Tricks & Treats

The Halloween party at our bar was lots of fun and our busiest night ever! There were some good costumes, but I can't post all of the pictures... to protect the not-at-all-innocent party goers.

We put on our costumes and took the Highway to the Danger Zone all the way to the bar. I told Robb he was driving too fast, but he said he felt the need... the need for speed! When we arrived at the bar, 3 nanoseconds later, it was so festively spooky that it Took my Breath Away!

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Pumpkins & Beer


Tootsie Roll Retardos

Ghost Stories

In honour of Halloween coming up, I’m posting a few TRUE ghost stories told to me by people very close to me... people who I actually believe to be sane and telling the truth. If you suffer from severe Scaryghostaphobia like I do, you will probably find these very creepy, and if you are a big brave sceptic, I hope you are at least entertained...

This is written by my friend Chelsey about her ex-ghost, George, who used to live in her house- THE HOUSE SHE STILL LIVES IN- God help her. Some people have learned nothing from “The Amityville Horror”. Sheesh.

Eve asked me to tell my “ghost story” and although it isn’t your typical spooky story, it is completely true.
The house I live in now used to belong to my Great Grandmother. My Mom, My brother and I moved in when I was 9 years old. I was already afraid of the basement because someone had once told me that my dead great grandfather was lying in what was to become my bedroom. I could hardly wait to move in!!
Everything was normal until I was 11 years old. I was playing with a bouncy rubber ball in the basement and, when I was finished, I threw it into my room and it landed on the bed. My shoe was untied so I bent down to tie it up and then I ran up the stairs. As I got to the top stair, I looked back and the ball bounced back against the wall that I was playing on. I didn’t sleep in my room again for 3 years.
1 year later, after a family trip to Disneyland, we came home to every single piece of clothing we had left in the house washed and folded. It was piled on top of our 2 loveseats that were pushed into the center of the living room. Everyone who had a key was on vacation with us, so apparently, our ghost liked to keep a tidy house.
From then on, my Mom named our ghost George and declared our spare bedroom “George’s room.” She put scary things in there, like a scary lamp, a scary crystal ball, and scary art with scary children on it. Every evening, sometime between 2 am and 3 am, the lamp in that room would come on. No one touched it and no one ever saw it turn on. We would just wake up to go to the bathroom, turn the corner and it would be shining brightly. After many nights of wetting my pants to avoid the hallway, the whole lamp lighting ritual got old, so we would just go in and turn it off--every single night! We never unplugged it, maybe because we were afraid that it would still turn on without electricity.
Our faucets would turn on by themselves, hardly scary after everything else, and every once in a while, our house would be filled with the smells of chocolate chip cookies. I would frantically search for the “hidden” cookies only to learn that there were never any in the first place. Why I am not in therapy, I don’t know….
My Mom (who has had many strange experiences with ghosts) called a medium to come to our house to “chat” with George. She told us that he was a guardian spirit who was there to protect us and that the sweet smells that filled the house were good smells but…..beware of this part….if you smell mint or roses in your home and there is no source, GET OUT!
She also traumatized me forever by letting us know that even though our house was surrounded by good, evil could still watch us. Every mirror is a window for evil to watch the living and that in order to block the view, rainbows must be stuck to, or put in front of a mirror. After that, our house looked like it was moved to Leprechaun Village. My Mom put rainbows on everything. She even bought me a rainbow shirt to wear. At 16, the last thing I needed was to dress up like Rainbow Brite.
The funny thing is, though, a few years later, my Mom moved out and there was no more George. Nothing strange ever happened again. Maybe George is my Mom’s guardian angel. I have since bought my house and I hope to stay for a long time because believe it or not, George is a wonderful childhood memory.


This next tale I will call “GET OUT NOW PEOPLE!!!” It happened to my husband, his parents, and his two sisters, and I have heard about it many times, and thought about it in bed at 2:30 in the morning with an accelerated heartbeat about 10 times more than that. This is my FAMILY who told me this story, namely my mother-in-law, who is not a weirdo or a liar by any stretch of the imagination, and so I am FORCED to believe this story, and it will torture my soul for the rest of my days. I’ve abbreviated my mother-in-law (mil) and father-in-law (fil) purely for laziness reasons.


About 27 years ago, my in-laws bought an very old restaurant called "The Old Mill" in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, and moved into the flat above the restaurant to live with their children, aged 1, 3 and 5 years old. Apparently, the restaurant had a reputation for being haunted, as a lady was killed there in the early 1900’s, and some people would actually cross the street to avoid walking by the building. But my in-laws were not particularly superstitious people, and business was still decent, so it didn’t really bother them. Until things started happening, that is. My husband Robb was 3 at the time, and would talk often about the “Grandma Lady” that spoke to him in the house. As kids that age often have imaginary friends, and like to tell stories, my mil didn’t think much of it. Grandma Lady was kind to Robb, and told him to put on a sweater when it was cold, and stuff like that... good ghosty stuff. Odd things began to happen more often. My mil would stack towels and cloths on a deep shelf above the door in the kitchen, tucked neatly back, far out of reach of the kids. Then whenever she would leave the room, upon her return, the towels would all be on the floor, as if they’d been PUSHED off the shelf. Lots of strange things would happen, but not too scary to live with.

Then one winter night, when the one and three year old were sleeping in bed with my mil, something scary happened. My fil was working late, and the three of them were having a nice snuggle and fell asleep. My mil awoke suddenly and there was a BIG BLACK CROW sitting on the pillow above the 1 year old’s head. It was just sitting there, as their Irish Setter stood at the end of the bed staring at it, not moving. Irish Setters are bird dogs, and why the dog was not going crazy trying to catch that crow is something I don’t really want to think about too deeply. So after her heart started beating again, my mil chased the crow downstairs into the restaurant, and ran back upstairs to the kids. When my fil returned home, and heard what had happened, he looked everywhere for the crow. There were no windows open in the building, as it was a cold night, but the crow was nowhere to be found. Strike One.

Some friends of theirs from Michigan had come to Tennessee for the summer to work at the restaurant, and they planned to sleep in the attic. One afternoon, they went to the attic to take a nap in their sleeping bags, but were awoken suddenly with a terrible feeling. Neither one of them could sit up or move- they said they felt like something was pinning them down for several minutes, keeping them from getting up. When they could finally get up, they hauled ass out of the restaurant, and checked into a hotel immediately, ending their short stay at “Hotel de Holy Shit”. Strike Two.

THEN one day, my mil and Robb were talking about the Grandma Lady, and my mil told him that she was not real. My mil had left the kitchen, and little Robb told her not to go back into the kitchen because the Grandma Lady would be mad. She opened the kitchen door to step into it and was slammed hard in the face by something, and actually got a bleeding nose! She couldn’t see what had hit her, and there was nothing there, but that was the scary ass straw that broke the camel’s back. Blood had been shed- Strike Three- they packed their things and moved out. They had lived in the restaurant for only a year.


So there are my Halloween Stories for you. OOOOOOOoooooOOOOOoooOOOOOOO!!!!!
If you have any to share, let me know, I love that stuff.

Movie Review

We went to see "Grizzly Man" last week, and it was... weird. So freaking odd. But good.

It's a documentary about a 40 or so year old blonde surfer looking dude who spent the last 13 summers of his life living amongst giant grizzly bears. I say the LAST summers of his life, because during the 13th summer, he and his girlfriend were attacked, mauled and eaten by a bear. I'm not giving anything away here, as this was referred to from the very beginning of the film, and all throughout it. You may have seen this guy many years ago on David Letterman, he was kind of a wannabe "Crocodile Hunter" type.

The film is rich with amazing and beautiful shots of bears and foxes living their furry little lives. Through his camcorder, we see intimate footage of these animals that we'd never get to see anywhere else, and it is cool. But I spent most of the film feeling quite uncomfortable, because the general mood of the documentary, and of the people in my theatre, was mocking him. And it just feels weird to make fun of someone who is dead- someone like him, anyway. He seemed to me to be a kind and well meaning man, but very confused, lost, lonely, and out of touch with reality. Everyone in his life seemed to be a Twilight Zone character of some sort. Throughout the film, he professed to be "protecting the bears". He said this constantly. However, if I were a six hundred pound GRIZZLY BEAR armed with killer claws and teeth, I would not be cowering behind this guy for safety. Whether or not he was actually accomplishing any real kind of "bear protection" was unclear. He did spend a lot of time acting like he was filming a blockbuster action movie, with him as the star- and his acting ambitions were just one more strange rung on this crooked ladder to Bizarretown. And his love for the bears was creepy. He did not just admire and care about these bears, he LOVED them. Like, he would love to find a female bear to shack up with and have little human bear hybrid babies and live happily ever after kind of love. Basically the guy hated humans and loved animals... passionately... in a hysterical high pitched voice.

I would recommend this documentary. Although it left me feeling kind of bad, it was also entertaining. And don't worry, it doesn't show any violent mauling of any kind.

Halloween Costume Update!
We have finally gotten our costumes together for our big Halloween Party at the bar on Friday Night. I will post lots of pictures- I'm sure they will "take your breath away." Fun fun fun!

Don't give up on me!

I have been lazy and preoccupied. I have been neglectful of my blog. But I will be back next week in full force with tales that will knock your socks off and make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end! Sockless and tingling you will be!

Until then, I will leave you with another baby picture. My nephew is about an hour old here, and as you can see, I am literally drooling all over him. After ten minutes of ogling, they had to put me in a headlock and wrestle his little saliva soaked self out of my clutches so that other people could have a snuggle too. Bastards.

Quarterly Assessment

Table Manners Progress Report: Moderate to Poor, C-




Child's Assessment of Herself: Very Pleased, A+




We must go to the mall now with our daughter, Ms. Potatohead, as there is no time for a bath.

If only I'd win the lottery...

Live in the moment!

Apparently, this is the way we are supposed to be living our lives. But it’s hard.
It’s a lot harder than “don’t take any wooden nickels” or “don’t run with scissors”, as I think I have pretty much nailed those. Because really, most of our lives revolve around hopes, plans, goals, regrets and memories.

I have a good friend, who will remain anonymous, (hi Chelsey!) who always reminds me of this, because she is OBSESSED right now with getting married and having babies. I understand it, I’ve been there. But as an objective third party, I endlessly lecture her that she should appreciate the awesome things she already has, and ENJOY them, like her dream job, a boyfriend who adores her, a great house, some serious dance moves, etc.. This is so fun and easy for me to do, because I am at a different stage in my life than her, and so I can sit back and be a big fat know-it-all preachy face, while in the meantime, I am secretly obsessing over my own crap. Still, one must take advantage of an opportunity to wax superior on occasion.

These are some of the main objects and milestones of my obsession over the years:

My life will be SO much better/more comfortable/happier as soon as:

- Saturday morning cartoons come on
- I get that Strawberry Shortcake bike for Christmas
- I turn 10, and become so very mature
- I get my driver’s license
- this zit goes away
- I graduate, finally I will be FREE (ha ha)
- I move (this is always applicable)
- I meet a great guy
- we get married
- I get that job
- we buy that house
- we sell that house
- I’m pregnant
- the barfy first trimester is over with
- this Mac truck of a baby is born
- the baby sleeps through the night
- I get back into shape
- the baby is walking/talking/doing my laundry
- and so on……

This is as far as I’ve gotten, and this are only the tip of the wishing iceberg, but I imagine it will continue in this vein:

- the kids are out of the house
- we retire and travel the world
- I get that hip replacement
- Golden Girls comes out on DVD
- etc..

Actually, having a baby has forced me to stop with the constant yearning for more quite as much. Babies live SO in the moment, that you are kind of forced to along with them, and you are also forced to focus less on yourself. I love that, it’s been such a releif. I have been pretty high maintenance for myself, and quite frankly, I’m glad to have a break from me.

It will always be an effort to live in the moment and appreciate what I have. But in the moments when I am smart enough to really look around myself, I am inevitably hit over the head with the wave of happiness that I’ve been looking for.

Now, I have to get this damn house clean. If only I had a maid, my life would be so much happier...

YAHOOOOOOO!!!

Last night, my little nephew Owen was born! I am an Auntie again! I am now Auntier than ever before! Welcome, cutie boy- I am SO excited to finally meet you!!!

My sister-in-law pushed that little peanut out like she had been having babies every day for years- no problem! And when we saw her an hour later, she looked like the perfect adorable little cupie doll she always resembles, not the least bit flustered, looking rested and beautiful, and prouder and happier than I've ever seen her, holding 7lbs, 10oz of sweet monkeyness in her arms.

Owen is small, dark and handsome, and is a man of few words, very quiet like his mommy and daddy. In fact, he looked a bit bored with the the entire birthing hoo-ha.

Miss Manners

This baby raising is a tricky business- especially the table manners portion of the program. Piper has always been a good eater, so I'm lucky with that. I breastfed her until she was 14 months old, at which point she began to scare me so much that I had to stop. She would come at me in full attack mode like a starving sumo wrestler approaching his last meal ever at an All You Can Possibly Eat Buffet. I was eating as much as I could, to try and sustain both myself, and my tapeworm of a daughter, but my body could still barely keep up with it. I began to wither away until my weight was no longer in the triple digits. I am only 5'1, but still, people were beginning to wonder if I had an eating disorder. In reality, I think it was my daughter that had one. So, wean we did. I never thought we would get through it, but after lots of screaming and crying from both of us, we succeeded. Now when Piper sees my breasts, she laughs at them like they were an old private joke the two of us shared many years ago. "Ha ha ho, my old comrades! Remember back in the day, when I would gnaw on you every two bloody hours until you were chapped and aching? Ha Ho! The hilarity! Good times!"

And now we are in the midst of teaching the monkey to feed herself. Her voracious appetite is great motivation, but her style is sorely lacking. When I position the spoon in her hand myself, she is a food shoveling machine, and do not get in her way! But on her own, she holds her spoon oh so daintily with her thumb and forefinger, like she is plucking a pubic hair from the top of a wedding cake. The food is deposited on her face, in her hair, and on the floor. Some makes it into her mouth, but is not guaranteed to stay in her mouth. Then after a while, she abandons the spoon altogether, and tries to eat directly from her trough, I mean plate, like she's been raised by wolves. Wolves with really bad etiquette.

At the end of a really long day, Robb and I wonder what our darling girl will be like at age 16. Because right now, we are picturing a scraggly blonde haired teenager wearing a tupperware bowl on her head, boots and a belt with no pants eating Cheerios off the floor at her university interview, as she is asked repeatedly to please stop eating the hand lotion from the desk. And God save the Dean if he doesn't admit her, because the shreiking tantrum on the floor is gonna be UGLY.

A Tale of Two Turkeys

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and I cannot tell you how thankful I was for that turkey dinner! I was stuffed to the gills will gratitude and sweet potatoes and stuffing and pie! I was almost overflowing with happiness and love of my family and turkey with gravy.

And speaking of overflowing… my sweet sister-in-law is now officially overdue with her baby. As I looked at her gigantic swollen belly, I could almost see the outline of my little neice/nephew-to-be squirming around in there. I mean, she is CHOCK FULL o’ baby.

It brought to mind that stupid old urban myth I’ve heard a million times before, and how very idiotic it is. You’ve probably heard it too, via forwarded email or something, and it always goes something like this:

My cousin’s friend had a friend who’s teenaged sister had recently gained a few pounds. She figured she’d just been eating too much ice cream, which was also why she’d been having a stomach ache all day. So she went to the bathroom to “drop the kids off at the pool”, and lo and behold, she actually DROPPED A KID OFF AT THE POOL! She had a baby right there in the bathroom, and didn’t even know she was pregnant!

This story is so infuriatingly moronic. As a woman who has been through labour and has experienced the hell on earth that is a contraction, it is insulting. It’s like saying- “Hey, I thought I’d been bitten by a mosquito, but look! I actually have a pickaxe embedded in my forehead! Whaddyaknow!” And how many people completely overlook a 9 months pregnant belly? It tends to “catch the eye”, in most circumstances… I know that my belly felt like a glittering disco ball set on HIGH for the last few months of pregnancy- people stared at it like an eclipse. I don’t think anyone made eye contact with me for a month and a half before Piper was born. And so many other things- the baby’s obvious kicking and hiccups, the brown line that forms down the centre of your belly, your inability to sleep on your stomach or turn cartwheels, your boobs swelling up like hot air balloons filled with concrete, etc..
I mean, PLEASE! Nine months of pregnancy is not something you can OVERLOOK!
And I can’t even begin to address the birthing part of the story. I know that there are some people out there with severe constipation and pooping issues. However, I doubt that any of them have ever passed a turd made of bone, with an 15 inch circumference.

Anyway…..
The new Wee One will be arriving any time now, so I am forced to actually answer my phone (UGHHHHH) in case it is someone with baby-on-the-way related news. And yet, people keep calling me with very NON baby related nonsense, and I am being forced to converse and small talk myself into a frenzy. Yes, hello? Oh, yes, I would luuurve to answer a three hour survey on household cleaners.. as soon as you START HAVING LABOUR CONTRACTIONS! Click!!! Oh, a very special offer on the newspaper? ARE YOU IN LABOUR, SIR???? Click!!! I really despise talking on the phone, even if it is with someone I love. I’d much prefer an email or even a quick message.
I don't know who is suffering more at this point, my sister-in-law, or me. ;)

Off to catch up on my blogs…

Psssst! Guess what?

I am a really good secret keeper.

Seriously, I have TONNES of great secrets, both mine, and other people's that I will never tell anyone. I love keeping them safe. Are you a good secret keeper? If you tell just one person, and make them swear not to tell anyone else, you are NOT a good secret keeper. Even if you tell someone else that you have a secret, and let them guess until they hit it, you are NOT a good secret keeper. Sorry. It is a lost art, and not many people can do it. I consider it one of my best skills.

But sometimes this makes it hard to keep a good blog. My favorite blogs are so revealing, open, and honest- the authors keeps me riveted, entertained and awestruck by their bloggy nakedness. I have moments of laying it all out there, but not very often- and not to a large audience. I love people who are able to do this.

I'm feeling all locked up today, so go be entertained by these words from a waiter.

The world is his treadmill

I always knew you didn't have to join an expensive gym to be healthy, but this just confirms it for me.

The Most Important News in the World!

TomKat is expecting a baby! I'm not sure how this happened, because they are not even married yet!? I thought babies were made when two people are married and love each other very much, and then they share a toothbrush, and then a stork flies by. I'm confused. My parents never did have "the talk" with me.

I always thought that Tom Cruise would be the type of guy who would really want to have his own biological children. His intensely high level of confidence seems to suggest that he would clone a whole army of himself as a Christmas gift to the world, if possible.

I wonder how Tom's 2 lovely adopted children with Nicole Kidman feel about this. Their dad will suddenly have 2 NEW children- the baby that Katie Holmes is carrying, and Katie Holmes herself.

I hope that things work out for Tom and Katie. I hope that once they get to know each other, they really do like each other. But if not- big hairy deal. They both rebound from breakups faster than the speed of sound, so I'm sure they will both get remarried before their divorce ink has dried.

Good luck to the new little baby- I hope life brings her/him nothing but happiness!
Baby Cruise and baby Federline can lean on each other for support in their celebrity toddler therapy class.

ps- Katie, if you get post partum depression, don't worry! Tom will be right there, telling you to take your vitamins and urging you to exercise those "blues" away! Besides, there is no such thing as PPD! The aliens said so!

Is it really October?

My mom left today after a wonderful and long visit. Twenty two lovely days of hanging out, sewing, shopping, cooking, eating and movie watching- it was really great. Piper got to know her Grandmama, and many kisses and giggles were exchanged. Although it was really hard to say goodbye today, I’m sure mom was happy to be heading back to the Florida sunshine, and she left us with lots of knitted gifts to keep us warm through our shitty winter. During her visit, if mom was ever sitting on the couch relaxing, I would throw her yarn and knitting needles at her and bark, “Hey old woman! If you’ve got time to sit, you’ve got time to knit!” We would both laugh, but she would pick up the needles and get to work. You may think I was a bit harsh, but if you gazed upon the ridiculously cute hats and scarves that my bossiness and her labour produced, you would agree that I did the right thing. I will post pictures later as proof. Besides, knitting is good for carpel tunnel syndrome, right?

It was very good timing for mom’s visit, because Robb has been so busy for the past month, travelling, and working at the restaurant, and his other business, and he’s barely been home. While Robb was away in Vegas for 3 days, it was nice to have the company and the help. I have such great admiration for single parents and their ability to multitask and carry such responsibility on their own. I'd like to give them a supportive high five, because I don't think I could do it without some pharmaceutical help. I'm blessed with a very involved daddy as my partner, and have lots of family around me, and I don’t relish life as a single parent- especially when the missing parent is off licking champagne and caviar off the taut stomachs of high priced Vegas call girls. He insisted that he was “gambling” and “going out for dinner” and such, but when you are elbow deep in diapers and laundry, it all sounds like, “blah blah blah” to me… He owes me a trip to Vegas, I wanna sin too.

***
Some people are constantly on a quest for spititual enlightenment, professional fulfillment, or even love. I, on the other hand, am always searching for the perfect baby boots. Ideally, these boots will keep Piper's feet warm, be comfortable, be easy to put on and take off, complement all of her outfits, and will somehow create world peace. I think I have found them today. Behold:




I mean, just look at them! The pinkness, the soft fuzziness, the teensy tinyness of them! Don't they make you want to be a better person? Me too.