Bread Crumbs In The Butter

My Husband's Crush

My husband has a new crush.

On a man.

Named Dr Mehmet Oz.

I don't know how it started, but at work,  he watches Dr Oz every day at noon.  Slowly, he started to sneak little tidbits into our conversations.

Over dinner:

"You know, Babe, Dr Oz says that raw spinach is one of the healthiest greens you can eat. "

Which, I do know, and I've been telling him for years.

Or through midday texts:

"Babe, Dr Oz says that almonds are great for PMS.  You should get some almonds. I'm just sayin'!"

Why thank you honey.  Nothing like a midday text to say I'm a moody bitch.

As foreplay. I swear to God! 

A few weeks ago he leaned in for a kiss and I thought I might be getting some, but you know what he said?

"I forgot to tell you, I programmed our PVR to record Dr Oz every day. We can watch it right now!"

And now, every night for the last good while, we've tuned in to Dr Oz on our PVR.  John brings a beer to bed and a glass of wine.  It's quite nice.

It was only last night that he turned to me and said "Um, Babe, he sure talks about women a lot, eh?"

I had to break it to him that his beloved Dr Oz has a target audience of women aged 35-60 years old.

Poor guy.

The winter is coughing season

From October to May my poor Meghan suffers.  She's had asthma forever and it drives her nuts.  During the summer months, she is pretty much okay unless she gets a cold or her allergies are really bad. So that means she can count on a pretty good July.  Poor kid. 

She gets ridiculous red patches of skin around her mouth and red sores around her nose.

Last year she was in class, coughing her usual cough, when another teacher came in to ask Meg's teacher a question.  She heard her cough and said "Whoo! Who has that big cough?" 

And some little brat said "It's Meghan. It's always Meghan!"

She was humiliated.  Can you imagine carrying to weight of all that coughing along with the idea that it disrupts everyone too?  We try to be patient at home, but even here, where she's safe there are times where it grates on our nerves. I can't even imagine her nerves!  She lays in her bed coughing and I know she's not sleeping well.

For years she was on Flovent and Ventolin.  Then we added Singulair. Then switched her from Flovent to Advair.  We saw an improvement last winter, she only got pneumonia once versus the four times the year before.  So far this year though, she's really struggling.  I don't know what we're going to do.

A good friend is exploring food sensitivities for her daughter who has similar issues and I'm wondering if we need to start exploring this sort of avenue?  She hasn't grown much over the last year and it's starting to affect her behavior.  She's edgy, fidgety and less focused - and trust me this kid is usually the epitome of focus!

Do you have experience with this?  Have you tried naturopaths or other alternative methods? What about traditional medicine? Is there something we should let her allergist know?

The Play Count Says It All

My latest play counts on iTunes:

15 times -  "I and Love and You" by The Avett Brothers (thanks to the amazing Ali Martell)

23 times - "Wasted Time" by M'Shell Ndegeocello (Thanks to So You Think You Can Dance Canada)

18 times - "Party In The (mothereffing kids who force me into this!) USA" by Miley Cyrus

9 times - "Funhouse" by Pink.  I'm sorry, I can't help myself. It's just that awesome to run to.

and ... the number say it all ...

126 times - "Don't Stop Believin'" by the Glee Cast. 

You just can't argue the math here.  And I'm not apologetic.

Do your kids know all the words to "Bust A Move" and "Alone" as sung by Glee?  Mine do!

Snug As A Bug In A Rug. Now don't bug me.

My absolute favourite part of the week is Sunday morning right around 5:59am.

I know you think I'm nuts, but let me explain.

My alarm goes off every morning at that time, whether I am working or not.  Wednesday is my day off, but I still have breakfast to make and kids to get to school.   Needless to say, when it comes to my alarm, I hate that bitch.

Except Sunday.

Because I'm too lazy or forgetful or a combination of the two, I never remember to turn the alarm off on Saturday night. Mostly I fear I will never remember to turn it back on Sunday night meaning I will never get up in time Monday morning.

Every Sunday at 5:59am, the sound of CBC Radio floods my room and I let out a very loud groan.  I think about all of the things I have to do that day and when I realize the answer is usually "nothing" on a Sunday morning, I want to shout with glee.

As I realize that I have nothing to do except pound that "off" button and snuggle further into my amazing flannel sheets and super comfy and totally worth the cost duvet,  I feel a bliss that I just can't touch on for the rest of the week.  It's even better knowing that a few short hours my belly will be filled with coffee and bacon.

Sunday morning, you are my favourite.  Screw you, Thursday!

Less black, more colour?

Check out this lovely shot of my closet just a moment ago.

A good friend and I discussed style and clothing last night. We agreed on one thing heartily - colour is bad.  For us.  I'm sure you're different, but I just can't do colour,  or patterns, or stripes.

I realize that my closet looks like the place where black and grey goes to die, but I can't help it.   There is some spot of colour in there, right?  I have a pink scarf, green sweater and a fantastic purple shirt from Jacob.  It's not all bad, but black makes me feel comfortable, unassuming and classy.

I wish I could say that I accessorize my black outfits with wonderful pieces of jewellery, but that would be a lie.  There's more bore there too.

Okay, this isn't going how I wanted it to. I was going to defend my love of classic black.  Instead, I think what I've done is screamed for a stylist.

Oh, and in that little Gap bag above my dresses?  A copy of The Kama Sutra someone gave me thirteen and a half years ago before I got married.  Why have I moved that from house to house?

I'm Gonna Get Flack For This

You know me and sports.  Not pro sports, necessarily, but playing them.  It doesn't take me much to get pumped. 

This link was sent to me by many people today.  A steady stream of titles that said "This made me think of you."

Now, I am in no way advocating how rough this girl is here.  The last few plays they highlight are downright nasty, but I gotta give her the elbow in the first clip.   Having said that, I have been in situations where the game is so heated that you wonder if you will in fact snap someone's ponytail back.   I never have, but I can tell you, some girls do stuff like this.  They poke, they provoke and they push.  Sometimes, the heat of the game really does get to you.

After a rough day at work, a montage like this can get you going and can also remind you to be careful and don't go too far!

People are funny

I've wanted to blog about this a lot in the past, but I've resisted the urge and spared you the rant.  I've decided that you get to suffer on this Thursday night, because what happened to me today was so stunning that I was left angry bordering on tears.  I kid you not.  When I get really angry I tend to cry these hot, stinging tears that make people think I'm sad, but really, if you see me red-faced with tiny tears in the corner of my eyes - run.

I work in a pseudo-retail environment.  Meaning, it's not a place where the average person shops at every day, but most people have to go there quite a few times a year to pick things up, or buy little square things to put on letters and make them go.  Get my drift?

So yes, at my place of work I deal with the public.  Given that I am friendly and generally enjoy the company of people, I'm usually shoved at the front desk, ready to greet you and meet your postal needs. Lucky me, eh?  No. Lucky you.  I am damn good at my job.

As a rule, I love this part of my job.  Old ladies call me "dear" and comment on my "wonderful height".  Old men call me "honey" and comment on my "wonderful height and pretty hair".   Kids come in to get birthday presents from grandparents or throw mail down the mail slot.  It's pretty cool overall.

Except, and this has happened a few times,  for the cell phone offenders.

Now, if you know me, you know I've become hotly obsessed with my Blackberry and to me, it's okay.  Cause dude, time and place.  I like to think I've got a handle on that.  Not to mention that I never, ever talk on that thing when I'm, you know, interacting with actual people.

Today, a girl, mid twenties came in.  She stood in line. Her phone rang.  She picked it up and proceeded to talk.   As she was not yet at the front of the line, that was fine, even if she was talking at a decibel best reserved for a crowded nightclub.  When she got to me she had a letter in her hand that she threw on the counter and the proceeded to mouth the word "Stamp".

I put it on the scale and it was a bit heavy. I waited a few seconds for her to get the hint that this was where I got to interact with her and she might want to hang the phone up.  But no ... she continued on.  So, I interrupted.

"It's a bit heavy, it needs extra postage."

She stared at me blankly.

I had to resist the urge to wave in her face to see if she was processing.

I said again.  "That's $1.03 please."

And, I shit you not, this girl in the awesome Lululemon coat with nails that I could never button my jeans with put one of those perfectly manicured nails in my face and told me to "hang on one sec because (she was) on the phone."

My head pounded instantly and I actually muttered "Are you freaking kidding me here?"

Eventually paid and she moved on, but this immediately got stored in my "What is wrong with people?" bank.

Even now, I'm still stunned. 

You must have something like this.  It doesn't even have to relate to cell phone usage. Please, regale me with your tales of basic human stupidity.  Let's not have this girl be alone!

Have I blogged about my teeth before?

As I swirled this post in my head I wondered if I had blogged about going to the dentist before.

Turns out, going to the dentist should have it's own category on this here website. 

I've told you how I love to have my teeth scaled and polished, but that my former dentist's hygienist had some ... issues.

I've waxed philosophical about the dental chair. 

I've even let you into the scariest part of my marriage - how competitive my husband and I are about our teeth.

It's not a mystery to me. I talk about the dentist a lot because I love my teeth.  They're reasonably straight, not too yellow and perfect.  Yes, that's right, they're perfect.  Thanks to thousands of my mother's dollars and a wonderful things called sealants, my teeth have never been drilled. My gums have never been frozen.  No cavities have ever been filled. 

That is, until now.

At my last cleaning six months ago, the wonderful Dr Jim noticed a bit of a hole in one of my molars. He said it was no big deal, just something to keep an eye on.  Keep an eye on?  Does he know me?  I brushed that sucker, flossed that little floozy, pretty much everything except perform Santeria on it! 

I guess it had a mind of it's own because at my cleaning last night, his lovely hygienist told me that it's time to fill that sucker.  I didn't cry, but I did have to hold some tears back.  I had a tonne of questions.  How do they freeze it?  Do I need a root canal? Are dentures far off? Do I still get a sticker and a new toothbrush?

She was very nice and very kind to the crazy lady sitting in her chair. Still though, it hasn't stopped me from staring into space all day and suddenly shouting out "I can't believe I have a freaking cavity!"

I need help.

Gleeking Out. Or, embrace your inner band geek.

It's hard to explain.

I mean, I like musicals just fine.  I have lots of musical pieces on my iPod.  Seeing "Wicked" at the NAC was the highlight of my year last year.  John gets bored when songs start in the middle of a perfectly good movie, but I find it lifts my spirits and keeps me interested. And don't even get me started on dancing.

That said, I can't tell you how I became such a "Gleek".

Yeah, I said it - a Gleek.

Have you watched Glee? Please tell me you've experienced it.  If you have, help me out here. What's the draw?   Is it Finn's boyish hotness or Puck's dangerous and insane deliciousness?  I love how the actress who plays Rachel,  Lea Michele,  reminds me of Idina Menzel - and there were plenty of hollas at that one in the pilot!

Not to mention that Sue Sylvester, played by Jane Lynch, deserves a whole paragraph of her own.  Some of her quotes have made it into my everyday and constant use of random television and movie quotes.  Practically unheard of for a show this new.  It took a few years before "You're so pretty..." leaped out of Friends and into something I say to insult you when you're dumb.  

I want to meet the person who wrote these lines:

"I, for one, think intimacy has no place in a marriage. Walked in on my parents once and it was like seeing two walruses wrestling."

and

"I don't trust a man with curly hair. I can't help but picture little birds laying sulfurous eggs in there, and it disgusts me."

...and hump his/her leg.

Every Wednesday night, I log into Facebook and chat away with one of my besties as we watch.  We discuss and drool and I always have to watch a second time to be sure I didn't miss anything, but it's fast becoming one of my favourite weekly activities.

Does that make me sad?

If so, are you with me?

What's your favourite "Glee" quote.

You need this in your life

Everyone needs those people.

They're rare, but once they've made their way in, they're so in, you can't imagine life without them.

Everyone needs that person who says "Come over and I'll make you a ham sandwich" when you call her on your lunch crying because you got yelled at at work.

Everyone needs that girl you rarely get to see in person, but you know that you can email her anytime and say "Can you believe what so-and-so said in her Facebook/Twitter update? Is she for real!?" (And if you think we haven't done it about you, you're crazy.) 

Everyone needs that friend who will text you back a huge "YAY!" when you give her some good news, even if she is at her first day of a great new job.

Everyone needs a child who says "Mommy, you are so pretty and your hair is so good smelling that I want t lick it."

Everyone needs to lift their head and see their two daughters trying to build an arm with just pipe-cleaners, cardboard tubes and household crap, tongues out in concentration, looking just like their father. 

Everyone needs a husband who not only waits patiently while you laugh your way through your newest business idea, a dog grooming store called "Doggy Style" and not only laughs too, but goes online and finds you a t-shirt with that exact scenario on it.

These are all things I needed like crazy today. And things I got.  I hope you're even half as lucky as I am.