29 December 2007

Swan La Salle


On the day that *Steve* acquired his "man cold" we had been out feeding the birds at La Salle. He came home with the chills and this montage below should explain how to cure a "man cold". The Amaretto belongs to my grasps...HANDS OFF!



signed, the willow




27 December 2007

My head will blow off at midnight.

Ok, not really. I just feel like it will. *Steve* is sick and home with his snotty Kleenex and "man cold". He has now decided to watch a few minutes intermittently (mixed with some bathroom breaks and searching for man made cuff links on Etsy) here and there of Lord of the Rings. With the surround sound on and the bass is just booming. My hyper sensitive disorder has kicked into overdrive and my watch is now operating in reverse time.

signed, the willow

26 December 2007

Is this your coat?

Wasn't that a line from a Peter Sellers' movie? "Your coat! Your coat!" "Yes, it is my coat." I wonder why *Mila* thought I wrapped up my coat for her?

Christmas morning was a success and I think next year we'll cut off the presents at around 74, since that's where *Mila* said "Um, this pink dress does not surprise me in the least."

Now we have about 4 hours of playing Barbies followed by 6 hours of kitchen play with plastic food. Oh, and apparently (this is what *Mila* tells us) "Christmas is about singing, eating, playing and lying around being lazy watching movies." That just about sums it up.

signed, the willow

22 December 2007

Doesn't Ikea sell a doggie bed?


An open letter to Suma the dog:

Oh Suma! Good God. Why must you sleep between my feet all night long? You keep me up longer and more frequently than the 3 year old *Mila*. You get up and off the bed 100 times a night and now you seem to love me more than *Steve* and find it cozier between my feet. See, here's the problemo dog: I am only 5'4" tall and thus my legs are short. Therefore, spreading my feet apart to fit your 50 lb body between them turns my posture into the Extended Triangle Pose. Why? You spend your entire days sleeping on the couch in the family room and if you can you find a way on the living room couch. I've found you in *Mila's* bed in the middle of the afternoon and even on my bed all day. So, with so many options for sleeping arrangements, you still choose my bed with my feet around you? I'll still take you for a walk and you'll still get your cookies today. Is that why? Is that why you are staring at me right now waiting and waiting? Why don't you finagle your way into my feet right now? Ah, because you're tired too and you must sleep now? By the way, this picture of you on my blog is you in the middle of a big yawn. So I guess you are not getting your rest either. Well, rest up because Stinky Wizzleteets will be here for Yaksmas very soon!
signed, the willow

21 December 2007

Etsy makes me smile

Etsy has just about everything you ever wanted and then some now. Check it out and make
sure you check out their commercial. We can't get enough of it and we've even invented an Etsy dance.

ETSY

JUST ABOUT COVERED EVERYTHING

My sad and empty store

The Etsy Commercial

Now, I have to go back to writing out the lyrics to "The Witch Doctor" by the Chipmunks and placing it on the fridge for *Mila* to sing 17 more times tonight.

signed, the willow

20 December 2007

Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore

I forget some days that the pace is different here. It would seem as though we march to the beat of the GO Train rhythm. But, there are times that I'm standing in line at the store waiting behind the customer who insists on the best sale prices and the cashier who takes her word for it. Then they proceed to argue about the store's points card. I'm waiting with a pre-schooler who has to pee and now freaks out in the cart, discovering 3 stocking stuffers I have hidden under a pile of batteries and a present or two for her. Then there is the gratuitous ask if you'd like to apply for a store credit card. Followed by "why don't you get a rewards card?" Further followed by the "would you like to donate to the dying children fund?" Gulp. Of course. I had to go thru the same routine. And we wonder why we are ready for bots to replace cashiers. Because the cashiers are tired from all their quizzes at the end of the day. I think if I had to go back into the retail arena (yes, it is an arena!), I'd fire my managers. There is no time for this yippy yappy stuff. Mostly because the lady behind me is stepping on my scarf and scaring my child! And sadly, I think I want to go back and do it all over again tomorrow. There is no end to my shopping.

signed, the willow

19 December 2007

The Princess & The Pea


Turn up the volume for *Mila's* production of "The Princess and The Pea".

signed, the willow

17 December 2007

Stop Right Now, Thank You very much

Conversation between 3 year old *Mila* and I:

Willow: "Which Spice Girl would you be?"
Mila: "Is there a Pepper Spice?"
Willow: "No, I don't think there is a Pepper Spice. There's a Scary Spice."
Mila (watching the Much Music special on the Spice Girls): "Mom! There's a Spice Girl that looks like you!"
Willow: "Aaah, yes! That would be Posh Spice!" (Click on Posh if you need to see what I look like!

No offence Victoria Beckham (aka Posh Spice), but earlier this week *Mila* told her dad, "Dad, Mom's a trophy wife, you know." Eat that! In fact, eat something!

signed, the willow

ikea balls


Christmas balls 48 for $5.99 at Ikea.

signed, the willow

Does a bunny need to endure cocoa pumped into its veins until it dies???


In loving memory of our little bunny Koko who passed away this August after 8 years with us.

You know, there are some things in this world that one can ignore and then there are certain times where you have to stand up and say something about it. Children and animals deserve a fair chance in this world. I hate to see Oprah's little African girls enduring torture at her girls school or chickens being boiled alive for some slobbering fool to pick up for dinner at KFC. I for one have dropped Mars candy out of my diet and off of my shopping list (not that it was a daily item). You see, Mars tests chocolate ingredients on the blood vessels of lab animals. These animals would include rats, mice, guinea pigs and rabbits. How their blood streams are likened to ours, I will never know?! Mars has funded these cruel experiments and the animals are killed after being subjected to the cruelty. In some ways, I'm thankful that their lives are ended after this torture. But why do they have to suffer it in the first place? Yes *Steve*, even your precious Twix bars are among the heinous vein-pumping-rabbit-killing chocolates!

Get this, this is from the PETA website:

Mars has also funded cruel experiments in which mice were fed a candy ingredient and forced to swim in a pool of a water mixed with white paint.

What? When in life are you eating candy and then forced to dive into a pool of wet paint? I sure as hell hope this is not the placebo in the experiment. Is the mouse then supposed to try and swim back to get more candy? Are they getting us that addicted to their candy? SICKOS! Sick for testing on animals and sick for getting kids hooked on candies! SICK. SICK. SICK.

You can read more about PETA's investigations here. In the meantime, here is what not to eat or buy: M&M's, Snickers, Twix, Dove, Three Musketeers, Starburst, Skittles, Milky Way to name just a few.

signed, the willow

16 December 2007

Bravo! Encore!!

There is so much to be said about this outfit.
#1 Summer dress. Check!
#2 V-Neck Sweater. Check!
#3 Striped brown & pink pants. Check!
#4 Googoo goggles with duckies on them. Check!
#5 Striped orange and teal knee high socks. Check!

signed, the willow

15 December 2007

A yak, an attack and whole lot of crack

We decided to venture down to the local Burlington Mall to get some last minute items from the Dollar Store. Not sure why we felt they were last minute items, since it is only December 15th. There were some chimps running loose in the mall and we got a couple bags of popcorn so we could sit down and enjoy the show. *Mila* (who did not have any breakfast, although both of her parents liked to believe that she did eat some of her many waffles) horked down half a Kernels bag of 'Say Cheese Please', even though she asked for "Cheesy Dill". And I was sure that she wouldn't know the difference. But all those months at my parents house smelling spices got to her. She knows the difference between tarragon and tumeric. No fooling her. So she horks down this ginormous bag of popcorn and then proceeds to yak it all up on her dad's new boot tissue paper. Luckily he had it ready to receive the yakamory gift.

Tonight during stories and "talking animals" (a stuffed animal extravaganza), *Steve* interrupted to let us hear his rendition of the 12 Days of Christmas. "It's a high tech version" he tells us. Yes, it is and isn't it nice. On the first day of Christmas he got a high definition TV. Then on the second day he got 2 PSPs. I think it was turning into a Sony ad, because he was adding Vaios and things that I had to ask what the H-E-double-hockey-stick they were. As he rapped his little ditty to us, we couldn't help but lose interest around the 6th day and I think that's as far as he had got. I tried to help, but my rhythm is off apparently. Sucks being a girl.

And now for the crack portion of the story...we are supposed to be in for 45 cm of snow (yes, they've upped the ante) and we've had so far 1 mm of snow. I'm not sure why we are under a winter storm warning and told to stay home and cancel ALL travel plans. This would include traveling to the local LCBO for more vodka. All Dollarama travel plans for tomorrow are now cancelled. We had plans tonight that we had to cancel because of Yak-a-mina and tomorrow we'll probably be staying home during the "THE FINAL WINTER STORM WARNING WATCH OF 2007....stay tuned"....

signed, the willow

14 December 2007

Everyone knows it is going to snow


We can't get a decent precipitation forecast. Everyone keeps telling us that we are headed for 30 cm of snow. Yet, we cannot find any information to substantiate the claims from such speculative weather gurus.

signed, the willow

12 December 2007

What have I done now?

I have managed to delete my husband's profile on the main computer. He says he doesn't care. But what did I do? How did that happen? I was trying to solve this problem while *Mila* ran around behind me singing "if my clothes were pretty. Not just pretty but clean...." from some Strawberry Shortcake movie. Now I'm singing "If my brain was working. Not just working but in my head. If my computer was working, I wouldn't feel such dread. If my dog could be blamed I'd accuse her instead."

signed, the willow

10 December 2007

She's now 3.75



I teach her how to keep strangers away with her sassy looks. It's amazing that *Mila* will be 4 soon. I can't bear to let go of saying "She's 3 and a half". How will I ever say "She's 3 and 3 quarters"? I can't do that. It will now be "She'll be 4 in March". I mean, who really cares? I have to plan these things out and prepare for when I am asked "How old is she?" which is followed by "Wow! She's tall for her age". Which I usually reply with "Why yes, we use MiracleGro in her cereal every morning." I hate having to tell people that "my husband is tall" as if they can't tell. I'm 5'4". But it gets really difficult when they ask, "does your husband have blue eyes and blonde hair too?" "No, neither of us do." And then they just say "Oh." I want to tell them, "she's really our child. We had her together. This is only recessive genes working very hard in a Darwinian experiment. Do you want me to explain to you about Darwin and the finches?"

signed, the willow

07 December 2007

You'd think we threw out her teddy bear

Lands sakes and mercy me! I've been in crazy panic clean up mode today. My brother called to say they were coming on the weekend and I know I shouldn't have a freak out, but I still do. If my worst enemy was coming over, I'd stil scrub the toilets. Anyhow, so I placed (and I repeat the word "placed" here again for all of the internet to see) a very large self portrait from art school out in the garage. I meant to bring it back in on Monday and hang it up in the office. But for now, it needed to get out of the way. As does the giant tv box in the living room. I heard the garage door open and then "RREEEEEEEEEEEEEE REEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!" Thump! Thump! "REEEEERRRRRREEEEEEE!!!!" What the hell is going on? I go down and there is *Mila* wailing like she's at the Wailing Wall at Christmas time wailing. Her Dad put the self portrait in the blue box! Oh boy, do I ever have to be on the top of everything at all times. Dig out the self portrait and uncrumple it. Fire extinguished.

Earlier in the day the first scream was let out. *Mila* fed her morning hot dog to the dog. And of course the dog took it, bun and all. Why *Mila* asks for meat-based products and then turns her nose up at them when they are cooked and says "I'm sorry Mom, I can't eat that nugget, I'm a vegetarian." Okay. I can respect that better than a carnivorous parent could. But, she asked for the meat and then suddenly converts back into being a veggie when it comes out. Maybe Pam Anderson could help me out with a PETA video or two and settle this once and for all. Then, at least she wouldn't ask for it and I wouldn't have to cook it and throw it out. So, the dog eats the hot dog and 4 milk bone treats, a couple slices of marble cheese and then we take her for an afternoon walk and get her to catch hunks of ice in her mouth. She eats the ice and then Ralphie Ralpherson ralphs all over town. *Mila* is screaming at the park. "I want to go home right now. Right now. I'm scared! Suma's barfing! I want to go home RIGHT NOW!!!!" Calm down, it's just steamy hot foaming bile and hunks of regurgitated hot dog.

signed, the willow

06 December 2007

"Dad, it's me, mom's boots don't fit"


"Hi Dad, You know what? Mom got some new boots today and they don't fit. Yeah. Oh, it's me Dad, *Mila*. So, she's going to have to bring them back and get a new pair that fit her. And she said they are too big for her. And they are too big for me. Heh, heh. So I know that they are too small for your big ginormous feet."

She leaves *Steve* messages on his answering machine at work. It's classic. And now she sneaks off with the phone and presses the speed dial number and calls him and rats me out. The other day I heard some beeping and tried to mind my own business and not be dominant mother. I guess she called *Steve* three times. The first call I knew about. It went like this:

Call #1
"Dad! Did you eat all the party mix? I think you ate all the party mix. So, get me some party mix on the way home. Okay? Bye."

Call #2
"Dad. Mom said that the party is cancelled. But I am SO having a party. Oh and Dad, can you get some party mix? Don't forget, okay?"

Call #3
"Dad, It's me *Mila*. Did you get the party mix? Because I know you ate the party mix. So, could you pick up some party mix on your way home? Thanks Dad, I love ya!"

Note to self: Why I married *Steve*, he didn't fall for this one - the Man Stroke Woman from bbc3
signed, the willow

04 December 2007

The Icelandic Love Connection




The Icelandic Love Corporation: I stumbled on this in the morning while googling what colour hair the mayor of my hometown had. Don't ask. These girls are blessed with talent and imagination. Call it weird or cuckoo, it ignites my creativity. I've been looking for a spark. I felt a connection to them. They are Icelandic. I have some Icelandic in me (1/4 to be exact). They were products of the 70s. I am a product of this decade. They dressed Bjork in crocheted masks and took pictures of her skulking in the bush. I have dressed my daughter up as a marshmallow baby, while my mom and I balanced her in a tub of marshmallows perched high on a stool and took pictures of her.

signed, the willow

03 December 2007

Brad Pitt, Brad Pitt, Brad Pitt


Happy Birthday Dad! Get married one day and wake up the next day one year older. Isn't it Ozzy Osbourne's birthday as well?

I was late getting for a run this morning and somehow remembered that Brad Pitt was going to be on the Today Show and luckily we have a Seattle channel or 5. *Mila* removed everything off the Expedit bookshelf and converted it into a Barbie condo refit. She sat there talking and playing, ignoring me. So I tied up my shoes and ran. I don't think she even knew at first. I was on the damn thing for 55 minutes and she still just played happily. I ran happily as not one telemarketer interrupted. I'm waiting and waiting for Brad. No Brad. Still no Brad. Later, no Brad. With the new TV I can't figure out how to use the closed captioning. I have to figure out if what Meredith Vieira and Al Roker is telling me is really serious or funny. Turns out you can really misinterpret news items when you can't hear it. The British teacher in Sudan was made to look as though she was going to host a new kids show on Nick Jr. Why is there so much smiling at the wrong times on the news? That's how stories get misconstrued. As for Brad Pitt, I had to google what his announcement on the Today Show was going to be. Pitt pledged $5 million to rebuild homes in New Orleans in an eco-friendly manner. Good for Brad. If only he'd get rid of Angelina Ballerina and I wonder what I'll have to answer to *Steve* tonight if he sees how many times I've googled "Brad Pitt"...Brad Pitt, Brad Pitt, Brad Pitt...hee hee, I'm giddy like a school girl just repeating it over and over.

signed, the willow

02 December 2007

Living in a van down by the river?



Happy Anniversary Mom & Dad! We love you.

I need to learn how to shut my mouth sometimes because I live with a mini parrot. She repeats everything I say and quite literally too. As a threat to get *Mila* to pick up her pencil crayons that she ditched all over the floor while I helped *Steve* with formulas in Excel (I think I'd rather pick up pencil crayons), I told her that I would give them away to someone who deserved them. I shouldn't have gone into great detail, especially using Chris Farley quotes from SNL. She began to sift through her dress up clothes while we finished the formula perfections and she came out with a pair of socks that my Gran knit for her last year or maybe the year before. She handed them to me and said, and this is classic, "Mom, I decided that I should try these socks on to see if they still fit. Because if they don't fit, I am going to give them away to a little girl. Maybe a little girl who lives in a van." So I told her to repeat this to her father when he got off the phone (with his father for the 14th time this weekend. Yes, they called us that many times. Seriously. I have two witnesses). So, she did. She waved the socks in front of him and told him that she was going to "give these socks to a little girl, a little girl who lives in a van. A van down by the river." Ooops. I think the look on my husband's face was part disgust with me and partly going to crack a laugh at how she said it. Now, I have to find a little girl who lives in a van down by the river. Where is the river exactly?


signed, the willow

01 December 2007

Trailer Park Boys Update

...no date tonight, too tired.

I awoke this morning and found Julian's car outside my house. Did he sleep there last night? Did Ricky sleep there?

Aye Chihuahua.

signed, the willow

UPDATE: No, Ricky did not sleep in that car on Saturday night. And I hope no one did, because the fool left his window down by 2 inches and woke up to find his car full of snow this morning. A good foot of snow and rain fell on and in his car. Poor Julian.

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