Manic Monday: Heart

Valentine's Day highlights for me throughout the years:

when I was a little kid and would look forward to Valentine's Day for the expressions of love during the February popularity contest. Thank goodness nowadays you get a class list.

receiving my first dozen roses as a pre-teen from my "first" boyfriend (he wore safety pins down both sides of his jeans, how cool was that!);

receiving roses from admirers during homeroom in senior year; and not just from a boyfriend, but also friendship roses.

perhaps my first Valentine's Day with my hubby as a boyfriend; but that was eons ago, and more likely I was just thrilled to be spending the time with him during the long distance part of the relationship.

a bouquet of roses sent by hubby to me at the office. But that was more to impress the girls; or perhaps because we had had a fight.

See how much the actual Valentine's occasion really means to me? It's just such a commercial Hallmark occasion. I even made the mistake of starting to get the kids Valentine's Day presents the last couple of years and to what end? Just more clutter in the house. No, I don't think we'll keep that tradition up, although the timing of the Wii might certainly qualify.

Other than fulfilling the annual tradition for our kids and their classmates, we don't partake in the festivities as a couple. I'd prefer to celebrate our relationship throughout the year, when it's convenient for us and we don't have to battle the crowds at the restaurants. So sentimental, I am. Just wear my heart on my sleeve.

Random heart music references just in time for Valentine's week:

Heart - Anne and Nancy Wilson. Loved the hair, and I still think to this day, Annie has the best rock-chick voice ever. Barracuda, Dreamboat Annie, Crazy On You...now that was classic rock.

Heart-shaped box - Nirvana. Creepy video. Haunting song.

Heart of Glass - Blondie. Disco ruled.

Groove is in the Heart - Dee-Lite. Dig.

Heartbreaker - Don't you mess around with me. Toughie Pat Benatar.

Secret Heart - Feist, as written by Ron Sexsmith. Love her version. Too bad it was the year of Amy and she took all the Grammys last night. Feist will have her time.

MANIC MONDAY-DATE

It was the end of the summer. A fun summer filled with sunny days, no worries about school, a job involving beer, and dates. Dates upon dates, halcyon days. I was young, I felt good and more importantly looked good. Yeah, as Don Mills Diva coined in her comment, days when I "rocked a bikini" (love that gal!). WELL before these muffin folds that now inhabit the space that previously housed two growing babies existed. Rent was being paid by some pretty awesome abs. This was the summer that I met the man who would be husband.

It was my second summer working at Molson's, so the lab routine was old hat to me. I had also been very casually dating a student microbiologist (let's call him microboy) whom I had met the previous summer, throughout the school year. When I breezed easily back into the job that first day of work , I was full of cheerful hellos to the group that I hadn't seen in several months. All men, older fellas with whom I'd developed a great camraderie with during my previous stint as a summer student.

There was a new co-op student working the 8-4:30 shift in Lab 1. I said an uneventful "hi" to him quite fleetingly. No sparks flew. And then I went on my way.

As I was doing a lot of different shifts , I would only see him whenever I was on "days", and only at the end of the day when I would bring samples from the packaging and bottling lab over for analysis.[ Yes, there is quality control in the brewing industry, and it does consist of more than pursing your lips and taste testing the amber liquid gold.] Although I did notice that this co-op guy did have a cool mop of hair and seemed quite likeable, you can tell little else when you're both covered in not-so-sexy labcoats. They were fire engine red labcoats, but labcoats nonetheless.

Since I wasn't really looking, and he seemed the type of guy who already had a girlfriend, that was the extent of our interaction for the rest of the summer. Other than being mildly annoyed at one of his comments during lunch one time (I bought Shepherd's pie in the cafeteria, and as I sat down with him and the group at the table he took one look at my plate and said "You're going to eat THAT?!" ...and I was thinking "WTH, that was rude-ish!), our exchanges consisted of no more than "Good morning" or "See ya!" . He was just Lab 1 guy.

Until that last evening, the last day of work, an impromptu dinner that would be the last time the students would all be together. The occasion when I drove him to the dinner, and saved us both from a major collision involving attic insulation. The evening when we got to the restaurant a full hour before the rest of the students arrived. The evening when I ordered a Long Island Iced Tea, laughed, twirled my hair, leaned forward and flirted subtly but obviously effectively with Lab 1 guy. The evening when the other student (yes, microboy referenced above) told Lab 1 guy that he should ask me out ( this conversation occuring while I was in the washroom with the other female student, whom micro boy was apparently lusting after himself). Yes, it was a veritable soap opera bubbling in that lab.

At the end of the evening, I gave Lab 1 guy a lift to the subway. While enroute, he gave this amazingly eloquent account of how he believed in fate. He wasn't really supposed to have this job, his initial position was in another city and another student had asked him to switch at the last minute. If he hadn't made that decision, we would never have met.

And now he was scheduled to go back to school in a couple of weeks. Again, in another city.

So what's a Lab 1 guy to do? On a night that was supposed to be about good-byes, he took a chance on fate. And he asked me on a date.

Stay tuned...

Manic Monday - ONE

One Day - and I've already dropped the ball on my New Year challenge.

Non functioning traffic lights at one of the busiest intersections in our neck of the burbs, at 9AM. Four way stop, then, people. Don't just pretend that because it's not working, it doesn't exist! Picture Karen gesticulating wildly with her right hand holding up 4-digits to anyone who's looking, as she takes her turn, honking into the intersection. Sheeesh!! ( I tried putting myself in their shoes, but couldn't do it. Just. Could. Not. They have a license to drive, so go back to driving school! And no children on board to witness said spectacle.)

One Boy - my seven year old son, who introduced me to motherhood, a most precious gift. That keeps on giving.

One Girl - my three year old daughter, whose arrival heralded a major shift in my lifestyle...all for the better.

One Soulmate - my husband, who really gets me, tolerates my neurotic tendencies and loves me in spite of it all.

One by U2 - shortlisted for our wedding song, but didn't quite make it.

One Day at a Time - a sitcom I loved as a kid. Remember how cute Valerie Bertinelli used to be? How shocked I was when she married Eddie Van Halen.

One Restaurant - just opened by Mark McEwan (chef/owner of North 44 and Bymark), which I'd like to try at some point, especially if I win a lottery.

One Blog - and a good thing too...


80%How Addicted to Blogging Are You?


I thought this was low...can you imagine if I had more than ONE?

Manic Mondays

My little slice of JOY to the world.

WISHING EVERYONE ALL THE BEST OF THE HOLIDAY SEASON!!!

Manic Monday: Ship

School buses cancelled. Windy chill in the air; roads are sheets of pure ice; miraculously, I successfully navigated the crazy school parking lot with my minivan, unscathed.

Welcome, Monday morning.

That ship above looks really good about now. I wish we were on that cruise again.

We're not exactly cruise people. However, my parents are cruise fanatics, usually going on a couple of year. When they had their 40th anniversary a few years ago, it was a dream for them to have all their kids and their spouses/families come along with them on a trip to the Caribbean. With a pitstop at Disney for their one and only grandchild at the time, theirs and our Wonderboy L.

Despite our reservations and my bouts of seasickness/morning sickness (don't ever get a room at the front of the boat, even if they have a porthole there, if you think you'll even remotely feel the waves, and especially NOT when you're pregnant!), it was actually a really fun experience. The best part was that the ship, and the ports of call in the Caribbean (Bahamas, St. Thomas, St. Martin) had something for everyone. We went on the Royal Caribbean line, so there was rock-climbing, a gym, mini golf, a couple of pools, some terrific food, fun shows and dinner was always a riot as we had amazing service. And for L there was a great kids' club that we finally convinced him to attend on day 4 (and he never came back!). For Dad, well, the casino is the calling card for him.

I was 6 weeks pregnant with little G. So she's really in that picture with us!

While I don't think I'm in a major hurry to go on another ship, this weather makes me think of all the good memories. We had some lovely quality time with my siblings and their spouses, and my parents, of course. They got to show us a bit of what they love to do, and the time with them every night at dinner (and then throughout the day sometimes as we met up with them, or just ran into them when we were all doing our own thing), was something that was very special.


And honestly, who can complain when you've got a new towel companion to tuck you in every night. Certainly not (little then) L!

But on another up note, check out Katie's new hairdo below. Look familiar? Yeah, that's the cut I wore in the fall.

It's sooooo last season, don't ya think :)

Manic Monday :Rank

Yesterday was Grey Cup day, Saskatchewan vs. Winnipeg playing in the big stadium. It was a Father/Son/Girlie chili evening. I’m not a football fan. I don’t even understand the game, and normally Ian isn’t much into the spectator sports. But he’s a guy, so he catches every major final that comes his way. I just let him do his thing yesterday as he puttered around the house and garage, and then made dinner. Poured me a glass of wine once the meal was made and told me to join them at half-time. And I did leave the office, because who did I hear emanating from our spanking new TV?

Lenny Kravitz!!

What?! Was this a Canadian event? What was he doing there? Why did I care, as long as he was?! He was fantastic, and even though it was only about three songs, it was such a treat to see. He had a bit of plumber butt showing every so often, much to the amusement of L.

With all this hootin’ and hollerin’ (not from yours truly) going on during the game, this championship thing got me thinking. Why is it so important to aim for number 1? What is it that drives us to try to be the best at everything? Why do we have this innate need to be the first, to achieve the top rank? In class, in sports, at work, at life?

Given a choice, would you not want a number one ranking over being in last place?

So much pressure, so much stress.

Maybe it would just be easier if one stank at everything one did.

Stank perhaps, as in as rank as the mossy underwear sitting in the pile festering in the corner of my bathroom. You'd think we had some Grey Cup players living in this place.

I think I need to do some laundry.

Manic Monday - Relish

Zucchini. Best relish ever.

Manic Monday, today is. This is a short post. Not so sweet.

L was screaming last night during his sleep, complaining of awful pains in the ear. I was with him for a bit, Ian for a second shift. I suspect my boy has an ear infection. The girlie is being good but still a busy little thing. They're all off to the doctor to check it out. So that I can get some work done.

And of course, something is threatening in my system, uh-oh. Good timing.

Work is a MAJOR adjustment.

Thank goodness for husbands, that's all I can say. Especially husbands who are amazing Dads. Like mine. So I am relishing (as in appreciating big time) Ian today. Best Daddy Ever.

Later, taters...

Manic Monday: Gravy

Oyster sauce + corn starch + water = No Fail Gravy

It's amazing the things you can learn by osmosis.

I'm almost reluctant to admit this, but I'm one of those few who lived at home and didn't move out until after I got married. Mind you, it was pretty shortly thereafter (moved into the condo the next morning after the wedding reception). I commuted to university. I stayed after I got my first job, after I got my first car. I guess my mom cooked with too much cheese (touch of Canadiana here). And when things got more serious with Ian, I toyed with the idea of moving in with him, especially since we were living in different cities for a while. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Being the firstborn, there's always this niggling sense of responsibility, an innate need to set the good example. And living "in sin" wasn't necessarily the best example, growing up with the double-whammy guilt in a Chinese-Catholic household.

But if I'm really honest, I was never comfortable with that whole concept for myself. Sure, it's fine for others, and it does work as millions of couples have done so for years, and will continue to do so. It's almost become a relationship norm these days. A lot of Ian's friends were living common-law. Funny enough, none of my friends were living common-law. We saw a few couples break up, and for me, co-habitating before marriage didn't cement the relationship enough. Not that I didn't feel the commitment, it just didn't sit right with me. At least this way I was able to save enough to contribute to a half-decent downpayment on our first house. Maybe I was just paving the way for all these young people these days who are moving home to do just that.

My mother was and still is an amazing cook. You would never know that she couldn't even boil water until she was 18 years old, when she herself had left home to study in England. So while living at home, I never did the cooking. I was always delegated to prep-chef, or the clean-up crew. I clean a mean dish. I did enjoy trying to cook the odd meal, but it would always be inevitably taken over by Mom at some point. After all it was her kitchen, and I could never quite do the things her right way. So I was content with my role. I wasn't at home for a lot of the meals anyway, once I got going with work and running around town with Ian.

My sister, on the other hand, decided to get her second degree at the other end of the country, in lovely B.C. While I knew I would miss her, it also gave me a wonderful excuse to go visit her out there, several times during the period that she went to school, lived and worked there. I remember one visit with her, we were cooking dinner and she didn't know how she wanted to do the vegetable side dish. I checked her cupboards and sure enough, she had those key ingredients. I poured some of the oyster sauce into a bowl, added some water and then about a teaspoon of corn starch for a fairly thin consistency. I didn't make it too thick because we wanted a little gravy to go with the rice as well. I threw it over the veggies in the pan, watched it bubble up, and we were set. My sister looked at me and was impressed.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" she asked.

"Haven't you seen Mom do that all the time? " I replied.

"No, not that I recall. That was pretty good, Missy" (her nickname for me).

This came from my sister, who is also now an amazing cook. And by amazing I mean that she can throw things together without a recipe. I don't know if it's the scientist in me, but I need a recipe for everything, and I treat every recipe like a lab experiment. Everything is measured out exactly, timed to the millisecond; I've been known to keep cooking something in the oven even if it's obviously burning, because it's got another five minutes to go according to the recipe. Nope, I'm not a chef. But for this gravy, nary a measuring spoon or cup is ever used.

So whenever I'm in a gravy crunch, those three ingredients do it for me. One of the reminders that living at home with the parents for all those years wasn't so bad after all.

Manic Monday

I’ve joined Manic Mondays to provide myself some inspiration for NaBloPoMo … I fear I am already lacking in material after four short days!

Today's word is “earth” and the only thing that popped into my mind initially was “Peace on Earth” which is a great thing, and I could go on about that, but it would remind me that Christmas is coming up. And although I am quite excited about that, it also means that December is just around the corner, my baby will be turning three, and I’m not ready. Just not ready for that yet. My life feels like it’s passing by so quickly already, we need to slow it down a bit.

So what I’ll post about today is "Red Earth" a CD released in 1990 by a now defunct band by the name of Crash Vegas . Or more correctly, I’ll post about the memories conjured up by the melancholy sound of that band. The CD still gets its fair share of play from our collection, even to this day.

When the album came out we were instant fans. And no wonder, as there were definite links of their sound to those of another band that figured largely in our relationship – Blue Rodeo. The lead singer of Crash, Michelle McAdorey, was the girlfriend of Greg Keelor at the time. Songs that were the basis of the band’s repertoire were songwriting collaborations of the two.

Heady days, those were, back in the late 80’s, early 90’s. when it was just me and Ian. Done with university, not really in a long-distance relationship anymore. We were working full-time, so making some money, travelling in sin and having fun on weekends doing the couple thing. Busy enjoying being in our 20’s, being with friends, laughing, drinking; drinking and laughing.
Thinking about the future, but not too seriously just yet. This was the phase in our relationship just before it got a bit strained. You know, the difficult part, when you've been together for a while, when the biological clock starts gonging at the female’s head and the male doesn’t want to jump off a cliff into the abyss called marital commitment? Yeah, that ugly stage came just a little after this album was released.

But back to the heady days again. We went with friends to the venerable Lee’s Palace to see Crash Vegas live one night. A fantastic venue to experience a live band. I remember having a such a great time. The beer was good, the company was fun, the music rocked. Me and the other girls of the group (remember how we always went to the ladies' room in at least pairs, if not packs?) even had a celebrity pee -- the woman’s washroom was so small, we were in line with the lead singer just before she got on stage. She was so tiny and unassuming, we had no idea it was her until we came out of the bathroom and saw her get on stage with the mike! And of course her supportive grizzly-bearded boyfriend Greg was also in the room, we saw him through the smoky haze too. Celebrity sighting numero deux. So that was quite cool.

Flashforward to this past weekend. We had a couple with three children over for dinner on Saturday evening. With the daylight savings, we were able to have an extra hour. Turns out not to sleep, but to sit with friends, have great conversation and some lovely wine while listening to some great retro tunes. Like the following:


Our kids all got along so well, we were left to our own devices for most of the evening. Drinking and laughing again. Not quite Lee's, but our own palace complete with a prince and princess.

A lot of things have happened in 17 years. Including 14 years of marriage and two children.

Crash Vegas split up in the mid-1990s. But thankfully, Ian and I, well, we’re still rockin’, at least in our own minds.