Mother's Day

Sunday was, of course, Mother's Day. I'm not sure if its "International" Mother's Day or just plain old North American Mother's Day.
I actually had a really great day. This year I asked for no bought gifts - just the stuff that the kids made for me - and a day to be treated. I decreed, unilaterally, that this day would begin at 6pm on Saturday night. Hey, its my day it starts when I want.
This meant that someone else did the dishes, someone else made dinner, someone else made breakfast and then someone else made dinner again.
I know, it doesn't seem like a lot - but it was great.
It is the simple act of acknowledgement - hey, that's a lot of work - that I was looking for. That, and the opportunity to be lazy.
I am the laziest person I ever met.
My ass.
The couch.
Two and a half hours of Coronation Street.
Pure heaven.
I must also say that the quality of Mother's Day gift is improving as the kids get older. This year I got a fridge magnet from Ben, a mug from both (the sitter), purple diorama frames from both (the sitter) and this lovely trinket box that Sammy painted at school.
Apparently there wasquite the controversy over the trinket box painting at school. Sammy wanted to paint it purple (which he insists is my favourite colour)but the teacher wouldn't let him. Score one for encouraging a child's creativity.
It did however inspire a great debate in the car about Picasso and his "blue period" and the many variations of blue.
We went to the zoo and froze.
It was perfect.
And the best part - for the first time in a dog's age I didn't spend the whole day pining over my poor Mom. The kids asked what my Mom used to like to do on Mother's Day - and I mentioned (because it was at breakfast) how my Mom used to love scrambled eggs and ketchup. And that was the only time she came up.
I'm quite proud of myself really.

Riding the Bus

I try to do my part. Right? We all should. Save the planet and all that shit.
I recycle - paper, cans, bottles, boxes - all that shit.
I crush up the egg shells and blend them with coffee grounds and sprinkle them in the garden.
I compost all of my banana peels and veggie scraps and hubby's meat bones. All of the above.
Today I had a meeting out of town - and I had to drive. Drive all across the gta from Scarborough to Brampton. Almost 300 km in one day. That, my friends, is insane.
Why?
Because it was $1.221 a litre for gas. My trip today used about half a tank of gas. That is wrong for so many reasons.
So, me being the quintessential enviro-friendly cheapskate, I decided to take the second half of my day's journey (Scarborough to downtown Toronto) via good ole public transit.
I parked the car at Scarborough Towne Centre. That meant the RT to the Subway, switch trains, take another train and walk to the doctor's office. MUCH easier than getting in the car and driving the 30 minutes downtown. Much more environmentally friendly. Much cheaper.
I had forgotten how creepy it is on the subway.
Mostly, when I am sequestered in my van, I know that all the people I am riding with, mainly me, have had a shower and brushed their teeth. When on the subway, this is not the case.
We were, quite literally wedged into the trains. Squeezed in with not enough oxygen per person. Remind me that I am not doing enough to plug up the ozone layer.... And people on top of people on top of smells and textures and stench and horror of faces and colours and UGH!
The subway sucks.
Sure - it took us three times as long to get there and back.
Sure - it cost us only $6.90 for two people for a return trip.
Sure - Ben loved the fun of it all.
But I will have nightmares. The smell the smell the smell. Oh the things I have seen today. I have to say it again - UGH!
Did I save a tree?
I don't have a clue.
Nor at this point do I care.

The Real Deal

Just because I miss her - because she was the best Mom.
She loved me, supported me, made fun of me, joked with me, and raised me to be full of myself.
She taught me to never stand up without pulling down my shirt over my ass.
She told me black and brown should never be worn together.
She threw a box of crackers at my head.
She broke my metabolism and taught me all her bad habits.
She was the worst cook, the laziest housekeeper and would never allow talking during All My Children.
She had a big smile that was full of love.
And she loved me.
She, quite likely, was chosen randomly by a clerk in an office somewhere to be my Mom.

Who Knew?

Today was errand day for me. You know those kind of days where you leave the house before the stores even open - just to be the first one there - to rush through buying your share of crap so that you can get finished and take your crap home when everyone is just waking up.....?
That's the kind of errand day it was.
At Best Buy I lied and told the cute little homosexual pimply faced returns clerk boy that I had no idea what happened to the Wii game. "It just stopped working" I said with a look of bemused ignorance on my innocent face. "My sons are very distraught!" Which was true. The part I left out is the part where wayne sat the game on top of a lit candle and burned it. Um yes. We'll just forget about that part. I said thank you - have a great day as I ran for the car before they sussed out my liar vibe. OOOOOH!
I went to Old Navy. I went to Walmart. I went to Rogers Video. I bought a new BBQ at The Superstore. I got gas and bulk foods. And then I went to the grocery store.
And as a I wheeled my shaky cart up and down the aisles of No Frills, bemoaning the price of bread and looking for soy based proteins, I saw a vision in the frozen food aisle.
There. In front of me...with her very own cart...was a giant vision of Cher inspired loveliness....it was a humongous almost 7 foot tall black drag queen!
Now, I am an oddity among humans and have seen many things in my life time that many people will never see......but if you have never seen a drag queen in the middle of the day, it can be a horrifying experience.
With the drag queen, I find that all things are exaggerated. Bigger hair, taller shoes, MORE make up than one human needs, longer nails, more (fake) cleavage, all big big big.
This was the harsh fluorescent lighting of Tom's No Frills in Ajax, Ontario - population 80,000. This is not a pretty place for a glamazonian man lady to be. This was unkind.
But as I approached her, and instantly my head began to think up names for her, I thought to myself, well, even a drag queen needs to eat!
BTW: potential names, Nofrills Mary, Gimmea Banana, Alotta Foodstuff....I know I'm bad at this!
I have friends (and even more acquaintances) that are professional drag queens. They get paid to perform - men dressed as women - glamourous glorious OTT women. They are ALL fantastic. I doubt any of them would do their shopping in 6 inch stilettos!
Then I thought with horror....oh no....no no no no no...what if its a woman?? An extremely ugly woman with no fashion sense, no common sense - no sense at all? I know I see an Adam's apple and giant hands...but what if what if?? Please no.
Please let it not be an ugly woman! Please let Tom's No Frills have a giant drag queen shopping in the frozen foods!
It makes getting out of bed to run errands at the crack of freaking dawn on a Sunday morning TOTALLY worth it!

Black Plastic

There is a black garbage bag stuck in the tree outside the window of my office. I keep seeing it out of the corner of my eye and thinking maybe that it’s a bird or a flag or something. And then I turn my head – look at it – and it’s still a black plastic garbage bag stuck in a tree.
It makes no sense that it’s stuck up there. I’m on the 3rd floor of an office tower. The tree is equally as tall as the building. How can crap have blown so high?
It’s the crap of the spring thaw. You know the kind where you find pennies and old chewing gum packaging as you walk around? It gets all hidden and mysterious over the winter and then all of the sudden just one day, it’s released.
No – this all has no deeper metaphorical meaning. There really is a black plastic bag and there really are pennies and crap in the snow. Nothing deep going on here today.
I’m really quite tired, blog people.
It doesn’t seem to matter what is going on in my life I will find one reason or another to be tired and indulge my chronic insomniac fantasies.
Am I really a chronic insomniac or am I just a freak that doesn’t like to sleep? Tell me that, will you!
The doctor actually referred me to the Toronto Sleep Clinic for a diagnosis for whatever the fuck is wrong with my sleep pattern. No. Of course I didn’t go. Have you met me?
I suspect that the doctor thinks that because I am a giant girl with big boobs that crush my chest that I have sleep apnea. Sleep apnea is where you stop breathing during the night. It is often characterized by excessive snoring – not that I snore more than a kitten would – and exasterbated by weight. I refuse to have this.
I think some times I keep myself awake on purpose. I know I can survive on a half hour of sleep – so why not? I will be fine. I always am.
What if I don’t get everything done – I better stay awake and finish it.
What if something happens and I’m asleep? Then I’ll be annoyed.
What if someone wants to call me or write me – I’d want to be awake as soon as the email arrives. I wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting for my oh so important reply.
So I stay awake. Often doing absolutely nothing. Often watching re-runs of Little House on the Prairie or Saved by the Bell and wishing it was still 1985.
Lately I’ve been writing – which is at least a tiny bit more productive than sitting on my ass.
I wish if I was going to stay up all night I could be on the floor on a cute pink or possible purple yoga mat doing leg strengthening exercises and hundreds of thousands of really properly done crunches. Ah – that’s the life.
But I don’t. Instead I catch something out of the corner of my eye and have to turn my head to look at it – sigh and carry on doing nothing.

Springsprung

.Today as I walked the dog (not at the crack of bloody dawn like I usally do) n the actual morning (before stomach flu like symptoms overtook me and I started barfing up happiness from all orafices), I realized that spring has arrived.
Ah yes - the screams of my husband could be heard far and wide as kids attempted to walk on our snow ravaged lawn.
Kids with jackets and not coats. It makes it difficult when kids change coats to tell one from another. I will often refer to Sammy's friends as "dingle nuts" and "whats-his-face" because, without hats and coats on they all look the same don't they?
It even smelled different outside today too - didn't it?
Again this was BEFORE I started yacking up a gut - so everything was right with the world.
And now I shall tell you why spring in suburbia sucks.....
Because at 10:30 in the morning on a Sunday walk I was the only person over 11 that I saw. Hershey and I were out for almost an hour and not one person was outside of their house.
Its not like we could walk to the store - whatever store that would be. The closest one is 3.5 km from my house. Yes. Too far for a walk to get juice, condoms or insense.
There were also no tiny animals - squirrels and the like scurrying around.
We don't have trees big enough to sustain squirrels in my suburban hell. We have rabbits- dozens of them that had been forced from their homes in the woods that used to stand right here.
And we have one pair of beavers. Why they are here in Ajax I will never know. But they came here from somewhere to terrorize our baby sized trees.
Spring will send them into their lovely damn they have built. Its pretty cool actually.
The other spring thing that frightens me is my illogical irrational urge to clean. I am in the mood to downsize my crap. So, if there is crap of mine that you would like to be crap of yours, let me know.
I'm all ready for it though. Bring it on.
I need to be warm again.
And you all know I hate snow and winter with a white hot burning passion that knows no boundaries.
So spring spring with all its goodness all over the place

School crap - the aftermath....

Last night my complicated convoluted confrontation with the people that run my son's school ended with Dan's question posed to the Vice Principal. "Do you think that my being involved in the school - at the school is making Ben's problems worse?"

Her answer "You're never here"

I was obviously upset by what she said and I responded maybe too defensively "but but but - I worked here - I am always here for basketball and concerts - I do the snack program - I am on the school council - the Campbell's soup label program - I run that...."

Again she said - "you're never here"

I just left. And went to a Move-a-thon planning meeting for 3 hours. Where I was assigned accounting duties. Where I made "test smoothies". Where I was told to bring my blender on Friday for mixing smoothies. Where I was assigned to make Friday's snack - nachos and salsa - on my own on Thursday night. Where I was told my volunteer services would be appreciated from 8:30 to 3:35 on Friday. I am the uber compliant always willing volunteer.

Screw her I thought. Look at what a nice person I am. I rock. I rock out loud the volunteer bullshit. Screw you lady and while you're at it - eat a fucking sandwich - you are skin and frigging bones!

Then today I wrote my resignation from the school community council (or the PTA). I was tired of doing so much work for the school and for the kids when it was quite obvious that no one involved in the school gives a right royal rat's ass about me being there but me. No one cares and no one cares and no one cares and on one cares at all but me.

So here it is:

I wanted to let you know that I made a decision last night and that the move-a-thon is going to be the last time I volunteer at the school.
I apologize for leaving the rest of you with yet more of a burden but I don't think that anyone in the school values my time or contributions as a member of the team and perhaps my time would be better used elsewhere - helping people who need it more.
I am resigning my position on the council as of Monday.
I will miss hanging out with you! Last night was a great and I absolutely value your support and friendship.

But I saved it to my drafts folder and didn't hit send. I needed to think about it more because I like being a part of the school. It makes me feel like I'm contributing something to my kids education.

Sure I'd be useful at the Cancer Society or the AIDS committee or Jews for Jesus. But the work at the school makes me HAPPY!

Then I got this email from the President of the council - just a broadcast email to the 4 of us that were at that meeting last night - that do EVERY BLOODY FUCKING THING IN THE SCHOOL - not that we are bitter - just tired.

We all work so hard for the school and there are some rays of sunshine - I wanted to make sure we all had some today because last night was pretty dark.

We were all negative last night and with good reason. Today has been a good day financially for the school but it doesn't change the fact that there are a small number of families carrying the school either financially or through volunteering or both. That is what frustrates me but we go on for a while longer.

The response to that from Nan - the most volunteer-liscious of any of the volunteers ever in the history of mankind was this:

As always I will personally continue to do what I do for the school, no matter the outcome of others. After all, the reason why I started doing this has never changed..."To set a good example for my children and to be involved in their lives."...

And fuck her if she isn't right.
To set a good example for my kids. The example being that even if you don't think you are valued your contribution to the lives of others is always valuable.
There ARE moments of sunshine - when some kid comes up to you in the book store and starts a conversation because he remembers you from school. Girls in the nail salon chatting to me - I remember them from when I did career day with the grade eights!
And I am involved in my kids lives - whether they like it or not! I pray to whoever is up there, that the kids don't regret it and neither do I! But for better or worse - I'm involved up to my cute little ass.

And that, my bloggaliscious friends, is that!
Email from drafts file deleted.
I am going to stick it out....Maybe, just maybe, I'll take pictures of the move-a-thon! It could be worse - you could be volunteering to help!

April's Fool

I have a lot of stupid shit that I pay attention to on a daily basis.
Family.
Friends.
My gastrointestinal tract.
How to make a good martini.
Music.
Literature.
The Biggest Loser.
Art and Science.
Facebook Scrabble.
Tim Horton's makes bad chai tea yet I drink it every day.
What I eat.
What you eat.
What I don't eat.
The dog.
The neighbours.
International politics.
The list goes on and on and on.
Some things I sort out and pay more attention to and some things I just don't really ever get around to giving a second thought. Still others, I just can't figure out ever.
It's not that I don't WANT to solve all of the problems of the world, figure out how to bring the soldiers home from Afghanistan or stop the spread of HIV in the US prison system or determine what to make for dinner - but I don't have all the tools, the experience or the information to do it all.
Its the same for the little issues as for the huge ones.
I don't know HOW to do stuff sometimes.
Tonight I have 2 meetings.
One at 5pm with the Principal, Vice Principal, Teacher and another parent to talk about our kids and bullying.
Then one at 6pm to finalize plans for the school's biggest fundraising event of the year - the Move-a-thon.
Yes people, Ben is still being bullied.
There is a group of kids that are consistently picking on him and have been since the second week of school. When they pick on Ben he doesn't fight back. He tends to just stand there and take it. However, his friend Tyler doesn't. When he sees the kids picking on Ben, he fights back. He has started, at the advice of his father who is a police officer, to take matters into his own hands, and THUMP the kids that are beating on Ben.
This is great on one hand because it shows that Tyler is a good friend and has good character for standing up to bullies. But now Tyler is getting in trouble.
Tyler's Dad wants us to present a united front to the school and say, if you don't protect our kids from bullies then we will allow them, whatever the school rules, to protect themselves.
The whole mess makes me sick to my stomach.
I've mentioned here before how I find it just so awful to see that my son doesn't or doesn't want to stand up for himself. The fact that he now has other kids standing up for him because he won't is too terrible.
He has the size to defend himself (which is likely why he's being picked on). He has the skill to defend himself from the almost 2 years of karate. He has the intelligence to know that this is bullying.
He does not have confidence.
He's smart and funny. I wish he saw himself as we see him. Because, if this is him at 10 - how will he be at 20?
If anyone has any idea how to fix this once and for all - please let me know because although I understand the politics and psychology of bullying and all the psycho-babble bullshit that the powers that be and pop culture magazines preach to overturn it, nothing and I mean nothing seems to work.
And then at 6pm I will meet with the 3 other parents that volunteer to help raise money to support all the programmes and shit that allow our sadly underfunded school to function.
I will volunteer my time - yet again - to run around and do crap that the parents of the other 599 kids in the school just won't do.
I will volunteer my services to supervise a dance because we can't possibly have the teachers to that.
I will make fruit kabobs and make sure no kids stab each other in the eye with the sticks.
And I will count the money we raise.
Then I will vote on how best to equally distribute the funds even though I really want fans put into the classrooms so that my kid who has asthma will be able to breathe come June. By the way, I have been trying to get the fans for 3 years now and I am constantly out voted in favour of other things that need to be paid for first. First - before my kid who can't breathe....
My points in this whole confusing mess of a pile of crap blog are this:
1. If I can't solve the world's problems, who can?
Seriously. If we had stopped someone like George Bush from being a mealy mouthed rat-bastard snot-nosed bully when he was in grade 4, could we have stopped him from invading other countries as an adult? If we sit by passively and watch while the US beats the living crap out of Iraq are we not enabling a bully? Who can stop a bully - especially one who is stronger and more powerful than you?
2. If I can't solve the my kid's problems who can?
Who gets to be the one in charge of a kid's life? Really.
When my kid is at school, who's responsibility is it to protect him? Himself? His teacher? His friends? The school board? Me? Where do the lines get drawn?
Where the flaming fuck are the parents of the bullies?
3. How involved is too involved in my kid's life?
A friend said that he HATED it when his parents came to his school - for anything. Now, is my involvement in the kid's school and on the pta and meeting with the teacher, etc. - AM I MAKING THIS SITUATION WORSE FOR HIM???? Am I causing part of this by mortifying the poor child?
4. Why don't more parents give a rats ass about their kid's education?
5. Why does ANYONE have to raise money to buy fans for the classrooms so that the kids can breathe?


I'm full of questions and I don't have any answers. I apologize for barfing up worry and crap - but like I said, I have a lot of stupid shit I pay attention to.

The Princess Veil

This is a short story I wrote recently called "The Princess Veil". I haven't written many short stories so of course I am a feedback/comment whore and beg you call to critique me.

She saw herself in the mirror, basked in white light and lace – almost ethereal - almost feminine. She had to watch it. She couldn’t stop staring. Surely, this was going to be the best day of her life. Surely, this day that she had painstakingly planned every single second of, would be the most perfect day ever.
It was always difficult to make everyone happy. Weddings are like that. Everyone has their own agenda. But, the books all said that this is “her day”. All about her. Funny that when someone else is paying and someone else is doing all the inviting that anyone thinks that the day is YOURS.
Oh but this day was hers.
Sometimes she thought that people underestimated her. Maybe they underestimated her intelligence, her wit, her cunning nature – whichever – but no one gave her as much credit for being a manipulative bitch as she quite deserved.
The wedding, which was all her idea, was to take place in 2 weeks time. Her dress had come from the dressmaker’s today. Of course, her mother bragged to her friends, she couldn’t “buy off the rack”. This nugget of information was doled out as a piece of hoity-toity one-up-man-ship. But, it was really a matter of necessity rather than privilege.
Her giant butt would have never fit into even the largest wedding dress known to man. She smiled to herself as she laughed at her own joke. She wasn’t the fattest woman to have ever lived but she gave that woman a good strong run for her money! And, as butts went, hers was a giant one.
She was built with a big bubble butt she often thought she could set things on it – like a shelf. Maybe a vase or nick-nacks! But this dress was very kind to her ass.
It was white lace over-laying white satin with a hoop type skirt underneath. It was just heaven and made up for a multitude of her past sins (fries and gravy, pizza, cake….etc.).
Now, today, she didn’t have the FULL effect but, in the mirror, she could see enough of the extras in her minds eye to know that this dress would be beautiful on her day. (Hiding her ass.) But she’d need her brand new good girdle with the extra panel in the back to make it just right.
She planned on doing her short mousey hair with a slight wave. Just combed flat with that slight wave to sit underneath the princess headpiece. There was a veil – but a short one. Nothing for her to trip over.
And pearls. She would wear her grandma’s pearls.
She had met someone. She was getting married.
She, as well as everyone else, had assumed that her life would take her nowhere exceot for the twin bed set in her room in her parent’s house for the rest of her life. She wasn’t a spinster but she wasn’t fresh out of high school like her girlfriends had been when they got married. When someone asked, she said she was waiting for just the right man. IN truth, that she actually did was wait for a man.
That was her only option. To wait for a man. No matter what her head told her on a regular basis or what her body betrayed her by thinking of its own accord, that was her option. It was her only path to take. And she did.
Now, in 2 weeks, she’d be headed down the aisle of the Park United Church. It wasn’t a fancy church by any stretch of the imagination – very 1950s minimalist décor but nice nonetheless. They would decorate it with paper flowers – crepe paper roses. Blue, of course, everything would be blue. She’ planned it all.
She would hold her head high at precisely 11am on Saturday the 6th of June and she would hold tight to the arm of her father and march down that aisle. Her fear of tripping and falling on her big fat face put to rest by her flat serviceable footwear hidden under the giant poof of a skirt that hid her butt that was hugged in by her girdle that smoothed out her belly and the smooth belly definitely made her boobs look bigger but just in case she was holding flowers in front of it to make everything definitely look perfect. It was all going to be perfect.
She knows – just now – looking into the mirror that the ceremony will be a tear jerker. Partially from everyone’s relief that she was getting married at all and partially from the thrill that she, was getting married. And who didn’t cry at weddings, right?
She’d chosen just the right blend of bridesmaids. Her sister-in-law who was a complete and absolute bitch was her maid of honour because it was the “right” thing to do. But really, she was 7 months pregnant and it didn’t suck to have someone fatter than you to draw the attention away from your own belly. And since her sister-in-law always looked so incredibly horribly awfully sour, it would make her look sweet in comparison – right?
Then there was her friend and her cousin. Both were miniscule, tiny little people - so much so they looked like children or elves. No worries there. They didn’t even look like women.
All three were wearing lovely blue dresses. The colour of robin’s eggs or the sky. It would be just perfect – along with her all dressed in white that they were just so blue.
After the ceremony she arranged that there would be a luncheon tea in the basement of the church with sandwiches and dainties, punch, tea and coffee.
Oh, it was unusual to have a wedding luncheon. Highly unusual – which is why it appealed to her mother’s sense of grandeur. It was an eccentric choice – a sophisticated option – another illustration of why SHE was better than her mother’s friend’s daughters.
That wasn’t it really at all now, was it?
She couldn’t bear the thought of anyone looking at her. She definitely couldn’t bear the thought of dancing in front of people. She couldn’t bear the thought of dancing at all. Looking in the mirror she though that, in retrospect, this dress would have swirled quite nicely around the dance floor.
But, the luncheon eliminates the need for a dance. Voila. She smiled at herself and her devious manipulation, curiously not reflected in the mirror.
Calmly, through a haze of diazepam, she visualized the day one more time. Dressed, photographed, aisle, ceremony, luncheon, escape.
Then, she would be married. Then SHE would be married. Then she would be MARRIED.

Riding on clouds with lollipops and kittens and springtime and sunshine

I have been in the best mood this week.
I'm even going to go out on a limb and say AWESOME MOOD! (Those of you who know me well know I never use that word....)
I'm smiling at people and once, maybe twice, I think I actually giggled.
Its odd really.
Out of character for me to be happy with 8 feet of snow on my fucking lawn. Once again, may I remind you, that I hate winter with a white hot burning passion that knows no boundaries....
Also, I have a chest infection. Yes again. No I haven't seen the doctor. Why? Because I'm convinced that is where I GOT the chest infection from! It will go away eventually and if not, well, I just don't care cause I feel great.
AND even odder little known fact - there is no diet pop (including diet coke) in my house. Not one. Sure I have the occasional one while I'm out and today I had 4 cups of tea, but I am shaking my addiction.
While we are on the subject of addiction, I am doing exceptionally well with the cheese monkey. I would never hurt an animal but I think this monkey is packing his bags and getting ready to move on - no need to actually kill him. Its simply mind over matter.
Yep, I can smell the stench of mouldy windows and see the beginnings of a thaw in the universe. Today, I saw sun. Okay well it was in a photo from last summer - but I remember what it feels like.
My article for Canadian Newcomer Magazine comes out at the end of the month. I'll post it here. For those of you who are unemployed newcomers to canada I'm sure you'll find it all kinds of fascinating!
My next assignment for them (yes they like me and I am on the "preferred freelance writers" email list) is on summer cultural festivals called "Seeing the world in your own backyard".
I also wrote a short story that I like. I'm not sure whether to post it here or not. For once its not about me. At all. It was fun to write though and I like it I just haven't shared it with anyone (read: Dan) yet and I'm hesitant to just push go and shove it out into the world unprotected.
Spring is going to change my life people. Are you with me?
There are so many good things in my life today.
*grin*

Plumbing Update

After 2 days with no water, I was convinced my family would start pooping in the yard and melting snow for drinking water.
None of us had showered.
To update, I had an exploding bathtub tap. This was followed by a flat tire (unrelated but also annoying) and another exploding tap.
I booked and then cancelled the plumber (I had to get my flat tire fixed!)
I drove, in a blizzard, all over the GTA (Greater Toronto Area) looking for parts.
I FINALLY found said replacement parts at a Plumbing Warehouse 10 minutes from my house.
And I wish to officially give the Moen faucet people a peice of my mind.

So Moen people, it doesn't MATTER if your replacement parts are FREE if no one can FIND them to replace them. It doesn't make logical sense to give out FREE replacement peices if no one can make a whole bloody tap because there are 6 peices and they can only find 4! Its a stupid system and you need to change it.

But, I digress.
I fixed the taps.
Both of them. Not a plumber - not a man. Me.
My husband says its because my father was an electrician that I have the "skilled trades" in my blood. Perhaps. I just think its because I am a true renaissance woman.
I can knit and sew and even crochet and embroider. I've built a fence, fixed several toilets and now replaced some taps. I make soap and tie ribbons and bows and I move furniture. Hear me roar.
I mean sure, the taps work backwards to the general "righty-tighty, lefty-loosey" rule - but they work!
So now we are bathed and clean and laundering things.
You're welcome family.

Old Faithful

I settled in tonight for one of those luxury baths that only a TRUE bath efficianatto can truly appreciate.
1. Cool bathroom - cold actually.
2. Hot Hot Hot water
3. Nice clean tub
4. Giant gorgeous home made bath bomb.....www.soapbaubles.ca......
5. Brand new novel - spine not even cracked - written by a pseudo friend - how exciting!
In I climb.....
ah - the luxury! the unabashed joy that being totally weightless affords those of us who truly love our baths! AH - pure relaxation.
I float.
I close my eyes and sink my head.
AH.
I shall use my foot to turn off the water....
I am THAT GIRL.
It isn't shutting off.
Up I sit....I will condescend to use my hands THIS TIME to shut it off.
It won't shut off.
I turn and I turn and I try to turn and it just won't shut off!
Oh NO!
Help - I call.
Help - and no one answers.....
Help Wayne Help I scream.....
Up he comes....what is it?
Shut off the tap - the water won't shut off!
He tries and tries - it won't turn off!
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? - he screams.
Down he runs to the basement - and I sit there - naked in the rapidly over filling tub - because the water won't fucking shut off!!!
I have to let some water out before we over flow.....
Up comes Wayne - wrench in hand.
OOOH he looks so handsome and capable and plumber like!
Every woman loves a hot handyman.
He turns and fiddles and uses a screwdriver.
He hits and pulls.
He uses the wrench and turns.
And then off breaks a piece.
And another.
Do I need to mention that I am still naked in my beautifully scented and now over flowing tub?
The water - still not shutting off.
And bang - he hits it one more time - one LAST time before...........chaos, bedlam, water begins shooting full blast out of the tap hitting the ceiling, bouncing off the walls, the curtains, filling the floor - my books are soaked - my magazine rack totally water-logged!
Wayne runs from the room FULL STOP to the basement to shut off the water at the valve. On the way from the room he slips on the bath mat and, vaudeville style, falls on his ass. Great.
Again, I remind you I am NAKED in the overflowing tub with water shooting all over me.
It seems to take HOURS for him to shut off the water.
But its off.
And the bathroom is a FRIGGING NIGHTMARE!
EVERYTHING is covered in water. And my bath - totally RUINED.
Now what? Now what indeed.
I ran out to Home Depot.
Sure they have replacement parts.
And sure the replacement parts have instructions.
They were even FREE replacement parts.
But that doesn't mean that I can replace them.
Wayne has REFUSED.
So tomorrow I call the plumber.
Until then, not only no more baths - no more water!