English rage

I am a snob. I am a highbrow, high standards, high expectations kind of girl…when it comes to the English language.

I was trained that way – it’s not an excuse, it is simply the reason. I have always been in love with language, and good at spelling and grammar (was that grammatically correct???). And I went to university for professional writing…in English. Writing has always come naturally for me and reading has always been my constant companion (I carry a book everywhere I go…and totally did it waaaaay before Rory Gilmore made it hot).

Of course this means that I have a list of things that irk me. Things that make my eye twitch and my skin crawl and my heart weep for the future of the English language. Things I think are unacceptable and inexcusable.

Mispronunciation

It’s SO meem. Just so you know. And *it’s…SERIOUSLY. 

In high school, I totally thought melancholy was pronounced melon-sholly. EW. And I, of course, pronounced this word in front of my arch enemy at the time (we were both vying for the affections of our shared very best friend). She took great pleasure in making fun of me…because I was the English guru, for goodness’ sake! DAMMIT. I still burn with shame and embarrassment. It’s melon-kolly. SERIOUSLY. When I hear people pronounce these words incorrectly, I can’t help but feel like they should be burning in shame…but mostly they’re oblivious or, WORSE, they think they’re being cute. Bleh. For me, these words are the worst:

Supposedly – Did you know that there is is no ‘b’ in this word??? And yet people still say supp-oh-ze-Blee. REALLY??? Supposebly. It doesn’t exist. And if you’re over the age of 7, you’re not cute. You sound uneducated. It’s a ‘D’, people.

Specifically – It frustrates me to no end when people pronounce this word without the ‘s’ on the beginning…like pa-sif-fik-lee. Like the ocean. Pacifically. As opposed to Atlantically??? Is it a geographic adverb that you need in your sentence? Or did you just ignore the first letter, like the first step, and now you’re falling UP, which takes an incredible level of clumsiness and anti-skill. It’s spe-sif-fik-lee. And it has nothing inherently to do with oceans. I promise.

Especially – What’s with words with ‘ally’ in them? This one gets an ‘x’ thrown in where the ‘s’ hangs out. Instead of ‘ess’, we get ‘exs’. It’s weird. And wrong. That is all.

Library – This one is just ridiculous. Do not pronounce the place that holds the books, the things that contain the words, improperly. It’s a slap in the face to English. And there’s no reason for it. It’s lye-br-ary. NOT lye-berry. There’s an extra ‘r’ that demands and deserves respect. Please.

Pumpkin – I don’t know what it is about this one, but it is by far my most enraging mispronunciation on the list. I HATE the word ‘punk-in’. There is no ‘n’ there. There is an ‘mp’. And I feel like anyone who says it this way is a twit. There. I said it. You’re a TWIT. I even correct my 6-year old. There’s just no getting over this one. If you say ‘punk-in’ near me, know that although I am polite and will continue our social interactions like I’m supposed to, in my head I’m throwing a tantrum and smacking the ‘punk’ out of you. You’ve been warned.

Not a ‘punk’ in sight…

Incorrect spelling

I get it. Spell-check is everywhere, no one needs to know how to spell things, and texting and messaging and Facebook-ing makes spelling things out redundant and time-consuming. I KNOW. I still text in full sentences, but I don’t think everyone should. That is NOT what this is about. This is about people not spelling things the right way when they spell them out. You can LOL and BRB all you want, but PLEASE, for the love of all things holy and contained in the OED, avoid these WTF moments:

Congradulations – In a world with everyone’s every milestone being posted on Facebook, this one gets used. And abused. A LOT. Did you know there is no ‘d’ in congratulations? That it’s a ‘t’?? And that when you use the short-form, ‘congrats’, it’s STILL a ‘t’? NOT A ‘D’. Please, please, please stop ‘congradulating’ people and get back to ‘congratulating’ people…because although their daily workout may not be entirely congratulatory, it’s definitely NOT congraDulatory. And, speaking of which…

Such a dumb-ass.

Definately – There is no ‘a’ in ‘definitely’. There just isn’t. Do not ‘definately talk to your doctor’ about your kid’s rash, do not ‘definately get together’ with the high school friend you found on FB, do not ‘definately’ confront your neighbour about the crappy way they park their car in front of your driveway. DEFINITELY do any or all of those things. But NEVER ‘definately’.

Your versus You’re – Look. I get it. They sound the same. They practically look the same. But DUDES, they are SO not the same! Your is all about ownership – that’s yours. Your hair. Your new car. Your drama. YOU OWN IT. But you’re??? It’s a contraction, a smashing together, of two words: you + are. And it is used EVERY time someone says ‘thank you’ to you. You’re welcome. As in, YOU ARE welcome. Not, here is YOUR welcome. You own this welcome. But, I’ve done something awesome, you’re (THERE IT IS AGAIN – you are) grateful, and now, I say, you’re welcome! Like, YOU ARE WELCOME to my awesomeness. Bah. Please? Please. Let’s work on this one. It’s almost as cringe-worthy as ‘punk-in’. Almost.

So…which one are you? Feeling up your nuts, or feeling a little crazy?

And last, but NOT least:

Words that don’t FREAKING exist

There is only one word on this list and it is enough of a blight on the English-speaking world to make up for any other made-up word you can think of.

Irregardless. There. That’s it. There is no such word as ‘irregardless’. There is regardless, which means ‘without regard’, and then that’s it. THERE IS NO ‘irregardless’. There is no word that means ‘without without regard’. The ‘ir’ is redundant and nonsensical. It makes the word a double negative, but it doesn’t make a word that means ‘full of regard,’ it just makes you sound dumb and me lose all respect for you. You are stripped of your credibility. I can’t be friends with you anymore. Go stand over there with the ‘punkin’ users.

And if you’re not, man you sure SOUND stupid.

***

Okay. English rage rant over. Now, tell me yours. What makes your skin crawl, your hatred level rise uncontrollably and irrationally (that IS a word), and your need to punch people in the face to surface? Tell me – what are the language ticks that make you wanna go BOOM?

~ Julia

“Leaving in 15…”

I am almost always late for work. I don’t know if you remember from previous posts, but I literally work next door to my house. Seriously…

Seriously….

My manager loves it when I call in, so much so that she has memorized my number from her call display. I have told her many times, that I can either wear pants or be on time…she has to choose. Have fun explaining it to HR when I come in wearing no pants! ” BUT SHE WAS ON TIME!” she will yell as she is being escorted out of the office.

To my defense, it is because I am so close to office that I am always late. I look at the clock and think, “I can make it to work in 2 minutes; I will just run.” HA! Run – I don’t run. I can barely walk properly. So therefore me being late is a safety precaution, as in it’s for my own safety I am late. This too HR can not argue over.

While I am always late for work, for which I could be dismissed for being late, I try my hardest to not be late for events with family or friends. There are many reasons as to why I don’t like being late, but mainly it’s because I hate when people are late to things I have planned.

I, like, two of my other sisters, do not have children. One of the many perks of having children is having a built-in excuse for tardiness. No one will be upset with you as you walk into a birthday party or family Christmas late, toting a screaming child on your hip. No one would dare…they simply take the screaming child away from you and then quickly offer you a stiff beverage of the caffeinated or alcoholic variety.

Any tardiness can just be blammed on little Timmy who went down for a nap right before you were supposed to leave, and you wouldn’t dare suggest that the mother of three terrorists wake one up only to upgrade their terrorist status to tyrant! And then request that they shove said tyrant into their car seat and drag him to the party. You would be crazy! You would be exiled, removed from the family.

I like to keep my life, therefore I do not bother asking the status or whereabouts of Julia and her family. I just know that they will show up at some point. I say this with love! As someone who has taken care of all three of her children, and has been around children my whole life, I like them a lot better when they are happy, and if being late assists in their level of happiness…then late away!

When you do not have any children though, it gets hard to take your “Leaving in 15” or “On my way” text messages seriously when everyone knows you mean “Still finding pants to match the shirt I wanted to wear to this event, but I am not totally sold on the shirt either. So pretty much I am not dressed, and yes I woke up on time and this event was at 4 pm, but I wanted to not do anything for the first 7 hours of the day…so I’ll be there soon…ish…again when I find the earrings to match the pants…and oh yeah, I took off the shirt I mentioned in the first sentence because these pants go with these earrings, so now I have to find a shirt.”

It gets to a point when people start to tell you to be somewhere earlier than you need to be. Then you are at an impasse. When you show up on time for wherever it is you need to be, and realize that the party or event has only just started, then you know that they know that you are always late…

Life is rough when you choose to always be late, because it is a choice. You chose to sleep in/go to breakfast with other people/drive that person around/pick up groceries before you came. Make your choices wisely people. Now excuse me while I go find pants.

~ Jacqui

For the love of my apps!

My phone sent me the cruellest of messages this morning as I awoke from my beauty sleep….

And suddenly I was left with a feeling of pure anxiety. I have to delete things…all the things I hold dearly on my phone. Pictures? No I could never – there are too many to go through! How tedious! How will I choose? It’s just too much!

Then, an idea! (You should know that I do my best thinking in the morning). My apps! My iPhone is full of them, and I know for certain I don’t use them all. So as I scrolled through the many, I came across a few I thought I would share with you before I deleted them.

Etsy was the first app I came across. I am not sure if you are familiar with this app, or website, but it’s pretty amazing! People from all over the world (including Snooki – that’s right, the one and only Snooki) have online shops where they can sell their own merchandise. From handmade necklaces to flasks, a custom made t-shirt to a print of anything your heart desires, Etsy is the app for you! It’s a little addicting, which is probably why I should delete it. I mean a girl can only purchase for herself so many personalized pen holders, or a coffee mug that I could probably make myself – but why would I when I have Etsy?! On second thought, this app isn’t going anywhere!

I wasn’t joking – Snooki…or Nicole as she is going by these days…is on Etsy! Full disclosure – I have already purchased something from her!

Flipp was an app that a friend told me about. She is a savvy shopper and loves a good deal. It’s an app that shows you all the flyers in your area. How does this differ from the paper Julia brags about? Well, you simply type in the search for say “sliced cheese” and it shows you which stores have it on sale and compares them! To be honest, with all our readers I have never used this app before other than after I downloaded it…BUT! I like to see it on my homescreen so that way I feel like I am not the lazy person who uses the new and convenient Foodland in town when I could be using my handy Flipp app to compare and contrast different flyers and negotiate like my step-father in law does. So, again, I guess this app stays, because one day I will use it, and it will save me money!

Realtor.ca app was downloaded not that long ago because I was being a nosy neighbour and wanted to know the price of a house for sale in our neighbourhood. Turns out that Cody and I are horrible at appraising houses (scratch realtor off my possible career moves) and we are super cheap! I kept it because I like looking at the possibilities that are out there, as our little two-bedroom house one day will be too small for our family. So, because I am hopeful for the future, this app is staying.

Live Nation was downloaded as I was looking for a country concert to surprise Cody with. Maybe a little Jason Aldean? Or Zac Brown Band? I mean summer isnt summer without a good concert! I thought it would be nice, but with Cody I had to smoothly ask him which weekend he was a available. And thus my surprise was ruined as I am a horrible secret keeper, and he is a really good surprise guesser and the “we don’t need to go to a concert, we need to redo the bathroom” conversation began.

And so, it is with much pleasure that I announce that I deleted that the Live Nation app! Because we don’t need a concert, we need to redo the bathroom (#buzzkill).

I now have enough room on my phone to take 3½ more pictures! Yay me!

~ Jacqui

Gong show

I am a gong show. I am a walking, stumbling, no-balance, poor-spatial-skills gong show. I have a long history of injuring myself while…walking. I am the queen of showing up with giant, purple, angry bruises from…I HAVE NO IDEA. So, when I got myself couch-ridden last week, no one in the Sisterhood or in my life was surprised.

It all started innocently enough – a long 8-km walk a couple of weeks ago with two of the sisters, one that we had taken before and one we used as a wild-flower collecting expedition.

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But on the last kilometer, just after buying supplies for the yummy breakfast we would have at Jacqui’s house afterwards, I rolled my ankle. It wasn’t a bad one (remember the long history? Yeah, also not the first one…), but it made me go down onto my knees and skin my elbow. Both Toni and Jacqui weren’t surprised to find me on the ground, but of course they were worried. I hobbled home, reassuring them that everything was okay, and after a day or so, my ankle felt normal again and happy.

That Tuesday, though, I did it again. This time I was also on a sidewalk (the most dangerous walking surface known to Julia), and I was just walking, minding my own business, but I was with Sophie. We were chatting on the way home from buying some bread and milk from the grocery store across the street from us, when I went down again. My ankle gave out, rolled, and stabbed me in the back.

This one hurt a lot. I was able to hobble home, reassuring Sophie that I was fine, but once I got inside the house with Ben, I started to sob. I so wasn’t okay. My ankle was sore and swelling, and my knee, which caught my fall, was torn and bleeding. Ben cleaned me up, found the biggest band aid we had in the house, and then left me to be a parent all day. Sugar daddies are like that. 😉

This roll stuck with me a bit more – my ankle was more tender and sore, but I kept plowing through my life, as I’m wont to do. I kept mothering and walking everywhere, including wandering the St. Jacobs Farmers’ Market while pulling a wagon full of produce and babies, and hanging out with other mom-friends and their babies at splash pads and parks, and generally ignoring my traitor of an ankle.

But last Saturday, my ankle had the last laugh. I was sitting (SITTING!!!!), with my legs tucked under me as I always do because I’m short and can’t touch the floor, so it’s more comfortable to sit with legs pulled up than dangling down. I moved to get off of the stool I was on and my ankle twisted funny. From that moment on, I couldn’t bend it. I couldn’t stand on it. I couldn’t put any weight on it. I couldn’t move it without it screaming at me. It was all done. And so was I.

I tried to ‘pop’ it because it almost felt like the joint was stuck and just needed a bit of pressure to go back to normal. Nope.

I tried napping, hoping that my ankle would relax and be fine again. Nope.

I tried crawling around, hoping time off of it would help. Nope.

I tried getting Ben to carry me everywhere, while laughing my head off at how ridiculous I must have looked. Nope.

And then, after the babies were in bed, I tried going to the hospital for x-rays. Yep.

My ankle wasn’t broken, just sprained really, really horribly. And I was prescribed the classic athlete prescription – RICE – Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation. I wasn’t allowed to put any weight on it, I had to keep it up, I had to put ice on it, and I had to wrap it in a sexy tensor bandage. Yay me! I hobbled out of the hospital with a brand-new pair of crutches and extreme worry.

Worry about walking with crutches – if I couldn’t walk like a normal person with two healthy legs, how the hell was I supposed to accomplish walking with two sticks stuck under my armpits??

Worry about the prescription – how was I supposed to complete my RICE with three babies under 7 at home??

Worry about my ankle – did I ruin it completely? Will I ever be able to walk or run normally again? When can I run again? When can I walk again? Why does my ankle hate me???

I got home, ate an ice cream sandwich because that’s what I do when I’m sad, and went upstairs to bed. Where I fell. Again. It was spectacular – I mis-crutched in my bedroom and ended up falling right back, like a tree timbering, to avoid catching myself on my out-of-commission ankle, all the way to the floor, where my head landed in the lost sock basket and my crutches flew into the air and I started laughing. Hysterical laughing. Tears streaming down my face until I actually started crying. Hysterical crying. Ben had to calm me down and literally put me to bed. Gong show.

Of course, after a good night’s sleep, and some drugs, things started to unwind a little in the worry department. I remembered important things, like I’m not alone. I am not an island. I am a mother and wife and daughter and sister surrounded by a village of people who actually like me (they’re so screwed and crazy…). And that this silly ankle problem that HURT LIKE HELL was not the end of the world. I always think on the bad days that it’s the end of the world, that it will never get better, that this state is how things will always be. But then I get talked out of that tree and everything gets brighter.

Ben stayed home with me on Monday all day, giving me a second full day on the couch and giving us time to figure out the rest of the week.

I kicked the day off with a shower, which of course included me falling again. This time no crutches were involved, but I fell in our tiny bathroom, and my underwear got caught on a door hinge on the way down, so that when I landed, I not only had a hurt toosh, but my underwear were up near my neck and I had a giant wedgie. Sexy gong show.

Then, I asked for help from sisters and from my dear mom friends and my own mom.

Andreah came every morning to clean my kitchen, wrangle children, and fetch me coffee, water, and food.

My jerk of an ankle

Andrea and Michele ferried Sophie to her art class every morning, sometimes keeping her for lunch and play dates. Bethany took my kids for three of the afternoons, letting me rest and keep my foot up while she fed and napped and chased my babies.

McSteamy kept me company. ❤

And my mom kicked in an afternoon of motherly love, which included toenail painting (including Isaac’s!).

Clockwise from the giant blue toes (mine!), we then have Isaac’s (who was more reluctant about the picture than the actual toe-painting), Lillian (who has Spider-Man blue and red) and Sophie (who is proud to be the kid with the most polish still intact on both fingers AND toes)

I’m happy to report I’m walking around now, fairly crutch-free, with some tensor bandage fashion and ice-pack dates punctuating the day, versus being the day. My ankle still aches and I know I still have to take it easy, but at least I’m moving in the right direction, I haven’t fallen in a while and I’ve stopped giving myself door-hinge wedgies. I’m cured! At least until my ankle decides to hate me again.

~ Julia

Monkey Muffins

Last week I was on vacation with Cody’s family, and man do I need a vacation from that vacation!

It was so relaxing, and I ate everything, and drank…everything.  Driving home on Sunday was hell because we were stuck in traffic for HOURS! And when we finally got home all I wanted to do was make a home cooked meal and hit the hay. After a much needed 12 hour sleep, I woke on Monday refreshed and antsy. I wanted to do something, I needed to do something.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have a to do list – like any one when they come back from vacation, with the unpacking, and the laundry and the mentally preparing for returning to work.  To be honest I was looking forward to getting back to our regular routine. In order to assist with getting back into the rhythm of things, I decided I was going to make muffins for my muffin (aww ?.. no? ew?) to have for breakfast for the next week. I took a traditional recipe and made it my own. They are peanut butter and banana muffins!

Ingredient list: 

2 Cups all purpose flour

1/2 cup lightly packed brown sugar

1 table spoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

3/4 cup of chunky peanut butter

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

2 eggs

3/4 cup milk

Before you start getting messy pre-heat the oven for 375 degrees F, then go over to your mixer and talk sweet to it. Let it know you are going to use it, but its going to like it. Whoa – did it just get a little spicy in here?

Look at that bad ass bitch!

In a large bowl add all your dry ingredients starting with the 2 cups flour.

Then the baking powder (note I used magic baking powder, you can only get this from going to your local witch or wizard, and trade them your magic beans for this! Don’t tell them I told you!)

 

Then the brown sugar. I used dark brown sugar, because Julia bought it for me and it was in my pantry. Also she told me that it has better flavor than the light kind.. who knew? Now you do!

 

And finally the salt! (for all those wondering, my nail polish colour is called pool party, I highly recommend this sassy splash of summer)

Mix the dry ingredients together until blended, and combined. I didn’t take a picture of this because I am only one person, and give me a break. If you need a visual then you don’t belong in the kitchen!

Next add all your wet ingredients into your mixer bowl in order to prepare them to make a delicious baby with the dry ingredients!

First comes your chunky peanut butter. I used chunky because I like a little bit of a surprise when it comes to my PB&J, but please use smooth, regular or which ever kind you would like.

mmmmm chunky!

Next comes the oil, vegetable oil. Nothing fancy.

Dos eggs (dos means two, I learned this from my grade 10 Spanish class where I was named Eva – but according to  my niece, Dora is a great Espanol tutor)

Add your milk. Fun fact: Cody is lactose in tolerant, so we never have milk in the house. We do however have cream, so I used 1/2 a cup of milk and then the rest of the required amount I used water. Which you could totally use cream for the whole amount if you are not worried about calories. (Also how about we agree on not telling him that I used milk in this recipe…K? K!)

Then your ripe banana’s.  I got mine out of the freezer so they look especially delicious. Why did I get them out of the freezer you ask? Well because when I buy Banana’s I always buy enough that some will go ripe, and then I freeze them so when Cody or I have a craving for Banana bread I can bust out these bad boys and be a freaking super hero!

Once all your wet ingredients are combined, then slowly add your dry! I did get a picture of this, because I became a photographer for a moment, and then pulled a muscle, and cut that shit out!

Once everything is combined, add your liners to your muffin/cupcake pan. I like to tell my muffin mixture it is about to get thrust into adulthood so its not a surprise when they are put into the fiery inferno that is your oven, but hey – to each their own! Just don’t blame me when your muffins are all dry and not delicious because you decided not to give them a little warning.

Pay no attention to the messy oven…

Now set your timer for 25 mins and relax… I like to crochet or annoy my dog with my love and affection. Or you could clean up the mess you made, but cleaning is for chumps!

After your lovely timer rings and sings the songs of peanut butter choir – run, don’t walk to your oven. GET AN OVEN MIT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD and take out your Monkey Muffins!

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm….. 

Now… the secret to ANY good muffin is…Nutella! Mmmmmmm and enjoy!

~ Jacqui

Instructions:

In a large bow, mix together the flour, brown sugar, baking power and salt.

In a separate bowl beat together the peanut butter, oil, eggs, milk and bananas.

Combine the wet ingredients with the dry ingredients until just moistened.

spoon the batter into 12 large muffin tins. Bake for 20-25 mins, use a tooth pic in order to confirm that they are cooked all the way through.

Dear, Pants

I hate you.

If I could live my life without having to wear you, I would.

When I was younger, our relationship was all roses. I hated frilly or fluffy clothing. Dresses or skirts made me turn up my nose. Where did you go wrong? When did you stop supporting and start squeezing? Yes, I am blaming this on you.

I know that as a woman I should bite my tongue. For years women fought for their right to wear you, hell the Duggar women still don’t (different topic). But I hate you. To quote my friend Alfalfa, “You are the scum between my toes.”

You restrict me and constrict me. I count down the hours, the minutes, the seconds until I can take you off from the moment I put you on.

As I walk home from work I find myself unbuttoning in our front yard. The neighbours have to either think I am a nudist or they concur that pants suck.

To me, you, sir pants, mean responsibility. And, if I could, I would not have any. I would spend my days lying about sans pantaloons, with no cares in the world. I don’t want to be a grown-up, and grown-ups wear pants!

Okay, okay, you aren’t all bad. I do have a few pairs that make my rump look beyond fantastic; however, I feel that the heels I wear to accompany you may do most of the work.

You are like wrapping paper, and I am all about the present inside. Sure the presentation is nice, but very rarely does anyone sit and admire the presentation of the paper and the bow when they know that what is inside is going to be amazing.

All of your kind aren’t bad. Yoga pants, sweat pants, and pyjama pants are all fantastic creations for which I hold a specific high regard. But none of you are appropriate for the workplace. And so I am left with this horrible icky feeling inside whenever I put you on.

I wish our relationship could be better, but at this time I fear that we are at an impasse.

Until my feelings change, I will hold my memories of you when I was younger with sweet regard. I am sorry we can’t be friends right now. Maybe in a few years? But then I talk with my older sisters and they too have the same feelings. So I am not hopeful.

Until the times change,

~ Jacqui

The adventures of Hendrix and Bacon – Part 1

Hendrix is our 8-year old Yorkie Terrier who was given to me by my future mother-in-law, and Bacon is our 5-year old English Bulldog who was a birthday present for Cody. We brought Bacon home when Hendrix was three years old and his world was turned upside down – not only was he no longer an only dog, but the little brother we brought home was not so little.

Cody and I have always thought that Hendrix had some kind vendetta against Bacon, but we had no real proof. Until one fateful day during a midday nap when I caught Hendrix in the act of sabotage!

I had come home from work (this particular day I was only scheduled to work until 12:30 p.m.), I made myself a delicious sandwich with pickles. This sandwich was quite filling. As I finished the first half my eyes got heavy. I curled up in the corner of our sectional, pulled the blankets up and settled in for an afternoon nap – the kind of nap you dream about while sitting at your desk around 3 p.m….yeah, that kind of nap. My eyes started to shut when I heard the familiar clicking of nails on the floor.

Through the slits of my eyes, I watched as Hendrix jumped up on the coffee table.

He thought I was sleeping…

He cautiously maneuvered around the spare change and my earrings that I took off before I retreated to plush oasis, and made his way towards the plate with the remains of my lunch.

I have decided at this point to watch him – I know that if Cody were to walk in, Hendrix would quickly retreat under our bed, hiding until his indiscretion had been forgotten.

Hendrix quietly grabbed the leftover sandwich and proceeded to place it on the corner of the coffee table. Then, he licked his lips and waited. Waited for his victim to come and see what he is doing. Curiosity will be the demise of Bacon.

As Bacon came around the corner, he immediately spotted the sandwich within his reach and trotted over to it. With one swift move, Bacon’s clumsy head is on the coffee table as his mouth grabs towards the delicious treat, knocking around the plate. Hendrix sat back, watching Bacon as eats it and looking over to see if I have woken up from the clanging of the plate. I did not move for fear of ruining the amazing events that were unfolding in front of me! Hendrix’s plan had been foiled! Drat!

As Bacon licked his lips in pleasure, Hendrix was already devising another plan to inevitably bring down Bacon.

Pinky and the Brain

~ Jacqui

Five thoughts every yogi has…but may not admit!

If you are one of our regular readers, then you know that Toni has recently found her love of yoga. On her journey she has brought me and our other sisters along for the journey, and I thank her for it. Yoga is a practice I enjoy, and wish I could go to more often, however due to life, the wedding and general laziness I have missed almost two months of reconnecting with myself during these sweaty sessions.

This weekend Cody and I, along with our wedding party, will be holding our buck and doe, and as I sit here thinking of the week to come and carefully planning out my life, I have decided that I will attend karma class this Friday in order to reconnect with myself and give myself a break from general wedding insanity for an hour before this weekend’s festivities!

I am a check-list queen, so with this decision of going to karma class my mind starts to go into overdrive, and once again I send myself into a tizzy thinking of all the things I need to accomplish before Friday. Turning off your mind and focusing on your breathing is the hardest part for me about yoga – turning off the list-making, double-checking, shit-I-forgot-that-and-that brain function is HARD WORK!

During a regular yoga practice the following five thoughts regularly occur for me:

1. Must remember to _____ after class.

Fill in the blank for yourself, you name it I’ve thought it! Pick up coffee, get yogurt, call Cody and confirm that thing that I was suppose to confirm with him yesterday but didn’t. Call my mom, call my grandma. List list list list list, to do, to do, to do. I CAN’T STOP!!! Make it stop!

2. Don’t fart…don’t fart!!!!!!

There is one position where you lie on your back, curl your knees to your stomach and literally massage your colon. The instructor will even explain to you that this stretch is perfect for your lower intestine and your digestion. What I think every time I get into this position is, “I am going to fart and it’s so damn quiet in here, everyone is gonna know it was me, and then I am going to laugh, and not just like a little giggle, but a full blown laugh where you are laughing because it’s awkward, and you then realize you are laughing because you are uncomfortable so you laugh because you are not supposed to laugh and then it just keeps going!”, so instead, I just clench my butt and hope and pray that I do not fart. Or should I try to slowly let it out, and hope that it’s quiet…nope…it’s gonna be loud…hold it in, hold it in!!!!! This is one of the main reasons I choose a spot in the back corner of the room, so if I do fart, I can hide.

3. I should have shaved my ________! 

Now for this one, it’s usually my armpits as karma is hot yoga, so you never wear long sleeves and if you do then you are either straight up CRAZY or you are trying to drop in a weight class before your wrestling meet tomorrow. Now again in a yoga practice you are supposed to be focused on you, how you are stretching, your breathing, what is comfortable for you, but I am a Portuguese woman whose father blessed her with all the hair in the world. I can bet you 1 million dollars that my armpits close to waxing day would distract even the most seasoned yoga veteran. As I raise my arms in the air to get into that final position of a pose, and you out of the corner of your eye see the long luscious locks I can grow from under my arms, well it’s enough to throw anyone off their game!

4. Don’t fall! DO NOT FALL! 

The karma class on Fridays at our local Moksha Yoga studio has a capacity of about 40 to 45 and it is ALWAYS PACKED!!! So when you are bending and stretching and trying to contort your body the way that the instructor is guiding you, there is always one position which leaves you on one leg! These are usually to promote balance, but I think its just the instructor trying to play human dominoes. One of these days, I am going to fall over and knock the next person down beside me. Until this happens, know that when I am on one foot I am not breathing in and out and focusing on my breath, but rather chanting “Don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall!!!”

5. I can not believe this much sweat can come out of one person! 

Honestly, it’s shocking! The amount of moisture that comes out of one’s body during a super sweaty bendy class is disturbing. And surprisingly, it doesn’t smell as bad as you would think (THANK GOD FOR DEODORANT). When I go home, I can wring out my clothes and, if I wanted to, I could make a pretty penny selling Eau Du Jacqui (trust me, I cringed as well as I wrote that; it won’t happen, I promise…ew). And to be honest, Toni sweats WAY MORE than I do! I think it may be a hormonal imbalance, but the jury is still out on that one!

If you have the pleasure of being beside me in our next yoga class, please know that all of these things are true, you lucky devil you! 😉

~ Jacqui

Directionally challenged

The other night I went out, phone in hand as always.I have had this phone long enough that it no longer has a warranty, but not so long that I get mindless stares because it is obsolete when I pull it out in public. It’s an iPhone so it pretty much became the oldest model as soon as it was put on the shelf to purchase.

My battery was at 20 percent, to other iPhone users this is about the time you try to locate a power source. No? Just my trusty hardware? Okay then.

I didn’t sweat it, the place I was going I had been three times before, once I even drove. So I should know where I am going …if I wasn’t directionally challenged!

I got in the truck, turned on my GPS and headed out.

Humming along with the radio and cautiously listening for my male Siri adviser to direct my course because the female version has told me what to do long enough, I noticed my phone light flicker and then the ominous circle of death showed its ugly face as my phone turned off.

There I was phone-less, and suddenly thoughtless. Where was I going? Did I remember the address? Could I some what make my way and then ask for directions once I got closer? Would people know how to give directions these days? Did I just say these days? WHAT IS HAPPENING!!!!

I couldn’t do it – I had to go back. I had to turn around to go and get a car charger. I needed to tell the person I was meeting that I would be late. In order to do that I would need my phone! What did we do before cell phones? Carrier pigeons!?!

Now I was in a full on panic!!!

Calm down – I can do this, I just need a plan!

Step One: Turn around and SPEED home to minimize amount of time I would be without said phone

Step C: Get charger and plug phone in. Wait until phone turns on again and advise acquaintance of my tardiness due to phone being a piece of junk. That’s right this is all the phones fault…right? My dependency is not my fault!

Step V : Put co-ordinates into GPS and SPEED to said destination.

Final Step: Figure out how I handled life without a phone!!!!!!

I bought my own phone in the 10th grade. It was a pay as you go Telus phone which you could purchase unlimited text messaging for 10$ as long as you had money on it to make calls. This is really all I wanted it for. One more way to keep in constant communication with my boyfriend at the time. Silly naive Jacqui.

I quickly upgraded to a real phone as soon as I turned 18 and didn’t need a parent to sign for one. My very first flip phone with a qwerty keyboard. It was blue and SO EXPENSIVE! Silly younger Jacqui.

Then came my first Blackberry, because I was a middle aged man needing to keep in contact with my partners at the firm and monitor my portfolio (ha!) at all times.  I was important… it was white with a pink case. I was bad-ass!

I have become, no our society has become addicted to constantly being available! Thats right if I am going down you are alllll coming with me! Blogging, Facebooking, Tweeting, messaging, pinning, emailing. It’s amazing and yet so CRAZY at the same time!  We share too much, in too many places as long as there is a device or piece of technology involved we think it is okay to spout what ever nonsense we want. Real face to face interaction has slowly become a rarity as we all have our heads buried in our devices whether they be an Android, iPhone, Blackberry or blueberry!

What’s even more ironic is that I am spouting off my dependency of technology on our online blog… but I am still going to continue my rant.

I am the worst for this! I stare at a computer all day at work only to come home and stare at my phone.

There was a post on Facebook that I read which stated “If you were offered 3 million dollars, and all you had to do was not go on Facebook, Twitter or use your cellphone could you do it?”

I would like to think I could live without my phone, but I proved to myself on last Wednesday that I couldn’t.

I have since then purchased an up to date map. You know the ones you see in movies from a decade ago. They still exist! I KNOW, I was shocked too! I have also tried to set a goal of cutting down my social media time by an hour  per day for the first week. I am hoping by the end of the month my phone is not my third hand.

I am also going to put it away when I am with friends and family and focus on what is happening in front of me instead of what is going on in the land of Facebook or even through a lens.

Wish me luck – and know I am not ignoring you. Or am I…. now you will never know.

 

~ Jacqui

 

The second annual Julia awards

Last night (and this morning) the Oscars took up my living room and our Twitter feed and my dining room table:

SO. MUCH. FOOD. And yes…those strawberries are wearing tuxedos. It is the Oscars, after all.

It was lovely…and LONG. I don’t know why this year felt sooooo long…or soooooo snoozy…I’m going to go with it’s because I’m getting old.

This year, the Oscars were hosted by Neil Patrick Harris, a funny, engaging guy. The trouble? He’s no Ellen. Or Tina and Amy. Or Seth. NPH is…witty. And zingy. And the night is long and I loved the bits, but he just wasn’t my favourite.

I will tell you what my favourite was, though! Hanging out with awesome ladies, gossiping and laughing, and eating and eating and eating. Having an Oscar party is pretty damn amazing – there’s a room full of ladies who get my gossipy obsession, who can out-trivia me and back me up on dress judgments and Spanx guessing. It’s dreamy. And lovely. And there’s tons of food and comfy clothes.

I know they look demonic, but I swear they’re really nice (and I have no idea how to use a photo editor…)

And now, without further ado (unlike the end of the Oscars where NPH stuck YET ANOTHER BIT), here are my picks for last night’s BEST:

Best Dressed

All the ladies, both demonic and non-, agreed: who on earth would be best dressed? There was no clear front-runner for any of us. But, I’ve come up with my favourite of the night:

Jessi Cruikshank of the Canadian eTalk team was stunning in this muted gown. When I saw her on my Twitter feed, I immediately wrote her name down as a contender.

He's got my (open) back. #Oscars #etalkRedCarpet @LuisAntoniomoda @marklashjewelry pic.twitter.com/hIBApVZ0pL

— JESSI CRUICKSHANK (@JESSI) February 22, 2015

And my runner-up was Naomi Watts. She was stunning in this peek-a-boo dress, that showed flawless skin and toned torso. I’m also a sucker for tiny, tiny spaghettini straps…because I’ll never be able to wear them.

Best Speech

For me, it was a 3-way tie:

Mr. Pawel Pawlikowski, the Polish director who won Best Foreign Language Film for Ida. He spoke so long, he was cued off with the music…but then, he refused to budge. And he didn’t. He just kept talking. Until the music STOPPED and he was given MORE TIME. Finally, the music started up again..and he did eventually leave the stage. But it was awesome – you work your whole life for the top accolade. Why on EARTH would you ever leave the stage before you’re ready once you’ve achieved it?

J.K. Simmons, who won Best Supporting Actor for Whiplash. He told everyone that if their parents are alive, to call them. Not text, not email, CALL them. Pick up the phone and talk. I love J.K. Simmons.

And our third winner, Graham Moore, who won Best Adapted Screenplay for The Imitation Game. In his speech he not only honoured the subject of his movie, the late Alan Turing, he also talked about his battle with depression and his attempted suicide at 16. His best advice was to the kid that thought they were too weird, too different: “Stay weird. Stay different. And when it’s your turn to stand on this stage, pass the message along.”

Best Underwear

Yep. There was underwear. And all we can say is, Mazel Tov, David Burtka, Mazel Tov.

WOWZA

Best Irony

Or worst…because REALLY? There were a lot of causes highlighted last night, and for good reason – there’s a lot we can do to fix this world – but the worst one was Patricia Arquette standing up for equal pay for women after winning Best Supporting Actress…and Meryl Streep and Jennifer Lopez emphatically agreeing with her.

The cause is real. But beyond making more money than most of us will ever see, what are these women doing for the “women of America”? Because all I can see are rich ladies demanding equality in a world where equality is a joke.

Best Not-So-Veiled-We-Were-Snubbed

Before, it was Ben Affleck accepting the Oscar for Best Picture in 2013 with his “You can’t hold grudges” bit in his acceptance speech acknowledging his perceived Best Director nomination snub. This year? It was all about Selma all the time.

Terrence Howard took his presenting job as the chance to highlight the emotion behind the movie Selma, to highlight the fact that it wasn’t nominated, although it did overwhelm him.

Some say it was a teleprompter problem. Others wonder if he was drunk. I’m going with, Selma wasn’t nominated for anything but Best Song and Best Picture and this was his chance to make it shine. What do you think?

Best Joke

Last year John Travolta just couldn’t get Idina Menzel’s name right. It came out Adele Dazeem…which isn’t even CLOSE. So this year, I vote the use of the John Travolta Name Generator as best joke. (It wouldn’t let me embed the video, so here is the link.)

Ben Affleck pronounced as Benedict Cumberbatch?? Awesome.

Best Creepy Moment(s)

All of John Travolta’s. No seriously.

With Scarlett Johansson.

With Benedict Cumberbatch.

With Idina Menzel.

Creeeeeeeepy.

Best SHOCKER

Ummm…Lady Gaga can SING. And as everyone on Twitter pointed out, she kicked Carrie Underwood’s ASS.

And the last award of the night…Best WIN Face

It has to be Eddie Redmayne, because how can you argue with JOY like this:

It was a looong show and a looong night and an early morning (hence the lateness of this post), but the people I got to hang out with, the gossip I got to rehash, and the food I got to eat all make it worth it…sort of. Now, for coffee. 🙂

~ Julia