the litter. My brother said she was tiny, like a hobbit. It was the perfect name for her. He couldn't keep her, so after several days of the wee fuzzy giving our family dog what-for, and my swearing I did not want a cat, no matter how much it liked to play with my necklaces and no matter how darned cute she was, I took her home with me. She would be my sole companion for many years.

She destroyed my house. She pushed things off of counters and book shelves and would trod on my pillow (or head) while I was trying to sleep. She was partial to nibbling on loaves of bread that may have been left on counters that were certainly too high for her to jump up to (I'm pretty sure she could fly, or at least hover when necessary). One of her favorite spots as a kitten was in my kitchen sink, with the tap drip, drip, dripping on her head. She was a very odd cat.

And Hobbit did not like people. She liked me. She didn't like too many others though. And this was funny given that she was all of 5 lbs, full grown. In fact, the last trip to the vet for a nail clipping resulted in the vet asking us not to bring her back unless she was sedated. Wee Hobbit McNasty, she was dubbed, by friends. I had friends, full grown men and women who were terrified of this cat. She hated a couple of my friends more than others. She trapped one of them in my bathroom one day and would not let her out. She thought she was part puma, I think. She was definitely an attack cat and I was confident I didn't need a house alarm with her around.

She was a very good little companion. She consoled me on many a lonely night. She often entertained me by playing fetch. Little crumpled balls of paper were her favorite toy and if you threw them, she would fetch them and drop them back in your lap and wait, with some excitement, I might add, until you threw the little wad of paper again.

Later, I had a roommate and we discovered that Hobbit like coffee. She would sneak it from my roommate's coffee mug at every opportunity.

Since Hobbit had a fondness of destroying my property and keeping me from sleep, she slept in a large dog kennel that I had purchased to be her 'bedroom'. This was also helpful in toting her down many stairs during many, MANY middle of the night false fire alarms and one not-so-false alarm. Had she not been sleeping in that kennel that one fateful night, she would have had her life cut short by smoke inhalation. When my roommate and I were allowed back to our apartment the day after the fire, we noticed firemen footprints near the kennel where she slept (we had a small kennel that we moved her to in case of fire alarm). It was very touching that they spent a moment to rescue a pet that may have been left behind. Lucky, she was with us.

She was such a funny little cat. And so vocal. And she drooled when she purred. And got sneezy when she got drooly.

I got a second cat several years after I got Hobbit and Hobbit took on the roll of big sister pretty well. The second cat, Tibboh (Hobbit backwards) was very unlike Hobbit, in personality. They were like Yin & Yang. And though Tibboh outweighed Hobbit by at least 10 lbs, Hobbit was still the alpha puma... er, cat.

When I met my husband, Hobbit liked him at once. She tolerated his kids well, too. I was shocked on both counts. Several years after Wonko and I were married, we noticed that Hobbit was acting like an older kitty. Fair enough, she WAS an older kitty. She was probably 15 years old or so, at that point. She had lost vision in one eye, to glaucoma and was losing her hearing. But she kept on for several more years yet.

About a year ago we noticed more changes. She spent less time basking in the sun and more time perched behind me, on the back of the couch. She stopped grooming herself. Several months ago, we noticed she started wanting to eat more wet food and it was clear that she was drinking far more water than usual.

I just could not justify paying huge vet bills to find out that she was an old cat who was likely suffering renal failure. There isn't much that can be done for that and she HATED people so much, putting her through a load of testing at nearly 20 years of age seemed cruel and unnecessary.

Then she started peeing everywhere. We put up with it for some time. I knew what was coming. And I knew it was likely sooner rather than later when I caught her peeing into one of our heating vents. Then she got constipated and was scooting on her carpets. I stepped on little bits of poop a few times and knew what had to be done. My daughter plays on our floors, and this was getting to be a health risk for my family. But poor Hobbit wasn't ACTING sick. She didn't give me 'that look', the one your read about where people know it's time. I never got that from Hobbit. But with every day she was a little less alert. She just perched on the top of the couch and ate and drank. It was time. For my family and for Hobbit because she was certainly going to start displaying pain and I didn't want that.

So I made arrangements with the vet. For an extra fee they would come to our house. And that seemed kinder to Hobbit somehow. We sent our daughter to my folks' and the vet came. And Hobbit was PISSED! She gave the vet a run for her money, I can tell you that. And the noise! Good gravy that cat was vocal! I hadn't seen her move like that or heard her complain like that in years! It was almost funny. Almost. I was pretty certain that Hobbit was going to try and take the vet down with her.

We finally caught her (I say we, but I mean the vet and my husband because I was too busy crying in the kitchen until she was caught). She bit Wonko - hard. The vet tried to sedate her but there was so little muscle that it was difficult. I knew at that point that she was much more sick than I had realised.

Once sedated, I sat with her and stroked her head and talked to and about her. She growled for a bit, even sedated. Then the vet tried to find a vein and she's a tiny cat with tiny veins to start with, but she was so dehydrated that the veins kept collapsing. It was difficult, but I knew from that, from what the vet was saying, that my poor cat would have been displaying severe pain before much longer, had we waited. The vet had some success with finding a vein in her front leg, after failing with the hind.

She was just bones and skin, my poor girl. I didn't think it was that bad as she was still eating well. But she was very sick. Why didn't she ever give me 'that look'? I felt like I had no right to take her life away from her. Though knowing her, she did want to be as difficult as possible and fight, right up until the end.

Then it was over. I didn't think my heart could break any more than it already had. My first fuzzy baby. My friend for nearly half of my life. I know that 20 years is a good long life for a cat. I was lucky to have had her in my life. I miss her terribly. And now, a few days after her passing, my family seems 'broken' somehow. My dear 5 lb tangle of terror, my sweet Halloween cat, I miss you. RIP Hobbit. It's not the same, sitting on the couch without you behind me.

DITCHED

Ditch = 1, Excavator = 0

This thing has been in this ditch for several weeks now. I'm sure there is a brilliant reason why they'd just leave it there to continue sinking, but darned if I can imagine what that reason might be.

DISNEY, HERCULES AND GOD

This past weekend, my mom and sister were giving sea shells to the girls. My daughter was impressed with one shell and remarked that it looked painted. My father said it must have been painted by God. My daughter replied, “Grandpa, there are no such things as gods!”

One of Weeb’s favorite movies is Disney’s Hercules. As I’m a bit of a Mythology buff, I’ve explained to her that the story of Hercules was a story that people used to tell but is not a story about real people. I’ve also explained how Disney’s version is quite a bit different from the Greek and Roman tales (for example, Hera is NOT Hercules’ mother, Hades was not a bad guy and Pegasus was more Perseus’ buddy than Hercules’ made-from-clouds pal, and there were 3 or 9 muses, depending what you read, not 5). My daughter understands that the gods in the story are not real and that people, long ago, told stories to teach lessons and to entertain themselves.

I guess it’s time I talked a bit more about God with her. I’ve talked with her a bit about it before. I’ve told her, as simply and logically as I can, what I believe and I’ve explained that not everybody believes the same thing or worships the same way. We’ve got a way to go.

I will say this, I don’t have the heart to tell Weeb the truth about what happens to Hercules and Megara in the non-Disney stories. I think that one can wait.

THE MIGHTY MIGHT OF MAKEUP

I didn’t leave the house wearing make up this morning.

I usually don’t. I’m happily married and work with two fellows, who though very nice, I’m not trying to impress with my looks. In fact, having worked with plenty of men in the past, I have found looking good just gets me into trouble.

Why not look good for my husband, you ask? Well one, he is peculiar and thinks I look good, no matter how crappy I look to the rest of the world. And two, I’m not going to see him all day.

So I was sitting at my desk, doing the typical paper shuffling that comes with my job when something happened that lead me to sneak off to the bathroom to apply a bit of make up.

Now what, you must be wondering, could persuade an otherwise make-up-lazy woman to un-ugly a bit? Well I’ll tell you.

My boss came in with his wife.

It is my belief that women fuss over how they look because of other woman more than wanting to be attractive to men. We just can’t stand the idea that we might be ugly compared to the women around us. It’s not a competition as much as we just don’t want to ever be described as ‘the ugly one’.

It’s amazing the power that an eyeliner pencil and a tube of mascara can have on a gal. It’s even more amazing how we really think it makes any difference. I can promise you that the only one who knew I was wearing any make up at all was me. I even left it on until after my husband got home from work. I can also promise you that he didn’t notice.

I won’t leave the house wearing make up tomorrow morning.

I’m pretty sure it’s not going to matter much.

THE ART OF BEING HAPPY

Happy people have always fascinated me. As a true Gemini, I think I have the happy-just-because thing down-pat about 50% of the time. However, I embrace some dark places just as easily and just as often.

The older I get, the more I TRY to be one of those happy people. But perhaps the older I get, the more I have to accept that I'm just not one of those people?

I should be happy, if for no other reason, I am lucky enough to live in Canada. I have a wonderful husband, an awesome kid, I have a home and a car and clothes on my back and food on my table. I have a good family and we are happy and healthy, for the most part. I've seen misery and suffering and I am not part of it.

So why is it so hard to be and stay happy? How can the life that has me humming and put a spring in my step one day be the same life that I have no interest in, the next?

Granted, I'm sick at the moment, life has had some disappointments lately, and we've just had a huge change in life/routine with my daughter starting Kindergarten. I keep trying to think of what I could change or what I need to make me happy but I can't think of anything. So many people say, "I'll be happy when..." but why can't we just be happy now?

What do the Happy People have that I don't? Is it a personality thing? Did they learn the art of Being Happy and Coping with Change from their parents? My grandparents and great grandparents seemed to cope well enough and they had it way rougher than I ever have. Were they just hardier people or if I had the chance to really know them, would they have admitted to feeling the same as I do?

How do you remain happy when plugging away at the million things you HAVE to do every day knowing you probably won't have time or energy to do the other million things that you'd LIKE to do?

Is there such a thing as a truly Happy Person? Does happy just come in moments? Did I just make some bad choices? If so, what would I be happier doing? I dunno.

Maybe I just need to wait it out. I'll probably be back to humming and skipping when I walk tomorrow.

KINDERGARTEN WEEB

Weeb started Kindergarten September 7th. The first two weeks was a crazy schedule of school starting at various times, for various lengths of time. It was chaotic to say the very least. Wonko and I either took vacation time or worked from home to be with Weeb. It was wonderful and hectic, at the same time.

After a week and a bit, the kids were assigned their teacher. Weeb got Mrs. E, who has a split Kindergarten / Grade 1 class. A lot of mothers hoped their kid wouldn't be in the split class, but Weeb is advanced academically and used to being in a 50+ kid preschool so I figured it was a good spot for her.

On the Thursday of the second week, Weeb had her first full day of school. I realized when I picked her up that she had no idea where the bathrooms were. She SAID she did, but since she couldn't show them to me, I was onto the fact that she had not gone to the bathroom at school in the two weeks she'd been there. So we asked the teacher where they were and off we went.

The bathrooms are down the hall from Weeb's classroom. They are big and have an echo and Weeb was freaked. She didn't like that anyone could come in at any time. She didn't like locking herself into a stall. She didn't like the sound of the bathroom. She freaked out at the idea of flushing. She insisted she would go when we got home, but I am a stubborn momma and insisted we weren't going anywhere until she went pee and flushed. My poor girl, she was not happy with me. But she did it! We went back to her classroom and let her teacher know that she was a bit nervous about the bathrooms and she suggested Weeb bring a buddy with her the next day.

Friday when I asked Weeb if she went to the bathroom she said yes, she'd gone with a buddy. Then I learned that they didn't go pee, they just went down there and washed their hands. Okay, it's a start. So I dragged her back to the bathroom and she went. Then I made her flush. She was not happy with me again. After she flushed she decided it wasn't a big deal. She managed to go to the bathroom all week, this week. She doesn't love the bathrooms, but she's not terrified, so that's good for now.

This week they had a fire drill. In the morning their teacher advised them that they would be having a fire drill and a loud bell would sound. Weeb was not happy about this. She doesn't like the school bells as they are quite loud and make a little girl who is very involved with whatever she is daydreaming about or playing with JUMP! She managed to get so anxious knowing that the fire drill was coming that she cried for a good deal of the morning. She was happy again at lunch but was back to loud sobbing after lunch was over. Finally they had the fire drill and she shrugged it off and said, "We did the same thing at my preschool." Ah, anticipation anxiety! My poor girl is just a bit too much like her mother!

I think most of the kids in Weeb's class have older siblings so they are used to being in the school environment. Weeb's older siblings are in another province so this whole big school thing is new to her (and me!) and is a bit daunting. It seems as though she's adjusting well now.

We have our first Pro-D Day today. It's just as well since the landlord is here fixing up some stuff in the house and we have a contractor from the strata coming to deal with a leaky pipe in our kitchen ceiling. Hopefully that won't take too long to sort out. Oh and I seem to have a cold. It's not terrible, but it's sucking enough that I'm glad nobody was available to watch Weeb this morning so I had the perfect excuse to take the day off.

The weather is definitely telling us that Autumn is here. It's colder and rainy. I have great plans to get this house as uncluttered as possible as the mess is making me insane! Our new routines are falling into place and I am going to attempt to get back to my writing. We shall see. Maybe another week or two into this Kindergarten thing and we'll all be feeling 'normal' again. Well, until the next thing comes up and throws us off. Bring it Universe - we got our kid successfully into Kindergarten without breaking her, we can do ANYTHING!

And now a picture of rocks and pebbles (what is the difference between a rock and a pebble?) that I likely got off the internet at some point. Why have I posted a picture of rocks / pebbles? Because Weeb digs collecting rocks and pebbles. I direct you back to the comment that my kid is a lot like me. Sometimes that's NOT a bad thing.

Edit to add: A rock has a rough surface, a pebble has a smooth surface. You'll have to sort out your opinion on the picture above for yourself. I'm going to call them rockles. The Kindergarten Kid concurs.

TAMBOURINE WEEB

This is a picture of Weeb and her cousin J. Weeb drew it on a paper plate tambourine that the girls made with Grandma and Grandpa this week. I think the picture is incredibly cute. Weeb has drawn J in purple, which is J's favorite color. Weeb drew herself pink because that is her current favorite color. She's even got J's curly hair. I love that they are holding hands. Even more, I love that this is what my daughter draws pictures of. I think it's so cute and it just speaks volumes about who my nearly 5 year old daughter is.

MONSTERS UNDER WEEB'S BED

I'm writing a story for Weeb about the Monsters under her bed.

I thought when I told her the beginning of the story that she'd be entranced by the tale and fall into the 'other world' with a terrific sense of wonder.

What happened is that she spent the next three nights having nightmares about monsters under her bed.

I am the Mother of the Year. Again.

So I decided to ask my brother, who has amazed me with his drawings since childhood, to whip up a picture of Weeb and one of the monsters. I described the monster as: a large dust bunny with a toothy grin and large sneakers.

In minutes my brother had the above picture drawn. The monster looks slightly more meatbally-ish than dustbunny-ish but I think it's awesome. So does Weeb. And now she's bugging me to keep writing the story.

TV COMMERCIALS AIMED AT WEEBS

Weeb is sick with a stomach bug at the moment. She's been on the couch since around quarter to five this morning, watching TV (when she's not giving me something else to put in the washing machine).

I am amazed at how low they will go to advertise to children. We don't watch a ton of TV - er, let me rephrase that to - we don't watch a lot of TV with commercials.

Has anyone seen ads for CUPONK? It's a ping pong ball and a cup, sold by Hasbro. It's about $12 CAD. For a ping pong ball. And a cup.

But the cup lights up.

Ah.

Luckily Weeb isn't feeling very well or she'd want the thing.

She does appear to be well enough to tell me that she wants all of the Littlest Pet Shop toys, including the ones currently in McDonalds Happy Meals AND the Strawberry Shortcake Splashin' Petal Pool.

Weeb's birthday and Christmas are only 5 short months away so I suppose I'd better brace myself for all the MUST HAVE items that will crop up between now and then. I've already got 'ping pong ball and cup' on MY wish list!

BEER VS POP

Why is it socially acceptable to drink several beers but not several soft drinks?

I pondered this as I was stealing a sip or four from my husband's non-alcoholic beer this past weekend. As the bottles piled up on the kitchen counter, I thought there is no way that we'd drink Coke in the same amounts.

When I mentioned this to Wonko he told me about a story from his younger days when he was a designated driver and agreed with a friend to drink a Coke for every beer she had. I think they totalled 16 and he said he was FAR more ill than his friend, the following day.

The idea of more than one soda makes me cringe. Maybe it's the sugar content? Beer doesn't seem to have the same effect, though I'll admit it's been a long while since I had a proper beer.

Based on my extensive half minute online research on the subject, I have come to find that based on a 12 ounce serving, Bud Light contains 110 calories and Coke Classic contains 140. Most of the calories in Bud Light come from alcohol with a tiny portion of them coming from it’s 1 gram of protein and the remainder coming from refined carbohydrates. In contrast, all of the calories in Coke Classic come from sugar.

I further found that for the past two decades, Americans have been drinking just as much beer as they’ve been drinking coffee and milk. Soda consumption is even worse and typically doubles that of any other beverage. In fact, many people drink more soda than water.

Half minute online research, and pretty much the entire previous two paragraphs, found here.

It can't be that much different in Canada. And I haven't even touched on my addiction to Slurpees. I might be able to justify two Slurpees on a very hot day, but even that is pushing it.

So why is it okay to see 6 beer bottles on a kitchen counter and not 6 bottles or cans of Coke?

This blog post has been brought to you by weekend pondering and a 100 degree fever in a wussy adult on a Tuesday morning.

THE ARTISTRY OF A WEEB - FEB 2009

This is from Feb 2009. Weeb infoms me that this is a picture of her allergy doctor and the scared little girl who had her turn after us. She patted the picture of the little scared girl and told her it was okay, there's nothing to be frightened of. LOL

I'm not sure what this one was about (she had only just turned 3 when she drew these) but they look an awful lot like Balloon People and perhaps a Balloon Cat.

WEEBY HOMEWORK

One night in January 2010, I was working late and Wonko sent me a text saying that he was doing homework with Weeb (who had just turned 4 y/0). They don’t force homework at her preschool, but if she’s not completed her work in class, sometimes she’ll ask her teacher if she can take it home. This is what I found. She’s written all her numbers from 1 to 100. Pretty good for 4 years old, eh?

But what’s this? Ah, proof that she is indeed my child.

Some more homework. My just-turned-4-years-old-daughter is doing ‘greater than / less than’ math work in preschool. We're very fortunate that her daycare / preschool has such fantastic teachers who are making this kind of work fun for her.

She's also reading pretty darned well for a (now) four and a half year old! I worry that Kindergarten is going to be pretty boring for this kid and that she's going to invent all manner of chaos to relieve that boredom.

WATERMELONOM

You'll have to bear with me, because I'm currently well amused with NOM NOM NOM pictures. LOLCATS make me laugh too. Give it time, I'm sure to do a few of those as well.

It was a watermelony kind of weekend. So here are some awesome watermelonoms.

A CORN-NOM-A-NOM

Sometimes a single picture says it all.

Especially if I add stupid text to it.

Like now.

Weeb likes corn on the cob. GIANT corn on the cob.

And who can blame her?

THE WISDOM OF JASON

My brother amuses me, especially when he's had a beer or two (or 12) and goes on a Facebook Status rampage.

Even when there is no beer involved, he often makes me chuckle. So I've started a new blog with this theme.

Check it out. Or don't. Whatever works for ya.

http://thewisdomofjason.blogspot.com/

INVISIBLE TOOTH TATTOOS

No, no, not tattoos of invisible teeth. I got those three filings done today. They filled them with something that wasn't silver. I wouldn't say it was exactly tooth color either. But it certainly wasn't silver. It was tooth-ish color - whatever that is. Bummer, I was hoping to have a cool (and kinda disgusting) before and after picture of my chompy bits.

I have pretty good teeth. I made it into my 40's with only 1 cavity that required freezing, prior to today. Granted, these three cavities were likely there for a while and had I been going to the dentist regularly (or more than once every 5 years), I might have actually had them detected and corrected BEFORE they were a problem. And had I been flossing more regularly prior to the past couple of years, these cavities might not have even formed at all (they were all in between teeth).

So, boys and girls, floss regularly and visit your dentist every 6 months to 1 year. Or you'll end up with three cavities filled on one day. Or worse, over two or three days.

And as much as it wasn't painful (wow, my Dentist is awesome with a needle!), I'm a bit achy now.

I will also mention that the Slurpee that I rewarded myself with after the fillings were done was some kind of funny to drink since my lips were frozen HOURS after the fillings were done. Ever try to drink through a straw when your lips are frozen? Funny stuff. I highly recommend it, just for the laugh.

I've looked for an amusing graphic to add to this, but I'm tired and achy and I can't find one quickly. Sorry, next time, folks.

RIP AUNT BRENDA

I will do my best to embrace the positivity and enthusiasm for life, that you had.

I miss you already.

THERE CONTINUES TO BE NO BLUE FLAVORED SLURPEES

But there are NEW BERRY BLUE G-FORCE Slurpees.

One would gather from the picture of the blue raspberries that the blue raspberry flavor is what they are going for. I suppose one might wonder what a blue raspberry might taste like since blue is not a flavor. I'm just going to conclude that the Slurpee Flavor Marketing Dudes (and/or Dudettes) are a bit off their rockers. But not completely. Because they still seem to realise that blue is not a flavor, so they continue to dress up the flavor name, a bit.

Photo taken at a Canadian 7-11. May 2010.

LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER

I sometimes wonder what kind of influence I really am on my daughter.

I don't know much about that, but I do know that if I put my shoes away, so does she. And if I don't put my shoes away, they have little pink company.

This could very possibly have some deep meaning.

But mostly I just think the picture is cute.

THE ARTISTRY OF A WEEB

I'm a proud mother, so here's some of my daughter's fantastic artwork. Clearly, she's gifted.

Mummy, Daddy, Weeb and her cousin J. September 2009.

One of the cats. October 2009.

Weeb, Mummy and Daddy. December 2009.

A castle with Princess Weeb and some smiles. May 2010.

Mummy. Weeb has learned the spelling, at preschool,
with an O instead of a U.
I'm not that fussed about it. May 2010.

O CANADA (AS SUNG BY A WEEB)

Weeb loves to sing.
This is our National Anthem.
(This is how Weeb sings it.)

O Canada!
(O Canada!)
Our home and native land!
(Our home and native land!)
True patriot love in all thy sons command.
(True paradise in all our sons command.)
With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
(With glowing hearts we see the rice,)
The True North strong and free!
(From True North strong and free!)
From far and wide,
(From garden lights,)
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
(O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.)
God keep our land glorious and free!
(Guard/Gord keep our land glorious and free!)
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
(O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.)
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
(*takes a bow*)

PHOTOGRA-WEEB

Weeb has a camera. It's pink, but beyond that, I can't recall much about it. Weeb is a very skilled 4 year old photographer and I thought I'd share some of her photographic insight into the important things in her universe.

Weeb has many fuzzy toys. I occasionally wake at night, jolted by thoughts of small fuzzy toys staring at me with beady, black eyes. So far I've found no fuzzy army evidence in my room, though I suspect it's only a matter of time.

Weeb has little plastic friends, as well. This shot is pre-stepped-on-head-which-snaps-off-easily-and-can't-be-easily-glued-so-toy-must-be-sneakily-disgarded-into-trash.


Here is a parade of little plastic pals. There was very little carnage in this circle of life. Though I am reminded that this was, in fact, a parade and NOT a circle of life.


Is a photo shoot ever complete without a shot of someone's butt? I think this is Weeb's cousin, JM. "Hey JM, wiggle your butt and I'll take a picture, okay?" "Okay!"

And, of course, the over exposed, self-shot hand. Classic!

Stay tuned for more Photogra-Weeb.

BLOG GRADER

http://blog.grader.com/

I came accross this online and thought some fellow bloggers might find it interesting.

Take it with a grain of salt. I find it contradicted itself with me a couple of times.

SOME TATTOOS FOR MY TEETH

I have been pretty lucky in terms of my teeth. I've only had two cavities and only one of those actually required freezing to have the filling done.

However, after a five year dental hiatus and a sad reminder that I have not always flossed as I do now, I have come to learn that I have THREE cavities that require filling.

I'm not happy about this.

But I've had three tattoos and a baby, so how bad can this be, right?

The dentist had mentioned that he told kids that when having a cavity filled, they were going to get a cool silver tattoo on their tooth. I thought that was kind of cool and was going to blog about the new silver tattoos I was going to be getting soon (if this cough ever goes away).

So, as I often do, I turned to Google to see if I could find a good picture of a tattoo on a tooth. And wouldn't ya know - people actually DO IT! Seriously. Google TOOTH TATTOO and see what you come up with. Crazy.

Mine are going to be way cooler.

Mine are going to look like silver stars.

But perhaps not quite like this. LOL

BAD PARKING 3 FOR 1

What I love most about grocery shopping on Saturdays is that it seems to bring out the bad parkers. These three are all from the same day, same trip, same lot, same walk from our car to the grocery store doors.

A lovely display of bad parking. Apparently I'm not the only one with Bad Parker Attractant.

A fabulous example of really bad parking in a Small Car spot. Granted, the car is not particularly large, but I'll bet the driver thinks he is.This is my favorite. Not only is it bad parking, but it's bad parking by a truck in a small car spot. And though I hate to judge a book by its cover (oh who am I kidding, I judge, especially if the cover is stupid looking), this guy deserved a grand Boot to the Head.I have more photos from today. However, this triad of stupid was all in one trip, one walk, so I wanted to honor them all in one post.

MORE BAD PARKING

I drive a Toyota Echo. It is a small car. Since it is a small car, I do not feel the least bit guilty parking in the sports marked SMALL CAR.

I have learned that driving a small car and parking it in a SMALL CAR spot means that when I come back to my small car, I will find it surrounded by SUVs. These SUV drivers don't seem to realise that they are NOT small cars and should consider driving the one or two more feet to find a spot in the NOT small car spots.

This is not a small car.

This is not a small car either.

Remember the bank? I'm not quite sure what this guy was doing. He was actually handicapped - had the sticker and everything. Why he didn't consider parking in the handicapped spot is a mystery to me. Well, I guess he kinda did. A bit. Ten points for the creative parking angel there, bud! Even my four year old daughter thought you needed a boot to the head for this parking disaster.

This is my Toyota Echo, on the left. When I came back to my car, I found this SUV demonstrating, like many others before him, parking close to my car induces euphoria. I have hundreds - yes, hundreds - of pictures of bad parking. I need a new hobby. Until then, I'm going to keep using up these bad parkers' 15 minutes of fame here.

MOON PHOTOGRAPHY AND WEEBS

As many of you know, I dig Astronomy, and I have recently become interested in Lunar Photography.

Posted below is my first Moon photo. I was trying to get a good capture of 'the Man in the Moon'.

I'm amazed with the detail you see even with a fairly inexpensive camera.

I was having a bit of a difficult time with this particular photo shoot because Weeb was just getting into EVERYTHING! Anyone with young kids knows what I'm talking about.

Still, I think it turned out well. And you just have to love Moon photos. I mean, how can you not?

BIG APPETITES FOR TINY STUFF

Whales are awesome.

I was reading about a Gray Whale that had washed up on a Vancouver Island beach. The article also mentioned UBC recently acquiring a Blue Whale skeleton after one of these behemoths washed up on a beach in PEI. I wanted to know the difference in sizes between the two types of whales and found this diagram, which showed it pretty well. They're big!

For me, it's hard to really visualise how large these creatures can be. I've seen Killer Whales and Belugas up close-ish, but these are not even remotely the largest of the bunch.

How such enormous animals feed themselves on such tiny things (like krill) is amazing to me.

Pretty big, eh? Blue whales are as big as some of the ocean dwelling dinosaurs!

According to the Vancouver Aquarium, killer whales used to be terribly feared as ferocious monsters of the deep. 25 years of research have taught us a lot about these beautiful, misunderstood creatures. It's actually a pretty cool story about how the Vancouver Aquarium first started studying Killer Whales, but I can't find the tale online (in the five seconds I just spent) and am pretty sure I read it in a book I bought at the Aquarium, so I'll have to chat about that later.

CBC ARTICLE: http://www.cbc.ca/canada/british-columbia/story/2010/04/07/bc-grey-whale-beached-starvation.html

FIRST IMAGE: http://www.orienthq.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/305d.gif

SECOND IMAGE: http://www.orienthq.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/305d.gif

VANCOUVER AQUARIUM: http://www.vanaqua.org/

Whales. Awesome!

NAIR WARNINGS

NAIR WARNINGS THAT SHOULD BE ON THE BOTTLE:

If product is applied to face, we are not kidding about trying a small patch and waiting 24 hours to see reaction. Seriously, this stuff will burn the smile right off your face and you'll end up with a chemical burn and a bright red scar of stupidity above your lip instead of the Sasquatch mustache you're trying to get rid of. But don't heed the instructions, you go ahead and do whatever you want because you're clearly smarter than us. Go on and pile on a ton of this stuff above your lip and then wait 6 minutes instead of the recommended 4 because you clearly have stubborn lip hair as determined by an experiment on your legs with our product 20 years ago that didn't do anything for ya. No really, go ahead. Pile it on. Leave it on too long. Do a happy dance when the hair comes off. Then pout for the rest of the day (and a week or two to follow) because you're a freaking moron. But don't even consider writing a nasty letter to us because here's the warning in black and white. Idiot.

PARKING TOO CLOSE TO A PREGNANT WOMAN

This is another rant, written while I was pregnant in 2005. My best rants seemed to come in August that year. Perhaps I was not enjoying the heat. Regardless of the reason behind my vast un-Zen-ness, I was making my online pregnant pals chuckle. You'll notice it's about one of my favorite pet peeves, pregnant or not.

August 30, 2005

Do I have a big sign on my car that says PREGNANT - FOR A LAUGH, PARK REALLY CLOSE TO ME?!

Nothing makes me feel happier, sexier or gives me the confidence to keep hauling my ever swelling self into public like the joy of trying to squeeze my body-for-two into my car upon the realisation that some dingbat has parked 2 inches from my driver side door.

And you'd think me parking to the right of a parking spot, thus giving myself the most space possible on the driver side would be enough to ensure my ease in car reentry. Wrong-O! All this seems to do is make me a bigger target!

I swear, the bigger I get, the more people take it upon themselves to park as close to me as physics will allow! I think they would only be happier if they could actually park INSIDE my car!

And I'm pretty certain that being pregnant actually ATTRACTS people to you! I need a wide birth people (no pun intended) and I certainly don't need to be swarmed by people needing to brush up against the beauty of the newness of life that I carry within me. I'm big, I'm hot, my feet and back hurt and I am probably hungry and you can bet your boots I just want to wedge my butt into my car and go home! But people are just naturally attracted to life and that is why they must suddenly be close to me and my parked car!

I think that once you hit the mark of not getting in or out of a car comfortably, you are technically handicapped. Why don't WE get those nice wide handicapped spaces? I'm at least as big as a wheelchair at this point! And probably twice as dangerous when forced into tight spaces!

Forget BABY ON BOARD stickers, I want one that says I'M HUGE AND AM GOING TO DENT YOUR EFFING CAR IF YOU PARK TOO CLOSE TO MY DRIVER'S SIDE! And it had better come with a handicapped parking sticker!

MATERNITY PANTIES

This was written in 2005, when I was pregnant. It was a bit of a laugh (particularly among my online pregnancy support buddies, due around the same time as I was)and I thought it might be worth dusting off. I'm fairly certain that Maternity Panties are one of the top five reasons why we decided to stop breeding after our daughter was born.

August 29, 2005

What is the deal with maternity panties?

What twisted sick mind came up with their design?

I bought some on Saturday when I was shopping and my sister and I had a conversation like this:

Yasher: What size should I get?
MJbean: What do you normally wear? You should get the size you normally wear.
Yasher: I'm not normally pregnant.
MJbean: *glare* Get large if you buy large.
Yasher: But what if they aren't big enough? Maybe I should get X-large.
MJbean: *glare* Then get X-large. But you're only supposed to get the size you'd normally wear.

My sister is very smart. I don't question her as much as I just like to taunt her.

So I buy the large. I take them home. Last night I am brave enough to open a package.

No word of a lie, I could sail a boat with these things!

They are enormous! No, they are bigger than that! What is bigger than enormous? Gigantic! They are gigantic.

I show them to Wonko. I've never seen him laugh so hard. He suggests I take them back to the store. I say I should try them on first.

Then this little fever of terror strikes me. What if they fit? What if these gigantic things actually fit me? Morning sickness has NOTHING on the nausea I feel at this moment.

So I try them on.

I quickly conclude that some evil twisted creep of what certainly MUST be a man has designed these implements of insult with no idea in mind of what a pregnant woman actually looks like.

If I cut these panties in half, horizontally, they would look like regular panties. Apparently pregnant women require panties that are worn just under the boobs and arm pits. The bits below my navel fit okay. In fact, they are slightly large. No problem, I think, I am entering the 3rd trimester, I will grow into them.

The bit that really has me baffled is the two inches of uncomfortable lace at the waist. Why would they make the waist of maternity panties with two inches of uncomfortable lace AND make that bit fit tighter than anywhere else?

Ah right, because they are meant to be worn just under the boobs and arm pits, which, as everyone knows, is the thinnest place on a pregnant woman. Okay, maybe everyone doesn't know this and the reason for this is because it's not actually the case.

So the waist, which one would assume requires the most stretch in a maternity pantie is tighter than the boat sail of fabric between the bizarrely tight waist and the unusually large gusset.

Now, let's talk about the actual fit, beyond the tight waist, if you can still call it the waist when it's hiked up around the underside of your boobs and your arm pits.

To wear these things loosely, the waist digs into your midsection then rolls annoyingly into whatever the narrowest point at your waist is. The only way to fix this is to ensure the waist is firmly yanked up to your under-boob and arm pit areas where it will now pinch ever so slightly in an uncomfortable lace slash tight elastic kind of manner.

The added sexy benefit of having the panties yanked up this high is that the holes your legs fit through are also yanked up high. I can now see my hip bones (or what there is left to see of hip bones on a 6 month pregnant large woman) through the pantie leg holes. The gusset is now stretched nearly thong thin.

I am quite certain that there is more elasticity in one of the leg holes then there is at the waist which has me question, momentarily, whether or not I am wearing these panties in the correct fashion.

Not a sexy look. Truly, I can understand how I may never have any more children after this one as I believe that the concept of sex appeal and me in the same thought will never cross my husband's mind ever again.

I have purchased 6 pairs of these horrid little pieces of clothing. I would have thought that the last 3 months of pregnancy would be hard enough without battles with my undies every moment of every day.

I guess the lesson learned here is that, the more horrid the panties, the happier you will be to be out of them when in labor. How bad can labor be when the alternative is to deal with maternity panties?

TOILET CLEANING

I don't like cleaning toilets.

It really is quite gross.

Of all the many chores I do,

I hate this one the most.

BAD PARKING AT THE BANK

Here I am at the bank. This BMW was not beside me when I went in. When I came out, I was annoyed and decided to wait so I could see how this twit was going to get into their car.

I am stubborn. I waited for half an hour. HALF AN HOUR! Whoever the offending dipwad is must have known that I was waiting and chickened out of coming back to their car because I watched everyone come in and go out of that bank and for half an hour nobody returned to this stupid BMW.

As I had to back up to the right with cars parked behind me and a car parked on the other side of me (and me being horrid at backing up), it took me ages to get out of this spot. I couldn't see around the back of the moron's car and was nervous about cars coming from the drive-thru part of the bank which would be to the right, in this photo. People don't just stop when they see someone backing out of a parking space in this city because that would suggest politeness on their part and who needs to be polite when they can afford to drive a BMW?

My Bad Parker Attractant was mighty powerful on this day. I'm not sure if the picture does this justice. Clearly the BMW driver aka Bad Parker was a stick figure otherwise they'd never have gotten out of their car in the first place.

THE CORRECT WAY TO HANG TOILET PAPER

This is the correct way to hang toilet paper.

This is not.

PEOPLE WHO CAN'T PARK

I seem to have some kind of Bad Parker Attractant. People will go out of their way to park as close as possible to my car. I have ranted about this in the past and have, for the past several years, taken great delight in taking photographic evidence of these too-close-for-comfort encounters.

This photo was taken in March, 2007. It's my office parking lot. The fellow in the unit next to us is the worst parker on record and my favorite Bad Parker photo subject.

As people in my personal space (vehicularly or otherwise) is one of my hugest pet peeves, prepare for the repeated posting in regards to this topic.

ORIGAMI LUCK CRANES

I have a little green Origami Crane in my pocket. His name is Dennis. He says he is an Origami Luck Crane. And how can you argue with an Origami Crane? Especially one named Dennis?


Dennis has ventured from my pocket to share my tea. Who can blame him? I drink some pretty awesome tea.

HEY, RUDE LITTLE TWERP!

This is an open letter to the rule little twerp who keeps calling my cell phone:

Hey, you rude little twerp,

I can forgive you for having the wrong number once.

I can even forgive you for having the wrong number twice.

However I can NOT forgive you for hanging up on me during that second call and then doing the same thing the following day!

What's shocking is that you ASK for Mrs. Martin politely enough that I suspect that you are an adult (though maybe just barely), then you turn into a rude little teenage turd upon my polite explanation that you have the wrong number. Again.

Don't hang up on people who are in the middle of a sentence, you dipwad!

You're obviously not Canadian or you would have at least apologised before hanging up.

What is unfortunate for you is that I have your phone number.

I will exact my revenge in the name of Mrs. Martin.

Hang up on THAT, moron!

You win a boot to the head.

THE MIGHTY BANANA WEEB INFECTION

Few know of the Mighty Banana Weeb Infection.

In the darkness of night it will slink into your home and find your bananas. Instinct draws the Weeb to bananas and it can find them with little or no effort, regardless of how well you hide them. It finds the mightiest banana and infects it with Weebishness.

Hiding bananas in the fridge no longer keeps your long yellow tasties safe as the Weeb has evolved to such a degree that it can now open refrigerators, though the Weeb has commented that refrigerating bananas turns them black which is gross and seems to be a very high price to pay for banana safety, especially given that as Weeb protection, refrigeration no longer works. The Weeb further explained that in these cases, she will infect your black bananas just for a laugh.

An odd fact regarding the Mighty Banana Weeb Infection, and one scientists are hoping leads them to a cure, is though the Weeb does enjoy infecting bananas, it does not enjoy eating them.

Signs of Might Banana Weeb Infection include:

• markings that resemble a cute little face at the end of the biggest banana
• the nighttime sounds of giggling, as though a banana with a face was up to no good
• the mysterious juicing of your other fruits and vegetables
• missing mini marshmallows

At this time there is no cure for the Mighty Banana Weeb Infection. We recommend you wash your hands often and stock up on mini marshmallows.

ATTACK OF THE ST. PATRICK'S DAY ORIGAMI CRANE

Some of you are aware of my Origami Crane experiences.

Last St. Patrick's Day, this Origami Crane approached me and climbed into my hand. It appeared to be friendly.

At first.

Moments later there was a blood bath and my wounds had to be tended to by medics, some of whom were sickened by the sheer violence of the scene.

Though I still intended to study the creatures, you can understand why last year's St. Patrick's Day blood bath at the papery beak and wings of a mentally unstable Origami Crane would keep me cautious of getting too close to these majestic beings.

On this St. Patrick's Day, I was surprised to find another green Origami Crane in my office. This one seemed quite friendly and told me it would clean my teeth for me as it had been studying human dentistry. They are very clever creatures, Origami Cranes. No cavities, but apparently my gums are receding slightly and I have a follow up appointment in a couple of weeks.

I continued my study of these fascinating creatures.

Staple Removers, the Origami Crane's fiercest enemy!

It's simply disheartening just how many Origami Cranes are killed every year by this cruel predator! Fly away little Origami Crane, fly away!

Origami Cranes do not worry about their weight. They are naturally svelte. A diet high in eraser rubbings help these winged beauties fight off disease and offer a longer life than one might expect from a papery creature.

Origami Cranes are terrible hairstylists but they give a wicked pedicure! They are not fans of bright red nail polish, claiming such a color is for whores and Origami Swans, the scourge of the Origami World, and certainly, our own!

I am told that St. Patrick's Day signals the beginning of mating season and if I leave muffin crumbs in my office, I will have a rapid infestation of Origami Cranes. Here's hoping!