Today is the day I’m gonna let it rip. All the things that have been bugging me in the news are about to come tumbling out. They will be in no specific order; they will probably not be related; this will surprise none of you.
That chick at Yahoo who had a kid. Melissa Mayer. She’s the grand poobah there, and she made headlines because she only took a one week mat leave. People descended on her. Who cares? What one woman decides to do doesn’t make a dent in my day. The fact she has a choice is all that matters. Be nice if all women had that choice. She stepped things up today, apparently sending out an email to friends asking for input on what to name the kid. I totally wish some of my friends had asked for my input when they were naming their kids. Be a lot less Mykynzys and Jaysons and Tylyrs floating around. I think she should just name the kid Yahoo.
I watched the U.S. presidential debate. The one where Obama didn’t come across very presidenty at all. And regardless of how much everyone is clapping Mitt on the back, I think they better be careful they don’t cut their hand on the top of the zipper where he does up his person costume. Oh, during the debate I was Twitting. Or whatever. Picked up a troll from New Orleans, she kept trying to convince me she was a phd. Her spelling and grammar were awesome. I finally found out who goes to those schools I see advertised on Buffalo TV stations.
Rozzy has a new kitten and refuses to show me pictures. By the time I finally meet him, he’ll just be a cat, and Roz will do what I do and haul out baby pictures and say “look how cute he used to be” as the now-just-another-cat yawns catfood breath and curls up and sticks his nose under his tail and goes back to sleep. Edit: I finally got a pic!
The Poor Sod stopped by to pick up mail. Yes, I know it’s been over two years, but stuff still dribbles in. It took him 4 hours to get his mail, because I made a sad face and he attached some towel bars, hung up a cabinet, and checked why the range hood lights were winking and sparking. And yelled at me for letting the tool bench in the garage get so disorganized. My contractor Steve stopped in at the same time, so I had one lad in the basement working, and one upstairs, and I called it a good day.
Okay, seriously. This is my most favourite neighbour problem. Fences. Here'sa question to a columnist at the G&M about a neighbour’s fence. Legally, as far as I know, most jurisdictions have a bylaw that says neighbours must split the cost of a fence between them. Now, this is peachy if everybody wants a fence, and everybody has the same idea about how that fence should look. Yeah. That happens all the time. I personally am a hedge fan. A tall hedge fan. But I have to admit, as awesome a neighbour as I know myself to be, if someone moved in with a dog, and announced I would have to pay for a fence because of their dog, I would be pretttttttty damned crabby if I already had a perfectly good hedge there. As I do. My neighbours at the back put up a fence when they moved in with their two dogs. We have high cedars there. I never hear a peep from them, which leads me to believe that bylaws aside, common sense dictates that if someone needs a fence, that conversation better start on the right note, and include a lot of beer.
I’m going to start watching Deadwood again tonight, starting with Season One. This makes me happy.
I watched Glee last night. Don’t judge. All the kids were breaking up, which is fine with me because most of them are so annoying anyway. But the annoyingst one, Rachel, stood there in full drama makeup (which she also wore to bed; doesn’t that girl know what that does to your skin?) declaring that the guy was her First Love. Idiot. You don’t realize who your First Love was until you’ve waded through a thicket of boys and men, and finally realized which one caught on your brain for life. It usually takes a lot of years to recognize this. I’ve thought I’ve been in love dozens of times. In reality? Naw. But I do know the first, the worst, the best and the rest.
I’ve caught a show called Amish Something. I know, I know, I should get out more. But working in Toronto on Tuesday nights makes me remember why I go to bed at 7pm with the cats and the iPad. I get home at 11 and I be tired. Anyway. Amish kids. It’s contrived and stupid, but more importantly, when I brought this up with Gilly, we had the same thought. Amish kids taking off to the big city wasn’t started by this dumb show. We both thought that Amish teens have a gap year thing, where they go crazy to decide if they want to stay Amish. It’s called Rumpelstiltskin or something. I might be wrong; I could be confusing the Amish with a different bonneted sect. If they stay chaste and eschew cell phones, my mistake.
I got my hydro bill. Jeesuzchrist.
So. What’s new with you?
The part where the Amish kids are allowed to go nuts is called rumspringa. I only know this because I have read several excellent mysteries by a woman named Linda Castillo, set in Amish country.
And Robin Weigert should have had an Emmy for Deadwood. Her Calamity Jane was SO good, funny and sad and fierce at the same time. Plus, looking at Timothy Olyphant in anything is time well spent.
My ‘friends’ all told me I remind them of Trixie.
I’m not sure how to take this.
Rumspringa, Rumplestiltskin. Close.
This is the fence I put up when my neighbour with the dog, refused to pay for half. They’re actually old land mines. I may have forgotten to mention that to their dog.
In the perfect neighbourhood the neighbour that wants the fence invites the neighbours on all three sides over, and a spirited conversation ensues about what type of fence will go up and sides are measured and each person is responsible for 1/2 of their fraction of the total fence. Or a brawl breaks out, two neighbours drown in the pool (which no one noticed had been dug) and the life insurance company covers the whole thing.
Oakville is so classy.
Perhaps you could get a job as an accredited Fence Viewer, just to fill in the time between being a famous columnist and a tv star. I think it would add a certain cachet to the fence dispute :”Oh yeah, guess who came and told the jerk next door what he could do with his fence! Lorraine Sommerfeld! Sommerfeld. Lorraine.”
Fence Viewer? I am not making this up:
“Where the owner of any land desires to have a fence constructed to mark the boundary between the owner’s land and the land of an adjoining owner, or where such a fence exists, to have it repaired or reconstructed and where the owner has not entered into a written agreement with the adjoining owner for sharing the costs of the construction, reconstruction or repair, as the case may be, of such fence, the owner may notify in the prescribed form the clerk of the local municipality in which the land is situate that the owner desires fence-viewers to view and arbitrate as to what portion of the fence each owner shall construct, reconstruct or repair and maintain and keep up. R.S.O 1990, c. L.17, s. 4 (1).
I see a whole new income stream opening up.
Call TLC! Call TLC!
They’ll put any old crap on the air – not that my sister is old crap but that would be the most boring reality show ever. Fence Viewer – unless she dukes it out to a successful conclusion. I’m having a stand-off with my neighbour right now over the mutual fence. She’s waiting for us to pay for it. yeah, right, don’t hold your breath. (we already replaced more than half of it – 100% our cost – before she moved in)
How about Canadian Froggers? Starring me?!
GILLY EXISTS! Oh, and the froggers? When we were kids, Gilly could catch frogs like you wouldn’t believe. Dad used them for bait. Gilly would catch dozens. Then when dad wasn’t looking, we’d let them all go….wait. Forget it. That’s a column.
You have no idea how much I would love to be a Fence Viewer. Seriously. I would be the best.
I would get stylish business cards printed up:
Lorraine J. Sommerfeld
Fence Viewer
Member of Fence Viewer’s Union since 1986.
Viewing available by appointment only.
It pays about $225 a fence, I believe. You could afford embossed cards for that.
It is a volunteer position in most municipalities, and requires the ability to read legal survey drawings.
I could teach you in about 15 minutes.
What about Fence Sitting? Do they have a union for that too? I would totally volunteer for that.
Professional Fence Sitting Union?
I think they call it The Progressive Conservative Party.
I am sitting at work, most people have taken today off for the long weekend and I do not have a productive bone in my body today.
In general, I am SO sick of these reality shows, I could rip a fence down. I have never seen one episode of Jersey Shore, The Hills, Honey Boo Boo, Amish Whatever or any of the other totally stupid series they have. Between those shows and the continued coverage of Kim Kardashian, I am wondering what our super power neightbours (with a “U”) are going to come up with next.
On a slightly differenct note, my lovely husband is French Canadian, did not speak a word of English growing up. Most of my in-laws do not speak any English but I have been informed that after a couple of glasses of wine, I am completely bilingual. One weekend, hubbie and I went to a new farmer’s market to check it out. There was one great booth with a bunch of sauces and dips plus samples of everything so we made some purchases after sampling the goods. The next morning, the dreaded Monday morning, we were both standing there, blurry eyed, staring in the fridge trying to decide what to take for lunch. Hubbie muttered, “what about that amish stuff?’ I had no clue what he was talking talking about and thought I had not heard him properly. I said I had no clue what he was talking about. He said, “you know that amish stuff”. I said no, I did not know what amish stuff and what the hell was he talking about before I had even had any coffee. “You know that amish stuff we picked up yesterday”. At this point my brain was really starting to wake up, trying to figure out what the mad fool was talking about. “Dear, I have ABSOLUTELY no idea idea what you are talking about.” At this point, he reached into the fridge and pulled out the hummis we had picked up yesterday. “You know, the amish stuff”. I had to attend the hummis church to get god’s forgiveness for being so impatiend with him.
Where are those photos of the new kittie??????
Have a lovely Thanksgiving everyone.
Ya what Beth said. I don’t have as interesting a story so I’ll just leave at that.
Although you’re not family it’s fun to have this rag-tag group around. Hope you all have a thouroughly explosive Thanksgiving. It’s so nice to have a holiday we don’t have to tip-toe around and change the name of to prevent annoying somebody whose child can’t participate for any one of a million reasons. If you’re allergic to turkey I apologize for rubbing it in your face. I am going to eat more turkey this weekend than I do for the rest of the year. Turkey, mashed potatoes, turnip, peas and the best dressing this side of the looking glass. Better than sex. Although somewhat more fattening.
Happy Thanksgiving, eh?
I clicked on your picture anticipating something obnoxious and explosive. I’m so glad I don’t have this ability or I would never get anything done – except for google imaging everything to try to out do you.
My vegetarian neighbour is bringing me a piece of tofurky. Should be interesting. I’ll let you know.
This was taken seven years ago when we decided to cook the turkey in a pot of oil outside. It took seven surgeons seven hours to replace the skin on the “chef”‘s forearms. If you combine the Swedish Chef from the Muppets with Beaker, and a couple bottles of Mexican vodka (100 proof, and flammable as hecktor) you’d be about half way to imagining what the day was like.
OK… we don’t have any real pictures but this is pretty darn close.
Good luck with the Tofurky pickle.
Turnip – or rutabaga? On this side of the pond there isa difference, CB.
I can recall Thanksgiving being officially declared to be on the second Monday in October at the beginning of 1957, shortly after my arrival in Canada as a young man. I thought it was a tribute to me, although, upon reflection, the turkey symbolism seemed dubious.
BTW, I believe rutabaga is Spanish for runspringa
David… quite right old chap. It IS rutabaga. As you can see, Miss Rutabaga sounds (ok… you can’t see that it sounds… but you get my drift) perfectly acceptable. Miss Turnip would never do.
More fattening than sex? You’ve never been pregnant, have you Chris?
(don’t answer that…please don’t answer that…)
What a sweetie the new baby is!!!!!
Considering a week ago we put a little bed outside for him as it started to get cold. He’s now got four little paws well under the table. Our contractors leave the doors open for hours during the day and he hasn’t run out once. I think he’s happy.
Awwwwwwwww.
I want a kitty…
…and now some mysteries for you cat people
Lydia Adamson
Between the Humane Societies and all the people on Kijiji who are getting rid of cats, go get one Zena. Cats are amazing. When I said, in the last blog, that I would get rid of my cats before I ate avocado, I was kidding but I am allergic so it was a joke. I can’t believe how many people consider them disposable. It makes me sick to my stomach when I see a 12 year old cat being given up because there are sudden allergies. B*** s***. You take on a pet, you take on the costs, good or bad. Sorry for my rambling. Maybe if we all named our cats Jimbo Lorraine would be getting more cats.
Beth, unfortunately our current circumstances don’t allow for pets (excepting the 10-year-old goldfish – aptly named Lazarus – who keeps outgrowing his tank). Otherwise I would leave off my incessant whinging about how much I want a kitty…
I hear you about the disposable cats, though. Almost all of our (numerous…) feline housemates through the years were strays or cast-offs (not including the litter of four, of which we ended up keeping three because the right homes never presented themselves). I have so many kitty stories I would probably end up putting even the hardiest of little old cat ladies into a coma if I told them all…
Come to think of it, if it weren’t for the fact that I have no cats, I would be in serious danger of actually becoming one of those little old cat ladies. Ah well, there’s still time…
I have, in my neighbourhood, a paper recycling facility.
The 1 cubic meter bales are condo’s for mice.
Here you have either a cat, or mice.
I’ll take the cat.
Tamar Myers wrote a series of books, Pennsylvania Dutch Mysteries with Recipes.
They were mysteries set amongst the Mennonite Community and revolved around Antique Dealing and between each chapter was an actual recipe.
Her style was very much ala Gregory MacDonald where 3 or sometimes 4 story lines were going at once, and they would all come together (sometimes collide) at the end.
Well worth looking up for some fun reading.
My two favorites were ‘Assault and Pepper’ and ‘Play it Again, Spam’
Just trying to link a thread here, cooking and Amish.
Did it work?
Check the link for some titles…
I don’t know if this one covers pickled turkeys…
Hydro Bill…
Our next hydro/water bill is our first one with an empty nest and I am looking forward to it.
The last bird to leave used to wake himself up every morning by draining the 60 gal water heater…
When you hear the loud cheer it will be because it was worth the fuel hauling everything 300 km’s to get him to school.
I skipped the brine this year to avoid the turkey pickle!
Actaully, took the very easy way out and went with the stuffed Butterball that you cook from frozen. It is actually excellent stuffing and I love the ‘not having to defrost’ part.
Scent of turkey wafting through the house right now, mashed potatoes in the crock pot, sweet potatoes cooking, broccoli and beans waiting for their turn in the oven. I do not intend to do anything more than re-heat for the rest of the weekend!
Have a good one everybody!
Jimbo’s a cutie ! Black cats are the most difficult ones for shelters to get adopted .
Lorraine , as an accredited fence viewer , you will need the right boots (tax deductible) perhaps , more than one pair …
I was worried about our kitten before the adoption was finalized with Hallowe’en coming but I didn’t know black cats were more difficult to have adopted. Why? I’ve had 3 other cats before Jimbo and this one is definitely the easiest so far. Will he suddenly sprout horns and become a devil? There are 3 other kittens outside (with their feral mother) from the same litter. Not sure what to do (don’t bother with the obvious suggestion) – call the Humane Society? Not sure if they would even do a thing.
I’ve heard that, that people are superstitious (or stupidstitious, as I call it). I never gave it another thought when we got JoJo.
Maybe we should have. She’s not evil at all; she’s just as dumb as a post.
Our current cat, Gus, is black as night. Not much of a threat as he is stoned on catnip most of the time. His former people got him hooked by mixing it with his dry food. We tried to rehab him but he just jonesd at us night and day.
Previous to that we had a black kitten that Thing One named Orfeo, apparently after the Greek version of Beelzebub.
He would take a run and come flying at you with all 27 (it seemed) claws exposed and latch himself to your leg, torso or whatever else you had towards him.
Years later, MDB still has scars.
So our experience with all black cats is 50/50
Really Roz? You don’t get it? Imagine waking up to this every morning.
Actually our daughter volunteers at the Humane Society and they won’t adopt out ANY black cats in October. Too many wackos out there who are looking for a little Hallowe’en giggle. Nut bars.
The ones who weasel their way into your hearts when they’re wee babies are usually the ones that end up coughing up hairballs in your drawer of delicates every Sunday. As a man, I don’t have a drawer of delicates, of course. Cough, cough. But I’ve heard.
Black cats are supposedly bad luck and are associated with witch craft and black magic in some peoples minds . though , if Jimbo sprouts horns and becomes possessed and you get it on film , Jimbo could be a Youtube sensation ….
Otherwise , he’s only got regular cat powers such as turning Roz’s hubby into mush , finding free room and board , a personal chef , body slaves ….
Happy Thanksgiving to one and all!
Hope the Great Rutabaga was good to you as he rolled off the sacred Turnip Truck delivering gifts to all the good girls and boys.
And I didn’t even have any wine or beer today. Must be the tryptophan from the turkey…
Well, as they say, something usually happens when the trypto hits the phan.
We had dinner at Gilly’s last night. They smoked a turkey. Yuuuuuummmmmmm. The dinner conversation was….well, not for the faint of heart. Her kids are 12 and 14. They learned some new words. Roz and I are evil. And fun.
They were testing out the smoker, so Gilly had back up meat. Back up meat. I love that.
I have backup meat too – been stockpiling it for years. Although there’s a lot less of it to, erm, ‘go around’ since we started our recession diet.
We could have done with back up meat, we went camping, my Mom’s whole extended family & I woke up Sunday morning to my Mom realizing that the ham was sitting in the fridge at home and not in our cooler… Dad saved the day with a quiet trip into the closest town while we prayed they would be open! They were & everyone loved the ham!
Despite the cold & the hail it sounds like we may do this again next year!
“Cannibal Girls,” I think. You’re left not knowing whether to laugh or vomit…
Have been reading your blog for years, and finally decided it’s time to add a comment. Love your writing – it’s funny, poignant, terse and smart. Your “voice” sounds remarkably similar to those of the female protagonists in Brad Smith novels. You know where this is going …
My Wainfleet Library book club is reading ‘Red Means Run’ by Mr. Smith this month, and having actually gone on a few pseudo-dates with him a decade ago, I decided to scan his acknowledgements page. And pow! There was your name at the top of the list, and it suddenly hit me – you are clearly a woman he very much admires, as his female characters sound a lot like you. Brad told me that his characters are often based on people in his life, which is probably the case for many writers. After finishing the last page, reading the acknowledgements and seeing your name, it invoked a pleasant ding of recognition.
He’s a charming one that Brad Smith. He probably won’t remember me, as it was oh so very long ago. We bonded over our mutual disdain for the film ‘American Beauty’, and our shared contempt for the self-proclaimed cinephiles who list this as an exceptional film. Please send a hello his way if he does remember me.
Gail
P.S. File this under TMI: When I met Brad I was living in Toronto, and then moved to St. Catharines while attending Teacher’s College at Brock. Bought (and recently sold) a house in Wainfleet (just down the road from Mr. Smith), and I’m heading back to Toronto again in November. Apropos of nothing.
Come on, Gail, American Beauty was a masterpiece!