tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19630761235924935232024-03-08T03:57:36.506-05:00Mrs. LoudshoesLife in the suburbsMrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.comBlogger736125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-30154721494542008322017-02-06T12:25:00.000-05:002017-02-06T12:25:15.385-05:00Gone to the DogsGrowing up, we always had cats as pets. Cats are pretty low maintenance they don't mind being left alone all day, they clean themselves and they poop in a box. If you don't mind sharing your yogurt and having your Christmas tree knocked over regularly, they are pretty easy to have around.<br />
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But last weekend, we went from a "no dog household" to a "two dog household" in a matter of 24 hours. One dog, Channing, is temporary; we are looking after him for my niece and her wife while they are down south for a week. But the other dog, Pippa, is ours for good.<br />
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People told me that dogs are a lot of work, and they were 100% right on that. Dogs need way more of your time and attention than cats. But, oh my God, do they ever give it back....I've had many a cat tell me in it's cat way that they love me, but I don't think I've ever had anyone gaze at me with quite the adoration of a dog.<br />
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Channing is a Golden retriever/border collie cross. Which means he is pretty smart, has lots of energy and likes plenty of treats. Since retrievers are the frat boys of the dog world, and border collies are no dummies, this means that Channing is a big goof with enough sense to stay on the right side of the law. . He likes to get in on my side of the bed when I get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, which is a big surprise when you come back to bed and forget you have a dog temporarily. On Sunday morning, when the Mister and I usually sleep in late, Channing HAD to get up on the bed with me, so I was sandwiched in between he and the Mister, and since they both give off enough heat to power a hospital, I got so sweaty I thought I was going to throw up. Channing is an excellent dog.<br />
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Pippa, our newest family member is a 2 year old corgi/terrier mix. Thing 1 got her from a rescue organization, which means that Pip didn't get the best start in life (we think she was used as a breeder in a puppy mill), but she's landed with us, and I think she's going to enjoy her life very much from now on. She is just the loveliest dog; sweet tempered, cuddly and incredibly quiet. She's like a cat in dog form. She has tragically short little legs and a corkscrew tail, and could not be any cuter if she tried.<br />
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Unlike cats, dogs need to be walked. And these dogs would prefer it if I walked them every hour or so, and I understand why, because this is their very favorite time of the day. Channing is so excited to be out in the world that he has to see it all at once and preferably right now. This means that he would pull your arm right out of your socket and not care one ounce. The first part of any walk with Chan requires that I be dragged to the school yard a block away, where I take him off his leash and let him catch his frisbee for 10 minutes, so that he burns off some energy and I can walk him without danger of being pulled off my feet and hauled along the sidewalk behind him. I haven't been to the gym in a week.<br />
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Pippa of the Short Legs requires about 1/3 of the walk that Channing does, because her little self has to work three times as fast to keep up. And keeping up is <i>the most important thing in the universe </i>for that dog. God forbid we fall behind Channing. (It does occur to me that little dogs have NO IDEA they are little. They don't look in a mirror and they just think they are as big as they want to think they are. ) She will also yank your arm out of your socket, but for a much shorter length of time.<br />
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One thing I have to thank these dog for is that they have made me go outside about 100 times more than I would have, had they not been here. I am an unabashed cold-weather wimp, and chose to mainly go from the car to my destination in as short a time as possible in the winter. But these guys have required that I bundle up and go out a couple of times a day, and for a good while, too. To my surprise, I've enjoyed it....the cold, clear morning that I watched the sun come up, the snowy evening when it was so quiet I could hear the flakes hit the ground, the bright, sunny, bitterly cold afternoon, they have all been pleasant reminder that winter can be something more than a season to be endured and ridden out.<br />
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The cat has gotten used to the dogs; she and Channing have come to an understanding and she ignores Pippa completely. I wonder if she is enjoying not having the laser-like focus of our collective attention off of her, or if she's pissed that there is now a dog on my bed when it used to be solely hers.<br />
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Channing goes home today; I will take him to the dog park before we leave, where he will run in circles and bark his fool head off and sniff all the other dog bums there are to sniff, and I will thank him for all he has done for me this week: now one dog will seem like no dogs. And my floors have never been so clean.<br />
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<br />Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-86699356453167891272016-11-06T16:50:00.000-05:002016-11-06T16:50:09.907-05:00Household Snores<div class="MsoNormal">
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Really, does anyone <u>enjoy</u> doing housework? Like, <i>anyone</i>? I
know there are people who actually make
a living doing housework, like maids and housekeepers and such, and maybe it’s
not quite so horrible when you are getting paid to do it. (Still, cleaning the
house when it’s your own dirt and doing is bad enough, I can’t imagine how much
someone would have to pay me to do it for someone else. I work up an incredible
head of steam of resentment and hatred when I clean up after my own family, and
I LIKE them.) </div>
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Like everyone, I have some things I don’t mind doing, and
some things that I hate with the white hot heat of a thousands suns: </div>
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<u>Chores I Loathe</u>: </div>
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Cleaning the bathrooms. This one I hate the very, very most.
Maybe it’s because the bathrooms are the highest maintenance and most disgusting
part of the house, but cleaning the bathrooms is my number one hated chore.
There’s just SO MUCH to clean! And all the damn time, it never ends! I am very lucky that the Mister doesn’t mind
it as much as I do, and he takes care of it.</div>
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Cleaning the closets: I hate cleaning the closets because of
all the decisions you have to make. If all it entailed was taking everything
out and putting everything back in, I wouldn’t mind so much, but no, you have
to take everything out, and then DECIDE what goes back in. And there’s always
way too much to put back in. It’s like you never really did anything when you
are finished. </div>
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Cleaning windows: you wipe and wipe and wipe and they are
never ever, <i>really </i>clean. Just clean<i>ish</i>.</div>
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Washing and drying lettuce: this isn’t the worst job in the
world, but I loathe it. I always end up with water all over the counter and
bits of lettuce clogging the drain. It seems to take forever. </div>
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Drying the dishes: I will happily wash dishes, but I hate
drying them. Why spend your time doing what nature will do for you? </div>
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Emptying the dishwasher: how lucky and I to even have a dishwasher?
Very lucky. And you would think I would be much more amiable about only having
to empty the thing, but I feel like it’s the most boring, interminable job on
the planet. Once I timed myself doing it, to really see how long it took and it
was 7 minutes! I couldn’t believe it! What a crybaby I am! But it’s 7 minutes of pure torture. </div>
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Cleaning the fridge: There is always about 6 containers in the back of the fridge that have
been there probably since the last time I cleaned the fridge, and whatever is
in those containers has evolved into something so foul and revolting that it’s
easier to just keep the lids on them and not clean the fridge. Also, this is a
cold job, and deeply unpleasant in the winter. </div>
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Folding and putting away laundry: in a perfect hell, they
will play rap music, serve me blue cheese and liver, and make me pair up ten
thousand pairs of white socks, each pair with a <i>tiny but significant</i> feature that distinguishes it from the other
the other white socks. </div>
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<u>Chores I Don’t Mind<o:p></o:p></u></div>
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Grocery shopping I actually quite like grocery shopping. I
know lots of people just hate it, but I get a kick out of seeing what’s new,
what deals I can find and deciding what I’m going to get to eat next. I’m also
lucky in that I don’t have to do my grocery
shopping on Saturdays, which would dampen my enthusiasm mightily.</div>
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Cooking: I do almost all the cooking here at Chez Loudshoes,
and that’s perfectly fine with me. She who cooks decides the menu. And I like my own cooking, so the
work is rewarding. </div>
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Ironing: Ironing is rather mindless, satisfying work….running
hot metal over clean clothes, smoothing out wrinkles and making everything look
nice, with hardly any effort. And it smells nice.</div>
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Changing the sheets: again, a chore that really doesn’t take
much time, but has a huge payoff. Sliding into clean sheets, particularly ones
that have <u>dried on the line</u> is thoroughly gratifying.Plus, the cat helps, and that's always fun.</div>
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Vacuuming: Vacuuming is pretty easy to do, and again, a huge
payoff. Any room looks SO much better after it’s been vacuumed. And this job
has the advantage of pissing the cat off like no other.</div>
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Then there are the <u>Chores I Don’t Even Bother Doing</u>:</div>
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Vacuum under furniture: why bother. I will vacuum when I
re-arrange the furniture. Or move out.</div>
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Dusting: If anyone in my house was allergic to dust, I’m
afraid they would just have to die or live somewhere else. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Polish silverware: I have some silver, probably given to me
as a wedding gift. I have never used it, because I would have to polish it. I
would rather eat with chopsticks than polish silver. </div>
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Clean behind the stove/fridge: I know Martha Stewart says I
should do this every few months, but seriously, can’t see it, won’t clean it. </div>
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Cleaning baseboards. Seriously, if you are my friend and you are looking at my baseboards, we are now not friends.</div>
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There’s always something I’d rather be doing than housework,
but at least the bare minimum gets done, even if I do swear a blue streak when
I’m doing it. </div>
Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-24660031875072455452016-09-05T19:58:00.001-04:002016-09-05T19:58:36.517-04:00Dishing It OutAs modern conveniences go, I think the dishwasher is really the overlooked work-horse/miracle of the latter half of the twentieth century. Sure, washing dishes isn't that difficult or time consuming, but as any siblings that grew up without a dishwashing machine know, there are few occasions that bring boredom and resentment into a toxic half-hour quite like being made to wash and dry the dishes together. It can bring you closer, that quiet time alone in the kitchen to chat and pass the time, or, more likely, foments a bitter contest of wills that will fester into a lifetime spiteful resentment, which usually only ends when one of you moves out. <div>
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My family got a dishwasher when we moved into a house that had one, in 1973. Before this, my parents did not make my brother and I wash or dry the dishes after dinner, reasoning that it was faster, cheaper and easier on everyone if they did not. But we were all still thrilled to have a dishwasher. I'm pretty sure my mother bought the house for that alone. And dishwashers were not a ubiquitous thing in 1973; our Harvest Gold specimen was still worthy of note at that time. Consumer goods changed quickly in the 70s, and pretty soon dishwashers were standard. </div>
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And I grew up in a house with a dishwasher and took it totally for granted.</div>
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The Mister did not grow up in a house with a dishwasher, and our first house when we got married did not have a dishwasher, either. You see where this is going?</div>
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The Mister and I didn't live together before we were married, and despite knowing each other for 10 years by the time we tied the knot, and having spent countless hours in each other's company, there were still a few surprises for us when we actually shared the same living space. Like, the fact, that I use about 40 spoons to cook a dinner, and we each use 120 glasses every damn day, and the Mister doesn't actually put anything in the sink, he just likes to arrange the used dishes jauntily around the edge, so that when someone want to use the sink she has to navigate around the obstacles, lest everything go crashing and breaking into said sink. We lived in that house for 4 years, and although I got used to only using 20 spoons to make the dinner, the lack of a dishwasher was always a bone of contention. (<i>Believe</i> me, I tried to figure out a way to put a dishwasher in that kitchen, but it was impossible. The only place to put it was bang in the middle of the room, which meant jumping over it to get to the bathroom.) </div>
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We had very different ideas of how to deal with the plethora of dishes, particularly baby bottles, that a family generates through the day: I thought that we should wash them as we go, having a drying rack constantly sitting beside the sink, taking up valuable counter space. The Mister would rather keep one of our two sinks with a few inches of water in it all the time, so that you could put things in it "to soak", which meant that, sooner or later, someone was going to have to put their hand into that grey, cold, yucky water to pull the plug out and wash the dishes. It was an ongoing battle, and I can assure you, for two grown people with jobs and morgages and responsible lives, we were shamefully childish about who that someone was going to be. </div>
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The house we live in now came with a dishwasher. I nearly cried with gratitude when we first came though the place. That and the en suite bathroom meant that I didn't care if it came with a roof, we were going to buy this house.</div>
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<div>
Now the battle about the dishwasher revolves about loading it. The Mister has demonstrated a unique and masterful proficiency in loading the dishwasher; he can fit in approximately 150% more dishes than the rest of us. We think the dishwasher is full and ready to be turned on, and the Mister gets at it and there is an entire empty rack when he is done. I tell you, as Fairly Mild Super Powers go, it's a beauty. </div>
<div>
The problem is (for him, anyway) that now we all know how good he is at it, and we hardly bother any more. The girls and I fling in dishes willy-nilly, secure in the knowledge that the Mister will come along and make everything peachy keen again. The Mister isn't a fan of this system, obviously, but his attempts to teach us how to load the dishwasher have thus far proved fruitless. We simply don't have the talent. (Or, lets be honest, the interest.) </div>
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The Mister likes to run the dishwasher late at night, when the water and electricity rates are cheaper, which means that I wake up in the morning to a dishwasher full of clean dishes (YAY!) that has to be emptied, (BOO!) This is a First World Problem of the first order, because I timed myself once and it took me 10 minutes to empty the dishwasher. Ten whole minutes. (I'm such a whiner...can you imagine explaining to your great-grandmother what a chore it is to put the clean dishes away that you<i> didn't have to clean yourself??</i>She would, rightly, slap you.)</div>
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I'm hope that there are siblings and marriages and all kinds of relationships that have been saved by the advent of the dishwasher. I'm pretty sure mine is one of them.</div>
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Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-20609192567411640242016-09-02T14:17:00.000-04:002016-09-02T14:33:32.109-04:00SeptemberIt doesn't matter how long you've been out of school, or even if your kids are out of school, somehow the arrival of September means that fun and games are all over and it's back to business and, by god, it is time to stop messing around and start being constructive again.<br />
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When the evenings get notably shorter and the mornings are a little fresher and the peaches and corn are ending their season, I get a bit of a twinge in my stomach, and a feeling like something pleasant is about to end, and something less pleasant is about to start and I had better gear up for it.<br />
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And then I remember: my life does not change one little, tiny bit after Labour Day. Like, not at all, I'm totally off the hook. I have absolutely nothing, <i>whatsoever </i>to feel anxious about. And yet, there is some small part of my lizard brain that continues to quietly gnaw at me: "you'd best be getting on with it; shit's about to go down.".<br />
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Sure, my children are going back to school in a few weeks, but they are both in university now, they hardly need me to sort them out. Thing 1 is going into her 4th year; she's an old hand at this. Thing 2 is just starting her university career, but she's going to school here in town, so we dont' have to move her anywhere, and Thing 1 and her other friends are far more able to help her negotiate the newness of school; I'm only on the sidelines, chauffering and making dinner. Clearly, I'm a secondary character in this movie.<br />
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So, I wonder, why my psyche is determined to make me sit up and pay attention to September. Perhaps growing up in a house of teachers, where Labour Day was a calm before the storm, with a low level hum of anxiety thrumming through the house. Or maybe because, for so many years of going to school myself, the first day of school meant the advent of so many particulars that were going to make or break the better part of the coming year. I remember going to university on one first day of school to find that all my classes had been moved and re-scheduled, and I ended up with so many conflicts that I had an entirely blank timetable. Which meant I had to "find" enough classes that a) I wanted to take, b) I qualifed to take, and c) had enough room in them for me to take. And that's how I ended up with credits in Music Appreciation and Ancient and Medieval Warfare.<br />
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I have to also remind myself that, just because summer holidays are over, does not mean that <u>summer </u>is over. We have at least another month of summer weather to contend with. (For some reason, the retail industry insists on altering reality , and selling nothing but denim, tweed and wool for "Back to School" clothing. It's well into the upper 20s here in September, a fact conveniently forgotten by clothing sellers. The Mister's birthday is September 19th, and I can tell you, we've had plenty of birthdays where it was way to hot to make a cake for him. The poor man had to make do with ice-cream cake. First World Problems at it's finest.) I can enjoy heat and humidity and sunshine for another while longer.<br />
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September has it's own charms, and I do really like this month. I like the subtle change in the weather, the fresher mornings and the cooler evenings. The apples and pears are in season, and after a few months of bar-b-ques and salads, I look forward to making the occasional dinner in the oven. Even though I'm not particularly enamored of "pumpkin spice everything" for the next month or so, I will enjoy one or two things on the roster. I can do without the pumpkin spice vodka, or the pumpkin spice burritos, or the pumpkin spice toothpaste. (Can we be clear, though, "pumpkin spice" stuff is really just "spice"....it's nutmeg and cinnamon and ginger and allspice. No one is in it for the "pumpkin" part.)<br />
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I'm trying to embrace the best of September, the part where my life continues on without very many changes, and all the changes there are are entirely within my control. And, really the best part: where I don't have to go to school ever again. <br />
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<br />Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-64501976179863288152016-08-25T21:18:00.003-04:002016-08-25T21:18:57.968-04:00Numbers Are Hard. Our receptionist at work is married to a very nice man, who is usually pretty-on-the-ball, and generally can be counted on to be sane and reasonable. (He writes letters to editor of our local paper, and not only does he get published regularly, he generally make some sense, which is more than can be said for most of the other people who get their letters to the editor published.)<br />
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This kind and sane man was looking at the paper today, to determine the weather forecast for an upcoming trip he has to the States for work. After checking out his destination's likely weather, he wondered what he'd be missing here at home while he was away. He mused to his wife: "its going up to 29 on Monday, 30 on Tuesday and 31 on Wednesday! Wow, that's hot! Except, wait a minute??? It's only going to be 1 on Thursday? What gives?"<br />
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And that's when he realized he was looking at the date, and not at the temperature.Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-13925900241324459242016-08-10T22:48:00.000-04:002016-08-10T22:48:01.271-04:00The Travelling LoudshoesIt's summer, and that means that we feel compelled to get in the car and GO somewhere. Anywhere. Maybe it's because a Canadian winter means that driving is a hazardous and high-strung undertaking that we feel obligated to take to the road when we are able. Something about the possibility of dying of hypothermia makes you think twice about leaving the city in January, you know?<br />
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I love a good road trip. And living in Canada means I get lots of opportunity, since this is a big place and our motto should be "The Country Where Everything is Far From Everywhere!" We think very little of driving two hours to go to a concert or a ball game, and I know loads of people who spend a half a day in a car getting to a cottage for a weekend. People in Europe think this is crazy, because they could spend a half a day in a car and see four countries. Once, when two of my cousins and I were driving to Montreal from here, they asked me if I needed someone to read the map and navigate, and I told them it was actually pretty easy: you just got on the highway here, and stayed on it for 8 hours, and then got off in Montreal. They were boggled that it was just one road.<br />
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The Loudshoes went to Toronto this weekend, which is only a couple of hours on the road, but judging by the amount of food we brought to sustain us, you'd think we were crossing the Great Plains to claim a homestead. I'm not sure what we thought we might encounter on our trip, but we were armed with ALL kinds of snacks, just in case our blood sugar dipped dangerously low in the 60 minutes between leaving the house and making our first bathroom stop.<br />
AND, as required by law in Canada, we stopped at Tim Hortons before leaving town. Everyone knows that it is impossible to drive anywhere in Canada without a large double-double in hand. (Especially to a hockey arena.) The Mister does not drink coffee, so it's up to me to ingest all the caffeine necessary to maintain our citizenship.<br />
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The People In Charge Of Rest Stops Along The Highway have improved their game immeasurably in the past few years. When I was a kid, the food available along the 401 was incredibly awful; soggy french fries, flimsy hamburgers and a lot of greasy, beige stuff that looked like it used to be edible. Then, they sold all the franchises to McDonalds, and if it still wasn't all that great, at least it was predictable. Now they've got a couple of restaurants at each location, which give you a bit of variety, at least, and a fighting chance at getting a salad or a sandwich with ingredients that you can identify. And every one has a Tim Hortons. You think I'm kidding, but I'm not.<br />
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The People In Charge of Rest Stops Along The Highway should be commended for their Department of Bathroom Enrichment, because they have done a bang-up job. I'm pretty sure that department is staffed entirely by women, because they clearly knew what they were doing. The bathrooms are big, and clean and there are 157 toilets at every one. So many toilets. Nary a line up.With bales of toilet paper at each one. And the sinks! There's dozens of them, with <i>loads </i>of dry counter space to put your purse while you wash your hands in the adequately sized basin that does not splash water all over your shirt. My one, small, tiny little grievance is that they have these industrial hand driers that blow air <i>so hard</i> that you have to work to maintain your balance and they are LOUD. Like, you should probably be wearing ear protection, loud. And when two or three women are drying their hands at the same time, it's like being in a gymnasium with a jet engine. I'm not sure why they felt the need to install hand driers that could wake the dead, but I'm so happy with the rest of the Department of Bathroom Enrichment's work that I will give them a pass.<br />
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We drove to Toronto, went to a ball game, and the next day, did a bit of shopping, and then came home. We were gone for a little over 24 hours, and only 4 or 5 of those were actually spent in the car, but we managed to generate a small mountain of garbage. The van was a slovenly toxic waste dump on wheels by the time we pulled into our driveway. I guess all that snacking means that there's going to be <u>some</u> litter, but I'm not sure how we managed to create that metric shit-ton in such a short time. The Bottled Water Graveyard in the very back is going to take some time to excavate.<br />
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Coming home is always nice; one's own bed is delightful, and the cat was very happy to see us. Even if I do have to make my own coffee there.<br />
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<br />Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-63070023763353964482016-08-01T20:45:00.001-04:002016-08-01T20:45:43.872-04:00Party AnimalsThe Mister and I threw a party yesterday, and the both of us are really feeling it today. Not because either one of us is hung-over or anything, but because we don't entertain very often, and we aren't very good at it. I hear people all the time saying "we love to entertain", and I'm delighted, because that means I can be a guest at their house. (I am an excellent guest, just to tell you. I bring a small but tasteful gift, I am a charming conversationalist, I eat whatever is put in front of me, and if you keep pouring the wine, I will probably drink it and go home before I throw up.)<br />
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I will take a moment to comment on the phrase "throwing a party", because that's exactly as violent and as haphazard as that when I do it. Like "throwing up" and "throwing under a bus".<br />
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Maybe it's because we both work on Saturdays, and everyone else's weekend is half-way done when ours is getting started, but giving dinner parties and bar-b-ques and the like just isn't something we do very often. And because we don't do it often, it's never a slam-dunk. I always feel like I'm <u>just</u> getting away with it.<br />
<br />
I'm in a frenzy of activity before a party, trying to figure out where the food will go and how I will serve it and how many plates do I need and what kind of platter will that go on and I know I bought napkins and the towels in the bathroom need to be changed and I'm going to need a corkscrew out there and someone has to go buy ice because I forgot and now the fridge is full and I can't put any more in there and by the time my guests come, I have a strong urge to tell them where the booze is and I'll see them later as I now need a nap. It never seems to be as effortless as Martha Stewart seems to keep telling me it should be.<br />
<br />
I love my friends and family, and none of them would ever give a rat's ass about how clean my house is, or how we get everything together, and if they did, they're not my real friends anyway. But, you can live with all sorts of ridiculous things until you invite people over and then start looking around as if you were a guest. That dusty old lampshade? Hideous. The overflowing bookshelf? In need of a good cull. The clumps of cat hair on the carpet? Yuck. The bathrooom you've been meaning to paint for months? DO IT BY SATURDAY!<br />
The Mister and I agree that we really should entertain about every 4 months or so, because we get so much done around the house that we'd never do otherwise. The prospect of visitors galvanizes us like nothing else. <br />
I make up for the surroundings by feeding people really good food until they burst. And I ply them with liquor until they don't notice the dust bunnies under the dining room table.<br />
<br />
I have my Book Club Ladies over a few times a year, and they are completely amicable and gracious, and are far too well brought up to bat an eyelash at the unmatched tea cups and squeaky dining room chairs. They appear, at least, to be far too enamoured of my bread pudding with whiskey sauce to notice. I would be lying if I didn't say that I am deeply jealous of the rest of them; they seem to entertain with aplomb, with centerpieces that co-ordinate with the theme of the book and napkins that match the tablecloths, and furniture they did not get at a garage sale. AND they make desserts that would make you swoon. Clearly, I am just not as adept as they are at this.<br />
<br />
Yesterday's party was for our staff, and again, they all know me, are well acquainted with my slovenly habits, and seem to be eager to come here anyway. Again, I think its the food that's the draw. I had several requests for my foccacia (always a fave.) and for the Mister's freshly made samosas and onion bhaji. I made creme brulee cheesecake and the Mister cooked chicken wings over a firepit, and then everyone else brought salads and devilled eggs and a cheesy crab and lobster dip that was insanely delicious. Just after we started to eat, the heavens opened and we got a serious amount of rain for the next few hours, but we all crammed into the breezeway and nobody seemed to mind that we had 12 people packed into a space meant for 6.<br />
I think the fact that everyone was woozy from the food comas helped.<br />
<br />
After a lovely few hours of eating and drinking and talking, eventually our guests drifted away, all seeming to have had a good time. The Mister took care of cleaning up outside, and I poured myself a glass of wine and put on some music and found myself enjoying the best part of the day for me; the cleaning up. Not because I like cleaning, far from it, but there's something very satisfying about creating order out of chaos, and humming along to the music and just enjoying the solitude and quiet after a few hours of talking and cooking and being in charge. Then, my <i>very</i> favorite part of the day, when the Mister and I sit down with a drink and chat. (Every couple knows that the best part of <i>any</i> party is the post-party note-comparing.) Not only do I love sitting down after a busy day, and talking to the Mister, but I know the house is clean, there's plenty of leftovers in the fridge and best of all? It will be another few months until we do it all again.<br />
<br />Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-25496370490664563062016-07-27T11:12:00.000-04:002016-07-27T11:12:23.756-04:00Handy Hands<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The guy I married is just great; he is charming and funny,
kind and smart. He’s a really good father to our girls and a wonderful husband,
son and uncle. But you know why I married him? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He can DO things.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Mister can, and has: Cut and styled hair,renovated our
kitchen, built and fixed every computer in our house, as well as a couple of
other houses around here, made furniture that we actually use, built a shed ,re-sided
our garage, installed a shower in our basement, fixed the air-conditioning in
our van (saving us about $800),repaired every small appliance at the salon and
at home and my mother’s house, installed a patio and a fire pit in our backyard
(not in the same location), grown vegetables, and he can make one hell of a
homemade doughnut. He knows how to change the oil in the car, get rid of
computer viruses and strip and clean a rifle. (For the record, he cannot get
his dirty laundry in the laundry basket or watch a movie with the sound on a
reasonable volume , just in case you thought he was perfect.) </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I grew up in a house of academics, and although we were all
creative enough and happy to get our hands dirty, we were not really a family
of “do-it yourself”-ers. Not too long
after myself and the Mister were engaged, my brother and his then-wife were
living in a married students’ residence at the university, as they were both
grad students at the time. Their bar-b-q had been stolen, a really nice one, as
it had been a wedding gift, and as money was tight, they were in no position to
buy a new one. They were quite disappointed about it; they really liked having
a bar-b-q. We were all at dinner at my parents as they told this story, and as
it happened, my parents neighbours had set out an old bar-b-q of theirs for
garbage pick up the next day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Mister suggested that they ask the neighbours
what was wrong with it and see if they could fix it. My family was gobsmacked.
Fix it? You can FIX a bar-b-q? The Mister found out what the problem was,
determined the solution (it needed a new burner) and proceeded to go out, get
the part, and some bar-b-q paint (who even knew there was such a thing as
bar-b-q paint????) and with a minimum of fuss and money, gussied up that
bar-b-q so it would work again, and looked like new. We were slackjawed and
speechless with wonder and admiration. My family looked at him and looked at me
and all of a sudden were intensely invested in my marrying this man. They liked
him just fine before this, but now they could see that there was going to be an
enormous benefit in having him around, and they wanted to make sure I sealed
the deal as quickly as possible. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Mister’s latest do-it-yourself project is to make his
own kilts. He takes a length of plaid
and pleats it and hand-sews it and does all sorts of other magic on it to make
it hang properly and then he wears one to work every day. (As one of my friends
said, “what a weird mid-life crisis.”) For the record, I LOVE a man in a kilt.
Even before “ <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="outlander"></a><a href="file:///C:/Users/sophia/Documents/Blogs/Kilts.docx#outlander">Outlander</a> “ I was a big fan of kilts. I begged the
Mister to wear one for our wedding, but he refused on the grounds that his
“knees were too knobby” and that he didn’t want the focus to be on them and not
the bride. (You see how thoughtful he is? And manipulative?) I guess he has
either embraced the knobbiness of his knees or my 23 years of gentle suggestion
have worked. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And let me tell you, he makes <i>beautiful</i> kilts, perfectly pleated and meticulously sewn. I knew
that all the pleating and sewing would be a pain in the arse, but I had no idea
all the other stuff that goes into the structure of the kilt; horsehair canvas
and steeking and oh-so-subtle shaping that goes into making it hang just right.
They are a work of art. AND he looks very snazzy in them. He’s bought all the
jackets and socks and nifty bits and bobs that go with the kilts, but for the
most part, he just wears normal everyday shirts to go with them, and it really
does just look like regular workday clothes, and not a costume on him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He has about 20 kilts now, ranging from his namesake plaid
in a very heavy wool to a nifty purple and grey number that I particularly
like. A few people have asked if he’s made one for me, but I don’t really want
one; I don’t think this particular backside would be enhanced by plaid. (“Can
you make my bum look much, much bigger, please? Bigger, and <u>wider. </u>Really, like
a garage door. ,said no woman ever.) </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m pretty lucky to have snagged him in the first place, but
the handy part? Such a bonus. I’m hoping his next obsession will be to fly
planes or make shoes. You know, something I can use.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-23522193125883157072016-07-25T10:44:00.001-04:002016-07-25T10:45:27.431-04:00Ready, Set, BAKE!<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let me tell you about my new favorite obsession. It’s a show
about baking. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No, really, a reality show where people bake. They just bake
their little hearts out. It’s freaking
fabulous. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Hear me out.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
First let me explain that in Britain it’s called “The Great
British Bake-Off”, but in North America it’s “The Great British Baking Show”,
something to do with trademarks on words like “bake-off” and a certain company
has a dough boy. (“Bake off!”and “dough
boy” sound slightly nefarious when out of context, now that I think of it.)
Also, the started showing it in North American when they had already had three
seasons of it in England, so our first season is actually their fourth season.
I am feverishly trying to find the first three seasons because I love this show
so much.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why do I love it so? Partly, because it’s so beautifully and
wonderfuly British. Everyone is an
amateur baker,and so impressively polite and gently with each other. They are
all nice people who just want to do their best. American reality shows focus on
unecessary manufactured drama and interpersonal conflict, and I have no idea
why. (I work in a hair salon and am the mother of two daughters….I live that
stuff every day.) This show has
contestants that actually give each other a hand and seem genuinely delighted
for one another when they succeed. It makes me teary.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Secondly, there’s no money involved. None. Everyone is just
competing for the title of winner, if you can believe it. No one is giving
impassioned speeches about why they “deserve” to be there, or giving the side-eye
to someone else who “shouldn’t” be there because they aren’t one-legged
and blind and need to go to India to perform kidney
transplants on orphans. Its nice to see a competition that is genuine but not
cutthroat. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then there’s the food! Oh my god, the food! These people
bake the <u>most delicious</u> looking, fabulous stuff! I spend the hour
drooling and in awe. It’s not just because the “Showstopper” segment is
eye-popping (you should see what these people can do with pies!), but because I
want to make almost every single thing I see on this show. How do I make
Italian meringue! I need to make my own puff pastry! Where have custard tarts
been all my life?!? Why have I never heard of Kouign Amann??? It’s inspiring.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And lastly, I love this show, because the world in 2016 is
terrifying. For the first time in my adult life, I have chosen to turn off the
news….there is just too much heartbreaking, frightening and soul-destroying
shit going on right now. And I have absolutely no control over any of it, and
it makes me anxious and distburbed and apprehensive. This show provides one
hour in the week that is a haven from all that; everything is sweet (literally
and figuratively) and gentle and utterly civilized. Who wouldn’t like a world
where the worst thing that can happen is that you have a soggy bottom?</div>
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And I appreciate that very much. </div>
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Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-79702201473056875652016-07-21T20:26:00.001-04:002016-07-21T20:26:13.118-04:00Just Do It. (For Gods' Sake.)<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My dad’s last few years of his life were pretty unpleasant
for him, healthwise. Things had deteriorated to the point where he was pretty
much housebound and in a lot of discomfort most of the time. Now, my dad was
not exactly a health conscious kind of guy; he smoked until his 60s, he enjoyed
his beer a bit too much and he never met a pork chop he didn’t’ like. Really,
considering how appallingly he looked after himself, it’s a bit of a miracle it
took 75 years to catch up to him. But catch up with him it did. He had heart
problems and some crippling arthritis, and believe me, both of those made life very difficult for
him.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I realize that there are not insurance policies when it
comes to one’s health. You can take all the vitamins you want and run marathons regularly, but
there’s a certain amount of chance that you really just can’t avoid. (Look at
Lynda McCartney….the woman grew her own organic vegetables for goodness sake,
and she still died from breast cancer. I
mean, if she can’t avoid it, who can? Why not throw your hands up and
have the cheeseburger? With bacon?) </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But clearly, there’s a few things you do have some control
over, and I am willing to concede that diet and exercise are two of them;
nobody’s life is better when they are carrying an extra 50 pounds on them. I
hate to admit it, because I am very predisposed to eating cheesecake for
breakfast and staying in bed and reading all day. The worst part of my day is
spent at the gym. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After my dad died, I figured I have likely another 30 years
on this earth, and I could spend them like him, or like my mum, who is 81,
walks without aid, is sharp as a tack and doesn’t even take naps. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, I went back to Weight Watchers and I called the gym to
book a personal trainer for a few sessions. Before this, technically, I <i>went</i> to the gym two or three times a
week, but I think to say I “worked out” would be generous…..I watched tv while
I strolled on the treadmill and halfheartedly flung the machines around on the
lowest weight settings, but that’s about it. Better than nothing, but only a
tiny bit better than nothing. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Weight Watchers and I are old friends, we stay in touch and
occasionally have a coffee and catch up, but we haven’t had much of a real
conversation in the last few years. I decided to go back to the meetings, and
you know<u>, actually do what they told me to to do</u>. Its amazing what can
happen when you start paying attention to what you are putting in your mouth. A
revelation, I know. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I went to the gym and had a guy named Travis (why are all
personal trainers named Travis? Or Britney?) give me some guidance and firm but
gentle encouragement (“Yes, you have to do this every time. No, I’m not
kidding. Yes, three times a week. No, I’m not kidding about that either.
Listen, nobody’s making you do this. Here’s a Kleenex, please stop crying.”) Travis
gave me some concrete goals to work towards and made me come back to him every
so often to see how I was doing. And as someone who places far too much value
on other people’s opinions, I have to say, this really worked for me. ( I
cannot tell you how much I loathe the usual approach to “motivation” that the
fitness industry usually employs. When someone, anyone, but especially someone
dressed in spandex yells “FASTER” at me so close that I can feel their
kale-breath on my neck, my inclination is to lie down in the fetal position and
pretend to be dead until they go away. It’s the same think I would do if
approached by a grizzly bear, FYI.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And guess what? The clothes fit a bit better. My knees don't hurt anymore. I sleep better. I have more energy at work. All the things they told me <i>would</i> happen if I lost 20 pounds. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still don’t love the gym, and I really do want that third
piece of pizza, but its also clear to me
that there is a bigger payoff here, and I can choose it or not. (And as Big
Liver Girl says, life is all about choices.) </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, every now and again, I still get to lay in bed eating
cheesecake. I am, after all, my father’s daughter. </div>
Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-56158774992384259192016-07-17T16:44:00.001-04:002016-07-17T16:44:17.773-04:00Hello KittyWe used to have a long, orange tabby cat named Toby, who I wrote about quite a bit on this blog. When we had Toby, we thought he was a perfectly normal cat, if somewhat demanding and noisy. When we had to put Toby put to sleep because of a large and ominous tumor, (a sad day) we realized what a fascist despot we had been putting up with all this time.<br />
<br />
He wanted your attention NOW, he had to go outside IMMEDIATELY, he had an all consuming addiction to tuna that must be satisfied AT THIS VERY MOMENT' ......all frigging day, every day. Toby also had a terrible fondness for getting all up in one's business, with little or no regard for personal space....if he wanted to love you while you were trying to read a book then TOO BAD FOR YOU, YOU ARE GETTING LOVE!! I imagine if Sadaam Hussein was a cat, this is how he would have behaved.<br />
<br />
When Toby went, the girls wanted to get another cat right away, but I resisted, partly because I felt it wouldn't be fair to the next cat (you'd want the new cat to "take over" from the old cat.) but mostly because I wanted to enjoy the sensation of a clean house without anyone horking up fur balls all over the carpet for just a few weeks.<br />
<br />
After the girls wore me down, we went to the local pet store that has cats from a shelter and found a sweet tortoise shell female with the most beautiful green eyes, and we took her home. We renamed her Luna, and its like she was always here.<br />
<br />
We could not have found a more different cat than Toby...for one thing, Toby was a long, thin guy, prone to stretching himself out so long on a hot day that I thought he might never go back together again. (somewhat akin to putting toothpaste back in the tube.) Luna is, to put it politely, a sturdy girl. The first time I went to pick her up I was disconcerted by the fact that my hands did not meet around her generous belly. (I thought that might have been a result of having lived in a cage for a while and not getting much exercise, but no, she's that fat all the time.)<br />
She also has proved to just be considerably more easy-going. When Toby came to live with us, he ran out of the carrier and under a bed and stayed there, more or less, for three days. Luna walked out of the carrier, looked around approvingly and decided "I live her now".<br />
<br />
Toby was LOUD. So loud. He walked around the house meowing and yowling in the most despairing manner, like he thought he was the last living soul on earth and begging for the sweet release of death. Five a.m. was his preferred opportunity for this, and he did it regularly. Luna only meows loudly when one of us is outside. (We cant' figure out if she wants to come out and join us or if she desperately want us to come in) She has a little, almost silent squeak of a meow, and she hardly ever does it, except for when one of us is holding her and declaring our love for her while she struggles to break free.<br />
<br />
Luna has tragically short legs, like, so short she cannot jump up on counters or tables.This means she generally minds her own business. Toby HAD to investigate everything, even if it had nothing to do with him. And really, <i>everything</i> had nothing to do with him.<br />
<br />
The biggest difference between the two cats is their philosophical stance on tuna. Whereas Luna sees it as an occasional and welcome treat that one eats until one has had enough, Toby approached it like a meth addict embarking on a week-long bender. He started urging me out of bed when the birds started singing, usually around 4 a.m, and did not stop hounding me until I got out of the shower and fed him the tuna. And even if I gave him his drug before I got in the shower, that did NOT mean I could get away without giving him <u>more</u> when I did get out of the shower. When he was done eating he would sniff around that dish with a singular determination, just in case there was more tuna he had missed, and then, if you could believe it, he'd come over while I was eating breakfast and demand more! The cheek of him! Once I thought I'd try an experiment; I had read that unlike dogs, cats will only eat until they are full and then walk away, so I figured I'd see if that was true...Really, would a cat eat tuna until he threw up, and if so, how much? The answer is yes, and about a quarter of a cup.<br />
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Luna is much more civilized on so many fronts, if a little less entertaining. But she is lower maintenance, too, so I'm ok with that.Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-24398742285292364042016-07-17T13:17:00.004-04:002016-07-17T13:21:32.805-04:00The Blog, She is BackI had a number of people ask me about the blog recently, which surprised me mightily because I had no idea anyone actually read this thing.<br />
<div>
My good friend, Sue the Librarian said "I really enjoyed your blog, you should start writing again", and as someone who thrives on other people's approval, I have to tell you, that really worked for me. </div>
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So, I'm back at it.</div>
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By the way, I have no idea why, but the blog host seems to have erased all the photos from my previous posts, so some of my more hilarious entries are less so now. First world problems.<br />
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We've had a number of changes in the Loudshoes household since I last wrote here. Most notably, my smart, funny and much loved father died last year, and we are all still getting used to our new normal. I still can't write or talk about it yet. He died of heart failure at the age of 80, so, quietly and peacefully, and for that I am very grateful.</div>
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Our lovely cat, Toby, who I wrote about so much on this blog, also passed away a few years ago. We have a new cat, Luna, who is a very different character than Toby. (i.e.She is not have the personality of a toddler on crack.) </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Both Thing 1 and Thing 2 are still around....Thing 1 just finished her third year of university here in town, and Thing 2 will be starting there in the fall. They are still the funniest, smartest and coolest people I know. They both work at the same restaurant they've worked at for years, and it has given them the best incentive to go to school I think they could ever have. ("Do you want to answer questions like 'Do you have any gluten-free eggs?' for the rest of your life? Then go write that essay"|) </div>
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And the Mister and I are as together as ever; we are coming up on our 24th wedding anniversary in a few months. We have come up with a no-fail formula for success in our marriage: never wake the Mrs. from a nap, and when in doubt, the fullest beer is always his. </div>
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We both still work at the hair salon, but "work" is a relative word....I think we have a nice life for people who don't work very hard. I like my job a lot, and even though it doesn't pay much, I'm pretty lucky to talk to exceptional people all day and come and go as I please. Also,I like my boss a LOT, too, so there's that. </div>
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There you go, all up to date. </div>
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Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-17023861906378445542013-05-06T16:08:00.001-04:002013-05-06T16:08:28.762-04:00Amazing Race 22: FinaleWell, I can't say that that was the most nail-biting of finishes, but at least Max and Katie didn't win. I liked the Hockey Players all along, so I'm very happy that they won. It was nice to see guys who are clearly competitive not see that as an excuse to be assholes. And Bates was very cute when he took of his hat to meet the President. <br />
<br />
OF COURSE bog-snokelling was concocted over a pint of Guinness! How else would anyone come up with something like that? You put a bunch of drunken Irishmen together in a room and, guaranteed, someone will come up with some of the stupidest AND most brilliant ideas ever known to man. Unfortunately, the stupid ones are the ones everyone rushes out to actually do, alchol and testosterone being a potent mix. <br />
<br />
I couldn't figure out what was so panic-inducing about that bog snorkelling, but clearly, it gave certain people a major case of the collywobbles. Personally, I can't think of anything I would <em>less</em> like to do than to cannonball into a cold, muddy pond of bog water. I give Katie props, though, she's a snotty bag of smug, but she did that task without much complaint. All she said was "this was not part of the honeymoon plans", which I can't hold against her. Aren't you glad we didn't have to watch Wynona do that task? Just getting into the wet suit would have been a nightmare. <br />
<br />
I'm certainly glad Max and Katie are married to each other, because that means they won't inflict themselves on anyone else while they are. Katie calling Max and idiot during the spy task, when he wasn't really doing anything objectionable, does not bode well for their relationship. And I wanted to smack Max in his smug little face when he was needling the Roller Derby moms about how they felt when they realized they were behind everyone else when they landed in Scotland. He reminds me of that kid everyone hated in Grade 7 who teased people mercilessly about their weakest points, but hated it when someone pointed out that he was short. And I'll bet there are lots of Republicans this morning saying "dude, we've got enough of a PR problem, shut up!"<br />
<br />
The Country Singers were never the greatest racers, but I did like their dynamic, and the fact that they really seemed to be enjoying themselves. I especially liked they way they dealt with each other when things got tough; they never took their frustrations out on each other. If Max had crawled up on the grassy bank during the bog snorkelling and said he couldn't finish, Katie would have stomped on his hands and kicked him back in, while telling him how stupid he was.<br />
<br />
I'm sad that no one knows what colour "chartruse" is. <br />
<br />
How disgusting was that food by the time it got to the table? I hope no one was expected to actually eat it, because that Cream of Barley soup was probably a yuccky mess when it was hot, let alone when it was a cold bowl of glop. Why did the tent have to be so far from the prep area anyway? Other than to make everyone run a mile between the two points. <br />
<br />
Favorite Line of the Night: Bates: "The hardest part of that was getting your junk into that wetsuit". <br />
<br />
Why did Conor and Dave get so much time at the Finish Line to tell us <em>yet again</em> about Dave's injury?<br />
<br />
The Amazing Race Canada starts on July 15th. My friend, Big Liver Girl and I applied, but we didnt' get selected. Part of me is sad that the Race is going on somewhere without me, but on the other hand, I'm enjoying a glass of wine in my breezeway, rather than cannonballing into a bog somewhere, so there's that. <br />
<br />
Until July!Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-59155148950742329892013-04-29T15:55:00.001-04:002013-04-29T15:55:11.276-04:00Amazing Race, Episode 10<br />
Is it just me or is this season a little, um......boring? Not boring, exactly, but not terrribly interesting. The locales are spectacular, no doubt about it, in that vein, this is one of the best seasons ever, but maybe it's the teams or the tasks, but I'm finding myself not terribly invested in this season. Maybe it's the fact that even Max and Katie cannot seem to muster up enough enthusiasm for being the dastardly villans they promised they would be at the beginning of this thing.<br />
<br />
Not much of an opportunity to change things up this leg; with the Double-U-Turn (a W-Turn!) really meaning that the last two teams would<em> still</em> be the last two teams. Also, Mona and Beth kick ass, so Meghan and Joey were a forgone conclusion to be out. Seriously, they handled a Double U-Turn, AND a Speed Bump and still managed to stay in the game. I give them props, those ladies are tough. <br />
<br />
I would enjoy a U-Turn so much more if it wasn't telegraphed from the PitStart....if it came as a surprise, and the whole alliance didn't get together to decide how to use it beforehand, it would make for a much more interesting game. Also, if we could get rid of it altogether, that would be ok too.<br />
<br />
Joey seemed to me to be all kinds of likeable when he expressed himself like a normal, genuine human being, rather than a Disney side-kick. That squealing and flailing of hands got on my last nerve.....he reminded me way too much of my kids' sleepover parties, where someone was making that noise every minute of the night, and I only got through it by drinking wine and wearing earphones. <br />
However, he handled the stress of this race better than almost anyone else I've ever seen; we never saw him be anything other than supportive and patient with Meghan, even when she was the reason they were flagging, and he enjoyed himself every step of the way. I prefer that to Max and Katie's smug faces any day.<br />
<br />
Speaking of Katie, I can't figure out if she's completely without a human emotion, or just tired. Girl has some bitchin' hair, though. <br />
<br />
I've eaten haggis before, it's really not that bad. As long as you don't think too hard about what, exactly, you are eating.Like most sausage, really. A couple of mouthfuls of it would be okay, especiallly if you were cold and hungry. I kept thinking of that Mike Myers movie where he said "I think all Scottish food is based on a dare."<br />
<br />
The whisky rolling teams should have at least got a shot of whiskey at the end. <br />
<br />
Appropos of nothing, but my friend Sandy's daughter, Meredith, looked JUST like the Scottish whiskey-counting clue giver.<br />
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Favorite Line of the Night: From one Country Singer: "I met my husband today in Scotland. His name is Jim. He's 70."<br />
<br />
The Robbie Burns impersonator was having the time of his life, wasn't he? Who knew that gig would be so much fun?<br />
<br />
Was I the only one who thought the greeter was the Phantom of the Opera? <br />
<br />
Two hour finale next week! I just hope Max and Katie don't win!<br />
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<br />Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-57936477297615393432013-04-22T15:25:00.000-04:002013-04-22T15:25:54.990-04:00Amazing Race 22, Episode 9I'm happy enough that this was a Non-Elimination Leg, because I like both teams that were in last place. The Roller Derby Moms are pretty low-drama, and they certainly don't seem to freak out very easily.<br />
I like Bates and Anthony, only because, again, they seem pretty low drama, and they also don't like Max, which is A-Okay by me. Bates certainly didn't seem too put out at having his knapsack gone. <br />
<br />
Are Max and Katie having any fun at all? Because, judging from her reaction on the Amazing Bathmat to coming in first and having won a car, she'd rather be having a root canal. Seriously, I've been way more excited than that when I find out there's going to be cupcakes. And Max has more than once remarked that normally he and Katie "wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this", instead of "excellent! I'd never get to see something like this anywhere else!" As much as Joey bugs the ever-livin' snot out of me, he gets big props from me for enjoying every single bit of this experience. But now that I know that Max likes Rush Limbaugh,all I care about is that Max doesn't win.<br />
<br />
I think the worst part about that dive off the building would be the few seconds you'd be suspended off the platform, waiting for them to drop you off. Because that? would be awful. I'm with Tall Country Singer, I'm no adrenaline junkie. <br />
<br />
Also, what was with Max pointing a finger at Katie and barking "Don't be uncomfortable!"? That seems a little harsh, don't you think? Can't she be uncomfortable while hauling a large, unwieldy neon letter if she likes?<br />
<br />
I'm a little unclear, but was that the Hot Dog Vendor that we saw as the Greeter? I noticed there was no "Willkommen to Berlin!"<br />
<br />
I did a lot of my university degree studying the Cold War and European and American history, and I understand that not everyone might have my knowledge of that era, but come ON, somebody thought that Ronald Reagan wanted to tear down the Great Wall of China? Or that Roosevelt was around when the Berlin Wall was built? There's no excuse for cultural ignorance. I'm looking at you Joey, who struggled with all that stuff, but probably knows Britney Spears kids names and every Kardashians' birthday.<br />
<br />
Favorite Line of the Night: "I thought you were the cat police". Germany certainly is giving Japan a run for its money in the Strange Shit Olymics. <br />
<br />
That maze is exactly what I imagine the inside of Charlie Sheen's brain to be like. <br />
I am so very, very glad that we did not have to see Wynona slog through that place. Can you imagine?? The whining. <em>The whining</em>. <br />
<br />
Oh, Mister German Train Conductor, I think I love you the most. Did you see his face when Joey screeched? <br />
<br />
Doesn't is seem like another Race altogether when Conor and Dave were on this thing?<br />
<br />
Next week: BAGPIPES! People have to play bagpipes! All I can think of is that episode of "Friends" where Ross decides play the bagpipes at Chandler and Monica's wedding!<br />
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Until next week!<br />
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<br />Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-38708238106569167912013-04-15T13:00:00.001-04:002013-04-15T13:00:32.606-04:00Amazing Race 22, Episode 8For crying out loud, I was seriously afraid that Wynona and Chuck (and us!) were not going to be put out of their collective misery just yet. Sweet Jesus but that woman can whine. <br />
Chuck certainly didn't show himself in a particuarly good light this episode, but he gets a pass from me for literally dragging that woman's ass over three continents, including pushing her up a mountain with his head. <br />
I think the thing that really got to me about this episode with Wynona is that, she never seemed to gain any confidence or think herself more capable, no matter what new experiences she had, or what she accomplished. It was like she was back at Day 1 every freaking time. And she never seemed to enjoy anything, at all, anywhere, she just focused on Chuck and his reaction to her. <br />
<br />
I truly missed the laughing Swiss locals at the cheese challenge. Last time, one of the highlights of that event was the small crowd of indigenous people herniating themselves at a bunch of Americans skittering down a steep slope, followed by some rampaging cheese. Maybe the cold and snow kept them inside, laughing about the last time some inept Americans tried to wrangle some cheese.<br />
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There wasn't much chance for anyone to switch up the order on this leg....between the tasks, the trains and only having one rope to haul yourself up the mountain, the only way anyone would get ahead or behind was by getting lost. Which is what Joey and Meghan do best.<br />
<br />
Speaking of Joey and Meghan, I actually liked Joey at the mat when he was conducting himself like a real, live boy, instead of a caffeine and sugar addled three-year old. He was really nice to Meghan when she was so upset. (I can tell you from bitter experience, that altitude stuff will kick. your. ass. It's like breathing with one lung, through a straw. I really felt for her.) <br />
Too bad that Joey doesn't come out more often. When he was screeching like a banshee on that mountain, I was hoping it might trigger an avalanche. On the other hand, he really is having a blast on this thing. Hard to fault him to much. <br />
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I really felt for those dogs who did not want to get on the train. They reminded me of Wynona, except they didn't volunteer for this.<br />
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Katie really does have spectacular hair. <br />
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I want a sleddy little bicycle like that guy had! Of course, I live in a pretty flat place, albiet with snow, and I wonder how good that thing is for going home, but it still looked pretty nifty.<br />
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Every time I saw that guy with the Swiss horn I sang "Riiiiicola!" in my head. <br />
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Favorite lines of the night: Max: "this is a perfect time for a cow crossing", and Chuck " "I can't push both sleds and your ass." <br />
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As much as I like Bates and Anthony, it seems like a forgone conclusion that they're going to win this thing. A bit of a snooze, but what can you expect when they cast an alpha-male team? <br />
I suspect that the Roller Derby moms will be in the final three as well. They don't get much air-time, those two, but they're good racers with very little drama. <br />
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Until next week!<br />
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Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-6797206508108687312013-04-01T12:49:00.001-04:002013-04-01T12:49:16.324-04:00Amazing Race 22, Episode 7<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Man, it seemed like we would be getting rid of one of the two teams I dislike the most, and <em>neither one </em>of them goes! How fair is that?</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I figured when Pam and Winnie started up with the whole "we have to be smart" stuff that they were doomed. That seems to be the kiss of death for most teams. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Chuck and Wynona have proved themselves to be a pretty good team, once she actually started to participate in this thing. I wish she would stop with the whining, though....she approaches every task with self-doubting moan, ("I'm nervous as hell!") and then does it just fine. They fall behind when physical speed is the important thing, but they excel at anything that involves putting your head down and plodding through. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was suprised that Wynona didn't know that the "groundhog" was a "meerkat"....didn't she watch the "Lion King" with Chuck? How come she didn't recognize Timon?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Watching Joey for 5 minutes makes me feel like I've had too much caffeine. Maybe if he had stopped playing the eejit, as my dad would say, long enough to actually pay attention to the directions, they might not have gotten so lost. Meghan seems competent enough, and she certainly gets the job done, but she has my undying respect for spending this much time with him and not kicking him in the misters. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Oh, dear, that old metric system is a harsh mistress, no? Kilometers per hour and miles per hour are two very, very different things. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Yet again, we see that flirting is not a reliable plan of action. Has it ever? (I guess it has; Caroline said she's talked her way out of tickets before. Just not in Botswana.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I did like the Boss Policeman chirping "have a nice day!" as they drove off with their ticket. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Man, Max was having a bad day, wasn't he? I was actually feeling a bit sorry for him when he hit that pole and then put on the windsheild wipers. I've been there. And then I remember what a tool he's been. Not as big a tool as his wife, however. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I love that Katie is "big hair, big brains" and then berates him when HE can't find the car. Man, she's a shrew. Even when her new husband is having the worst day of his life, she still can't help but correct his grammar. On national televsion. While she does nothing to help. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Maybe the Powers That Be thought that there would be more competition for that Fast Forward, but who else would go for it but the first team there? It does nothing to the outcome of the leg when the first team off the PitStart is a half an hour ahead of the next team out. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Also, I'm pretty sure that the crocodiles they showed were nowhere near the Hockey Players during that water skiing run, other than the one on the shore when they were done. I doubt they'd run the risk of having Racers actually being eaten by crocodiles. Perhaps they flooded that river with Valium or something, just to be sure. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was worried that all those cute baby goats would be crocodile snacks if the Racers tipped those canoes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">By the way, canoeing <em>is hard</em>. The bit of canoeing I've done showed me how difficult it is to keep it going in the direction you want, while also not smacking your companion in the back of the head with your paddle. By accident, of course. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">This was a great episode....baby goats! crocodiles! DONKEYS! Donkeys are like India on this thing, they ususally make someone lose their shit altogther. I'm not sure what the Racers thought that bonking the donkey's noses with the carrots was going to do, but it certainly did not movitate those donkeys one bit. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Favorite Line of the Night: when Chuck said "spread your legs and run your hands up and down the pole". Because I am twelve. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br />Its the "Country Music Awards" next week, so we have to wait two weeks for the next leg. And, big surprise, Wynona grumbles across another continent!<br />
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Until two weeks!<br />
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Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-78138273671646963822013-03-25T16:04:00.002-04:002013-03-25T16:04:56.532-04:00Amazing Race 22, Episode 6I figured this would be a Non-Elimination Leg when the PitStop was out in the middle of nowhere. Its almost always a Non-Elimination Leg when the last team in would have to stick around with everyone else, for god knows how long, after they're out. <br />
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Max and Katie are tiresome, but I knew that from the first time I saw them. My mother always told me that telling people you are "smart" is sort of like telling people you are "classy": if you have to tell them, then you're not. <br />
I'd say they are keeping Katie's intelligence well under wraps, because their performance so far would certainly not alert anyone to it. Besides, superior intelligence has never seemed to me to be a huge advantage in this thing; I mean, the twin DOCTOR brothers on this went out in Leg 2 because they couldnt' swim, not because they couldn't quote the Periodic Table off the tops of their heads. <br />
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Good LORD but Joey is annoying! At first I was rolling my eyes at Katie's snotting about "we'd be enjoying this incredible, amazing, glorious plane ride over Africa if we were sharing it with anyone other than Meghan and Joey", but then I realized what sharing a plane with Joey would entail, and I actually felt a bit sorry for her. No doubt it was hard to focus on the scenery and the experience with Joey's helium voice squeaking and shrieking in an enclosed space. <br />
I really,<em> really</em> hoped he was going to actually mess his pants, while channelling Jerry Lewis. I so wanted to see what the Kalahari bushmen made of <u>that</u>. He's such an attention whore, though, that I expect he makes the same sort of fuss if they use whole milk in his latte. <br />
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One of the best parts of the episode for me was when Joey was beating his narrow, pale chest and declaring himself the "Scorpion Hunting King", while the bushmen in the back were saying "he was really scared, huh?" <br />
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Making a fire out of nothing but sticks and animal droppings is incredibly difficult for people who are used to running water and real walls...I'm surprised anyone went for it. Have you ever watched "Survivor"? That show is practically <strong><em>all about </em></strong>making fire. I said I'd only go on "Survivor" after I've figured out how to start a fire with some damp sand and my own urine. I did like that Pam and Winnie said they were prepared for this race because "we watch a lot of TV." Maybe they watch "Survivor". <br />
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I hope for Wynona's sake that there are 5 more Roadblocks involving "Digging Shit Up", because so far, she can do that. Of course, her first reaction was "there's NO WAY I can do THAT", but she did. Wynona's constant whining about being old and slow and incapable is now just noise in the background to me. <br />
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Chuck is becoming more and more endearing to me....I love when people's actual life skills come into play on this thing. Build a trap? No problem, says Chuck, that was practially my day job in high school. Who else can say that? Certainly not Max, who seemed to think that maybe because he is a cigar salesman, he would be good at making fire, all the while dressed like he's off to pick up his new iPhone. <br />
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Did anyone ever say WHY they were hunting scorpions? Why anyone <u>ever</u> hunted scorpions? More importantly, who was the dude who said, you know, maybe if I put this scorpion <strong>in my mouth</strong>, something cool will happen? <br />
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And seriously, Katie? You complained about the smell? Really? <em>What the hell is wrong with you? </em><br />
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Next week: Donkeys! Every episode is better with donkeys! <br />
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Until next week. <br />
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Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-17744580923774694302013-03-18T14:09:00.001-04:002013-04-01T12:49:32.370-04:00Amazing Race 22, Episode 5Man, they really hated John, didn't they? They don't have the "Sleep, Eat, Mingle" time for teams after the PitStop anymore, so even with the small bit of John they got in airports and the like, everyone still figured out what an ass he was.<br />
<br />
It's too bad Connor and Dave had to bow out, but they were living on borrowed time anyway, and besides, they went out having kicked some major ass, and on crutches, too. I'll bet they get the first call for the next All-Stars season. <br />
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One thing I am liking with Dave and Connor gone is that there is no one who is a shoe-in to win this thing now; anyone could win. Except Chuck and Wynona. They're not going to win.<br />
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I don't think I've ever seen a racer having a lousier time on this than Wynona. I get that she probably said she'd do it because Chuck wanted her to, and she also probably never thought she'd have to <em>actually</em> go, but here's the thing: she IS on the race, she<em> does</em> have the chance of a lifetime, and the only choice she has now is her attitude. Seriously, why couldn't she have done the Roadblock with the nice, 70's style, Socialist Propaganda Singers? Come on....she said she was afraid she couldn't run, but really? That "run" was only about 20 yards. <br />
I think her strategy was to make Chuck do all the Roadblocks until they were eliminated, which she was hoping would be about Leg 2. She was looking forward to a nice hotel in Sequesterville with a swim-up bar and some mozzarella sticks. <br />
<br />
And speaking of Socialist Propaganda Singers, (band name!), I have to admire anyone who can work the phrase "socialism is beautiful" into a song. Just try finding a rhyme with "socialism".<br />
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Pam and Winnie rocked this leg, I was impressed. Of course, I'm less impressed with them now that they like Max and Katie, but whatever. They did make fun of Max's tan at one point, so they still get some points from me. And Max and Katie are far less annoying now that they don't have time to put so much energy into twirling mustaches and tying young women to railroad tracks. <br />
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Why did the Blonds wander around whining "we don't know what we're doing"? Didn't they have a clue they could go back and read? I did like the Vietnamese version of Wizard Chess, that was very cool. I wonder if anyone actually plays chess like that.<br />
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Joey, and les so, Meghan, are tiresome, aren't they? They were very offended that everyone was making fun of John, who, lets face it, did one of the most boneheaded moves ever on this thing. Did they expect everyone to commiserate and sympathize with the guy? <br />
Joey seems okay when he's not got his Gay Cheerleader persona on, but when he does that cartoon character voice and says things like "RAISE THE ROOF!!", and dials his mania up to 30, I just want to slap him. I understand that Meghan was pissed about being U-Turned, but then she did it to someone else, so I think she can let the "ball of righteousness" go. And those stupid headbands and wacky legwarmers piss me right off, too. <br />
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Two momentst that were outstanding for me last night: The Vietnamese ladies at the market watching the "Westerners" staggering around with chickens, and laughing at them all buying the same stuff. And Chuck hugging the Vietnamese guy and yelling "mucho gracias!"<br />
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And now I want a big bowl of pho. <br />
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Until next week!<br />
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<br />Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-65803135930380952792013-03-11T20:08:00.002-04:002013-04-01T12:49:42.127-04:00Amazing Race 22, Episode 4This is late because I was away all day at a hair class out of town. I'm exhausted, and I was travelling ONE DAY, by CAR, in my own part of my own country. I can't imagine how tired those Racers must be. <br />
<br />
I did not see that elimination coming, like, at all. That? Was a great big steaming pile of awesome. I really thought John and Jessica were going to be in this for the long haul, especially with that Express Pass in their back pockets. I think I can be forgiven for not seeing them getting eliminated<em> with the Express Pass in their back pockets.</em> <br />
I noticed at the PitStop, John's babbling justification about how it was all okay was all about him....I don't need the money, I like the way I played, I wouldn't change a thing. Douchebag. <br />
<br />
She did a good job of keeping her shit together on that mat, because I'd have melted down into a great big puddle of fury and possibly strangled him with my bare hands in front of the cameras. <br />
He has "zero regrets"? To quote Phil, "REALLY?"<br />
<br />
Phil was golden tonight...from his indignant "you cannot look at the surfboards" (I mean, the <em>very idea! </em>) to his WTF look at John's "I don't need a million dollars", to that succinct "Oy vey" at the end. I was laughing so hard at all of that I had to rewind it a couple of times to enjoy it properly. (Also, he seemed kind of hurt when the Country Singers had no idea who was on that surfboard. Like, he took it personally.) <br />
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After Dave and Connor came in first, again, and on crutches, too, I don't think anyone with a shred of self-respect could ever quit this thing after them. <br />
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What does Mona mean "There's no <em class="bbc">crying</em> in The Amazing Race!" ???? There's plenty of crying in the Amazing Race! That's one of the things I love about it! I really did sympathize with that one Country Singer when she said "can I just cry for a minute?" because I totally get what that's like. <br />
Seriously, I've learned that it's my psyche's way of dealing with stress, and after a good cry, I'm pretty much all set to go again. I'd be bawling my way all over God's green earth if I was ever in this thing. <br />
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I think that random Indonesian guy is still scratching his head over the day the two loud Americans came into his yard, messed up all his business, put a mint in his little grass basket, stole his sarong and then left as suddenly as they came. <br />
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Chuck's galloping all over that island, under rocks and into tunnels and through waves, was one of the highlights of this lef for me....that guy really puts his back into it, doesn't he? He had no idea where the hell he was going, but by God, he was going to get there or die trying. <br />
<br />
I have to say, this season has some of the most noteworthy hair I've ever seen on this thing, and it's all from the men. Connor and Dave have some pretty lively hair, and John's spikey mop top was impressive, and I wish Anthony (or Bates, I have no idea who is who) has a horrible greasy, comb-over thing going on would get a haircut, because it's distracting, and Chuck, <strong>Chuck</strong>'s hair is in a class all its own, not the least because it defies all natural laws.....did you see him on the Amazing Bathmat? His hair looked exactly the same as when he started this thing, like, it didn't even get wet or sweaty or anything. <br />
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Until next week!Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-59810875009480479512013-03-10T14:21:00.001-04:002013-03-10T14:21:09.042-04:00Big Mistake.On Saturdays, I don't really plan a dinner....usually everyone fends for themselves. Leftovers, scrambled eggs, something in the freezer, they all will do for "Suit Yourself Saturday". <br />
Last night, as I was pulling out the frying pan to make Sweet and Sour Tofu and Broccoli, Thing 2 was wondering what to have and whining about having to do it. (For the record, I offered to make her some Sweet and Sour Tofu, but she reacted like I'd offered her some Ebola virus for dinner.) I really didn't feel like making dinner myself, and half-jokingly said "why don't we go out to eat?" Thing 1 was working, the restaurant is just up the road, and Thing 2 has a rather alarming addiction to their Chicken Fingers and Fries, so once it was out of my mouth, I knew I'd have to follow up.<br />
We put on some pants, (we were in our pajamas already. At 6 pm. Don't judge.) grabbed our purses and got in the car. We even got a parking spot right by the door. (This becomes relevant later.) <br />
<br />
Thing 1 was delighted to see us. ("Oh, good", she said when she was us seated in her section, "I'm kind of busy and I can ignore you for a while.") She did eventually take our orders and serve us our food, all the while treating us with a minimum of courtesy, which was a pleasant break for her. <br />
<br />
Thing 2 had her chicken fingers and fries, with a salad, and I opted for the Chicken Souvlaki with rice and Greek Salad. (I'm sure you will agree, a way better dinner than Sweet and Sour Tofu.) <br />
Thing 1 offered Thing 2 some jello that had been "left out for a while, no one knows how long", and which was going to be thrown out so she could have it for free. The only thing Thing 2 likes better than chicken fingers and fries is free jello. <br />
<br />
We enjoyed our dinner very much, and as we were leaving, we were talking and congratulating ourselves on having the good sense to abandon our previous plans and go out for dinner. The two of us walked towards our grey Chevy van, and hopped in.<br />
<br />
As I went to put my purse in it's usual spot between the seats, I noticed that the junk-filled console that usually sits there was not there.....and when I looked behind me to see if it had somehow slid back towards the rear seat, it wasn't there either. And there was some paper I didn't recognize on the floor.....and a pink, sparkly article of clothing I'd never seen before......and how come the seats were down in the middle of the van?? As all this is running through my head, Thing 2 is still yaking away about our superior intelligence, when I blurt out "Wait a minute, <em>is this our van</em>?" Thing 2 looks at me like I've just started speaking Cantonese, and then looks around herself for a beat or two and then looks at me in horror and yells "NO!". <br />
<br />
We sprung out of that van like it was on it's way to hell, and realized that OUR van was right beside this one, which was<strong><em> identical</em></strong> to ours. You never saw two women run so fast as the two of us, we jumped in that van like it was an Olympic event, and hightailed it out of that parking lot before anyone came out of the restaurant to accuse us of attempted theft and possible possession of illegal van. <br />
<br />
After we stopped laughing long enough to form coherent sentances, Thing 2 said that she'd have figured it out sooner or later, "that other van smelled wrong". Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-79321835572633953822013-03-04T13:39:00.001-05:002013-04-01T12:49:53.962-04:00Amazing Race 22, Episode 3By my reckoning, those people started out at the PitStart the morning of Day 1, and didn't get to start on the tasks until the morning of Day 3. That? Has got to take a round out of you. Waiting in airports for days, and then having to wait another night before you get to the thing, while you're jumping out of your skin with anticipation, would be unpleasant. At least it game Dad on Crutches a bit of time to rest.<br />
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In all 22 seasons of this thing, I have <em>never </em>seen <u>one</u> "alliance" that made the difference between anyone winning and not. (Or "flirting", either.) It's not Survivor....targeting another team for elimination seems to make everyone <u>feel</u> like they are super-savvy players, but not much else. The U-Turn is the only way I've ever seen someone "targeted", and that's not usually used strategically, but rather to satisfy someone's adolescent dream of nailing it to a team then don't like. <br />
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Man, I freaking LOVE New Zealanders! First, the Zorb and now the shemozzle! Those guys could out-crazy even the Japanese, I think. I really, really hope that if I ever get to New Zealand, I am invited to cover myself in molasses and feathers, and slide into a pool of manure while holding some eggs, accompanied by a dog named Tim. <br />
By the way, what was the point of the dog during that? I wonder if this is going to come up in the final leg. <br />
<br />
I just knew Katie would be a supportive, kindly and encouraging partner. To be fair, Max didn't seem to be tempted to punch her in the throat at all. Maybe "you suck at this" works better for him than it would for me. Of course, I do enjoy that they are drifting along at the back of the pack, all the while reminding us of how awesome they are. <br />
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Please tell me that when Team Mullet went to Niagara Falls, they <u>actually</u> crossed the border into Canada, and didn't figure that staring across the river was close enough to being "out of the country".<br />
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I laughed out loud when the Master Fisherman commented on Dave still wearing his helmet while fishing. "They don't usually jump up out of the river at you."<br />
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I have to hand it to Dave, he is <strong><em>fast</em></strong> on those crutches. I think they are probably out very soon, but he gets huge props from me for even <u>finishing</u> another leg of the race, let alone coming in first. The last time I was on crutches, I had blisters on my hands and very sore armpits, and needed enormous quantities of chocolate to get through the day. <br />
<br />
Really, it's rather remarkable that it's taken 22 seasons for someone to get majorly hurt during this, if you think about it. Considering all the jumping off things and running on docks and mountains and riding bikes in costumes and<em> bungee-jumping in a straight-jacket</em>, and such, it's a wonder there hasn't been more racers injured badly enough to have to quit. <br />
<br />
I like the Hockey Players, although I wish they would hustle a bit more....the one guy's imitation of that douchy guy with the bandana really sealed the deal for me. <br />
<br />
And in other news, Pam and Winnie got lost. Again.<br />
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Until next week, when we find out what actually happened this week!<br />
<br />
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<br />
.Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-15212011902484401702013-02-26T15:32:00.000-05:002013-02-26T15:32:00.188-05:00Amazing Race 22, Episode 2This entry is late because I didn't get to watch this episode of the Race until Monday night, which was too late to write about it. I usually have a better handle on my time, but not this week. <br />
<br />
Man, how much would it suck if you finally got to go on the Amazing Race and you found yourself in one of the most beautiful places on earth and you realized that the one thing, the ONE THING you <u>can't</u> do, is the only thing you <u>have</u> to do? I'll bet the Twins were hoping that they wouldn't have to swim until about the 8th leg, and after everyone else was felled by food poisoning and they had the option of paying someone else to do it, too.<br />
<br />
I sure hope this doesn't turn out to be the "Amazing Skip the Task and Take the Penalty", because that is so not this game. If everyone quits every task and just sucks up the penalty, then it's going to be a snooze-fest very quickly.<br />
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Oh. My. GOD....read the clue! Read the clue! Read the clue!!! Read it again. All the way. I get that these guys are all hopped up on adrenaline and jumping out of their skins and excited as all get out, but for the love of all that is holy, read the damn clue!<br />
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Team Newlywed is very tiresome, and it's only the second leg. "We want to keep the only other team at the back with us, so that we know where they are and we can hand them their asses when it suits us to do so. But they left us! They don't play fair at all!" And really? "they're following us"? They're going to the same place you are, dumbasses. <br />
<br />
I certainly had no idea that being a manager at Wal-Mart translated into so many diverse skills. Seriously, I'm not taking the piss out of the guy, it's just that I had no idea "I deal with many weirdos = I can walk on stilts". I can't wait to see what else he can do. And just for the record, I've never seen a Wal-Mart employee run, anywhere, ever. <br />
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I giggled every time someone said they had "rolled their nut across the line". Because I am 12.<br />
<br />
Because this was a very water-focused episode, I found myself getting a little woozy with all the bobbing cameras popping in and out of the water. Between that and the skydiving last episode, I'd really like a leg on dry land, please.<br />
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Team YouTube was not nearly as annoying as I thought they would be. Which isn't much of an endorsement, really.<br />
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The water in Bora Bora looked so amazingly blue and clear.....and the camera work when they were jetskiing over to the second island was incredible. I'm putting Bora Bora on the list.<br />
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John and Jessica holding onto the second Express Pass because they "want the other teams to suck up a bit"? I'm sure that will totally work out, and no one will be pissed off, and it will never come to back to bite them in the asses. Like at a U-Turn. At least, I hope so. <br />
<br />
I wonder what the Underwater Waiter puts on his passport application, under "occupation". <br />
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Next week: New Zealand! Remember the last time we went there, Phil's dad was one of the greeters! Also, I very much hope there is a Hobbit-themed task, which includes very large, hairy feet.<br />
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Until next week!<br />
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Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-50575813240804080612013-02-18T12:48:00.001-05:002013-02-18T12:53:22.609-05:00Amazing Race 22, Episode 1Hello Race! Happy to see your sexy self again!<br />
<br />
Does anyone else think it's okay to cull the herd a bit before getting really into knowing the teams? I always feel on the first episode as if I'm constantly trying to keep everyone straight, and can't pay much attention to exactly what's going on. Luckily, I think the producers have the same trouble, because with so many people, they can only really do two tasks the whole episode.<br />
<br />
Is there really any reason at all to lie about what you do for a living on this show? Unless you are a "Reality Show Producer Who Thinks Up Tasks For Other People To Do", I'm not so sure any occupation gives you an advantage over any other. And as for the whole "we don't want people to think we dont' deserve the money" thing, it's not "Survivor", no one<em> decides</em> who gets the money. Besides, if it was a "deserving" thing, then they should only let homeless people participate on this. <br />
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As much as I loved the sky-diving thing, because WOW that place is beautiful! tasks like that don't really do much to shuffle the order. Unless, of course, you get someone who freaks out and won't go, which isn't likely on the first leg of the race. (Can you imagine? "I'm not doing <u>that</u>!" right out of the gate? Your partner would kill you, and there wouldn't be a jury who would convict.)<br />
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Why on earth do they cast so many young couples where she's all drooling to get married and he's all "things are fine the way they are" and they go on the race to see if their relationship will work? Because this dynamic is as unpleasant as it is unoriginal, and it would make me terribly sad to think that this is the overwhelming majority of twenty-somethings these days.<br />
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I spend more than my fair share of time on the "interwebs", as my mother calls it, and I've never heard of the so-called "YouTube phenomenoms". Which, considering his mugging and screeching and grandstanding for the cameras, might be good if it stayed that way. I mean, they've dubbed themselves "Team Cute" for crying out loud....that sort of douchebaggery shouldn't even be allowed by a just society.<br />
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I felt sort of bad for the firefighters until they made their "we're never going to live down the fact that we were beaten by two blonde girls" remark. Because being beaten by two brunettes would be totally okay. <br />
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I get that to have your child diagnosed with cancer must be all kinds of awful, and to see them suffer through the treatments would be horrible as well. But man, if that dad cries every time he talks about his son, it's going to be a very long season. <br />
<br />
So far, I have no favorite team, but Team Newlywed is decidedly my <em>least </em>favorite team. She actually seems proud of the fact that she has few friends back home, (her bridesmaids from three weeks ago must have been delighted to hear that!) and he's enchanted by her ability to fake being nice to lesser mortals. I'm so glad they found each other.<br />
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Why did no one enlist the dog's help in digging up the sandcastles? I'll bet he'd have smoked that task. When he wasn't peeing on the sandcastles, of course.<br />
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Favorite Line of the Night: From one Hockey brother to another: "Do you have my teeth?"<br />
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Until next week!<br />
<br />
Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1963076123592493523.post-61935070487994078032012-12-17T12:18:00.001-05:002012-12-17T12:18:49.673-05:00The Best Things In The WorldAround Christmas I find myself a bit panicky at the amount of STUFF that comes into this house. There are four of us, three of which are grimly determined pack-rats, and our house isn't very big. The result is that I live in constant clutter, and that makes me a bit crazy. So I try to focus on the things that I really like, that make my life happy. And most of those things aren't things at all: <br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>SLEEP. Man, is there anything, <em>anything</em> better than going to sleep? There's the drifty, floaty feeling after putting your head down on the pillow, the rolling over in the middle of the night to realize you still have hours, or the Sunday morning dozing where you slip in and out of conciousness while surfing the contents of your head. Sleep is my number one drug. </li>
<li>BABIES. The smell insanely delicious, their skin in like the warmest, softest satin and they have little corn-niblet toes that are <u>the</u> cutest things ever made. Plus, when they smile, that's your day, right there. </li>
<li>HOT SHOWERS. I think the single greatest accomplishment of the Twentieth Century is indoor plumbing, and hot running water in abundance is the greatest thing about indoor plumbing. Being clean is one of the best feelings ever (note: the shower you take after a camping trip or a day at the beach.), but the delight of stepping into that steamy shower is not to be taken for granted.</li>
<li>YOUR OWN BED. Really, doesn't everyone want to be home? And isn't home what's familiar and comfortable and safe and cozy? And isn't your bed all those things? I love to travel, but snuggling down into my own bed after a trip has to be one of the best things ever. </li>
<li>A GOOD BOOK. I love it when I get a book that is so good that I think about it when I'm not reading it, and can't wait to get back to it. (Preferably IN MY OWN BED.) No matter what is going on in my life, I can always count on a good book to give me perspective, make me think, educate me or simply entertain me long enough to forget my own problems. Books are indispensible. </li>
<li>SUNSHINE We live in a part of the world that gets a fair bit of cloudy weather, and boy oh boy, when the sun does come out? It's like everyone got a shot of Happy. You can see the collective mood lift and it is a serious game changer. Sunshine is nature's Prozac.</li>
<li>LAUGHTER One time, a client remarked on the Christmas decorations in the salon to the Mister by saying "I really like your balls". Which, at the time, made us all run into the staff room, where we laughed so hard I thought I might pass out. And then one of us would catch the other's eye and we'd be off again like a bunch of lunatics. We laughed all day about that. A good, gut-busting, loud and honest belly laugh is one of the best things ever.</li>
<li>HUGS. Last year, when my father was very ill, and things were at their worst, my good friend Big Liver Girl came over with some homemade soup and bread and gave me a full-body, rib-cracking, back-and-forth swaying hug. It was wonderful. It was comfort and care and acknowlegment and sympathy and love, all in one package. How can you beat that? My friend Blair could hug as her day job, she's so good at it. </li>
<li>MUSIC. Few things in this world are as remarkable as music. Happy? There's a song for that. Sad? We've got that covered. It's a particular season or occasion? No problem. The possibilities are, literally, endless. And I'm willing to wager you have a song running through your head right now. </li>
<li>TAKING OFF YOUR SKI BOOTS. If you ski, you'll know exactly what I mean. If you don't, let me explain....You put on your ski boots in the morning out for a day on the slopes, and you dont' take them off until you are finished. Ski boots are heavy, and they don't bend at the ankle, so you clomp around all day in the equivient of bowling balls on your feet, looking and sounding like the Incredible Hulk. When you take those heavy, sweaty, rigid boots off, it feels like you are walking about 3 inches above the ground, and you are about to float away altogether. Plus, your ankles bend now, so getting something off the ground is not the production it was earlier. </li>
<li>CLEAN I hate cleaning, but man, do I love stuff clean. When I clean a closet or a room, I have to go back into it a couple of times and just admire my efforts and how fabulous it looks. </li>
</ul>
None of these things are particularly remarkable or out of the ordinary, but they make me the happiest. And maybe because they are not particularly remarkable or out of the ordinary, that's why they make me happy. Mrs. Loudshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07626378997832218109noreply@blogger.com0