Our receptionist at work, Barb, was shopping at Winner's last night when she noticed a couple of kids who caught her attention.
Clearly brothers, the youngest, about 7, was marching up the aisle with a boxed toy in his steely grip and a look of determination on his face. His older brother, about 12 years old, was skedaddelling up behind him, saying "she's not going to buy that for you, you know, mom's not going to get that, you should put that back, she's not going to get it" in a snotty, older brother kind of tone.
Wherein the younger brother stopped, turned around most purposefully and firmly said to his brother: "Why don't you just f*** off". And then continued on his merry way.
And that is probably their entire relationship, for the rest of their lives, right there.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
We Won't Be Invited To the PETA Convention This Year
The salon is in an old building in an older part of town. Old buildings have mice; it's just the way it is, I know that. But when I was doing one of the staff's hair this afternoon, even I was somewhat startled when we saw a mouse run across the doorway and behind the water bottle we use as a doorstop. (When the mouse was behind the water bottle, it was magnified to about 40x it's size. It was most disconcerting, let me tell you.)
Now, I've seen plenty of mice before, and they don't scare me or freak me out. (Not like maggots or earwigs. Now those I freaking hate.) We haven't had mice in this house since Toby came along, and I'm happy to not have to deal with them.
The two other occupants of the colour room had other ideas, however, as they proceeded to shriek and scream and jump up on chairs. Not me, though, I gave them both a withering stare and chided them for their hysterics and went to go capture the mouse. When it came running right at me!! No one was more surprised than me to hear the spine-tingling screech that I conjured up....it was blood curdling.
Anyway, Barb, the Fiercest Receptionist In All the Land, who is a champion of animals everywhere, and myself, who managed to compose herself after her unseemly display, chased that thing all over the salon in an attempt to catch it and take it outside. We were quite a sight, jumping around and down on all fours and giving the occasional yelp of surprise when it charged at one of us. Thank God there were no clients at the time. (Summer said "imagine if someone came in right now", just as Barb and myself were crammed into the closet with just our bums poking out.)
Finally, after about 10 minutes of this, Barb cornered it and I managed to slip an empty tupperware container over it, and she was able to carefully bring it outside, where she let it go beside the gate leading to our back alley. ("All the easier to find it's way back to our basement", I said.) She tried to coax it into the alley, but the dumb thing ran straight out into traffic and got run over by a truck.
Seriously. It was tragic.
So next time we see a mouse in the salon, we plan to catch it, train it to do shampoos, and never let it go outside.
Now, I've seen plenty of mice before, and they don't scare me or freak me out. (Not like maggots or earwigs. Now those I freaking hate.) We haven't had mice in this house since Toby came along, and I'm happy to not have to deal with them.
The two other occupants of the colour room had other ideas, however, as they proceeded to shriek and scream and jump up on chairs. Not me, though, I gave them both a withering stare and chided them for their hysterics and went to go capture the mouse. When it came running right at me!! No one was more surprised than me to hear the spine-tingling screech that I conjured up....it was blood curdling.
Anyway, Barb, the Fiercest Receptionist In All the Land, who is a champion of animals everywhere, and myself, who managed to compose herself after her unseemly display, chased that thing all over the salon in an attempt to catch it and take it outside. We were quite a sight, jumping around and down on all fours and giving the occasional yelp of surprise when it charged at one of us. Thank God there were no clients at the time. (Summer said "imagine if someone came in right now", just as Barb and myself were crammed into the closet with just our bums poking out.)
Finally, after about 10 minutes of this, Barb cornered it and I managed to slip an empty tupperware container over it, and she was able to carefully bring it outside, where she let it go beside the gate leading to our back alley. ("All the easier to find it's way back to our basement", I said.) She tried to coax it into the alley, but the dumb thing ran straight out into traffic and got run over by a truck.
Seriously. It was tragic.
So next time we see a mouse in the salon, we plan to catch it, train it to do shampoos, and never let it go outside.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
In Praise of Rhubarb
I'm very happy these days because spring has really and truly arrived. Spring, in case you didn't know, is a very tempermental and moody season here in southwestern Ontario....we tend to get a half-hearted winter for a few weeks, and then, boom, it's summer. Not much of a spring at all, usually.
One of the reasons I adore the spring is rhubarb. And it is, indeed, rhubarb season here.
My family do not appreciate the delights of rhubarb at all, witnessed by the fact that Thing 1 plugs her nose and staggers around the kitchen, crazed with repulsion by the very smell whenever I cook it. Thing 2 and the Mister just look at me with a sort of bewildered distaste whenever I eat it. They just don't get it. ("But it's a vegetable! We grow it in the vegetable garden! How can you eat it with whipped cream?!?")
Rhubarb has a reputation of being "grandma" food, like canned fruit cocktail, or turnip. Or aspic. The words "stewed rhubarb" have nothing hip or funky or elegant about them. "Stewed rhubarb" is the orthopedic shoe of the culinary world. Which is a pity, because it's awesome. (For stewed rhubarb, you cut up the rhubarb, put it in a pot, dump a whack of sugar on top and let it cook down over medium heat until it is all unrecognizable. Done.)
I suppose part of that reputation is because it was very popular during the war; it was one of the few fruits my parents ever got when they were growing up in Ireland, simply because it grew there. I'm not sure what they did about the sugar, though, because the only thing about rhubarb is that you have to cook it and you have to add sugar, near-lethal amounts of sugar. Like, almost equal parts, because, man, is rhubarb sour. (When I was a kid we used to eat it raw, dipped in sugar, and it was so mouth-puckeringly sour that I recall actually getting cramps in our cheeks from it. ) Once my mother made a rhubarb pie and forgot to add the sugar before she put it in the oven, and OH. MY. GOD. was it sour.....one bite and all the moisture left your head. And it was no help to add the sugar afterwards, that just made it every bit as sour, but teeth-rattling sweet as well. Good times. Anyway, I've made some beautiful rhubarb pies, and rhubarb cheesecakes and a stellar rhubarb ice-cream that was the stuff of legend.
Tonight I made some stewed rhubarb that I served with strawberries over angel food cake, and tomorrow morning I will have the rest of that stewed rhubarb for breakfast with some custard and and I won't have to share with anyone. All is right with the world.
One of the reasons I adore the spring is rhubarb. And it is, indeed, rhubarb season here.
My family do not appreciate the delights of rhubarb at all, witnessed by the fact that Thing 1 plugs her nose and staggers around the kitchen, crazed with repulsion by the very smell whenever I cook it. Thing 2 and the Mister just look at me with a sort of bewildered distaste whenever I eat it. They just don't get it. ("But it's a vegetable! We grow it in the vegetable garden! How can you eat it with whipped cream?!?")
Rhubarb has a reputation of being "grandma" food, like canned fruit cocktail, or turnip. Or aspic. The words "stewed rhubarb" have nothing hip or funky or elegant about them. "Stewed rhubarb" is the orthopedic shoe of the culinary world. Which is a pity, because it's awesome. (For stewed rhubarb, you cut up the rhubarb, put it in a pot, dump a whack of sugar on top and let it cook down over medium heat until it is all unrecognizable. Done.)
I suppose part of that reputation is because it was very popular during the war; it was one of the few fruits my parents ever got when they were growing up in Ireland, simply because it grew there. I'm not sure what they did about the sugar, though, because the only thing about rhubarb is that you have to cook it and you have to add sugar, near-lethal amounts of sugar. Like, almost equal parts, because, man, is rhubarb sour. (When I was a kid we used to eat it raw, dipped in sugar, and it was so mouth-puckeringly sour that I recall actually getting cramps in our cheeks from it. ) Once my mother made a rhubarb pie and forgot to add the sugar before she put it in the oven, and OH. MY. GOD. was it sour.....one bite and all the moisture left your head. And it was no help to add the sugar afterwards, that just made it every bit as sour, but teeth-rattling sweet as well. Good times. Anyway, I've made some beautiful rhubarb pies, and rhubarb cheesecakes and a stellar rhubarb ice-cream that was the stuff of legend.
Tonight I made some stewed rhubarb that I served with strawberries over angel food cake, and tomorrow morning I will have the rest of that stewed rhubarb for breakfast with some custard and and I won't have to share with anyone. All is right with the world.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Amazing Race 14, Ep. 10
Yay for Tammy and Victor....they ran a good race all along, and it was a well deserved win. Mostly I'm happy Jaime didn't win.
I'm glad each team's results was directly because of their strengths and weaknesses, not just because of a good or bad taxi driver. Luke was doing well until Victor showed up, and then he started to psych himself out and succumbed to his paralysing frustration. (Band name!) Just as he has done before. And Jaime was doing okay, albeit she started way behind the other two, and although she got down to business and got to work, she spent a lot of energy freaking out and shouting. (At least she helped Luke, after Victor and Tammy left.) And Victor got out of there first because he's smart and he worked hard.
I wish those Hawaiian locals had been more drunk.
Who knew a pig would be so difficult to manage? I mean, a real pig, not a metaphorical one, or a chauvanist one or even a live one. I thought Jaime's head might actually burst into flames right there on that beach. Which would have made for a spectacular luau.
Also, I noticed she doesn't do very well with cab drivers who actually do speak English, either. Thing 1 and I both remarked on her urging the cab driver with the bait of "we're in a race for a million dollars"....unless he's in line to get some of that cash, I doubt he cares one way or the other whether you win or not.
Thank you Anonymous Hawaiian Taxi Dispatcher. You have avenged hapless taxi drivers from all over the world.
Yes, yes, I get it. Deaf people can do anything. Now, please stop convincing me, I'm getting tired of it.
Favorite Line of the Night: "I have no pants". And also, "When did we see JESUS?!?"
Did you notice that the fake-out surf boards had symbols from past seasons? Irish donkeys! Clowns! Giant Kiwifruit! I really wish I could find out what event Luke thought that Grateful Dead psycadelic skull represented.
Apparently, there will be another Amazing Race in the fall! Until then!
I'm glad each team's results was directly because of their strengths and weaknesses, not just because of a good or bad taxi driver. Luke was doing well until Victor showed up, and then he started to psych himself out and succumbed to his paralysing frustration. (Band name!) Just as he has done before. And Jaime was doing okay, albeit she started way behind the other two, and although she got down to business and got to work, she spent a lot of energy freaking out and shouting. (At least she helped Luke, after Victor and Tammy left.) And Victor got out of there first because he's smart and he worked hard.
I wish those Hawaiian locals had been more drunk.
Who knew a pig would be so difficult to manage? I mean, a real pig, not a metaphorical one, or a chauvanist one or even a live one. I thought Jaime's head might actually burst into flames right there on that beach. Which would have made for a spectacular luau.
Also, I noticed she doesn't do very well with cab drivers who actually do speak English, either. Thing 1 and I both remarked on her urging the cab driver with the bait of "we're in a race for a million dollars"....unless he's in line to get some of that cash, I doubt he cares one way or the other whether you win or not.
Thank you Anonymous Hawaiian Taxi Dispatcher. You have avenged hapless taxi drivers from all over the world.
Yes, yes, I get it. Deaf people can do anything. Now, please stop convincing me, I'm getting tired of it.
Favorite Line of the Night: "I have no pants". And also, "When did we see JESUS?!?"
Did you notice that the fake-out surf boards had symbols from past seasons? Irish donkeys! Clowns! Giant Kiwifruit! I really wish I could find out what event Luke thought that Grateful Dead psycadelic skull represented.
Apparently, there will be another Amazing Race in the fall! Until then!
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
My Hero
The salon where I work is on a busy, main street. It gets plenty of car and foot traffic, and is a main artery through the city. If I was going to commit a criminal act, that street is not where I'd do it. But someone thought otherwise yesterday.
We have a small area outside the shop where we set up a table and chairs when the weather is nice. We keep some of the salon's newsletters on the table for passers-by, and they are weighed down by a small vase with some fake flowers in it. (The newsletters, not the passers-by.)
The Mister happened to be looking out the front window yesterday, when he saw a young woman stop, look at the newsletters and pick up the vase and the flowers to take one. Or so he thought. No, she just picked up the vase and the flowers and kept going.
He took off after her, and caught up with her a few steps away, saying to her "Excuse me, before you put that in your backpack, do you mind giving it back???" Whereupon, she ran. And so did he.
They didn't get very far, and he managed to grab her backpack while yelling "give it back", and she was yelling at him to let go. He said she was acting like he was trying to get at something of hers. He did mention that, all the while, he was conscious of the fact that he, a middle-aged man, was having a fierce and public tussle with a young woman; this had the potential to not look so good to anyone else.
She was wearing some fancy looking sunglasses (WHICH I BET SHE STOLE FROM SOMEONE ELSE) and it occurred to him to pluck those off her face and say "hah!", but figured that could spiral out of control really fast.
Anyway, she finally could see that he wasn't going to give up, and she threw the vase on the ground smashing it, and said "there!", like she had just scored some sort of moral victory. Our receptionist, the Fiercest Administrative Assistant In All The Land", managed to round the corner right as she smashed the vase, and loudly called her a very, very bad name. Which didn't do much except make everyone who heard her laugh out loud.
So, the Mister and the receptionist went back to the salon to explain their hasty departure to all and sundry.
That's my husband: mild-mannered hairdresser by day, brave crime-fighter by, um, later in the day.
We have a small area outside the shop where we set up a table and chairs when the weather is nice. We keep some of the salon's newsletters on the table for passers-by, and they are weighed down by a small vase with some fake flowers in it. (The newsletters, not the passers-by.)
The Mister happened to be looking out the front window yesterday, when he saw a young woman stop, look at the newsletters and pick up the vase and the flowers to take one. Or so he thought. No, she just picked up the vase and the flowers and kept going.
He took off after her, and caught up with her a few steps away, saying to her "Excuse me, before you put that in your backpack, do you mind giving it back???" Whereupon, she ran. And so did he.
They didn't get very far, and he managed to grab her backpack while yelling "give it back", and she was yelling at him to let go. He said she was acting like he was trying to get at something of hers. He did mention that, all the while, he was conscious of the fact that he, a middle-aged man, was having a fierce and public tussle with a young woman; this had the potential to not look so good to anyone else.
She was wearing some fancy looking sunglasses (WHICH I BET SHE STOLE FROM SOMEONE ELSE) and it occurred to him to pluck those off her face and say "hah!", but figured that could spiral out of control really fast.
Anyway, she finally could see that he wasn't going to give up, and she threw the vase on the ground smashing it, and said "there!", like she had just scored some sort of moral victory. Our receptionist, the Fiercest Administrative Assistant In All The Land", managed to round the corner right as she smashed the vase, and loudly called her a very, very bad name. Which didn't do much except make everyone who heard her laugh out loud.
So, the Mister and the receptionist went back to the salon to explain their hasty departure to all and sundry.
That's my husband: mild-mannered hairdresser by day, brave crime-fighter by, um, later in the day.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Dressed For Success.
As I mentioned last week, blogging does have it's up side. My good friend Carolyn generously donated a set of hip waders AND chest waders to me because she saw on my blog that I was going fishing in Quebec at the end of the month. (I suspect that Carolyn really didn't want the waders hanging around her garage any longer. Her husband is a fisher, and from the looks of things, Carolyn has stored about as much fishing gear as she can stand.)
So this weekend, I went to pick them up, and here is the result:
Fetching, no? I love them. Hide belly bulge? Check. Entirely waterproof? Check. No cutting waistband or itchy lace? Check. One piece that requires no accesorizing, including shoes?? Check. Embarrasses the snot out of my children? Check and double check. What's not to love. I wish I could wear them all the live long day.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Amazing Race 14, Ep. 10
An appearance by Jerome the Gnome!! It was like seeing an old friend again! I liked how Jerome had to wear a headpiece in the Opera House.
As someone with the tiniest bladder in the history of human anatomy, I can totally sympathize with Jen's desperation to get to a toilet. In that state, it's all you can think about, million dollars be damned. But four bottles of water? Damn, no bladder can sustain that enslaught, I don't care who you are.
It did seem to me that Killer Fatigue had gotten to Jen in the last episode, and she had checked out of the race already.....remember, this was right after her meltdown at the pool. You could see when they found out they were U-Turned her whole body language said "Screw this".
I was laughing out loud at the translations of the sister's Mandarin at the restaurant. I could have watched "good western head lacks fish" all night.
I also laughed at the Redhead's cab driver when they launched the gnome over the seat at him to show him the bottom and the directions. I don't know how to say "What the hell is that!?!" in Chinese, but I sure know how it looks.
Jaime continues to give the entire nation of China a reason to hate her. (And having a billion people hate you is nothing to sneeze at.) When she snotted "see, this is why I didn't want to go to China. It sucks" I hoped we'd see some of the Chinese government's famed human rights violations whirl into practice right there and then.
Have you noticed that Jaime never blames herself for their performance? They spent 3 hours (!) looking for that clue box and it was right in the Opera House, and yet she never said "how could I be so stupid", she blamed Cara. And of course, the cab drivers. Always the cab drivers. Do you think maybe her shreiking and yelling had anything to do with nobody helping them? No. Couldn't be that.
Cara I am starting to really love. Unfortunately, Cara winning would mean Jaime winning, and that would be no good at all. I think Cara has finally had enough of her partner, witnessed by the WTF look she gave the camera when Jaime was giving out about her. And she rocked that roadblock...I read that she was the fasted racer there, taking only seven minutes. (Jen apparently took 30.)
Favorite Line of the Night: from Margie...."He made me look like Alice Cooper".
Until next week!
As someone with the tiniest bladder in the history of human anatomy, I can totally sympathize with Jen's desperation to get to a toilet. In that state, it's all you can think about, million dollars be damned. But four bottles of water? Damn, no bladder can sustain that enslaught, I don't care who you are.
It did seem to me that Killer Fatigue had gotten to Jen in the last episode, and she had checked out of the race already.....remember, this was right after her meltdown at the pool. You could see when they found out they were U-Turned her whole body language said "Screw this".
I was laughing out loud at the translations of the sister's Mandarin at the restaurant. I could have watched "good western head lacks fish" all night.
I also laughed at the Redhead's cab driver when they launched the gnome over the seat at him to show him the bottom and the directions. I don't know how to say "What the hell is that!?!" in Chinese, but I sure know how it looks.
Jaime continues to give the entire nation of China a reason to hate her. (And having a billion people hate you is nothing to sneeze at.) When she snotted "see, this is why I didn't want to go to China. It sucks" I hoped we'd see some of the Chinese government's famed human rights violations whirl into practice right there and then.
Have you noticed that Jaime never blames herself for their performance? They spent 3 hours (!) looking for that clue box and it was right in the Opera House, and yet she never said "how could I be so stupid", she blamed Cara. And of course, the cab drivers. Always the cab drivers. Do you think maybe her shreiking and yelling had anything to do with nobody helping them? No. Couldn't be that.
Cara I am starting to really love. Unfortunately, Cara winning would mean Jaime winning, and that would be no good at all. I think Cara has finally had enough of her partner, witnessed by the WTF look she gave the camera when Jaime was giving out about her. And she rocked that roadblock...I read that she was the fasted racer there, taking only seven minutes. (Jen apparently took 30.)
Favorite Line of the Night: from Margie...."He made me look like Alice Cooper".
Until next week!
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