Happy Snow Day!

We woke up to 20 cms of snow this morning, and it's still snowing.

Like, legit - it's coming down so much you can hear it out there. It's such a beautiful sound. Gorgeous!

While I really can't stand the winter, big dumpings of snow just make me feel like a kid again. It reminds me of the big snow days in Owen Sound, where I grew up, where the snow was clearly 100 feet deep. And, it's true, we jumped off of our 2nd story deck, into the snow below. And Did sliced her head open (funnyyyy). We also walked barefoot in the snow to school, in our father's pajamas, uphill both ways. Legit.

I've met my match, though, people. TheGuy? He loves it more than I do.

Although he typically takes half an hour of constant prodding to wake up, today, 40 minutes earlier than his usual wake up time, he blinked at me and said “did it snow?” I was all “yeah!!!!!! It snowed a LOT!”

He leaped out of bed like a child on Christmas morning, threw on some clothes, ran downstairs, and headed directly outside, gleefully shoveling off the car, remarking on how “the snow is up to the bottom of the cars!”, and “the snow is at least 20 centimetres! Don’t you think it’s 20 centimetres?” He was in heaven.

Then, when we finally hit the road, we pulled onto the road and he exclaimed happily:

“Ooooooooh, it pays to have standard, baby! I’m in CHARGE! I’m a God! I’m the God of the Road.”

And that’s why he’s my dude. And he is a God.

Happy snow day!

Welcome to the F Month

My  mother-in-law once told me that February is the "F-Month" because it's so effing depressing. F&@%!

She's absolutely right. February is sandwiched in the middle of the optimism of a New Year and fresh beginning, and the hope of March that perhaps it will go out like a lamb. In February, the optimism just isn't there.

Sure, Valentine's Day is cool and everything, but I'm not in love with cinnamon and those boxes of chocolates usually only contain one piece of the good kinda (hazelnut) and then the rest are weird and end up sitting in the box, gooey, after I've taken a bite out of them, hoping for hazelnuts, and then quickly returned them to the box because that pink stuff inside is weird, and what is it supposed to be, anyway?

Plus, the price of flowers is astronomical at Valentine's Day, and really, they should be giving away flowers as a public service in February because a lot of us forget what plants look like.

So, anyway - it's the F Month - which means that most of us are pretty much trapped in the monotony of waking up to very little sunshine, bundling up like we live in the Arctic to go to work, coming home in the dark, making dinner, snuggling on the couch, rinse & repeating. Not much to report, and my brain isn't working correctly due to lack of vitamin D, so this is why I've been not so great at posting like a pro.


What do you do to beat the winter blues that set in during the month of February? Tips? Tricks? I feel like candy could be a winning idea. I'll post my favourites (if I get responses) on the blog later this week. A February survival guide for all of us who are working through this F&*@(**&$ month!

Odd week

It's been an odd week, here in Southern Ontario, Canada.

Like, seriously odd.

In this week, alone, we have experienced three of the four lovely seasons Canada has to offer. Legit.

On Monday, the morning started out frigid and icy. Treacherously icy. It provided some pretty awesome fodder, though - theGuy and I laughed our butts off during the drive into work - there's just something about watching people fall that makes me giggle (and, for the record, I fall a lot - I'm a giver, like that). It was so icy on Monday, people were walking slowly, with their arms out for balance, and wiping out anyway. Every person we passed on the street either slipped and fell or was walking with a slight limp. It was one of those mornings.

Then, later in the day, it started raining. Big fat, wet drops, that turned the ice into slush. Slippery, yucky slush.

As the week has gone on, we've had lots and lots of rain. People's basements are flooding. Soakers were happening on an hourly basis. My winter boots are covered in mud. It was 13 degrees C yesterday - beautiful, balmy weather.

Which brings me to this morning. I stepped outside to get the car started, and realized that the doors were actually frozen shut. A few days of rainfall crashed into a super cold front. It's calling for -14 degrees C today - which is a TWENTY SEVEN degree difference than yesterday. The winds are so strong, it would separate  Tony and his family in no time.

It's friggen winter.

You're probably thinking to yourself: why on earth, is Patti talking about the weather? What could be interesting in that?


And I say: Have you ever met a Canadian? We know our weather.

No, I do not have a drinking problem.

In between the gazillions of appointments I've had lately, and loads of freelance, I finally got some time to myself yesterday to get my type on. Which is really, like, the most gleeful thing for me, ever.

Inspired by my lovely friend, Jules, and the magnet she gave me which was just so bang on accurate to how I feel all some most of the time (stop judging, you know you love it) I totally had to take the quote on the magnet and make it my own.

 

Can you relate? Are Jules and I alone in this? Because, though there are many things I absolutely adore in life, there is just something simple and beautiful about a special night in, or even out, with amazing friends. Especially when you don't have to worry about the things you can't remember, because they'd never hold anything against you, ever.

Do you agree?

Too legit to quit

This weekend, I had the pleasure of celebrating my little brother's 26th birthday. Which made me be all " haha! You're getting old " and then made me realize I am, too, but that's kind of exciting because I feel like old people are either super cantankerous, or sweet and lovely. I'm cool with either, really.

A few things of the party pop out at me, and mostly because they're moments from the beginning of the night, before I got my dance on to Meatloaf and decided I just had to perform Killing me Softly for all the boys, along with about 5 other girls, crooning at the top of their lungs. The boys were totally impressed. We're so hot.

One of the things that pops out at me is.. woah. My little babies are growing up! My sister and brother - the babies of the family, the ones whose diapers I changed.. the ones who would "get into" my stuff (Babester, I will never forgive you for smearing nail polish all over my bedspread, yo), the ones who I'd be all like "mooooooommmmm. Make them leave me and my friends alone! They're so embaaarrrrrasing", they're like, legit young adults. For real.

Turbo shocked me, because dude has game! You should've seen his "not-a-girlfriend" who he brought to the party (Turbo.. we all know she's your girlfriend. Oooohhh. Cooties!). She totally looks like a Seventeen model, and she's super nice (she was the only sober one amongst a pile of Adair non-sobers, and she stayed until five in the morning, and then graciously drove a bunch of us home. Like a responsible adult. Unlike me.

The Babester is also all growed up (I mean, the girl lived in Spain by herself, for like.. a million months. She's travelled the world and knows other languages.. she's way more cultured than I am), even though I know she was just dying for a Cabbage Patch Kid theme song duet, and she was asking me for some recipes. Because I'm the queen of yummy recipes. Then she said "Oh, I guess I can read them on your blog." And I realized, it's been a while since I posted a recipe. So I'm going to share one with you this week. Just for the Babester.

And Dan-Dan-The-Diving-Man.. well, he was the guest of honour. My annoying little brother, who used to make his Ninja Turtles beat up Diddy & my Barbies... who taped over part of my coveted New Kids tape with the sound of a toilet flushing.. he's 26!

The little boy who so badly wanted to play with "The Big Kids", he would allow us to call him "Danielle" and give him makeovers. When my neighbours and I pretended to have a business, he played the roll of "Janitor" for two summers. That little boy, who threw temper tantrums like nobody's business.. he's all growed up, too! And of course he is - he's an amazing dad (his daughter is absolutely the cutest little girl in the world, and I dare you to bet me a million dollars on this because I will win and then I will be rich and that would be FANTASTIC - so just dare me), he owns his house, and he's getting married this year! He's responsible, intelligent, witty and insightful.. he turned out pretty good, if you ask me!

But, as I dole out all these compliments to my younger siblings, I just want to point out - I am older than you, so I am always the coolest. Just sayin'.

Happy Monday, folks!

FRIDAY!

Too.. tired... to post.... See you Monday!

Cool things

Sometimes I get these ideas, and then my current self is all "hey, past self, you're the shiz", and I dance around because things like that make me happy, and then I'm constantly saying to theGuy "I'm so happy I did this. Don't you think it's great that I did this?"

Right now I am completely, totally, fully, enamored with my chalkboard.

And I'm also completely, totally, fully enamored with my oldest childhood friend, Alie, and her girlfriend, Kelly. Because they're really awesome and I don't see enough of them and I had so much fun when I was down there attending the design conference in November when I thought I broke my foot (I didn't).. so when we made plans to catch up and enjoy the lovely deliciousness which is hot pot, and have a slumber party, I got so excited, and so I did this:

 

I've been a nerd for typography for a super long time, and I am absolutely loving getting my hands dirty with some chalk. I'm working on a wedding invitation right now and the bride was looking for this style, so it's been a fantastic time. Chalk is awesome. Chalkboards rule. And my current self thanks my past self for deciding that the fact that I struggle with committing to any one piece of artwork means I can have different ones ALL THE TIME. SO AWESOME.

Anywho. We had a really great time, and we played this amazing game called Cards Against Humanity, which is super awesome but not for the politically correct. Seriously - at points, I laughed so hard, I couldn't even speak. It was great. AND, they've been sold out since Christmas, so they have a set of cards which are PRINTABLE and FREE on their website. I say go get yourselves some. And add to them like maniacs. Because, if you're not super politically correct and you want to love your life, get you current self to print these out - your future self will love you for it.

A random rambling post, this is, but it's Wednesday, so sometimes that's how it goes! Happy hump day!

How living in a first world country is pretty fancy

So.... I'm a nerd.

Like, seriously. I am such a ridiculously neurotic worrying nerd, it's not even funny.

I went for my massage yesterday, and if you didn't know how much of a nerd I am, you should read yesterday's post. I have a wonderful base of friends and readers, and to anyone who stumbled here because you're nervous about getting a massage (did you google "I'm terrified to get a massage?" because I did), you should really read what was posted in my comments yesterday because that made me feel sooo much better (hi Deborah! Thanks for the info!).

So in I go, feeling much more prepared for everything because I have these awesome readers (Hi again, Deborah!), but still a little on edge. I wasn't entirely convinced that I wouldn't pass out from starvation while on the table. I was also nervous about the whole undressing part. Especially since my massage therapist is a dude.

But guys! It was fantastic!

I stripped down like a friggen champ. That's right. I handled it like a pro star. Not be confused with porn star.

WHY did I spend so much time agonizing over this? People! I'm a convert! I didn't believe my coworkers when they suggested the chiropractor, but I sucked it up and went and then I fell in love. With chiropractor care, not the chiropractor. Although he's really nice and everything - Hi Dr. Colin! And now, now.. I just have to figure out how to work out daily massages into my budget. They're soooooooooo good.

If you're from the Kitchener Waterloo region, and you need a chiropractor or massage therapist, pop on over to KW Health Connections, because they're awesome and it's kinda like going in to see a friend because they're all so nice, but in a super smart and professional kind of way. And tell them I sent you because  they'll probably tell you funny stories about how scared I was when I first started going. I'm all about providing a laugh.

And this all got me to thinking, as I pondered the dentist appointment that I am going for tomorrow (which was really this morning, since I write these posts the night before - conFUSing).... holy first world life, batman.

Seriously. I, not only have the opportunity to pay someone to rub my back to make me feel good, but I can have it covered under benefits? This is so cray cray! And then, I can pay someone to move things around and push my joints into the right spot, and then that can be covered by benefits, too? I can go to the dentist and have professionals clean my teeth, and have it paid for. All I have to do is lie there, and people perform these crazy things in order to look after me and my body. It's like I have minions or something!

And then I started thinking about the gym and was all "seriously? On top of massage therapy, chiropractors and dentists, there are facilities created so that I can work my body because my day-to-day-life is too lazy for me to survive a long life without these special facilities?

And we still have to physically carry children and give birth? Now that's a first world problem I'd like to see go away!


Have you experienced the fantastic first world pleasures, like massages and chiropractors? Are you scared like I was? Tell me your stories :) And if you know of more awesome things I can have my insurance pay people to do for me, tell me that, too! :)

A stressful destressification

Happy Monday, loyal readers!

I'm aware that last week was a bit of a fail in the posting department. What can I say? Life has been busy.

I think it's been established that I might be could be am slightly neurotic. Just a little bit. You see, my mom passed many wonderful traits onto me. I can be a very maternal person. I'm a very loving person. I can follow a recipe. I can be nice. But she also taught me how to worry. She got it from her mom and passed it down to me. Lucky for all of us. Too bad she couldn't have passed onto me her metabolism or ability to not gorge herself on food when it's delicious. But that's another story.

So, my stupid hip is still being a total pain in the butt (literally), and though I'm much more mobile than I was before, I still have to sleep like a pregnant person with a pillow between my knees, and theGuy still has to help me do my laundry. No lifting, no working out, and no dancing. The no dancing part makes me the saddest. The no working out part makes me the bloatiest. Imagine not being able to work out, combined with Christmmas, New Years and the whole food-gorging thing.. it's not a pretty picture.

Some of my coworkers have the same issue I do, and they've all found massage therapy to be very helpful to get things back to normal, so my doctor gave me a prescription for massage therapy. Which, to normal people, is kind of like winning the lottery. Massage. What a wonderful thought. How serene. How relaxing.

Unless you're me.

No amount of googling is giving me the answer that I want. No, it is not normal to wear a bathing suit to a massage therapy appointment. No, you can't wear all of your clothes plus a blanket and leg warmers. You guys, no one has seen more of me than is bared in my one piece bathing suit, aside from theGuy and my lady doctor in 12 years. And now, I have an appointment for a massage tonight with a dude who is the same age as me. When I haven't been able to work out for over a month.

So how much do I have to bare? So far, everyone I've polled says they bare all, except their underwear. I feel like my masseuse should, at the very least,buy me a drink, if I'm going to strip down. Gin sounds good - I think it was invented for this purpose!

I thought perhaps theGuy could assist me, by writing "Woah, dude, this is my wife, hands off" in strategic places on my body, with sharpie. Or maybe "You've gone too far". But getting theGuy to write thank you cards after our wedding was hard enough.

And then there are the typical scenarios and concerns that invade my brain. Like.. what if scream? I'm always nervous about that? Or what if I sound like I'm enjoying it a little too much. Or what if I have to pee really bad? They said to be hydrated before the massage, but I have a small bladder. And what if I get hungry and pass out from starvation?

Loyal readers - please share with me your insight. Have you been for a massage before? Have you ever fallen asleep and drooled all over the table? I'm so wound up - if I didn't need a massage before, I certainly do now!

A letter to Hershey's

Last night, I picked up a new kind of mint. I don't know why I'm always doing this - I'm typically a gum gal, and I never find the exact mint I'm looking for, so it's really just a waste.

These are the mints I got:

I had one today, and decided that the only logical thing to do was to promptly email the company and tell them what I thought. So I did. And this is it:

Hello!

My name is Patti Adair, and I just wanted to send you my feedback on your new IceBreakers Frost product.

I'm a big fan of other IceBreakers products - you must have magical elves in order to cram that much flavour into such a tiny treat! As a huge candy fan, I adore your Sours line - all the punch of a sugary treat, with way less calories. It's like angels dancing on my tongue every time I enjoy one of your Sours.

Yesterday, your new Frost line caught my eye. Hmm. Could this mint offer everything this candy connoisseur requires? I wasn't born yesterday, and I've had my share of minty experiences. Could IceBreakers really measure up?

Well, congratulations, Hershey's - you've done it again. This mint is seriously the best mint I have ever had in my life. I'm going to have another one right now, so I can describe it to you!

Not your typical mint, the rough exterior isn't what I first expected. But all those little grooves allow my tastebuds to explore the many mini facets found in this tasty peppermint. A slow savouring offers a continuous delight of cool, fresh mint in my mouth! And to crunch it is devine. Not only is this mint delicious, but this experience reminds me of what it would feel like to ride through the clouds on a silver unicorn. Fresh, airy and absolutely magical.

Hershey's, you’re the shizzle. You've got a customer for life. Thanks for giving me the best minty-fresh breath imaginable. I will never settle for any other kind of mint.

Have a wonderful day, and pat yourself on the back. And pop a mint. You'll be glad you did!

Patti Adair

This was totally not a paid review. Unless you count the fact that I paid for the product, and then reviewed it, so I guess that would be paid but the wrong way around. This was just me being all like "holy crap, I've never in my life had a mint this delicious in my life." And why not let them know? I bet the person who has to read those emails is so sick and tired of hearing complaints, they hate their life. Why not add a little whimsy to their day? They certainly added it to mine!

EDIT: Some people on Amazon talked about how these like.. burned their mouths and hurt their throat - which is really weird, and people - man up. You need more sriracha in your life if you think these badboys are 'hot'. And then, I found this review on Amazon, and it kinda made my day:

2.0 out of 5 stars How Can I Describe The Sensation??, August 28, 2012

By 

Ellen - See all my reviews

This review is from: Ice Breakers Frost Mints, Peppermint, 1.2-Ounce Containers (Pack of 12) (Grocery)

When I pop in an Ice Breaker's Frost Mint, I get the sensation... OF BEING ON A FROZEN MOUNTAINTOP!!!

It's been about two weeks now since I made the tragic choice to bite into an Ice Breakers Frost peppermint, and still I haven't made any progress in finding my way out of these blasted mountains. The only food I have is the rest of this pack of Ice Breakers Frost peppermints, which, unfortunately, when I eat one, keeps bringing me right back up to the top of these mountains. They are just TOO. DANG. REFRESHING. I think? I saw a sherpa once? but it could have been the statue I made out of the mints, out of desperation for some company, as I'm getting so awfully lonely. My only consolation left in this world is that, should I not find my way out of these cursed mountains, I will leave this world with cool, fresh, minty, wonderful breath. Please, tell my family that I love them, and, if they chose to eat Frost Mints, they should first tether themselves to something extremely heavy, lest they, too, get whisked away to some frozen mountaintop.... like me.....  

Old Wives' Tales

Did you know that if you have a sore throat or infection or cut or ANYTHING, that salt water - as hot as you can stand - and get it salty, people, will totally help clear up the infection?

It's true. I knew you were dying to know!

Also - did you know that bread soaked in milk makes a poultice which can be held over a splinter to draw it out?

I don't know if that's actually legit, but I did it once and it worked. It may not have had anything to do with the bread or the milk, but whatever.

Did you know that, in order to keep your dishes from getting frosted in the dishwasher (does that happen to everyone?), if you add a tbsp of vinegar to the dish soap, it'll make them sparkle? Because this is AWESOME and I didn't know this before and now my dishes are all clean and sparkly and it's WICKED.

Did you know that I own bandaids in the shape of a PICKLE?

Thanks, Jules!

That is so not a wives' tale, either!

I bet there are lots of things that you didn't believe - like when your mom said "You'll catch a cold if you go out there dressed like that," or, "Have some chicken noodle soup, it'll make you feel better." I know I was all "Mommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmah. Oh my godddddddd."

WHICH REMINDS ME OF A STORY!
 
Once upon a time I was in grade 8 and I was talking on the phone to my boyfriend (for 3 hours, like any respectable 13 year old), who I really, really liked, and I was trying very hard to be very cool, and my mom picked up the other line and said, in the sweetest, most 'mom' voice, ever "Patti-atti, may I please use the phone now?"

AND IT WAS TRAUMARAMA.

And that's how I got the name Patti-atti. But it's not embarrassing anymore, because I'm 30 years old trying to feel like I'm 13, instead of the other way around.

(And I just realized that my children will not even understand what it is like to be on a landline and have your mom pick up the other line. This will be confusing and outdated, this here blog post)




ANYWAY. So, all my chat about wives tales had a purpose. A reason, I promise you. It's to let you know that your mom? She was probably right. A lot of those wives' tales were legit. And Cracked wrote an article on it, and you should totally read it! READ IT!

I just googled "Are the guests on Maury Povich real?"

And I think it's kind of awesome.

My foot is not broken, and other things..

So, remember when I told you that I have an aversion to doctors and that I was pretty sure I broke my foot? I realized I've been keeping you hanging. I know it's been hard for you to not bombard me with concerned emails and tweets and text messages and comments, and I appreciate your restraint.

My foot's totally not broken. So there's the big reveal. It's a ligament or something, and I'm okay with that. Although, walking around with a broken foot for 2 months would've been pretty badass in the realm of superheroes, but that's okay. We can't all be superheroes, can we? Then we'd all just be average.

I've gone to the doctors. I've gone to the dentist. I've gone to the chiropractor AND I've gone to a hairdresser, twice.

HOW DO NORMAL PEOPLE KEEP UP WITH THESE GROWN UP APPOINTMENTS?

And holy cow - in keeping up with grown up appointments, you have to spend a lot of time waiting. I booked my appointment with my doctor over a month ago and still waited for two hours in the waiting room - which was extra annoying because those were two hours I had to make up at work, so that means late nights, and that's kinda stupid. But whatever. I think patience is a virtue, and I guess I'm not very virtuous.

But! On another, and happier note - I've figured out the key to happiness. Start your day off with a little YouTube action!

A little Jenna Marbles action? Yes, please!


Or, just google "best pranks"


I'm telling you - I don't think there is a better way to put some pep in your step on a Friday morning. I keep smiling!

And if that all fails, you can reach back into the past and pull out this baby:



Because that's just hilarious. 

I love that baby.

Foreshadowing 2013.

Holla atchu!

My New Years Eve was kind of weird. And also, not kind of weird. Which is interesting, considering the fact that, at one point, I had to call 911, and I think I'm a regular, because I totally knew the dispatcher's voice. Does that make me a good samaritan, or one of those weird people who listens to the police scanner and thinks they're a detective? Because I do listen to the police scanner, and I'm always amazed by my deductive skillz. It's a good thing theGuy is a bigger geek than I am, because otherwise I could've become a strange spinster, drinking wine alone, with closed circuit cameras on my front porch and back and the delusions that I can smell Crystal Meth emanating from the apartment beside mine. Oh, wait, that's my neighbour that I'm talking about. Hi, J.

So, New Years Eve started out okay. I looked fine in a cute little black dress (of course, I have no photos, which means that the fact that I looked exactly like Christina Hendricks except way hotter and more modestly boobular can't be proven, but you can take my word for it). My hair was all did, and my hip wasn't being a total asshole. And you should've seen my shoes.

I totally looked like this.

We started the night out right, at a fancy schmancy restaurant with some of our friends. We celebrated the New Year (and kissing your husband on New Years for the first time is some sweet delight!), and headed over to a friend's house, with Boochie, one of our lovely friends. About 45 minutes in, Booch wasn't feeling so hot, so theGuy (who was not drinking), took us home so that she could get settled in for the night (she was staying over).

Upon our arrival home, theGuy bolted from the car, out to our front yard (we park at the back). It sounded to him, like someone was trying to break into our house. I followed to see what all the excitement was about, and saw that there was a person very aggressively trying to get into one of my neighbours' houses. He was really relentless, banging on the door like it was on fire. Which is wasn't. TheGuy did his manly thing and told me to go inside the house, which I ignored, because, I'm obviously invincible on New Years Eve, but then I heard a HUGE crash, the shattering of glass, and my neighbour's girlfriend screaming hysterically, so I hurried inside, quick like a bunny, and called 911.

"I have to apologize, as I'm not sure that this is an emergency, and I've been drinking, but there's a disturbance happening a couple doors down, and, can you please hold on, because I have to put sheets on the guestroom bed."

(Boochie was sleeping over)

I had quite a nice chat with the dispatcher, who assured me that I'd done the right thing by calling, and that it was okay that I'd had a couple drinks, and yes, I was making sense. So, see, I'm a good samaritan.

Three cruisers showed up, a Forensic van, and an ambulance. Oh, woah.

I called my neighbour and asked if everything was okay, and he told me what'd happened.

Some crazy pants dude showed up with a mutual friend, wanting to party at neighbour's house, and neighbour was all like "no, I'm sleeping, dude," and shut the door. Crazy pants dude started beating on the door, so neighbour's girlfriend decided to lock it. That's when crazy pants dude put his arms THROUGH the glass window in the door, cutting  neighbour's girlfriend's face (it bled worse than it was - you know, head wounds - those suckers are bleeders), slicing the crap out of his arm, and smashing glass everywhere. And then he ran away. Big tough guys are funny runners.

And this is when I called 911.

TheGuy left and headed back to the party he had left, and in doing so, saw the crazy pants man (read: bad guy) standing a couple blocks away with a belt around his arm, bleeding out like a crazy pants man. Someone was there helping him, but he ended up passing out in the snow - he had major blood loss - he was drenched. So, in essence, I totally saved his life because I called 911 and they found him a few moments later. So, totally a good samariten! The end result is that crazy pants dude is being charged, and he also had to get around 30 stitches and has to have surgery for the nerve damage he did to himself. Image how dumb you would feel for the rest of time when, every time a doctor asks what happened, you'd have to say "I'm totally stupid?" And even if you lied, it would be a reminder of how stupid you are, and really, meat heads need to play more sports so they can get that aggression out already!

So, anyway, after caching up with my fave 911 dispatcher, my new bestie, I was pretty riled up. Boochie was sleeping like the beauty she is, and no matter how eagerly and emphatically I promoted an all-night party, she wasn't having it.

So I called my brother, and made spaghetti while we chatted. And let me tell you, if a 4am spaghetti making conversation on the phone could be a party, it would be the party of the year. Also, that was fantastic frigging spaghetti.

Then I posted this on facebook:
"How did I bring in the new year? Fancy times with my husband and friends, then great time with the crew, then I called 911, and then I made spaghetti for myself with my bro keeping me company on the phone at 4am. Sounds like 2013 is going to be exciting, and tasty."

I could maybe have left out the 911 part because my phone started dinging at 8am as all the wonderful people in my life texted me, freaked out that something bad had happened. People, if something bad had happened, do you think I would've make spaghetti?

Okay, maybe I would've, but that's beside the point. 8am on New Years Day? ILLEGAL. I'm totally calling 911.

Happy New Year!

A boy named Tony

You know how sometimes it just feels like the world is against you and sleeping is not an option, so then it kinda feels like you're training to be in the military or on the Hunger Games or something? That's pretty much my life right now. It seems like no matter how much effort I put into sleeping, it just doesn't want to happen for me. Or theGuy. And most of the reasons for theGuy's lack of sleep is because of me, so then I have guilt issues.

In light of this drowsiness, today, I bring you another poem, which I wrote in grade four. Because you all need a little fun in your life, and Sarah Pott went over pretty well.

A boy named Tony

Once there was a boy named Tony,
He was very, very bony.
He only ate carrots and he only drank milk,
And the only thing he'd wear was silk.

One day as he walked down the street,
He met someone he dreamed he would meet.
Her name was Winnie,
And she was very skinny.

They fell in love, and they got married,
They had kids, and when the kids were carried,
They were so light, they floated away,
And no one has seen them to this very day.

I'm not quite sure why he only ate carrots - maybe he wanted to restore his vision. And obviously, since milk is good for your bones, he was looking after them. And it's kind of weird that he only wore silk, but I think my fourth grade self knew that only the very thin can really pull off silk. When I think of Winnie, you know I'm thinking of Winnie from the Wonder Years. Because that was one wicked bad show. Remember when they thought that Marylin Manson was the guy who played Paul? It's not true, but I will never look at Paul the same way.