So I promised myself I'd do it this way...

Yeah... sometime back when I started this blog I promised myself I'd use this wonderful new tool to discover something about myself.

And I have.

It was something that I kinda already knew but this just confirms it. Whenever I feel like confessing how I feel, if I post about it, I feel better. Like way better.

LIKE WAY, WAY, WAY BETTER.

So I must keep doing this. These bitchin' posts are just a way to get things off my chest because I never seem to be actually able to say these things.

Sure, sure, I don't get into details so that a reader might actually be semi-interested in what I've bitched about but I'm not in it for the comments on that kind of stuff.

I'm into the "letting it go".

Poof (well not really, but it's a start).

Thanks again for listening. It's been a hard couple of weeks and maybe (oh please) this is a turning point.

Now I turn to you for advice (what!?! are you insane?!?). Has anyone out there used the following types of therapy? And if so, what kind of results have you or do you think you have received?

I'm looking for something to help me regain my overall sense of well-being, balance, and the always elusive stress-reduction.

I think one of these might work for me (for numerous reasons) but I'd love to hear if they helped or made things worse or just did diddlee for you. If you've posted about it, send me the link. I'd really like to hear about:

• Reflexology
• Accupuncture
• Naturopathy

I've used yoga (not in two past years because I'm lazy and it falls to the bottom of my list which is stupid because I feel so much better when I do it - whatever - I'm a lazy ass) and massage therapy for the past 12 years because of a sprained back. Since I arrived in Toronto I've had crappy massages so when I go back out East I always book an appointment but I really have to find someone here.

So tell me your stories, and if you know or can recommend people in Toronto I'd like to hear about them (send me an email if you aren't comfortable posting that information). I'd really appreciate it.

My Momma loves me so much maybe I should take a nap.
NAAAAAAAAAAA, it's not in the cards. Sorry Momma.

bitchin'

Don't read this post because it's a downer. I just need to vent. Come back tomorrow if you are looking for something more uplifting or light. Sorry in advance.

I'm really fucking down.

I mean teenage-angst, can't put my finger on it, down and out blue funk. It's been brewing for a couple of weeks but now it's fully here. I'm short tempered, crying at the drop of a hat and bitchy. I'm still maintaining my patience with Bumper (how can I be bitchy to something that cute and cuddly) but she's definetely feeling my vibe and has been clingy (not what I need right now). I can't even get her to nap successfully most days and it's beginnning to wear on me.

I thought by booking a spa appointment yesterday, I might feel better but instead it just made me agitated. I went and had my eyebrows tamed (threading is the best in case you are wondering) and usually that makes me feel better for a mere 20 bucks +tip. After that was done, I went shopping for husband's big birthday gift but my spa appointment had run late so I had to rush around under the guise that husband wouldn't be able to cope with Bumper. I had said I'd be home at a certain hour and when that time came and went I jumped back on the train to come home. I had planned to go shopping for myself and maybe stop and have a coffee but I threw those plans out the door. Instead I rushed home. And when I got home, everything was fine. There was no need for me to rush and instead I blew the perfect opportunity to do something for myself.

Today I went to the grocery store by myself. Whoo fucking hoo.

Yeah I'm bitter. Not AT anyone, just with myself.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm feeling sorry for myself. Which is really fucking shitty because then I just get mad at myself and my husband gets frustrated with me and who can blame him? Actually he is really good. He hasn't gotten totally frustrated with me and has taken on the baby by himself often this past little while but it shouldn't have to be that way.

He's really good with her. And me.

I'm mad at myself because I can't cope with this sometimes. But I must cope. And I do. At my expense. Fuck it makes me bitter.

Thanks for letting me rant blogsphere. I hope this helps me get it out of my system. I'm not even going to spell check this post. I'm just going to put it out there. Feel free to bitch in my comments. I need to know others are out there like me. Thanks for listening.

lap dogs and other accessories

So yesterday I headed to the Apple Store to clothe the newest member of our family, the 60G video iPod.

Sweeeeeeeeeet new edition to the family if I do say so myself.

She (yes, SHE because it is so amazing) required one of those rubber catsuits with visor so she can travel in style, comfort and safety.

Now I must say that these iPod accessories are freakin' over-priced and should be included with the iPod since you just have to think about picking the iPod up to get finger prints on it. And if you are even mildly OCD like me (actually I qualify as ragingly OCD) then you are picking it 60 million times a day just to wipe off the prints. And then you have to pick it up again because you left prints on it cleaning it last time. And the cycle NEVER ENDS.

That reminds me of that episode of Friends where I finally related to one of those women (Monica) when she had a wished outloud for a tiny vacuum for her dustbuster, which she in turn had just used to clean her larger vacuum. I wish for things like that. And I do vacuum my larger vacuum after I'm done using it. And I wish I had a Dyson but that is neither here nor there.

Now what the hell was I talking about? Oh yeah, I went to the Apple Store yesterday.

Bumper and I had a good time at the mall and because it was summer sale time, I found some great things for husbands birthday (which is next weekend). If husband is reading this, stop reading now. I SAID NOW!

Okay so I'm not really going to reveal what I bought him because he is like me and has very little self-control and would still be reading at this point. Actually that is a lie. Not the part about him reading this right now (because he would be) but the self-control. We quit smoking a few years back and never have wavered (though I dream of smoking sometimes and if someone is smoking in the movies, I get all antsy but when I pass someone smoking on the street it kind of grosses me out... go figure). Anyways... can someone yell "TANGENT" because this is what this is!

Apple Store. Downtown. With Bumper.

So you know how they have these little kitchy kiosks in the mall? They sell things that wouldn't warrent a store but need a marketplace. They have a neat little row of them near the Indigo and sometimes stuff catches my eye. Like the wig one. I'd love to buy a real wig and wear it, just because I'm a girl. I like to do girly things. And then there is the Hello Kitty kiosk: if I ever need a rice cooker or vacuum I know where to go!

But one kiosk really caught my eye yesterday: it had little world cup onesies and hats. The top one was the Italia blue and I thought wouldn't Bumper look great in that. So I picked it up and held it up to her. Something looked strange. I couldn't figure out the bottom where the snaps usually are. I started to look at it and tried to find a tag to find the size. Was I holding it upside-down? Where are the freaking tags? Why is the saleslady looking at me strange? And now why is she talking to her friend in another language and laughing at me? Am I being paranoid? (yes, always) What the heck is up with these tiny Italia suits? How small can a baby be? Do premmies really wear little onesies? WHY ARE THESE SO FREAKIN' SMALL?

And then that's when it hit me. This was a dog kiosk. A kiosk that caters to small lap dogs. Not cute children. DOGS. And I was trying to outfit my child there.

I am such a bad mother.

Yes it's true. My mother tried to dress me in dog's clothing. She sucks. But I love her anyways.

Speaking of bad mothers (how's that for a segue?) go check out the Ladies of Toronto (and Southern Ontario) round robin interviews. These interviews are beyond cool and you can learn something new about one of your fav reads or maybe find a new blog to lurk!

Now I must go and sulk because I'm not at BlogHer.

Shaken not stirred

Wow oh wow oh wow.

See that logo up there?

Yah, that one.

The BlogMe one.

Pretty freakin' cool, right?

Yes, yes, I know it's not a BlogHer attendee logo but a girl can pretend she's going for a dreamy moment, can't she? Sigh.

So talk about some organized women. I used to be one of those but not anymore. And yes I realize we weren't talking about organized women directly but I've sometimes got to create my own segues people.

First off, Her Bad Mother is representin' the ladies of Toronto (because she is actually going). In the true fashion of BlogHer, the ladies (as I like to call us) organized an interview thingy (because I don't know the proper name) and I have been interviewed by the always wonderful, entertaining, well written and smart Bub and Pie (go check it out and you get a glimpse of me... hee hee).

WAIT! Don't go just yet! I did an interview too.

When I was assigned my interview, I darn near exploded. Yup. Just like the guests on that Farm Report from SCTV. I just blew up. Real good.

I was asked to interview one of my original addictions: Martinis for Milk. She was one of the first bloggers that I read and then spent many a breast-feeding marathons (don't miss those) reading her archives. And laughing. And crying. And nodding along in agreement. And paralyzed with fear in commenting. So I didn't. I lurked forever.

Then one day I did comment on her site and I'm glad to say that she didn't call me a moron. Then one day (in May actually not that I'm keeping a record or anything) she commented on my site and told me she thought I could write. So I decided I loved her more from that moment on.

Seriously though, I can relate to her. She likes to party, she is incredibly honest, she makes me laugh and her kid is mind-blowingly gorgeous. She tells it like it is. So I'll stop babbling now and on with the interview!

What is the quality you most admire in a blogger?
The quality I most admire in a blogger is originality of voice. I am drawn to those who say the things others are too embarrassed or nice to admit in good company. This true disregard for what people may think is an admirable characteristic.

What is your most marked blogging characteristic?
I am the mom who felt getting pregnant was like being banished to the Betty Ford. I am very social and active in Toronto's cultural life (read: I used to go to a lot of bars) and I like to travel (read: I like going to bars in other countries too). I'm learning to balance the "social me" with the "stuck at home me." Oops -- did I say "stuck at home?" I meant "stay at home."

What is your greatest virtue as a blogger?
I try to see humour in all things. I am able to laugh at myself and therefore I can offer up every aspect of my life to bring laughter to others. I just want people to feel like, "Hey, she went through that and can laugh about it. Maybe it's not so bad." I have no filter, so I get into a lot of trouble saying what I'm thinking out loud – often in graphic detail. But this has worked to my advantage in the blogosphere.

I'm also quite fond of the fertilized olive in my banner.

What do you regard as the principle defect of your blog?
I swear a lot and speak in urban slang. It's the language I grew up in and it's a large part of who I am. I was raised in lower middle class immigrant surroundings, where we spoke a sort of patois -- a meld of the languages of the international immigrant community. Being LMC, you tend to have a bigger chip on your shoulder and cursing is a huge part of your daily communication, expression and comedic escape.

But sometimes I feel like it comes across as "put on." So many moms are talking in this aggressive way online now that it seems unoriginal. That being said, I still call my best friend with, "Hey you skanky ho. You sound out of breath. Were you cramming*?" (*having a quickie) To which she replies, "No you dirty bitchbag..." and so forth.

I didn't read any mom blogs when I started writing, so my blogging voice has always been my own. But I've always been concerned that I may be alienating people with my colourful language. I've been attempting to balance out the slang with the more literary me as of late -- with mixed results.

What character of fiction do you most wish had a blog?
Pretentious answer: Catharine Deneuve’s character in Belle de Jour. (the ending leaves one with a lot of questions)

Down-to-earth answer: Bridget Jones (the pre-blogging diarist of modern times)

What historical or real life person do you most wish had a blog?
I have found that getting inside the head of someone you admire is not always a good thing. But if I had to choose, I’d be interested in someone from classic Hollywood, like Sinatra. Now there was someone classy who knew how to party.

What is your present state of mind as a blogger?
Fuzzy, very fuzzy. Trying to figure out how to say stuff that others aren’t saying, while keeping things brief and still documenting my journey as a mother.

What is your blog motto?
Publish everything that’s fit to print. Then pray your mother doesn’t find your blog.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
To find oneself without family or friends.

What is your idea of earthly happiness?
Human beings respecting in equal parts both their fellow citizens and this planet which feeds and houses us.

What historical figures do you most despise?
Those who’ve made a career of war.

What is the quality you most admire in a man?
Loyalty.

What is the quality you most admire in a woman?
The ability to make her presence known by merely entering a room.

What to your mind would be the greatest of misfortunes?
Outliving my child.

What is your motto?
Everything happens for a reason.

Thank you Martinis for Milk for taking the time for this interview.

I leave you all with a photo that made me giggle. You see, I had originally thought that Martinis for Milk had coined the term "muffin top". She used it a few times on her site and I knew exactly what it meant when she used it. But she informed me (because she honest y'all!) that it was a Clinton term. So when she sent me this photo to go with her interview, I snorted coffee out my nose because she gave me my first laugh of the day.



BTW - that is no muffin top. I have a muffin top. A muffin like those cake laden bad boys you find at the grocery store. That my dear, is a beautiful goddess-like tummy. One I would kill to have.

I'll stop talking now.

Don't forget to go visit Bub and Pie!

How do you do it?

I often wonder if others blog the same way I do.

Time is what works against me when I'm trying to visit other blogs and it doesn't exist when I'm trying to write a post.

To combat the time issue, I use the Open in Tabs option under Bookmarks. I have multiple folders of my favorite blogs and I slam them one of those folders open each morning after I've poured my coffee. Then it's a crapshoot. Sometimes Bumper likes to play quietly and I can read three maybe five posts from some of my favs and even leave comments. God forbid if I get headed down a tangent and start off in a dizzy of links. When that happens, I'm usually screwed because time has been spent in places away from my beloved blogs. Sigh.

Unfortunately that happens often.

If I can leave five comments in one day, I feel very accomplished. Usually I get three out of my system but I've thought of a dozen while not able to type.

I can't type sometimes because Bumper likes to nap on my lap and it's not often I can balance a sleepy nursing baby and peck something out on the keyboard. I try but I keep it short and often get frustrated. Sigh.

At least I can read posts. I have a great scroll ball and I've got enough bookmarks to make it through a nap.

Often I leave open the posts I want to comment on all day. I must look really weird on some site meters.

"sheezzz... who is that in Ontario that stays for eight hours on my blog? Weirdo".

I hate it when husband comes home and doesn't realize that I've kept these sites open for a reason and switches IDs so I loose all my tabs. Sigh.

I love visiting but I'm sad when I can't find time to comment everywhere. Don't get me started on writing posts. I try to keep a good diary of things I've thought of, but since the swiss-cheesing of my brain that apparently happened during childbirth, I don't retain as much as I used to and if I don't write it down right away it's usually gone in seconds.

Anyone else out there like that?

excuses, excuses, excuses

I've been having a whirlwind birthday week (yeah baby, when it's my birthday I make it laaaast). I am blown away at the amount of birthday greetings I received from all my bloggy friends, thank you a million times over.

I think it's really funny that my best friend forgot (and to boot, it's her wedding anniversary. She used to joke that she could never forget both but apparently she did forget both this year). She still hasn't called yet so I think maybe her husband forgot too (doesn't surprize me, he's a jerk but that's a whole other post). Anyhooo, I wonder how long it will take for her to figure it out? She doesn't live here in the city and we only talk every couple of weeks so let's just see how long it takes. I'll keep you up to date on that one.

I've also been a deliquent poster this week. I've been brought down by this heat wave and I'm not over inspired to write a post. Actually that's a lie. I have a huge one in the works but I'm having trouble writing it. It's nothing deep or spectacular but I want to get it done because it's important to me. But instead this thing called motherhood keeps getting in the way.

Bumper has decided she is too mature for morning naps now which is also another reason I'm not getting any posting done. Morning chores have become afternoon chores and afternoon blogging has become no time blogging. She also has started to undress herself. She likes to rip off her diaper and crawl away, which is amusing but annoying at the same time. I'd let her run wild and poop in the corner but then we get back to that feral child thing and I don't need the neighbours calling Social Services on me.

So I'll leave you with some cuteness until I can get back to my uber long post. Thanks again for the birthday wishes and I'm so glad I started blogging.

nerd girl

I just took off my diaper and I came over to tell you mommy

Just try and make me wear clothes!

well if I don't tell, no one will know....

Happy Birthday to me
Happy Birthday to me
Happy Birthday dear motherbumper-r-r-r-r-r-r-r
Happy Birthday to me

Because you'd have no idea unless I told you. And thank you for asking, I'm thirty-sfjaifoa

Didn't catch that? Too bad. Too sad. I guess you'll have to wait until next year to catch that. Not that I have any hang-ups about it (no-o-o-o-o).

First picture: Christening age 2 months. And it's the first picture my parents took of me. I am the youngest of three children and there are 7 gazillion (approx) pictures of my sister between ages 0 days and 60 days. Of me?: 2.

Second picture: age 5 months. And that Jack-in-the-box is the sole reason I am scared of clowns today. Seriously. I hate motherf*ckin' clowns.

Did someone say shoes?

Okay - so no new pearly whites but Bumper is eating a bit more food and is a bit more alert. Thank you for all your kind words of support and drink orders on my last post. In terms of the next to no eating, I've actually resorted to leaving little piles of food around the playarea (once known as the living room) and am secretly jumping for joy (in my head because the apartment is really small) everytime I see her grab a piece of cereal or mum mum. It's like she is some kind of stray animal that I'm trying to capture and domesticate. But just so you don't go calling social services on my ass, I know she's a baby and not feral. At least not yet. Though the cats have been treating her more like one of their own since she started going after their kibbles. ANYHOOOOOO......

Over at i obsess, Lil'Debbie put out a request at the end of her delicious post about shoes. And I quote: "I would like to request that anyone who has some delectable shoes wasting away, lonely and depressed, in their closets, to post some snaps. Give those shoes a wee taste of the limelight. They'll thank you for it."

Hell ya! I'll show you my shoes (cue lights and slideshow please).

Since the summer weather has begun, you will usually find one of these pairs on my feet. The Old Navy high heel flip flops rock and the Payless fabric ones are always a hit (yes folks, I'm a sucker for inexpensive shoes in addition to filthy expensive ones. Here at casa bump we do not discriminate. Except when it comes to toilet paper. No cheap toilet paper. My butt is worth it.)
If I'm not wearing those you may find me in (cue sinister music) CROCS!

cue screams of disgust and protest

whatever...
Back me up urban_mommy, I know you love your Crocs too. I don't care what Dooce says I like my Crocs.

But I do solemnly swear that I will not wear them out in public. The laundry room is the furthest they will get out of the apartment. (I already swore to this on Metro Mama's site somewhere in her comments).

Moving right along. Now these are my all time favs. I love my puma's. Bright orange pumas. I get teased about the colour but I also get compliments galore from hip folk. They have served me well.
Yes, yes, this was supposed to be about neglected shoes. So onto the lonely ones.

When I was pregnant last summer and carrying around that extra 65 lbs (hell ya! I was H.U.G.E.) I wore these wonderful MAGs. So cushiony and they served me well. I wore them in the boardroom and didn't give a rat's ass about the dirty looks from the big boys. None of them ever tried to wedge their swollen feet into pumps before and this girl wasn't going to hurt herself trying. Did I mention that I had to phone in sick while I was pregnant because I didn't have any shoes that fit? Yes, it's true, even these wide canoes did not fit my feet one humid day and I couldn't find anything short of fuzzy bedroom slippers to wear on my feet. I called in "can't fit in my shoes" to work.
Before I moved to Toronto, I wore these puppies all the time. Sweet little green dragons and they made me TALL! (have I mentioned I'm just wee?) They now are in the back of my closet and haven't been out to play in a long time. Maybe I'll keep them for Bumper's dress-up trunk.

Now of course these are my practical shoes for work. The ones on the left are dark grey fabric and the ones on the left are Tommy Beat my ass Hilfiger dark navy blue mary-janes. I love them both and I can run in them. That is very important if you are always double booked for client meetings (as I used to be) or running from the big boys who hate your shoes. They are wicked comfy and if I need to look polished ever again I know they will see the light of day.Now for the shoes that I have no where to wear (cue sad music). These sweet little ones from Zara are begging for a date night. Someday my sweets, someday soon I hope.

And my wedding shoes. That cost a mint. And are the smoothest kid leather I have ever felt. And sooooo comfy. And so pretty. And worn once. But worth every penny.
Now these little guys danced their way across the bars of London and Bath. I bought them in Camden Market and proceeded to never take them off because for some odd reason they made me feel sexy. They are falling apart but I can't give them up until I find a suitable replacement.
And I cannot forget my workhorses: the Blundstones. In the winter, these puppies are on my feet all the time. So comfy and they look great with jeans. And the best part? No laces!


I guess those last two pair would qualify as boots.

Oh. My. God. Did someone say boots? No? Okay so no one said boots but me. But look! I have so many lonely boots:
Not interested. OK. Never mind the boots. Anyway, there isn't enough space in the blogsphere for me to start talking about my boots.

What's that? Yes, yes. In the middle there are my old faithfuls: My Docs. My lil'ol eight-holes that I've had since I was 19. They are full of holes but I still love 'em. I can never give those away. Sigh.

So that concludes my shoe tour. Thank you Lil'Debbie for the invitation to share. I extend the invite to anyone else who wants to liberate their little friends. Revel in your inner Imelda Marco and share with the world. Amen.

blue day two

Well another day spent with the blues. It didn't help that it was raining cats and dogs. Seriously it was. I mean literally! I swear I saw a million kitties pour from the sky while eating breakfast this morning. Wait....I should really put away the tequila until after dark...

A huge thank you for your well wishes on my last post. I spoke with a physician (who happens to be her grandfather) and he assured me its (a) nothing serious, (b) nothing contagious and (c) probably teething. So at this rate, I expect her to wake up tomorrow morning with a full set of pearly whites.

So far lack of photo opportunities from today, I present Bumper the bartender:

What can I get you?

How do you make a slippery nipple? With Lansinoh?

These were taken over the weekend when we attended a BBQ with my sis-in-law. Bumper seemed to be a natural at the bar. Sigh. She's so like me. Oh crap. I'm in so much trouble.

Even babies get the blues...

Bumper had a bad day. And Mama is sad. I knew it wasn't going to be a good day right from the get go. Bumper turned up her nose at everything this morning at breakfast. Lunch was the same. Even the Baby Mum-Mum was rejected. That stuff is like baby crack. No fever but no energy either.

On our walk she just lay back and kind of slouched. Even during the feeding of the squirrels, she just turned her head to watch. She usually pulls herself straight up and eggs them on. Every so often she would let out a little half-hearted cry. It was the saddest walk we've had in a long time.


She cried when Dad came home.

Finally when dinner came around, she ate something. I was relieved but still worried. I know deep down it's nothing much. Just a bad, bad tooth day and maybe a mild cold. But I'm still sad and worried. This is the suckiest part of parenthood. The uncontrollable stuff.

I hope my little lady feels better in the morning.

it's golden baby, golden

Edited to answer some questions asked about my run in with Borat.

I mentioned in my last post about a story involving Borat in a remote farm field. It's not an exciting story, just weird, and maybe strange enough to share. Probably not. So if you have anything else to do, do it because this will be five minutes of your life you won't get back. Don't say I didn't warn you.

I have to give you a bit of background to tell what's really just a short story so I'll try to keep it brief (HA! Not my style at all, so strap yourself in for the long-winded ride).

It was last Tuesday and the last day of visiting my In-law's farm. I was ready to leave. I had packed up all the gear, emptied the diaper pail and kitty litter and only two things were left to do: capture the cats and pack up the car. But Mother Nature was not being cooperative. We couldn't pack up the car because of the torrential rainstorms that hadn't let up for hours. I was trying not the pace (too rude!) and instead I sat in the porch with husband's sister bouncing Bumper on my knee while watching lightening storm after lightening storm come across the field. I think they were coming from the south west and you could seriously see cluster after cluster of lightening and rain roll over the hay fields.

I was doing all the driving that day and we had approximately 6 hours ahead of us, half on the 401 - a scary highway for a wee down east girl (yes, I'm wee!). I don't mind the rural highways but the 401 scares the crap out of me and I did not want to be night driving on that sucker. So finally, the rain became "normal" and I jumped up and barked out "let's get the cats and hit the road". Within 30 minutes I was behind the wheel, putting metal to the floor leaving the in-laws in the dust. We head towards the first "roadmark" on the trip, a small town that has a gasbar with coffee. I had been drinking decaf with lactose-free skim milk product (yes PRODUCT) all weekend and I needed some real deal with real diary cream. I freakin' hate the diet food my in-laws love to eat... but that's another post. And a post more interesting than this one but you can't say I didn't warn you.

As we got closer to the town, with only a small country road and a bridge between us, I noticed that the oncoming drivers are all flashing their daylights at me. Down home this means "fuzz ahead, slow down" so I made the proper adjustments to my speed(ing)(no, I'm not a fast driver but come on, these country roads sometimes beg for something more than 80km/per hour). Hmmmm, there seems to be alot of oncoming traffic, I think. Then I saw flashing lights ahead. Arghhh. No one is directing traffic, WTF? Finally someone came over and told me that a transformer blew in the storm and had come down over the road. Crap, crap, double crap. Before I can ask for directions, they disappeared. So here I am with baby, cats and husband and we are 5 minutes from coffee. But oh so far away. And with no idea how to get out of this place. No maps baby, nada.

I tell husband to call his folks and find out NOW because I need out of here. As he calls and starts getting new directions, I dig into my bag in search of sugar (did I mention the in-laws are diet crazy and they had nothing sweet in the house - I mean nothing) and the only thing I can find is this bag of diet Chips Ahoy thin craps that MIL gave me. So gross but at the time they worked. I was desperate. Gosh damn I'm getting side tracked... sorry folks. ANYHOOOO.... We got new directions and we find this tiny turn off that will eventually get us back on track. We drive down these tiny roads and we are WAY off the beaten track. We finally find the road to another road that will lead us to the highway and it's between these two farm fields. So we are headed down this Stephen King like setting (think Children of the Corn) and I notice in my rearview mirror that a car has pulled right up on my butt (which really ticks me off) and because I don't know the road I can't speed up for fear of missing our turn off. Crap, crap, double crap.

okay, so this is what I usually see when I look in my rearview but if I was better
at photoshop I would have pasted in a big black car over the fuzz.

I'm cursing under my breath and I hope I can shake the tailgater soon. We finally find our right turn and lone behold, the tailgater pulled up beside me, making that frantic "roll down your window" motion. I slowly roll down the window and out of the other car leaned Borat. He asks me in the thickest accent "do you (pause) know the (pause) way to fdljafdsja?". Yeah, I didn't quite get that last part, which made me ask "where are you going?".

Bad question. Stupid question.

He said: "Toronto".

OK folks. Bear with me. We are in a farmers field, 400 kilometres (250 miles) from Toronto. And here I have a dead ringer for Borat asking me for directions to the same place I'm headed.

And then husband chirped in "That's where we are headed!".

"I will follow you!" Borat proclaimed.

Ummmm.... I'm thinking.... you are going to follow me for 400 km? Now reader, I don't know about you, but I have trouble leading people into my apartment much less down a road. But I drive on and as I glance into the rearview I see Borat keeps giving me the thumbs up.

I figure he would know how to get Toronto on his own once we got to that town I was talking about. But upon arrival at the gas bar, I jumped out for my coffee and said "you can find your way from here, right?" I discovered this guy had no idea where he was, much less where Toronto fit on the map. Someone had given him very vague hand-written directions that by my best guesstimation would have landed him in Manitoba. So here I was, stuck with Borat. On my tail. Waving and thumb's upping (?) me and yelling God Bless you once I got him on the 401. It was the longest 6+ hours of my driving life. Yeah I know, not much of a story but come on now folks. What I want to know is: WHAT THE HECK WAS HE DOING IN THAT CORN FIELD?
Told you I was long-winded. But you should have known that by now. And if you are a first time reader: now you know. Sorry but you can't say I didn't warn you.

Edited to add:
HBM (in the comments) asked if I got my coffee and did Borat make it to Toronto. Excellent questions if I say so myself. Sadly, I did not get coffee that day. When I got to the mentioned gas bar, that transformer that blew out was their main source of power and we were S.O.L. I did later pull over at another place to get a coffee and the following happened:

I pulled over and Borat followed suit. I told him I needed coffee and to feed Bumper so we need to pit stop for 10. He said "God bless you" and went in to the store also. I headed to the back of the store to get my coffee while he stayed in the front section. I discovered no coffee (W.T.F!) and consoled myself with a bottle of water (poor, poor substitute but at least it had no artificial sweeteners). As I headed back up front, I discovered Borat quizzing the stoned looking cashier on the price of smokes. And I quote "What (pause to look up something in his book) is your cheeeepest package of cigarettes kind sir?". That kid looked so confused (drugs will do that to you) and tried to explain that all smokes are the same price, but this was not understood and I had to stand in the beef jerky aisle (kinda ducking too, I might add) until this exchange had ended (unsuccessfully for Borat as he did not want to pay full price for smokes).

Did Borat make it to Toronto? Not quite sure, but he sure did look happy peeling off from my butt as he sped down the 401. End of story. I promise.

And that really does conclude my 50th post. I swear.

little miss big smoke

So we are back from the country (sounds so chi-chi, n'est pas?) and I'm glad to be back in the big smoke, t-dot, ta-ronna, however you want to call it, the city. I've got a lot to talk about but unfortunately I only have a few minutes to bang this out because husband had a long first-day back at the office and I've got some things to do (you know: feed the baby, wash the baby, blah, blah, blah...) and somehow blogging has been pushed to the back of the line (argghhhh but Bumper does take first place!).

I want to start out by saying I was weepy this past Friday thinking about how all the TO moms were getting together and I couldn't be there. Husband tried to console me by saying "the weather is really bad down there... I'm sure they canceled" to which I replied "they are smart women, they will have a back up plan". And of course they did. I'm really glad they had a great experience so I will cancel anything and everything to be there next time (there will be a next time, right? RIGHT?). Thanks for all the wonderful comments on my last lazy post. It was really cool to hear from the Toronto ladies (really FREAKIN' cool!) and of course, everyone else. OK so enough with the blathering (slap back of both hands while never leaving the keyboard... oh so talented) and on with the show post.

Bumper had a great time with her grandparents this weekend. They spoiled her ROT-TEN! They did so much for her. Three cheers for grandparent spoilage. I don't mean to brag but I'm gonna brag. They got her a wagon:

park it over by the sandbox, good man (aka granddad)

And a swing under the pergola. Yes the pergola! They built this beautiful structure right next to the pool (I tell ya, I married up - I SAID UP!). I'm kidding. They are just good people who know how to live (before any of you start itchin' and thinking how you can bump me off and steal husband). Oh yes... back to the swing:

hmmmm.... I need to move this closer to the cabana

And (YES AND!) they got her a little covered boat for the pool:

what's that dad? you expect me to get into that thing? that titanic of a thing?

But she didn't like that last one very much. She cried until I took her out of the seat (meanwhile, I'm thinking "how do I get me one of these?"). Then (per usual) I was her pool bitch. I had to carry her all around maintaining the perfect distance between the water and her body parts so said water would ne'r touch the madame's precious toes (said towwwww-z). And of course I acquiesced 'cos yo, I'm her beee-atch.

Okay enough about the spoilage. I swear at this rate they are going to have to buy her a car for her sweet sixteen. Actually, that might not be a bad thing.

So when I have more time (HA!) I will regale you with my family adventure on a deserted back-field road between severe electrical storms while encountering Borat and then leading him to Toronto. Actually it's not as exciting as it sounds so I'll stop talking right now.