Bill and I just got back from Costco.....again.....third time this week. We don't smoke anymore. We don't drink. We don't do drugs. We don't have sex anymore. (Well...) We have almost cut out eating candy entirely. But....we go to Costco. All the time. Our personal crack. We will be sitting in our chairs, busy on our lappys, when one of us will say that magic word. "COSTCO? Do we need anything?" The other answers before the question is finished. "Sure! Ok! Yeah I think I need eggs, or milk or something. I will think of it on the way over."

Just that word COSTCO makes us a little happier, our heart beat a little faster and it gets me dressed in an otherwise slothful lazy day. Visions of long aisles of "stuff", tables of books, coolers of yummy food dance in my head. And then the vision turns into hotdogs, chicken strips, poutine, pop, hamburgers, lattes.......mmmmmmmmm. I'm in!!!

Pretty much everywhere we go in North America and Hawaii we run into Costcos. Actually, we don't exactly run into them. We hunt for them. "Its a cultural trip" we tell ourselves. Every region has region specific items in their Costco. We learn about the area by going to these different stores. I have a GPS with "COSTCO" as the number one preset button.

In Hawaii, they sell beach towels, beach chairs, beach toys, thongs, bathing suits, booze, banana bread, pineapples, macaroni and potato salad (Mixed together), raw salmon salad, poi, purple bread, fireworks, guns, size 12X Hawaiian shirts, chocolate covered macadamia nuts, mega major truck accessories. We choose to stay in condos as opposed to hotels. That way we have to go to costco to buy our food.

We were travelling through the states last year. As usual we were stopping at all the costcos we could find. In the midwest we ran out of water which, of course, necessitated a trip to the nearest Costco. I pushed the preset button on Garmin and found that we had passed one fifteen miles back. The next one was 78 miles ahead. We turned around. To this day I regret I didn't take a picture of the huge sign posted right by the entrance. It read "NO GUNS ALLOWED". Inside this particular costco we found saddles, horseshoes, ropes, saddle soap, fence posts, mini tractors, barbed wire, electric fences, screen doors, gum boots, shit shovels, chicken feeders, nipple buckets, small animal traps, big animal traps, assorted farm equipment, and definitely no sushi.

A few years ago we were on one of our trips to Saskatchewan, south through the states and back up the coast to home. This particular trip happened fairly late fall. On the way to Regina we flattened a tire (Im not telling how that happened) We put the spare on and decided to stop at Costco in Regina and get the tire fixed. It was evident the moment we entered the place that we were in what would become an extremely cold climate. Up front and centre we saw snow shovels, ice scrapers, huge bags of salt, mini hand held snow blowers, anti freeze, snow bank fencing, survival suits, fur hats and mitts, ice augers, ice pick axes, car tire chains, moon boots, snow suits, block heaters, survival kits, tiger torches, anti salt damaging coating stuff. I told Bill we had better get out of Dodge before the winter set in!

But we still get caught now and then. The other day Bill and I went down to Canadian tire and bought rope lights for outside. I scoped out a wee prelit Xmas tree. The four foot tree was 199 bucks. Crap!! Today we stopped at McD's for a free coffee. McD's is right beside Canadian Tire. I told Bill I was going to buy that tree. I want a prelit one. He suddenly remembered...they have them at Costco!! My heart started to beat a little faster. I got a little happier! Off we went. I made a beeline for the xmas trees and there it was. Seven (not four) feet tall, slim, covered with a million little lites, already decked out with pine cones and berries. And... it was 139 dollars!!! OMG!! I almost bought a piece of crap from Canadian Tire. And Bill noticed that they have three times longer rope lites for half what he paid at Canadian Tire. We just looked at each other and shook our heads in shame. "Jeez!" Bill said, "We HAVE to remember to check Costco out before we buy stuff." I just sadly nodded my head.

My Vacation Pictures

As you all know Bill and I travel. We use a combination of car rentals and cruises and cruise excursions. As we travel, I post my favourite pics on facebook so those people I am friends with can look if they want to.

But, there is one thing I have learned in all this travel. Other than the facebook format, people (with a very few exceptions) just don't want to see your pictures or hear your stories. I have watched poor Bill over the last few weeks try to tell people some of his stories and show some of his pictures...to glazed eyes and bobble head nodding or outright "Not now, I don't have time right now but later for sure" And later never comes.

This is totally ok with me and I truly get it. I am not writing this to make any of our closer peeps who may be reading this feel bad. It is just a fact, plain and simple.....other peoples' vacations are just that....other peoples' and unless you were there or going to be there..who cares? So....

When we got home, I went through all our pictures and through a very laborious process I narrowed the pictures down to four. These four pictures represent four different parts of our trip. I sent the jpeg off to PosterJack (the best picture maker in Canada) and had them enlarged and printed on canvas. They look fabulous and they are hanging front and centre in our living room. Now....when people come around, Bill will be able to tell four stories to people without their eyes going vacant and their heads bobbing up and down, up and down!!! I shall post those four here! But if you want to know where they were taken and why, well you will just have to come for coffee and ask Bill.

Great Grand Baby

Last night we had Bill's daughter Debbie's oldest son Scott to dinner. He brought his lovely wife Gisella and their 8 week old baby Joshua. What a wonderful time we had.

I roasted a six pound sirloin roast, mashed spuds, carrots and peas, green beans (so unbelievably yummy) and yorkshire puddings. For dessert I made a scrumptious apple crisp. I decided to do something new with the yorkshires. I always spray the pans with excessive amounts of pam instead of using hot fat. They turn out very well, but bland. So yesterday I clarified butter and mixed in a particularly delicious powdered beef bouillon, the only one I will use because it tastes like beef. So....I put the fat in the tins, heated them to spitting hot in the oven and added my batter and proceeded to bake. About ten minutes into the process, I glanced into the kitchen to see copious scary amounts of smoke coming out of the top of the stove, the cracks around the oven door (there actually aren't any cracks but smoke was coming out somehow, there was so much) filling up the kitchen and creeping into the rest of the house. I tore over to the kitchen, put on the fan on highest possible speed, opened the back door and hollered at Bill to open the rest of the doors and windows in this house. OH MY GOD!!!! The smoke, the little fire, and then more smoke and then a bigger fire......I needed to get these little suckers cooked just enough so I could shut the oven off. So, for the next ten minutes I alternately opened the oven door to let smoke out and flapped it towards the back door.

Then.....off went the smoke alarm. Since we have already burned one house down not so long ago the insurance people insist on heavy duty smoke alarms hooked into a monitored place somewhere that, if we don't plug in the right alarm or something, they send fire trucks. Talk about panic. I don't remember the friggin number. What the hell! I pick up the phone to call the 800 number on the alarm box to tell them not to send the trucks and....the line is dead. What??? Suddenly the phone rings right in my hand and upon answering in total confusion..a deep male voice at the other end asks what the heck is going on. So I tell him to not send trucks, I give him three options of codes that our number could possibly be (one of them must have been right) and hung up and went back to flapping and opening and flapping and opening. Long story short, the alarm went off forever and eventually I was able to turn off the oven. I left the puds in the oven and went to find the dog who had taken off at a hundred miles an hour when the alarm started.

BUT.....the puddings were the best I have ever made. They were worth all the smoke and panic and annoyed alarm people. They were absolutely delicious, crunchy on the outside, tender on the inside and more flavour than any yorkie I have ever eaten. I will have to try to figure out how to solve the problem of fat runnage.

Meanwhile, back to the baby. He was one of the most personable 8 week olds I have ever seen. He talked, gurgled, laughed, conversed back and forth with you, heavy duty eye contact...all amazing at 8 weeks. Scott was as funny as ever and Gisella was a complete sweetheart. We will be having them back over and over.

And Aryn...if you are reading this...can you email me the instructions on how to clean that oven? Thanks ever so much!

Beauty....the Great Struggle

I have two weddings coming up next year. One involves my very bestest friend ever and the other my wonderful amazing sister. These two women are intelligent, interesting, active, wise and............skinny. Oh, I can hear them now, "no I'm not. I still have five pounds to lose." " No I'm not. I still have a tummy roll when I sit down." Ok ladies. Try having 140 pounds to lose and a tummy roll that stops my heart when I bend over. You are skinny, by my standards and pretty much everyone elses' too.

I know this may sound really high school, but they are going to look smokin' hot at the weddings. And I am not. If I am sounding like a whiny little victim, its because for the next few minutes I AM going to be a whiny little victim!!! So EXCUSE me for a moment while I VENT!!

I have attempted to buy dresses in the past, at least my fat past, not my way back skinny past. And as any realistic large lady will tell you, we just don't do dresses well. No matter what the colour, pattern, no pattern, long, short, sleeves, no sleeves....you still end up looking like a walking table cloth...and not a pretty one. And the dresses available to us, especially here in Canada, are disgraceful ugly unwearable pieces of crap.

A few years ago I had an event to attend, a dressy one. Of course, I didn't have anything to wear. A dress was the only option. I made the unwise decision to go to Walmart first. My younger daughters had shopped there recently and had purchased really pretty colourful sundresses. Now I know that the fat lady designers do not do pretty or colourful but what the heck!! I decided to at least take a look. After spending a few minutes hunting up and down the fat lady section, I discovered they only had one rack of dresses and only one design. So I pull out the 3X hold it up and DEAR JESUS!!!! It was UGLY. Insultingly fugly!! It had a navy blue (not chic black) background, elastic waist, short sleeves with a weird sporadic pattern in white that got closer and closer together as it descended, and ended up in a row of pineapples at the bottom. Pineapples. Why? I was tempted to pay the 25 bucks to buy it, put it on on the night of the event and see if anyone else shared my view of this piece of crap. But I was afraid they would tell me I looked nice.

I have tried many dresses over the years and no matter what type or colour, I end up looking like a washer woman. This is the one style of garment that makes my ass look big...the only part of me that isn't really really big. So I decide to try black dress pants with a pretty sparkly top. But the only pants I can find in these flipping stores are stovepipe wide at the top and at the bottom. And when I pull them up so the crotch is at...well ummmm...my crotch, the waist is literally under my armpits. And I just don't need the waistband of my pants fighting my bra for space. So, the only option left is a pretty broomstick skirt with a tasteful tank top and jacket. But.....no matter how big or small or short or long, the hem of the skirt hikes way up at the back and way down at the front. So, twisting around in front of the floor length mirror i adjust the waist band up down over around until the hem is all even. But now the waist band is under my fat roll in front, in my right armpit, halfway down my bum...and within ten steps, it has all snapped back and its hiked way up in back and falling down in front. So no skirt.

What I really need and want is a spectacular long gown that is so amazing that no one will notice me and my hugeness. So....I had a fantastic idea. TRANNY DRESSES!!! Transvestites wear fabulous glamourous gowns and they are big people. A tranny dress would fit me AND be so spectacular one wouldn't notice grande moi!! In fact I know where a tranny store is right down town on east Hastings! Yes. I looked up some samples online and this site http://www.newyorkdress.com/Prom_Dresses.html was recommended on a tranny site because the gowns are fabulous and come in large sizes. Yipppppeeee!!! Problem solved and I will try my very best to not tell anyone that I am wearing a tranny dress...but I can't promise.

My wonderful daughter and her lovely Friend!

What a truly wonderful treat....to be feted and dined by your own child! I never dreamt, all those many years ago, that my lively, bouncy little black eyed sprite would one day be cooking me a delicious gourmet dinner, served up right in her cozy warm and beautiful home.

As a mother,we measure our successes by where our children are at any given moment in their lives. And last night this is what I saw.........my daughter as a beautiful healthy woman, funny, intelligent, able to make the right decisions for herself, forgiving, loving, fun and an amazing cook! When I look at her, I know I am a success.

Her beautiful friend Heather, with the most amazing brown eyes, was there too. More affirmation to me that I succeeded with Aryn. Boy, does she know how to pick friends. Heather was charming and fun and I came away from her with greater knowledge and understanding of certain things we discussed. It is a gift when you meet someone that can leave you wiser than you were a few minutes before.

We had a fourth at the table as well. What can I say? Just check out the pictures.

Dinner was incredible. I can honestly say that the scallops Aryn served were probably the best food I have eaten. It was beyond tasty and perfectly executed. The salmon she made puts mine to shame and "potato risotto"? It was amazing! Heather, bless her. brought the most delicious chocolate torte with a raspberry coulees on top. MMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!Totally yummy!!!

All in all a most successful lovely evening..to be repeated I hope!!

Hair

It was inevitable....eventually I would write a little thing about my hair. Unfortunately, my hair has kind of dictated my life, my self image, my identity, how people judge me, the only attention I get, what I will not do on rainy days, my swimming activities or lack of them, the necessity to check out seat to roof height on rental cars....before renting it, what kind of headboard I will have, where I sit in concerts, what day of the week I will totally give up to wash my hair, make runs to the states for hair product I can't get here, cross the street so I don't have to walk under low lying branches, my ability to go from a wonderful awesome compliment to totally humiliating ridicule, etc.....

We rented a car in Paris a couple of months ago. It was the assyest most awful car we have ever driven. Being a tallish looking Peugeot, we felt that both of us would fit comfortably. Now, I could write a really long awful diatribe about that miserable machine we rented, but I won't. There were so many things that were stupid and ridiculous about it and I don't wish to revisit the misery. So, that being said, I am going to mention one part. That would be the part about where I sat. My first hint that there may be trouble was....I couldn't get in. Neither could Bill. We tried front first, ass first, knees and hunched body first, shoulder head body in that order....nothing worked. So then we looked for the seat adjuster handles. Whoever was in it last must have been borderline midgets. When we finally located the handle, we adjusted the seat back as far as possible. Even then we had to lay the back part flat, get in then pull the back part up. So in we get. The seat was so high my feet dangled and my head had to tip right over into a ninety degree angle. So back to the buttons and handles and pushing and pulling. Finally the seat was back as far as possible and as low as it would go. Alrighty then. I turned to Bill to say Okey dokey this is ok and OW!! Something yanked a wee piece of my hair...right out of my head. What the hell? Right where my head naturally sits is a coat hook handelly thingy. And it had hold of my hair. So I take a few minutes and unhook and untangle. So Ok .. I can try to keep my head cocked a little to the side, annoying but doable. Next thing I notice is something is pulling little pieces right from the top of my head. I look up. The roof is covered with a type of texture that not only attracted my hair, but latched onto strands and yanked them. Ok, I can slide down and slouch. I ended up going all over Europe slumped down in my seat with my head cocked over a few degrees...and wasn't that frickin fun!

Living where I do means that eventually you will be walking in deluging rain. I am pretty adept at avoiding this, but, inevitably you will get caught. Now, in my case, not only is this a disastrous catastrophe, but a very painful one. And that is why I never ever walk in the rain...except by unexpected misfortune. To control my hair I have to use product, lots of product. I use industrial strength mousse or gel and then solder it with liquid cement hairspray.

The other day Bill and I went down to Starbucks (not far) for coffee. Feeling frisky, I told him I was going to walk home, not something I opt to do very often. It was pretty gray out but not rainy and the temperature was exactly what I like. So off I set. About two blocks from home it started to sprinkle. OMG!!! Then it moved on to rain and finally a downpour. Being 200 plus pounds, running is not an option. So I gave up and decided I would just let it happen, enjoy the rainy walk and wash my hair when I got home. It didn't take long for the hair to get soaked and the water to start running down my neck, my ears, my face, my eyes....oh my god....my eyes! my eyes! my eyes! All that product turned into a toxic watery stream that followed the frown furrows on my forehead and straight into my eyeballs. And it burned like a hot poker had been poked into them. I had no choice but to take off my glasses (which I couldn't see out of anyway) and shut my eyes. I inched my way cautiously home, hands outstretched in a most Helen Kellerish manner. I made it, but not very happily.

The other night I had gone to bed early. I was so tired and was off to sleep in no time. Sometime in the night I rolled over to un-numb the side I had been sleeping on and I was suddenly hit with a searing terrible sudden burning pain from the top of my head and my head was yanked back so hard I think I almost broke my neck. I immediately collapsed on my pillow and froze to the spot. What the hell just happened? I thought for a brief moment I had had an aneurysm. The violence of it and the pain was shocking. I gingerly put my hand up to investigate. I guess my ponytail had hooked onto a piece of the wrought iron headboard and when I heaved myself, with all my hefty heft, over, my hair, thus my head, stayed right where it was. When you are more asleep than awake, that kind of pain just wakes you right up...for hours.

But...the most humiliating hair moment I have ever had, was at the hairdressers a few years ago. I had decided to go to an expensive upscale place that boasted a computer imaging appointment before you moved to the spa area to have your appointment decisions executed. Righto...I was ready for a change.

I figured I didn't belong the minute I walked in. Everyone, clients and employees,were unfairly beautiful and flawless and dressed in Prada. Here I was, hair from hell and dressed in fleece and walmart running shoes. Oh well, money is money I think to myself. I was shown rather rapidly to a change room and told to put on the gown they gave me and to remove my shirt. That gown would not have covered my right thigh. I kind of laughed and said "No no I will just keep my jack shirt on thanks." So she kind of smiled and then took me over to a booth with a computer. Long story short and after many attempts to try to make me look better with a different haircut, it was decided that my hair needed to stay right the way it was and today we would just wash it for me. (I think they felt like they had to do SOMETHING for the 75 bucks). So over to the lovely mirrored area and beautiful leather chair. It took her five minutes to get my elastic holding up my hair out. Finally, she gets out a hairpick and gets to work. Now, being sorely out of place, being way too fat for their lovely tiny gowns, not having the kind of face and hair that can be changed to improve me are all embarrassing moments. But what followed was truly humiliating. First, as she worked away, she suddenly stopped, pulled at my hair and pulled out a short Ikea pencil. Oh Lord. I stuttered a rather short excuse- (thats where I put pencils when I need them...it must have slipped). She started to work away again and again she stopped, pulled at my hair and pulled out an earring. Jeez, I told her I had been looking for that for a few days now. She started to work away again. This time she not only stopped but let out a little squeal and called over one of the male hairdressers. I am embarrassed to report that they pulled out a fuzzy caterpillar. I had been in the bushes hauling out garbage on the corner of our property just before going down to the hairdressers. I tried to explain but I don't think my explanation made any difference. I just got up off the chair, dropped a fifty on the counter and walked out.

The only reason I haven't shaved my head is because I only have to do my hair once a week right now and with short hair I would have to do it everyday. Nuff said.

quick follow up

So, yesterday Monte finally got up and was sitting on the couch. So I loaded my website and I had managed to get a picture of myself on the first page and it looks really good! But I still needed to figure out how to go through firefox without firefox being my default home page. So, ever so causually, I call Monte over and say "I made my website (keep in mind I have asked this kid at least a thousand times to make me a simple website) I am just having a problem with opening it in firefox. How would I do that?" So he saunters over, sort of looks, takes a huge double take, bends down and looks again, ( also keep in mind that when I actually do ask him anything to do with the computer, he will answer with total sarcasm, derision and condescending nastiness) and says "WHAT??? WHAT THE HELL????BUT...BUT...BUT WHAT??? HOW DID YOU DO THAT??? HOW? HOW? BUT...I DON'T GET IT!!!! HOW DID YOU DO THAT?? WHAT (some technical word I don't know) DID YOU USE?? GIVE ME THAT!! I WANT TO SEE!!! HOW DID YOU DO THAT? HOLY CRAP!!! and so on and so on. I had my moment afterall and he was too shocked to give me attitude...he just showed me what to do. I am happy.

WEBSITE!!!!

I am sitting here, not that early but it feels like it. Outside is dark and grey and the sky is dirty. I think this is a good day to create my website. I have asked various male children who are in the know and much much smarter than me in all things compy, but after the last hour I now understand why it just wasn't happening. Creating websites for older (read dumber) relatives is just plain annoying. I am really really annoyed and I AM that older dumber relative. But....I really want a website and I am a strong believer in doing things for one self. So, about an hour ago, as I was opening my email I see an ad coming from a website I had ordered business cards from. "Get a Website" it said. "really easy to start and maintain....you don't need any computer skills, as easy as one two three, one month free, blah blah blah" So there it was...that little button that says "Start Now". Easy, free month, no skills needed,...okey dokey I'm going to do it!! And I pushed the button.

My first initial impression was that this was going to be a breeze. There were four steps to creating this website. They already had the template/pattern set up to match the design I had chosen for the business cards. I liked it! So CLICK..button two. Now I had to choose a "domain name" What?? whats a domain? Would that involve my email address? or my computer name? or my name? What the hell is a domain name? Why do computer people think that we just automatically know these things? They said "NO computer skills necessary" and knowing what "domain name" means needs skills. So I temporarily left the site and wikkied it. I am still not sure but I think it is the name of the website that I want. So back I go to where I am on step two...and its gone. What?? Where did it go? So I went back to mail, clicked on the ad, clicked Start Now again and started over. I decided to move my web search page out of the way. And there was my page I had been working on, hiding behind the wikki page. Jeez!! So I went back to the first one and typed in Purpleroom.com in domain name. Up popped a little box that says purpleroom.com is not available. Ok so I tried about four thousand variations that I hoped I would remember until it finally accepted one of them. On to step three. Payment. That part was easy, of course. Final step was recieving the conformation in the email. It came. Yay!!!! Now I want to start building the site, changing the text, adding pictures, start a travel blog (maybe) etc... so I clicked on the edit website button.

And up popped one of those boxes again. This time it says that either explorer microsoft (I have a mac) or firefox is needed to see this website or work on it. What?? Whats wrong with safari? CRAP!! So back to the web and I went to Firefox's site and installed firefox. I even managed to put the icon in the dock (see? I am not totally dumb) and tested it out. So back I go and I click on edit website and I was taken straight to my new website. It looked fantastic. How exciting. So I click on the next edit button and up pops another little box. Again it is telling me that I need to use firefox. What the hell? So I then shut down everything, went to firefox, typed in my "domain name url or whatever the hell its called" in the address bar and VOILA!!! there it was. Again I clicked the edit button and changed what the website words were and wrote a bunch of stuff and clicked edit. Up pops a box again and says that I need to use explorer or firefox. Ok, I tried forty more things until I wanted to throw the lappy through the window.

This is so frustrating. I was savouring that smug moment when I could ever so casually send a link to my chillins and when they incredulously asked "Wow!! I was going to do that for you. Who did you get to do it for you?" I was going to nonchalantly answer, "Oh I just did it myself. I know you're really busy." But NO!! Now I have to ask one of them what the friggin hell is wrong with the friggin thing and why the hell won't it work when I even downloaded firefox. GOD!!! TTYL if I still have a laptop. Oh, and I will post a link if I ever get the stupid thing to work.