Sometimes it's just TOOO much information....

It occurred to me the other day that there are very few things a person actually has to know, and way too much that they don’t need to know. The only two things that I really ever need to know are where I put my glasses and where my car keys are. Everything else is just too much information. Not that I’m promoting not knowing other stuff, it’s just that I don’t need to have it inside my head all at the same time. That’s what my computer and Google are for. If I do need to know something for just a moment, I can Google it and then tell Doug “see, I’m right” and then let it go.

What I don’t need to know is that some guy in the lower mainland has a bullet riddled gangster body in his fridge and he wants the police to give him money for it. Why this bit of information was on the front page of the newspaper is beyond me. Kudos to him for creative entrepreneurial skills, but really, the stench???? Why didn’t he put it in the freezer? He also said that if the police didn’t give him money he would just burn the body. Another lesson learned – never limit your target market to just one small percentile of the population. Like I said, there are some things I just don’t need to know.

Like when my kids tell me about stuff that they used to do behind my back when they were teenagers – I really don’t need to know any of that. They don’t know it, but they are still groundable….I just have to figure out how to make it stick....

If I've been to the PNE, then it's the end of summer

I absolutely love the PNE (Pacific National Exhibition - as opposed to the CNE - Canadian National Exhibition that is located in Toronto which some people (obviously those that haven't been to the west coast) still believe is the centre of the world).

We would drive to Vancouver from Prince George (10 hours, in a vehicle, before they invented portable DVD players) before crossing the Port Mann bridge that told us we had arrived - at which time I turned off the radio, told the kids to NOT say a word, and proceeded to get lost on the way to my mother's apartment (and yes, I have absolutely no sense of direction even though I had been going there for years, and that is another story). Once there the car would be parked and we would walk or take the bus to wherever we were going because there was NO possible way anyone can drive and find their way around the city (I do ok now because I've lived here for 14 years).

We would go to the beach, go shopping at Pacific Centre Mall but the highlight, always, was going to the PNE. In those days it was a real carnival atmosphere and we loved it. The kids would hand over their tickets to the grubby carnie workers and ride every ride they could. We'd eat greasy hamburgers, mini donuts, cotton candy and drink lemonade. It was summer bliss! We'd stumble back on the bus around midnight and arrive back at my mom's, three kids on a sugar high and her in a high-rise apartment!

And now the best part of summer? Going to the PNE with the grandkids (who make the trek down from Prince George, 10 hours, in a vehicle with a built-in DVD player). They are real troupers who can eat everything, ride every ride, see every show and stumble home around midnight - just the way I like it!

And yes, the adult kids still tag along - but we leave Doug at home. He just doesn't feel the magic the way that we feel it....

Getting Back to Black and White - now with pictures

So here's some before and after pics of my office - it's still a work in progress, but I gotta say I looove it!

My former desk that sat inside the closet
(this pic was taken before the room was finished -
the first time - note the ugly green carpeting)

The daybed

Returning the Closet back to being, well, a Closet

The new Desk (out of the closet! ha, ha, ha)

The new "daychair"
(which does fold out into a bed)

And along the wall of the "daychair" will be floor to ceiling black and white photos which should help balance the "in your face" wallpaper that Doug still has a hard time dealing with (and no, Doug it looks nothing like anything your grandma ever had, trust me it's much hipper than that).

So next? That piece of cake bedroom is still waiting, Doug ..........Doug?

Getting Back to Black and White

It’s been a busy few weeks. I removed absolutely every item out of my office, and that was no small feat. It all ended up in the guest room (and yes, we did have guests during this period and they were relegated to the TV room in the basement, but at least there is a large sectional AND a treadmill for people to sleep on). So I’ve painted and wallpapered (even though I swore off wallpaper when I removed it off the one wall in our bedroom – which still isn’t finished by the way, and because of that I get a brand new office).

Absolutely nothing from the original office has come back in here except my beautiful black and white laptop. My very pretty pink, yellow and cream office has been replaced by black, white and in your face red graphics – it’s an edgy, funky, contemporary office. This is how I want my whole house to look like (but again, Doug won’t vote yes for new furniture).

So, that’s what I’ve been doing with my time. Oh and yeah, it’s been amazing weather for this rain forest that we live in – sometimes I just gotta go outside and smell the flowers (er, rather, those brown leafy things that used to be oh, so pretty…)

Pics to come…

Happy Canada Day!

Most people's Canada Day - barbeques, sun, beach, park, picnic, parades, frisbees, fun, frolic

My Canada Day - ladder, paint, wallpaper, heat, stifling, sweat, grungy and then Doug says:

"What are We going to do about dinner" (as if by saying WE that somehow includes him in the planning/prep/and serving parts - riiight).

My reply?

Reservations.

Happy Canada Day to All!!

UPDATE:

Doug went to the store and bought barbeque stuff, wine and other stuff for dinner. All. By. Him. Self. And apparently he's going to prep, cook AND serve.

Awesome.

(to be continued)

Things Doug should Never Say or Do

“I THOUGHT About Buying You Flowers today…”

“Is That How You Wanted Your Hair To Look?”

“That’s no reason to get upset”

“I might not answer my phone because I’ll be having too much fun with my friends”

“Do You Still Belong to that Gym HAHAHA” (when he sees my Curves fob on my keychain as we’re standing in line at the grocery store and his voice carries over into the next Province and EVERYONE is looking at me)

And No, Doug, a doorknob is NEVER a good idea for a present.

Aww, granddaughters

I’m an interior decorator and when my granddaughter was born I couldn’t wait to do her room. Unfortunately, there were strict rental restrictions about redecorating so we had to wait. But in the meantime, Jenna was exposed to various decorating situations – her favorite TV show when she was 3 was Trading Spaces. She had definite ideas about color – or lack thereof. Anything white or beige wasn’t a color. She made that perfectly clear. Her favorite decorator on the show was Genevieve and that was because she always made a statement.

Yeah, so I got a phone call one day from her mom (my daughter) and it was clear that I was in some kind of trouble.

Her: Mother? Jenna is grounded from watching Trading Spaces.

Me: (not sure how to react – how in the world does a 3 year old get grounded from watching Trading Spaces????)

Her: You won’t believe what she did…

Me: (I somehow think this has something to do with me and it’s not good)

Her: I went upstairs to her room because she was being very quiet and GUESS what she was doing??????

Me: Um…I don’t know….reading??

Her: She was PAINTING her white furniture with a PURPLE felt marker!!!!!!

Me: really? (um, this is NOT good)

Her: She said to me “The White HAS to go”.

Me: Ok – so maybe you might want to check on the carpet – she told me it had to go, too.

Her: GRRRRR

So a couple of years later I bought her paint, a Trading Spaces shirt (signed by Genevieve and Hildi no less) and helped to paint her furniture properly. All is forgiven - and Jenna still hates anything white.

Sometimes the best present is no present at all...

My birthday is coming up and I know exactly what Doug is getting me.

Nothing. And that’s just the way I like it.

You see, Doug gave me a Christmas gift to remember early on in our relationship. He was going away for Christmas and had dropped his gifts off – there were two – one was obviously clothes and the other was in a box – not too large – about the size that a watch would come in.

I so wanted (and needed) a watch. I was a single mom at the time and didn’t have a lot of extra money to indulge myself. But here (I was sure) it was. What a great boyfriend Doug was!

So, Christmas morning and my kids are all giddy and happy and so am I because, you know, I’m getting this fantastic gift. I opened the obviously clothes gift first – it was a beautiful angora sweater – which I am SOO allergic to, but that’s ok because there’s still one more….

I carefully remove the paper and see the brown box that doesn’t really look like a watch box because there’s no writing on it – it’s just plain brown cardboard.- but you know, that’s ok. Until I look inside and there is…..

A DOORKNOB.

Yep, a doorknob.

You see, because I was a single mom and I didn’t have a lot of money or know-how on doing basic repairs to my house – like put a new doorknob on my bathroom door and apparently Doug didn’t like the method we used to close it, which was to stuff a towel into the hole – he thought it would be a brilliant idea to give me one for Christmas.

Our rules now? We don’t buy each other gifts for birthdays or anniversaries, and only stocking stuffers at Christmas. And if I want a watch? I’ll buy it myself.

It's Poker Male Bonding Weekend Time!!!

Every year Doug hosts a poker weekend for all his buddies from tennis. His family owns some recreational property that anywhere from 10 to 12 guys will converge upon in all their male grandness.

There’s boating and prawning and drinking and poker and drinking and hot tubbing and drinking and laughing and drinking and joking and drinking and falling on the rocks and drinking. And that takes care of Friday. On Saturday they play their “Main Event”. There’s big prize money and the coveted trophy for the winner – which, unfortunately, Doug won last year (and trust me, they are all SO proud of this trophy):

Some guys take it seriously because they want to win. Others, like Doug, not so much. It’s more fun to drink and be the funniest person you know. And if you lose, oh well, it’s off to the hot tub and another round of drinks. And when the sun comes up? Well, towel off – it’s time for Caesars and breakfast!

There’s always lots of food (and drinking) and cigars. They even have organized events – like skeet shooting. A brilliant idea! Give drunken men guns and have them shoot into the sky!! They also have a golf competition to see who can hit the nearest island. Oh, oh and the best: craft time:

Such a talented group of 50 something year olds. Yep, at the end of the weekend everyone has lost their voice, eyes are red, legs are wobbly and fun was had by all!

And their better halves? SOOO glad not to have been there.

Sudoku and the Absolute Need to Win

Doug discovered Sudoku long before I did. I love doing crossword puzzles and would confiscate that part of the paper everyday. Then when the Sudoku revolution invaded North America, Doug enlisted immediately. It’s all about numbers and without any words, so I was less than impressed. Doug, on the other hand, loved it. He tried to get me involved, and although I was having none of it, his persistence (which is a whole other story) finally paid off (i.e. I got tired of listening to him). And because he’s such a good teacher he sat down with me and explained the strategy that is Sudoku. And I have to grudgingly admit that it actually did look interesting. And our morning routine changed.

Doug created a template for Sudoku on the computer and every morning he would put in the numbers from the paper onto his template and print off two copies. The first time we did the Sudoku together it went like this:

Him: Here you go and don’t forget to use a pencil so you can erase if you have to.

Me: Mmm, thanks. Let’s see, there’s a 1 in this column and a 1 in this column so a 1 can’t go here. Mmm.

Him (staring intently): Scratch, rustle, write, scratch, rustle, write.

Me: That’s funny, I’ve never noticed how intense you get when you do this.

Him (staring intently): Uh huh. Scratch, rustle, write, scratch, rustle, write.

Me: Ok. Let’s see. Oh, Oh, a 1 HAS to go here. Yippee, I got one.

Him: (triumphantly stands up with his arms in the air) I Win!!!

Me: ????? This was a contest??? You mean to tell me this was a contest and you didn’t tell me????

Him: I win, I win, I win, hahahahaha!

Oh, it’s on baby, it’s on.

Quitting Smoking = end of any bathing suit season

Both Doug and I quit smoking 2 ½ years ago. Yeah, that was WAY fun.

What was even more fun was the amount of weight I gained. Who knew that going to Boston Pizza three times a week (which was our reward for quitting smoking) would make you gain weight.??? We always had salad (well, along with the pasta/pizza/bread - oh and by the way? you'd be surprised at how many grams of fat there are in salads at ALL my favourite restaurants - but that's another story).

Anyways, there it is. And it still is. I once got weighed about a year after I quit and was so amused to find that I weighed as much as I did when I was 9 months pregnant with any of my kids. Now? Not so much. Because IT'S STILL THERE. So this is what being pregnant forever feels like. Sharon even called me a “chunky monkey”, although I’m sure it was meant in the nicest possible way…

Anyways, Oprah said that if there ever was a picture of her in a bathing suit it would be a hoax, because she NEVER wears one.

Yeah, so if not wearing a bathing suit is good enough for Oprah, it’s good enough for me.

Fly the Friendly Skies of United (Final episode)

So, the trip went off without a hitch and we had a wonderful time in Hawaii.

Once we got back I wrote a letter to the President of UAL Corporation, which is the parent company of United Airlines. I also copied the Vice President – Customer Experience (I also told her that she had her work cut out for her if the thousands of complaints on the internet were any indication of what the average “Customer Experience” was like). My letter was basically asking them to verify that in fact, it wasn’t against the law to change the name and that they would direct their employees to NOT tell people that. I also wrote a letter to the CSR’s Supervisor telling her that she had all her information wrong.

Two weeks later I received a response from somebody in “Customer Relation” indicating that the President had passed my letter to them and they “appreciate the opportunity to respond”.

Keeping in mind that I asked them to verify that it wasn’t against the law to change the name, this is what I got – word for word:

Ms. Cates, as soon as you buy a ticket, your fare is guaranteed and protected from increases. If you change the itinerary, the fare may change too. The fare in effect at the time of your itinerary change will determine the fare for your revised itinerary. Most airlines, including United, do not have waivers protecting the original fare when customers must make last-minute changes. I hope this information is helpful when making future reservations. As a gesture of goodwill I am enclosing a travel certificate for a future use with United. Please continue to fly with United.

??????? Ok what part of my letter was actually read? And please, I don’t want a $150 travel voucher because I never plan on traveling with you people ever again. So, I fired off another letter to the President, mildly scolding him for passing off my letter to an underling and reassuring him that I was still awaiting a reply to my original question. I also enclosed the travel voucher explaining that I would not be using it. That letter was dated December 10^th, 2007.

I received another reply from the same Customer Relations person dated December 20, 2007. This is what it said – word for word:

Thank you for writing to us mentioning that you didn’t receive the travel certificate issued to you. I am responding to your letter addressed to Mr. Tilton.

Ms. Cates, so I may help you receive a replacement travel certificate, please sign below to verify the original certificate(s) is not in your possession. Then return this letter to my attention. Thank you for giving us an opportunity to respond to your concerns. We look forward to serving you again.

WHAAAT???? Now I feel like I’m being punk’d. Where are the hidden cameras waiting to record my reaction???? Who is this person writing this stuff – it has to be a robot. I don’t even know what to say or how to reply. And by NOT replying I received yet another letter – this time dated December 25^th. Yep, Christmas Day – such dedication…But this time it has a different tone than the other obvious form letters. This is what it said – again, WORD FOR WORD with spelling as it appeared in the letter:

Thank you for writing to us again (well, except that I didn’t). I am responding to your letter addressed to Mr. Tilton.

Ms. Cates, I sincerely regret that you remain unhappy with my response. Let me inform you about the name change policy. Once a reservation is completed, we do not allow a name change. As mentioned, you were informed by on the phone agents that name change is not allowed in the reservation according to law. In case a passenger insists the name change, the reservation is cancelled first and $100 in charged for it. A new reservation is prepared again for the passenger.

Hmm, I wonder if they do random drug testing at United Airlines.

I am not surprised when just a little while later I receive yet another letter, dated January 7, 2008 which is the exact same one that I received dated December 25. Only this time it contains another travel voucher (obviously to replace the one that was lost…oh wait, that’s right I GAVE it back to them).

And this is where it sits. I don’t have an answer to my question, I have a $150 travel voucher that I will never use, United Airlines has a real problem with customer relations, and nobody understands English there.

I will swim to Hawaii before I will ever fly with United.

Fly the Friendly Skies of United (Part 2)

I am so choked with United Airlines at this point. I talked to other airlines – some will change a name for free, some will charge a small fee and some would require proper documentation (i.e. marriage certificate). All reasonable requirements. But what SOOO annoyed me was the reference to 9/11. They were lying to their customers. It was obviously a company policy – not some Homeland Security law that was passed by the United States Congress (I think that’s who passes laws in the US – I will have to look that up). Can’t you just see all those congressmen debating this new law???

Yes, that is definitely the best way to keep our home shores safe – DO NOT LET boneheaded people who make stupid on-line mistakes change the name on their airline reservation. Here, here! Those infidels! This is an important historic moment!! Rah, Rah, Rah.

Anyways, like I said before – I used to work at the airport so I called the head guy for United Airlines in Vancouver and told him my dilemma and by the next day my name was changed and it didn’t cost me a cent. He was pretty sure that the US Government would rather have the real names of passengers instead of fake ones.

So, take that, CSR’s Supervisor. I so wanted to call her back and say “Nah, nah, na, nah, nah” and yes, I know that’s childish, but I didn’t. Not because I was adult enough not to act childish – I just didn’t want them to mess up my reservation. So I left that for after my trip was finished.

Part III to come….

Fly the Friendly Skies of United (Part 1)

About a year ago Doug booked airfare to Hawaii online, for the two of us. The cheapest flight was through United Airlines. So far, so good. Oh, except for the fact that he booked it on a site that we don’t normally use and when our names came up in a dropdown box, he selected our names and completed the reservation. Only I guess it must have been a dozen years ago when he last booked on there because that particular site had my “other before being married to Doug” name. He didn’t notice it right away but when he did he called the online booking people who told him this:

“You will have to call United directly because we can’t make a name change”

Ok – no biggie. He called United and they told him:

“You will have to deal with the online booking people directly because we can’t make a name change”

Ok – this is becoming a bit of a pain. He called the online booking people back and they told him:

“If United won’t make the name change then you will have to cancel the existing reservation and we will issue a credit in that person’s name and you can rebook under the correct name”.

Ok – just one small problem – there is no person of that name anymore and so the credit is no good for anyone and the cost of the new reservation was going to be more than 3 times the original – even though it’s for the same person travelling at the exact same time.

So I told Doug, “let me call United directly, I should be able to get them to change my name to the correct one”. So I called United Airlines Customer Service 1-800-wanna-fly number and spoke to a “Customer Service Representative”. I told her that I needed to change the name on my ticket because it was my maiden name and all my ID was in my married name. She told me:

“I’m sorry, I can’t change your name because it’s against the law”.

What?????

“Ever since 9/11 it’s been against the law to change the name on a reservation”.

What????? I worked at the airport during 9/11 and know of no such law that came into effect regarding changing of names. In fact, I was pretty sure that the US Government would rather have proper names on the passenger lists as opposed to names that don’t exist legally.

Ok – no biggie – she’s obviously not empowered to change the name. I asked to speak to her supervisor and this is how that went:

CSR’s Supervisor: Yes, may I help you?

Me: I need to change the name on my reservation from my maiden name to my married name as all my ID is in my married name.

CSR’s Supervisor: We cannot change the name because it’s against the law.

Me: What law? It’s not against the law -

CSR’s Supervisor: It IS against the law – are you calling me a liar??

Me: Other Airlines do it -

CSR’s Supervisor: Well, they’re breaking the law – United Airlines does not break the law.

Well, this is going nowhere fast. Obviously she is not empowered to change the name either. So I ask to speak to her supervisor.

CSR's Supervisor: I don't have a supervisor

No kidding – because you have one big attitude problem and it’s starting to piss me off.

Me: Well, who do you report to???

CSR’s Supervisor: I don’t report to anyone.

Oh, ok. Although I’m pretty sure that you do.

Me: So there is no one in the entire United Airlines hierarchy that can change my name.

CSR’s Supervisor: No, it’s against the law and we don’t break the law. We don't know if it's really you. It’s not our fault that you were stupid enough to book it under the wrong name.

Oh, please you’ve just made my day. Like you do DNA matches with all those online bookings.

Me: (very sarcastically) Thank you SOOO much for all your help

And this is what she actually said:

CSR’s Supervisor: You’re welcome. Thank you for flying United Airlines.

What???? Yeah, I am so going to fly United and I am so going to get that name changed and it’s not going to cost me one cent more.

Part II coming up.

Sly's the Word

My best friend Sly came to visit me. She lives in Prince George, which is where I used to live before I moved to North Vancouver (into the house that I had never seen – only Doug had seen it when we bought it, which still is another story).

We’ve been friends for 28 years and pretty much know everything there is to know about each other – which is why we must remain best friends. That and the fact that we are the two funniest people we know. Just ask Doug (er, maybe not).

Sly has the quirkiest sense of humor of anyone that I know. She has this deep belief that we all should be stuffed when we die – we could be shaped into chairs and our hands used for ashtrays (back in the day when we smoked). That always kinda creeped me out - like what if 50 years down the road at Christmas dinner the grandkids are telling their kids - "You have to sit on Grandma, there are no other chairs" "But I don't want to sit on Grandma, she's gross" And then some big snarky guy sits on me and uses my hands to put out his cigar - blecck!!! But you know, a couple of bottles of wine and we’re on a roll. We’ve solved most of the world’s problems, created a gazillion of extremely useful inventions (like an aerobics tape for Biafrans – don’t ask), you know, generally being quite bright and cute (at least in our minds).

She’s watched my kids grow up and when they were in their teens, she became a mom herself (this after trying to convince her doctor at age 22 to tie her tubes – and telling anyone that if she ever felt maternal she would come over to my house and that would take care of it). Oh, and when she became a mom?? She couldn’t figure out why everyone wasn’t a mom and she was going to have 10 kids (riiight, Angelina) because it was the best thing ever. Then she had her second and came right back down to earth from whatever happy planet she had been on.

We still have a lot of fun. And when she comes to visit – Doug gets out his earplugs. We’re just way too much fun for him.

Time to Say Good-bye

There are two of us and we have three vehicles (Doug also has a 1967 Camaro) – all of which are unable to accommodate more than 2 people comfortably at a time. Which isn’t a problem when it’s the two of us but becomes somewhat problematic if we have say, the grandchildren to ferry around or groceries to buy and it’s raining outside.

So after MUCH consideration and discussion it was agreed – I would trade my Miata in for something a little more practical and a lot safer. (my granddaughter Jenna is heartbroken – “but grandma, I LOOOVE your zoom-zoom car”). We would keep the truck until it drove itself into the ground because Doug still loooves his truck.

Oooh, it’s so pretty and new and it does everything. I got a cross-over SUV (why do they call them cross-over – like they went over to the other side???)

All I have to do is get in and turn a key. It does everything else, including turning on the windshield wipers when it starts to rain. There are 15 airbags - I'm pretty sure they will smother me if I ever get in an accident - but at least I won't be all bloody, which makes me faint. It also came with a navigation system and a backup camera.

I got the vehicle home and, of course, Doug went out and played with the navigation system, downloaded some music, input some GPS way points, connected the phone to the bluetooth system and then realized “hey, this is waaaaay better than my truck”…..

It’s only a matter of time….

It was Fun and it was Flirty

I used to drive a Miata. It was a fun car to drive and it looked awesome. But you know, just not too practical. Like, if I had to pick anyone up from the airport their luggage couldn’t be bigger than a postage stamp. And if I parked in an empty part of the parking lot, I could lay down a huge bet that when I returned, oversized vehicles on steroids would be parked on either side of me even though there was a whole other acre they could have parked in. And big trucks driving beside me afforded me a view of their Miata sized tires and scared the bejeesus out of me. And the time that Sharon and I went shopping at Ikea in the winter and when we came out realized that we had forgot that we brought my Miata and Sharon was very pregnant AND had bought a lot of stuff and it was SO cold and we had to put the top down so that everything (including the baby) would fit. And it’s NOT a good idea to smoke with the top down – not that I smoke anymore….

Doug drives a Toyota truck. It’s getting on in age but still runs and the rust spots aren’t too bad yet. Doug babies his vehicles. Just ask his kids, my kids, his nieces and nephews – they grew up knowing “Don’t TOUCH the paint!!!! – don’t eat anything inside!!!! – don’t breath!!!!! (ok so I exaggerate – actually just a little)”. Suffice to say that we would have been better off parking the truck at home and walking to where we were going because most of the time it went like this:

Me: there’s a parking spot

Doug: hmm

Me: what’s wrong with that spot?

Doug: I don’t like it

Me: but it’s close

Doug: I don’t like the car I have to park beside

Me: ?????

Then he would drive for a little while longer and with great satisfaction say “here’s a great spot” and I’d say “but this is Burnaby and the mall is in North Vancouver”.

Ah, Spring!

Yes, spring is just around the corner. A time of renewal, of hope springing eternal, blah, blah, blah. What it really means is that all the neighbours have been out doing gardening and clean up and I’ve been sitting in the house wondering why on earth Sharon (my landscaping friend) had to move away.

When we moved into our house (actually it’s a townhouse, so technically I don’t have to do any gardening, riiight?) the previous owner had been an amazing gardener. The back area was landscaped with lots of pretty plants that grew so well in the rain forest that we live in called North Vancouver. But after about 10 years it started to look a little, shall we say, overgrown. It was also wet and mildewy looking with spiders and bugs and we never went out there, ever. We mostly kept the drapes closed so that we didn’t have to look out.

Back Garden Before

We also inherited a bunch of potted shrubs and a hibiscus tree in a pot on our front deck. It didn’t take me long to apply the black thumb of gardening to them as well.

Then Sharon came to my rescue. And Sharon comes, not just herself but, with her mom (who is a Master Gardener) and her dad, (who is a carpenter). Perrrfect!

It’s a Miracle. The back becomes an oasis from the heat, with a new wooden deck placed over the old patio pavers that were all slimy and gross, a totally revamped back garden with water feature and lighting and a front deck that is right out of a magazine! I love it!

Back Garden After

Front Deck After

But then she moves. Sharon leaves. And the rains come. And the plants grow. Bigger. And then the heat comes and the plants die. And turn brown.

I miss Sharon. I hate spring.

If you quit doing things that I find humorous, then I'll quit writing about them

Doug just told me he wants me to quit talking about him on my blog.

I've got 20 years worth of stuff - like that's going to happen!

It's a Piece of Cake

We have been renovating our house for the past several years (I never saw it before we bought it, only Doug did (and I had to rely on his memory about every room) – yes, I know it’s totally weird, but that’s another story).

It’s taken quite some time but we finally get to the second to last of the major projects – the bathrooms. Now, I had the vision in my mind for the powder room and in various discussions between Doug and me he decides to rip out our ensuite. Keeping in mind, of course, that I had a vision for the powder room.

But, in order to keep projects moving forward (because sometimes you can just talk things out to death), I quickly shifted gears and created a vision for the ensuite. I purchased all of the tile, plumbing fixtures, lighting, pretty much everything but the cabinetry. Everything is delivered, we’re all set to go. The demolition is easy. There’s some work that needs done with the plumbing. We go to the plumbing store. We get all the bits and pieces and stuff.

And then I wait. It is June 2005. July. August. “Should I hire a plumber?” I ask. “Oh, no. I just need some time to devote to it – it’s a piece of cake”, I am assured.

The tile that is piled in the foyer makes an excellent Santa sleigh when it is covered with red fabric at Christmas. By the time spring arrives everyone assumes that the tile piled up in the foyer is actually a sculpture that I created.

By the time summer 2006 rolls around, we’ve had a couple of very short conversations that ended with me brokering a deal (ok, having a temper tantrum) to hire someone to do ALL the bathrooms. Clearly, we are not cut out for these major rip-them-out-do-it-yourself projects.

And Habitat for Humanity? They were the real winners. Because of course, once I got to the bathroom showroom, I totally shifted gears for the ensuite and everything I had bought a year earlier was, well, sooo last year…

Our next project? Inserting a flat panel TV into the wall of our bedroom and relocating the ceiling fan. Sounds like a piece of cake, right?

It's All Black and White

I love black and white. If I could, my entire house would be that. With touches of silver. There is even a women’s clothing store with nothing but black and white clothing (www.whitehouseblackmarket.com). I love it.

My love affair with all things black and white started with an outdated powder room and a black and white picture of Marilyn Monroe and a vision (although the vision was delayed by, oh, a couple of years while Doug and I debated the fate of all three bathrooms in our house that all needed updating and maybe, Doug says, we can do it ourselves – now there’s a brilliant idea and a whole other story).

But by December 2006, my powder room vision was complete. It’s so pretty. But it’s the only black and white (with silver) theme going on in our house because Doug refuses to vote yes to new furniture and our current furniture won’t work.

So I did the next best thing. I created a black and white (with silver) Christmas. With matching gift wrap. Everybody hated it. But me.

But I will carry on. My new laptop looks like a baby grand piano. I guess I am going to have to change my office to go with it….

One-up-man-ship

Doug is a techie and math geek. Me, not so much. And that’s fine, we’re both cool with that. It usually means that we have the latest and greatest gadgets and computer tools ever known to man. If we have version 2.5.7.86.105.2 of any one item and version 2.5.7.86.105.3 comes out, we usually have to get it, you know, because it’s BETTER.

Because Doug is the techie in the family, and I’m not so much, he feels he should make most of the “who gets what” decisions, which is fine with me. He’ll get the latest version of Java’s PERL ARC GIS Microsoft Swanson dinner software and I don’t ever feel the need to get myself say, some new clothes.

A couple of years ago he gave me an iPod nano 8 gig (which is why I’m hip – see my very first post) for Christmas. It was great and so much better than either of our MP3 players. Of course, as soon as I opened it he took it and programmed it and loaded music and created playlists etc. etc. Once he realized how cool it was he started commenting about how maybe he should get one as well. Of course you can see the reasoning – he’s the techie – I’m not. I have something cool, he doesn’t. Ergo – he needs to get bigger and better iPod. So he does, but not the iPod nano – he got the iPod video 32 gig.

A couple of months later, my old cell phone finally broke for the last time and we both went to get me a new one. What a sleek phone I got – thin as a credit card, with camera, browser and 2 gigs of memory. And, of course, once I got it home, Doug took it and programmed it and downloaded music to it and surfed the internet with it and realized – “hey wait a minute! this is better than my phone”. Yep, it only cost him $300 to break his contract ….

Which brings me to Annie Duke.....if I go to this seminar, I'm not sure what Doug will have to do to make it up to himself....

The Zen of Poker (part 2)

Doug and Annie Duke

I've mentioned Annie Duke and how she is the most famous woman poker player, EVER. She is a walking encyclopedia of percentages when it comes to poker hands and poker pots.

And, because of the math thing, she is Doug's newest, best friend.

So, this is how it came down. We were leaving the seminar when they announced that Annie would be holding an all-women's clinic in Las Vegas in June. Now, June is my birthday month and my first thought is:

Happy Birthday to me!
Happy Birthday to me!
Happy Birthday, get packed!
Happy Birthday to me!

It also just happens to be at the EXACT same time that Doug is hosting his annual all-guys poker tournament weekend.

My thoughts - Yip-P as in Perfect timing

Doug's thoughts - Whaaaat??? You get to go to Vegas and hang out with Annie Duke and I have to stay and play poker with the guys. Whaaaat?????

Next up - Doug and his need for one-up-man-ship.

The Zen of Poker (part 1)

Doug taught me how to play poker. It started with him playing for fun, online, and me watching him. He finally let me try a game, all the while giving me bits of advise that sounded like this:

"Blah, blah, pot odds, blah, blah, something or other percent, blah, blah"

And, of course, I replied:

"It's ok - I use intuition - I can just tell when someone is bluffing me".

This went fine for quite a while - we would take turns playing and Helping each other out. Well, at least until I started Helping him out - something along the lines of:

"I knew that was going to happen" or "Why on earth would you have done that, couldn't you just feel that was wrong????"

Yeah, well now I play upstairs in my own office, on an entirely different site - I don't think Doug wants to chance us being in the same room or on the same table EVER.

But we did both enrol in a one day poker seminar taught by Annie Duke (the most famous woman poker player, EVER). She is amazing! This is what she says:

“Poker is about the math”.

Wow! – how amazing! Nobody has ever put it to me like that before.

What? When? You did? Of course I was listening to you, Doug.

Tax Time - The Comedy

Doug and I both work from home. Well, actually, it's more that he computer programs and every so often I'll do paperwork. There are so many benefits to working from home:

1. Short commute
2. Relaxed dress code
3. Relaxed personal hygiene (eeewww - but it's true)
4. Long lunches/and or early dinners
5. Set-your-own-salary (totally dictated by how-much-did-we-invoice)
6. All that together time....
   

For the most part it works well. For the most part.

You see, it's tax time. Now personal taxes are one thing. Those I can do. Corporate taxes are quite another thing. Doug is of the belief that the government shouldn't make tax forms so difficult that you would have to hire someone (like an Expert) to fill them out.

So, for the past few years I have been in charge of putting all the numbers into the right spots. It usually goes something like this:

I spend a few hours in my office thinking up nasty things to do to Revenue Canada for complicating corporate taxes, wondering what perverted thrills accounting people really get from doing this and then I shut down my computer, stomp down the stairs in a huff, open a bottle of wine and tell Doug "everything's coming along fine".

After a rather compelling and convincing debate (ok, temper tantrum) we have finally hired the Expert to do this year's corporate taxes. He's good. He even has a sense of humor. Like wanting to know where our trial balance is.

Riiight, like we actually have one of those.

If it's hip I'm there!

I was never one to keep a diary or a journal, even though Oprah says I should. But for some reason I really like the idea of a blog (although, if I did have a diary, it would have to kept under lock and key so that no one could read it). It feels so anonymous to write and post in the vast universe of the internet. I mean, is anyone really going to read this?

So, a little history. Married twice, one current husband (other husband is ex) three children, two stepchildren, two sons-in-law, four grandchildren, no live pets (or plants), one parent, one step-parent, one parent-in-law, two step-parents-in-law, three siblings and numerous other people that my mother tells me are related (oh and tons more that are my husband's relatives, but I don't know who they all are because he doesn't know who they all are - only his step-mom knows).

Oh, and just because I have grandchildren does not make me old. Just ask Mathew, my six year old grandson. He's pretty sure that his dad is older than me. Although numerically it's not true, I can only assume that it means I just look younger than his dad.

So, now I have a blog. I also have an iPod.

It's official - I'm hip!