There's a line from the movie Shrek that really struck a chord with me. When Princess Fiona shockingly exclaims that Donkey can talk, Shrek says, "yeah, it's getting him to shut up that's the trick." Whoever wrote that line definitely has kids.
My oldest son was a very early and sudden talker. I have video of him taken at Christmas of 1999, and he was only blurting single words like the usual "mom" and "ba-ba". In a video taken just two weeks later, he was speaking in full sentences, and he was only about a year and a half old.
My friends used to get such a kick out of how much he liked to talk, and the things he was capable of saying. My memory isn't great, and I don't remember a lot of examples of his lingo, but I remember how articulate and witty he was. Older ladies used to approach him in the grocery store and gush over him, "oh, look at the cute little baby! Yes you are! Yes you are! A-pffffftt. A-pffffftt," while poking his belly. Much to their surprise, he'd usually reply with something like, "I don't know you, you are not a-sposed to touch me." He still looked like a baby, but talking to him was like talking to a five year old.
Here we are ten years later, and I promise you he hasn't stopped talking since 1999. The cute factor might have lessened considerably, but that hasn't affected the frequency. I often think he could be used by some police agency to crack criminals into cooperating, because this child could talk someone right to death. And ask questions? Either he's on the world's most epic quest for knowledge, or he just likes the sound of his own voice. Maybe a bit of both.
Some might say he gets it honestly, but that's besides the point.
In the past few weeks I've relived the "just learning to talk" scenario all over again, with my younger son. He's a late talker; he just turned three and only recently has he begun speaking in full sentences. And what sentences they are.
There is nothing funnier than a child finally being able to verbally express what they have probably been dying to get out for months and months.
Fits of frustration and screaming "no!" at the television and the fridge, have been replaced with, "Mom, want to watch Scooby Doo", or "not banana, want some cheese".
Better still, he's been absorbing the same songs and movies and phrases since he was a baby, so to hear him start singing the theme song from The Backyardigans word for word, is great for a laugh. He's nothing if not a fan of repetition, and the movies Cars and A Bug's Life (among many others) have played on a loop in this house for a long time. Now he can quote lines from these movies verbatim.
Unfortunately, my younger son isn't nearly as friendly as the other one was at his age. My older son would have talked to anyone, and usually did. The baby isn't as much of a people person, and strangers don't always get a great reception from him.
For example, the other day at the mall our cart was blocked by someone chatting in the middle of the aisle. My son had no bones about telling the shoppers, "you're in the way! Move your stuff, right now!" Some parents would be embarrassed by an outburst like this, but really, what can you do? They're kids, and they call it like they see it. As much as I hate to say it, I'm used to his abrupt proclamations in the middle of the dollar store; hey, at least he's paying attention.
And it's easier to forgive a few painful moments when they're normally so polite. My kids might regularly speak out of turn, but they have excellent manners. Even the three year old says "pweeze" and "fank you" and "skuze me", and my older son holds doors for people and knows how to give a proper apology.
When you're a stay-at-home mom with small kids, the funny stuff is what gets you through the day. Somehow or another, my youngest has just adopted a British accent, and greets me every morning with a "Hello, Roger!" as if he's straight from the heart of London. You'd have to hear it, but believe me when I say it's hilarious. Also, the vocabulary variations can be quite funny, and I've enjoyed many stories about "bunglebees", "chuckamilk", and how "peckeroni pizza smells like dog poop."
I suppose these years are called "the best years" for a reason, and when the constant chirping in my ear is almost too much to bear, I try to remember how lost we'd be in silence.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Friday, August 1, 2008
In This New Age
What would we do without computers? I like to think it would be easy to revert back to the days of snail mail and encyclopedias, but realistically, I'm not sure I would make the transition so smoothly.
A few short months ago, I decided to solve my chronic computer woes by buying a brand new laptop. As a person who acquired their first computer only three years ago, this was a big deal for me. I'm used to error messages and insufficient space issues from a pre-historic desktop, so in comparison my new computer is like a little slice of technological heaven.
This past week, my laptop's monitor broke. It's a factory problem covered under warranty, but unfortunately it needs to be sent back to Dell for repair, which means I'll be without a computer for almost two weeks. For lots of people, I bet that doesn't even register as a problem. For me, it's a fate worse than death.
When you have the internet, you're used to things being instant. With the internet, my friend from Iqaluit can give me a virtual tour of the house she's planning to buy, from the interior paint to the landscaping. I can see pictures of a baby born in Edmonton before the family even gets home from the hospital. Didn't make it to the wedding in Halifax? No problem, I can watch a video of the bouquet toss the very next morning. My world is literally at my fingertips.
I can't even fathom doing things "the old way". Couple gets married on Saturday in Halifax. They get their film developed on Monday or Tuesday, divvy up a few shots, buy a stamp, and get an envelope mailed out by Friday. The following Wednesday I receive the pictures in the mail, a full eleven days after the wedding took place, and that's assuming we live in some alternate universe where brides make sending pictures to their friends their top post-wedding priority. But it's just one example of how the instantaneousness of the internet has spoiled me.
Perhaps this is a better example: writing this article. Twenty years ago, I'd be writing it by hand. I'd have to count the words manually, proofread it incessantly until I was sure I had caught all the mistakes, type out at least one copy on the typewriter, and deliver it to my editor. Now, with the magic of "backspace", I can write and re-write and edit till my heart's content. Cut and paste my way through spell check and word count software, attach the finished document to an e-mail, and voila - done like dinner. What used to be a week-long project has become a simple, five minute task. It's incredible when you think about it.
Another huge change has been with the concept of reference. You know your product has succeeded when it's name becomes a verb, as I'm sure anyone who has "Googled" something will agree. A high school project used to involve hours of research and perfecting your Dewey Decimal skills, but these days, Wikipedia will tell you all you need to know about Albert Einstein or the history of democracy, or anything else you could possibly need information about, no matter how obscure. Maybe you're like me and appreciate the value of a good old fashioned textbook, but even I'll admit that cnn.com has been my source on more than one occasion.
And when I'm craving a healthy dose of nostalgia, YouTube is always there for me to rely on. A conversation with girlfriends about how funny an old music video was doesn't have to be fruitless anymore. We may have long since thrown away our VHS of every popular song on Video Hits, but we can watch any video (clips of any show or movie for that matter) by simply typing the name in YouTube search. What a beautiful thing for someone like me who's a bit stuck in the 80s.
Facebook is probably my favorite "tool". Everyone is busy with life, and staying in touch with your friends can sometimes be a challenge, to say nothing of people you've lost touch with. Facebook has allowed me to stay in contact with childhood friends, family members living away, and college buddies. I can see their kids, chat live with them, find out when they're coming home, and the list goes on. As any Facebook regular will attest, you feel a bit out of the loop when you've been off-line for an extended period of time.
And that's my dilemma. The world will continue turning while my computer is being fixed, and I'm sure I'll survive a week or two without the convenience of the internet. It'll just take me a little longer to get caught up with the rest of you.
A few short months ago, I decided to solve my chronic computer woes by buying a brand new laptop. As a person who acquired their first computer only three years ago, this was a big deal for me. I'm used to error messages and insufficient space issues from a pre-historic desktop, so in comparison my new computer is like a little slice of technological heaven.
This past week, my laptop's monitor broke. It's a factory problem covered under warranty, but unfortunately it needs to be sent back to Dell for repair, which means I'll be without a computer for almost two weeks. For lots of people, I bet that doesn't even register as a problem. For me, it's a fate worse than death.
When you have the internet, you're used to things being instant. With the internet, my friend from Iqaluit can give me a virtual tour of the house she's planning to buy, from the interior paint to the landscaping. I can see pictures of a baby born in Edmonton before the family even gets home from the hospital. Didn't make it to the wedding in Halifax? No problem, I can watch a video of the bouquet toss the very next morning. My world is literally at my fingertips.
I can't even fathom doing things "the old way". Couple gets married on Saturday in Halifax. They get their film developed on Monday or Tuesday, divvy up a few shots, buy a stamp, and get an envelope mailed out by Friday. The following Wednesday I receive the pictures in the mail, a full eleven days after the wedding took place, and that's assuming we live in some alternate universe where brides make sending pictures to their friends their top post-wedding priority. But it's just one example of how the instantaneousness of the internet has spoiled me.
Perhaps this is a better example: writing this article. Twenty years ago, I'd be writing it by hand. I'd have to count the words manually, proofread it incessantly until I was sure I had caught all the mistakes, type out at least one copy on the typewriter, and deliver it to my editor. Now, with the magic of "backspace", I can write and re-write and edit till my heart's content. Cut and paste my way through spell check and word count software, attach the finished document to an e-mail, and voila - done like dinner. What used to be a week-long project has become a simple, five minute task. It's incredible when you think about it.
Another huge change has been with the concept of reference. You know your product has succeeded when it's name becomes a verb, as I'm sure anyone who has "Googled" something will agree. A high school project used to involve hours of research and perfecting your Dewey Decimal skills, but these days, Wikipedia will tell you all you need to know about Albert Einstein or the history of democracy, or anything else you could possibly need information about, no matter how obscure. Maybe you're like me and appreciate the value of a good old fashioned textbook, but even I'll admit that cnn.com has been my source on more than one occasion.
And when I'm craving a healthy dose of nostalgia, YouTube is always there for me to rely on. A conversation with girlfriends about how funny an old music video was doesn't have to be fruitless anymore. We may have long since thrown away our VHS of every popular song on Video Hits, but we can watch any video (clips of any show or movie for that matter) by simply typing the name in YouTube search. What a beautiful thing for someone like me who's a bit stuck in the 80s.
Facebook is probably my favorite "tool". Everyone is busy with life, and staying in touch with your friends can sometimes be a challenge, to say nothing of people you've lost touch with. Facebook has allowed me to stay in contact with childhood friends, family members living away, and college buddies. I can see their kids, chat live with them, find out when they're coming home, and the list goes on. As any Facebook regular will attest, you feel a bit out of the loop when you've been off-line for an extended period of time.
And that's my dilemma. The world will continue turning while my computer is being fixed, and I'm sure I'll survive a week or two without the convenience of the internet. It'll just take me a little longer to get caught up with the rest of you.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Lesson Learned
With temperatures like this, it's easy to get too much sun, especially if you're a thoughtless fool like the girl in this story. Any similarities to persons real or fictional are purely coincidental, but for the sake of making things easy, we'll call her Gina.
A bit of necessary back-story, if I may. A few weeks ago, Gina got a sunburn on her arms. It was a "farmer's tan" - she was wearing a v-neck t-shirt, so only the small exposed area of her upper chest and upper arms burned, while her lower arms tanned. It was painful for days, and she swore she wouldn't leave the house without sunscreen for the rest of the summer. Even worse than the pain was the appearance of this particular burn; the markings looked ridiculous if she wore any shirt that didn't cover the tan lines. Was it fixable? Was she doomed to spend the summer as a multi-tonal freak? Time would tell.
On with the story. Canada Day started as a hazy but comfortable Tuesday in Port Hawkesbury. Wearing her same v-neck t-shirt, the very fair-skinned Gina decided to hold off on the sunscreen, since the UV index didn't seem very high (and being far from a meteorologist, this conclusion was drawn merely from looking out the window that morning).
After about an hour of screaming children, free hotdogs, and lining up to get her three year old on the Bounce-arama at the Grenville Green, Gina and family were done celebrating, and had decided to go to the beach. It would be practically deserted, since most people were at Canada Day festivities, and the kids would have a ball.
Home they went to change, and it was here that Gina had an epiphany: her skin color was completely uneven, and sunbathing on her deck would be both frustrating (with kids running around) and obscene (she's no Gisele Bundchen). What better way to even out her tan than to let it all hang out at a deserted beach? With the car packed, the family headed to Port Hood.
Upon arrival, as always, the first order of business was to coat her kids in four inches of sunscreen. Once finished, it was just Gina, a blanket, the blazing noon-time sun, and her plan of action. She put a tiny bit of sunscreen on the most burnt part of her upper arm, but then all bets were off, and out came the big bottle of Hawaiian Bronze Golden Tanning Oil, which clearly read, "does not protect against sunburn". Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, it was totally feasible to blend the multicolored skin with the white skin by turning all the skin a deep brown.
Cut to three and a half hours later, and the family had packed up for the drive back to Port Hawkesbury. Cut to 10pm, and now that the sun had gone down, the extent of the damage was clearly visible. Cut to the next morning, and the pain was almost unbearable. Such is the saga of a sunburn.
However, this was no regular sunburn, oh no. This was the mother of all sunburns that, in her 29 years on earth, she had never suffered through before. I'll give you a few highlights of the effects of using tanning oil on fair skin in 30 degree heat.
Her entire upper body was off limits to everyone, as even an accidental brush to the area produced a yelp and a grimace that would have scared you to death. She was so tense from trying not to move her shoulders, that she ended up pulling two muscles in her back. Sleeping was impossible. Wearing a bra with straps was impossible. Changing her clothes was excruciating. The heat emanating from her body was enough to cook raw meat, yet she sat huddled in a blanket for two days because she had the chills. The skin on her body was too tender and sore to apply any sort of soothing lotion until four days later. Any chore requiring the use of her arms took at least an hour. She was unable to enjoy any of this past week's nice weather because sun exposure was too painful.
Her skin is now a variety of different colors in different spots, including burgundy, red, fuschia, brown, white, and even green (the massive amount of aloe vera lotion used had dyed some spots of skin an emerald color). I'll leave out the details about blistering and layers of fried epidermis coming off. You don't want to hear them, trust me. But know this, I've seen crime scene photos less gruesome than the sight of Gina's upper body.
So kids, the moral of my story is: don't be like Gina. Sunscreen is made for a reason, so use it liberally. She wishes she had.
A bit of necessary back-story, if I may. A few weeks ago, Gina got a sunburn on her arms. It was a "farmer's tan" - she was wearing a v-neck t-shirt, so only the small exposed area of her upper chest and upper arms burned, while her lower arms tanned. It was painful for days, and she swore she wouldn't leave the house without sunscreen for the rest of the summer. Even worse than the pain was the appearance of this particular burn; the markings looked ridiculous if she wore any shirt that didn't cover the tan lines. Was it fixable? Was she doomed to spend the summer as a multi-tonal freak? Time would tell.
On with the story. Canada Day started as a hazy but comfortable Tuesday in Port Hawkesbury. Wearing her same v-neck t-shirt, the very fair-skinned Gina decided to hold off on the sunscreen, since the UV index didn't seem very high (and being far from a meteorologist, this conclusion was drawn merely from looking out the window that morning).
After about an hour of screaming children, free hotdogs, and lining up to get her three year old on the Bounce-arama at the Grenville Green, Gina and family were done celebrating, and had decided to go to the beach. It would be practically deserted, since most people were at Canada Day festivities, and the kids would have a ball.
Home they went to change, and it was here that Gina had an epiphany: her skin color was completely uneven, and sunbathing on her deck would be both frustrating (with kids running around) and obscene (she's no Gisele Bundchen). What better way to even out her tan than to let it all hang out at a deserted beach? With the car packed, the family headed to Port Hood.
Upon arrival, as always, the first order of business was to coat her kids in four inches of sunscreen. Once finished, it was just Gina, a blanket, the blazing noon-time sun, and her plan of action. She put a tiny bit of sunscreen on the most burnt part of her upper arm, but then all bets were off, and out came the big bottle of Hawaiian Bronze Golden Tanning Oil, which clearly read, "does not protect against sunburn". Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, it was totally feasible to blend the multicolored skin with the white skin by turning all the skin a deep brown.
Cut to three and a half hours later, and the family had packed up for the drive back to Port Hawkesbury. Cut to 10pm, and now that the sun had gone down, the extent of the damage was clearly visible. Cut to the next morning, and the pain was almost unbearable. Such is the saga of a sunburn.
However, this was no regular sunburn, oh no. This was the mother of all sunburns that, in her 29 years on earth, she had never suffered through before. I'll give you a few highlights of the effects of using tanning oil on fair skin in 30 degree heat.
Her entire upper body was off limits to everyone, as even an accidental brush to the area produced a yelp and a grimace that would have scared you to death. She was so tense from trying not to move her shoulders, that she ended up pulling two muscles in her back. Sleeping was impossible. Wearing a bra with straps was impossible. Changing her clothes was excruciating. The heat emanating from her body was enough to cook raw meat, yet she sat huddled in a blanket for two days because she had the chills. The skin on her body was too tender and sore to apply any sort of soothing lotion until four days later. Any chore requiring the use of her arms took at least an hour. She was unable to enjoy any of this past week's nice weather because sun exposure was too painful.
Her skin is now a variety of different colors in different spots, including burgundy, red, fuschia, brown, white, and even green (the massive amount of aloe vera lotion used had dyed some spots of skin an emerald color). I'll leave out the details about blistering and layers of fried epidermis coming off. You don't want to hear them, trust me. But know this, I've seen crime scene photos less gruesome than the sight of Gina's upper body.
So kids, the moral of my story is: don't be like Gina. Sunscreen is made for a reason, so use it liberally. She wishes she had.
Summer Lovin'
I thought I'd lighten things up a bit this week and write about the top 5 best things about summer.
Number 5 is esthetic discipline (probably only applicable to women). It's easy to throw on a big sweatshirt and shoes when it's cold out, but once the nice weather arrives, it's time for girls to buckle down and get in gear.
Once shorts and skirts are a daily wardrobe staple, those legs need to be shaved, ladies. I know women who don't shave their legs all winter, and while I'm not one of those women, I think I can speak for the majority when I say that leg-shaving happens much more frequently this time of year than any other. Now guys, I know you're probably grossed out, since in your universe of Jessica Alba et. al. girls are hairless sun goddesses; I don't want to burst your bubble, so forget your read any of that and skip to the next paragraph.
For you ladies, isn't it nice to have a regular routine of toenail-polishing, waxing, tanning, cute-skirt/shirt/sandal shopping? It's easy to get a little careless when there's twenty feet of snow on the ground, but the promise of nice days and fun gatherings always makes me care a little bit more about how I look.
Number 4 is the heat/absence of snow. My favorite season is autumn, but I'll give summer sun it's props when props are due.
The sun shining and birdies tweeting every morning is such a nice change from our most recent, relentless winter. Regardless of Maritimers' penchant for dissatisfaction with the weather, everyone can agree that it's nice to get a break from snow and sleet and driving wind.
We can swim, spend time in the garden, golf till our heart's content, and relish every ray of sunshine that comes our way. And trust me, that's exactly what I'm going to spend the next two months doing.
Number 3 is BBQing. Who doesn't love a good BBQ? I don't know if it's the food itself as much as the BBQing atmosphere as a whole. There is nothing that says "summer" better than a group of people on a patio, steaks and burgers grilling, someone drinking a beer, music playing and everyone laughing and having a great time.
On second thought, maybe it is the food. Leave the fancy steaks and chicken for someone else - hot dogs are my favorite. Years ago, myself and a friend of mine had a little contest to see if we could each eat an entire package of hot dogs BBQed. I don't know if it's funny or kind of disgusting, but we each ate a whole dozen (minus the buns), and it wasn't even a challenge.
I'm that nut you see on her deck in November, parka on, hair blowing around in the wind, trying to squeeze in one more BBQ before it's stored away for the season.
Number 2 is driving. I love to drive. It's very difficult these days to enjoy a good drive, seeing as there are two demanding and talkative kids in the back of our car, but that doesn't stop us from trying.
A perfect evening for me includes a relaxing (ish) drive, cool breeze blowing in the window, listening to The Hawk. This is an activity that is much easier to enjoy in July than it is in, say, February, when your studded tires are barely gripping the ice on the road and the slush slows traffic to a crawl. Yes, it's the summer drive that does it for me.
Number 1 is the beach. I've never been a big beach-goer, unless you count Murray's Beach in French Cove (which you shouldn't). However, since being introduced to Port Hood beach, things have changed. It's like an all-inclusive summer experience.
You get to paint your toenails and put on your best beach outfit. You get to enjoy the drive there, the warm weather, and you can even take along the portable BBQ. For a parent, the beach is like a dream come true. Fill your trunk with shovels and pails and toys, dip your kids in sunscreen, and let them run! That's where we spent Canada Day, and it was a perfect start to a very beachy summer for us.
So there you have it, my top five. If you're at all interested in the top five worst things about summer, I have that list, too. Mosquitoes, sunburn, June Bugs, humidity, and two months of terrible hair weather are the worst offenders. But in keeping with a positive outlook this week, I'll go heavy on the deet, stick my hair in a ponytail, use lots of SPF 5000, and be thankful for the sun. It'll be gone before we know it!
Number 5 is esthetic discipline (probably only applicable to women). It's easy to throw on a big sweatshirt and shoes when it's cold out, but once the nice weather arrives, it's time for girls to buckle down and get in gear.
Once shorts and skirts are a daily wardrobe staple, those legs need to be shaved, ladies. I know women who don't shave their legs all winter, and while I'm not one of those women, I think I can speak for the majority when I say that leg-shaving happens much more frequently this time of year than any other. Now guys, I know you're probably grossed out, since in your universe of Jessica Alba et. al. girls are hairless sun goddesses; I don't want to burst your bubble, so forget your read any of that and skip to the next paragraph.
For you ladies, isn't it nice to have a regular routine of toenail-polishing, waxing, tanning, cute-skirt/shirt/sandal shopping? It's easy to get a little careless when there's twenty feet of snow on the ground, but the promise of nice days and fun gatherings always makes me care a little bit more about how I look.
Number 4 is the heat/absence of snow. My favorite season is autumn, but I'll give summer sun it's props when props are due.
The sun shining and birdies tweeting every morning is such a nice change from our most recent, relentless winter. Regardless of Maritimers' penchant for dissatisfaction with the weather, everyone can agree that it's nice to get a break from snow and sleet and driving wind.
We can swim, spend time in the garden, golf till our heart's content, and relish every ray of sunshine that comes our way. And trust me, that's exactly what I'm going to spend the next two months doing.
Number 3 is BBQing. Who doesn't love a good BBQ? I don't know if it's the food itself as much as the BBQing atmosphere as a whole. There is nothing that says "summer" better than a group of people on a patio, steaks and burgers grilling, someone drinking a beer, music playing and everyone laughing and having a great time.
On second thought, maybe it is the food. Leave the fancy steaks and chicken for someone else - hot dogs are my favorite. Years ago, myself and a friend of mine had a little contest to see if we could each eat an entire package of hot dogs BBQed. I don't know if it's funny or kind of disgusting, but we each ate a whole dozen (minus the buns), and it wasn't even a challenge.
I'm that nut you see on her deck in November, parka on, hair blowing around in the wind, trying to squeeze in one more BBQ before it's stored away for the season.
Number 2 is driving. I love to drive. It's very difficult these days to enjoy a good drive, seeing as there are two demanding and talkative kids in the back of our car, but that doesn't stop us from trying.
A perfect evening for me includes a relaxing (ish) drive, cool breeze blowing in the window, listening to The Hawk. This is an activity that is much easier to enjoy in July than it is in, say, February, when your studded tires are barely gripping the ice on the road and the slush slows traffic to a crawl. Yes, it's the summer drive that does it for me.
Number 1 is the beach. I've never been a big beach-goer, unless you count Murray's Beach in French Cove (which you shouldn't). However, since being introduced to Port Hood beach, things have changed. It's like an all-inclusive summer experience.
You get to paint your toenails and put on your best beach outfit. You get to enjoy the drive there, the warm weather, and you can even take along the portable BBQ. For a parent, the beach is like a dream come true. Fill your trunk with shovels and pails and toys, dip your kids in sunscreen, and let them run! That's where we spent Canada Day, and it was a perfect start to a very beachy summer for us.
So there you have it, my top five. If you're at all interested in the top five worst things about summer, I have that list, too. Mosquitoes, sunburn, June Bugs, humidity, and two months of terrible hair weather are the worst offenders. But in keeping with a positive outlook this week, I'll go heavy on the deet, stick my hair in a ponytail, use lots of SPF 5000, and be thankful for the sun. It'll be gone before we know it!
Monday, June 16, 2008
'Tis the Season
Ah, spring.
As soon as the snow melts, I'm reminded of the approaching wedding season. Traditionally, once April ends, the wedding invitations start rolling in. I recently celebrated my second wedding anniversary, and our May long-weekend wedding in 2006 was perfect. No fear of poor attendance due to snow storms, no embarrassment and discomfort from excessive perspiration due to summer humidity.
And again, this spring did not disappoint. Not only did I receive an invitation to the sure-to-be-beautiful wedding of a good friend, but I got some very exciting news in the past few days: my little sister is getting married! Yay! And, also very exciting, she has asked me to stand in the wedding. For most 29-year-olds, this might be cause to groan at the thought of adding yet another hideous taffeta dress to the back of the coat closet for eternity, but not me. Believe it or not, I've never stood in a wedding before, and I'm pumped.
As a bridesmaid, you get to wear a pretty dress and carry flowers, only instead of paying for 200 meals and still going hungry for fear of spilling something on your gown, you get a stress-free, cost-free meal and a night of dancing. Seems like a pretty sweet deal to me.
Since I've been in her shoes and might have a few words of wisdom, I'll be helping plan certain parts of my sister's wedding, as required. Most brides know what they want and won't settle for anything less than what they feel is important. God bless them, every one. Unfortunately, as any post-wedding bride will tell you, what you think will be important often isn't, and the things you overlook can sometimes be the most important things of all.
Take decorations, for example. I wasn't satisfied until I had wrapped thousands of tiny chocolates in delicate foil (the color of which matched the bridesmaid dresses, of course), and had placed these chocolates on each table in little glass bowls filled with perfectly coordinated flower petals. Wrap your brain around the manpower involved in that little detail. A detail which, as should have been expected, fell on blind eyes - people grabbed the chocolates, drove them into their open gob, and threw the foil wrapper over their shoulder without a second thought. Being an excited bride, I put way too much thought and labor into that one project, thinking foolishly that people would pick up the candies and admire the workmanship. Who was I kidding.
So if I may, I'd like to offer a few tips to the ladies who are tirelessly planning their all-important wedding.
First and foremost, don't skimp or make any sacrifices when it comes to your pictures. I know it's expensive, but it's by far the best investment you'll make. Trust me, the day will fly by so fast, you won't even remember it the following afternoon, and all you'll have left are the images to remind you. Make a video if you can. If you can't afford a professional, get one or two reliable friends to take along their camcorder. I watch mine often, to remember the music, the nervous laughter, and the look on the groom's face when I walked down the aisle. (That's my favorite part, and it will probably be yours, too.) The opportunity to look back on that day is truly priceless.
Don't sweat the small stuff. The little details you're worrying so much about will go unnoticed to 99% of the guests, so don't worry if the small glasses of tomato juice clash with the centerpieces; you're the only one who cares. If the ring bearer drops the pillow and starts to cry, big deal; you'll laugh about it the week after. If your curls are falling out on the way to the church, if you can't find your best lipstick, if you got a dot of mascara on your dress, don't burst into tears; as long as your groom shows up, the little things don't matter. Everyone thinks you and your wedding are gorgeous. The people who don't just suck and shouldn't be there anyway.
Further to that, enjoy your day. Laugh with your friends and chat with people you don't see very often. Have a plate of food and a piece of your cake - you likely paid through the nose for it, so you might as well reap the benefits. Kick off your uncomfortable shoes so you can dance the night away. Try to steal a moment alone with the person you just married. Don't let your wedding ruin your Wedding Day. With any luck, you'll only do it once, so have a great time.
Here's to all the brides and grooms, and may you have an awesome wedding.
As soon as the snow melts, I'm reminded of the approaching wedding season. Traditionally, once April ends, the wedding invitations start rolling in. I recently celebrated my second wedding anniversary, and our May long-weekend wedding in 2006 was perfect. No fear of poor attendance due to snow storms, no embarrassment and discomfort from excessive perspiration due to summer humidity.
And again, this spring did not disappoint. Not only did I receive an invitation to the sure-to-be-beautiful wedding of a good friend, but I got some very exciting news in the past few days: my little sister is getting married! Yay! And, also very exciting, she has asked me to stand in the wedding. For most 29-year-olds, this might be cause to groan at the thought of adding yet another hideous taffeta dress to the back of the coat closet for eternity, but not me. Believe it or not, I've never stood in a wedding before, and I'm pumped.
As a bridesmaid, you get to wear a pretty dress and carry flowers, only instead of paying for 200 meals and still going hungry for fear of spilling something on your gown, you get a stress-free, cost-free meal and a night of dancing. Seems like a pretty sweet deal to me.
Since I've been in her shoes and might have a few words of wisdom, I'll be helping plan certain parts of my sister's wedding, as required. Most brides know what they want and won't settle for anything less than what they feel is important. God bless them, every one. Unfortunately, as any post-wedding bride will tell you, what you think will be important often isn't, and the things you overlook can sometimes be the most important things of all.
Take decorations, for example. I wasn't satisfied until I had wrapped thousands of tiny chocolates in delicate foil (the color of which matched the bridesmaid dresses, of course), and had placed these chocolates on each table in little glass bowls filled with perfectly coordinated flower petals. Wrap your brain around the manpower involved in that little detail. A detail which, as should have been expected, fell on blind eyes - people grabbed the chocolates, drove them into their open gob, and threw the foil wrapper over their shoulder without a second thought. Being an excited bride, I put way too much thought and labor into that one project, thinking foolishly that people would pick up the candies and admire the workmanship. Who was I kidding.
So if I may, I'd like to offer a few tips to the ladies who are tirelessly planning their all-important wedding.
First and foremost, don't skimp or make any sacrifices when it comes to your pictures. I know it's expensive, but it's by far the best investment you'll make. Trust me, the day will fly by so fast, you won't even remember it the following afternoon, and all you'll have left are the images to remind you. Make a video if you can. If you can't afford a professional, get one or two reliable friends to take along their camcorder. I watch mine often, to remember the music, the nervous laughter, and the look on the groom's face when I walked down the aisle. (That's my favorite part, and it will probably be yours, too.) The opportunity to look back on that day is truly priceless.
Don't sweat the small stuff. The little details you're worrying so much about will go unnoticed to 99% of the guests, so don't worry if the small glasses of tomato juice clash with the centerpieces; you're the only one who cares. If the ring bearer drops the pillow and starts to cry, big deal; you'll laugh about it the week after. If your curls are falling out on the way to the church, if you can't find your best lipstick, if you got a dot of mascara on your dress, don't burst into tears; as long as your groom shows up, the little things don't matter. Everyone thinks you and your wedding are gorgeous. The people who don't just suck and shouldn't be there anyway.
Further to that, enjoy your day. Laugh with your friends and chat with people you don't see very often. Have a plate of food and a piece of your cake - you likely paid through the nose for it, so you might as well reap the benefits. Kick off your uncomfortable shoes so you can dance the night away. Try to steal a moment alone with the person you just married. Don't let your wedding ruin your Wedding Day. With any luck, you'll only do it once, so have a great time.
Here's to all the brides and grooms, and may you have an awesome wedding.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Dear Premier MacDonald
Please forgive me, Premier MacDonald, for misinterpreting the statements you made in a recent interview about rising gas prices. I was so busy struggling to make ends meet that I didn't put aside the time to thoroughly analyze your words.
Your plight for clarification was brought to my attention on May 14th, when I read your letter in The Reporter. You did a fine job explaining to us all how you were so viciously and maliciously misquoted.
After all, had I not been so consumed with my astronomically-priced light bill, I might have recognized that, when you suggested "taking up the opportunity for transit", that could just as easily have meant for people to take the subway or commuter train from Inverness to....um....wait now, hold on. I don't think there are any other means of public transit in Nova Scotia apart from the buses in CBRM and HRM, are there? I mean, except for the Strait Area Transit Cooperative, but, useful as they might be, I'm not aware of their fleet of vehicles making a daily River Bourgeois - Port Hawkesbury run. No matter, you didn't actually SAY for us to take the bus, you just suggested we use public transit....which would HAVE to mean the bus, since there aren't any alternatives....which would make the quote, "take the bus" pretty accurate. Anyway, I digress.
Thank you for your suggestion as to how to get some relief at the pumps. When I get a break from worrying about this region's high unemployment rates and economic hardship, I'm going to look into getting one of those hybrid vehicles you talk about. As one of the highest paid public servants in our province, I'm sure you'll have no trouble getting your hands on one, so maybe you could give me some buying tips. Who knows, since people who can afford hybrid cars probably aren't too concerned with gas prices anyway, perhaps I can find an owner to let me take theirs for a test drive! As long as I promise not to go for an ice cream, of course. We've all learned what a perilous outing that can be.
It's surprising that you haven't received more thanks from the people of Mabou and Cheticamp and Framboise, all those small communities, for those generous transit tax credits included in the recent budget. People around here need all the help they can get, and even though credits like that won't apply to the majority of Nova Scotians (certainly not to the ones living in your riding), you would think the municipal councilors or welfare recipients or Ladies Auxiliaries, somebody, would have all got together and at least sent a fruit basket or something your way, in lieu of the widely-inclusive financial assistance provided by our government. How ungrateful.
But, while I'm sitting around watching tourism figures and population numbers rapidly decrease, I'm encouraged by the fact that you had the time and resources to pen and distribute such an important letter of explanation to your hometown constituents. One has to assume that, with enough time on your hands to successfully spin a potential media fallout, you must have projects up your sleeve that will solve all our problems here at home. I can't wait for the press conference announcing what plans for our area have developed to such an extent that letter-writing is your top priority. Is it a new plant of some sort? A change in the Accord agreement? C'mon Premier, don't play coy! We're chomping at the bit over here.
I don't have much more time to write, as I'm on my way to the post office (I can't afford to go visit my family in Richmond County every week, what with the price of gas and all, so we've started corresponding by mail). However, I would like to commend you on your flair for the dramatic. It's not every day a Premier has a letter published in every provincial newspaper for the purposes of damage control, attempting to clarify a point that is, I feel, pretty clear to everyone already. It must be difficult to compete for headlines with the likes of Judy Streach and your other colorful cohorts in Halifax. How very Strait regional school board of you to make much ado about nothing; it almost indicates a knowledge of goings-on in our region after all.
In closing, Premier, I'd like to extend to you an invitation to my son's third birthday party next week. I notice that you're usually in enthusiastic and jovial attendance at other functions around Port Hawkesbury as of late, and I'm willing to bet a well-to-do man like yourself will probably spring for a pretty nice present (there will be free food, after all). Just look for the blue house with the white "surrender" flag hanging on the deck.
Very sincerely,
Gina MacDonald
Your plight for clarification was brought to my attention on May 14th, when I read your letter in The Reporter. You did a fine job explaining to us all how you were so viciously and maliciously misquoted.
After all, had I not been so consumed with my astronomically-priced light bill, I might have recognized that, when you suggested "taking up the opportunity for transit", that could just as easily have meant for people to take the subway or commuter train from Inverness to....um....wait now, hold on. I don't think there are any other means of public transit in Nova Scotia apart from the buses in CBRM and HRM, are there? I mean, except for the Strait Area Transit Cooperative, but, useful as they might be, I'm not aware of their fleet of vehicles making a daily River Bourgeois - Port Hawkesbury run. No matter, you didn't actually SAY for us to take the bus, you just suggested we use public transit....which would HAVE to mean the bus, since there aren't any alternatives....which would make the quote, "take the bus" pretty accurate. Anyway, I digress.
Thank you for your suggestion as to how to get some relief at the pumps. When I get a break from worrying about this region's high unemployment rates and economic hardship, I'm going to look into getting one of those hybrid vehicles you talk about. As one of the highest paid public servants in our province, I'm sure you'll have no trouble getting your hands on one, so maybe you could give me some buying tips. Who knows, since people who can afford hybrid cars probably aren't too concerned with gas prices anyway, perhaps I can find an owner to let me take theirs for a test drive! As long as I promise not to go for an ice cream, of course. We've all learned what a perilous outing that can be.
It's surprising that you haven't received more thanks from the people of Mabou and Cheticamp and Framboise, all those small communities, for those generous transit tax credits included in the recent budget. People around here need all the help they can get, and even though credits like that won't apply to the majority of Nova Scotians (certainly not to the ones living in your riding), you would think the municipal councilors or welfare recipients or Ladies Auxiliaries, somebody, would have all got together and at least sent a fruit basket or something your way, in lieu of the widely-inclusive financial assistance provided by our government. How ungrateful.
But, while I'm sitting around watching tourism figures and population numbers rapidly decrease, I'm encouraged by the fact that you had the time and resources to pen and distribute such an important letter of explanation to your hometown constituents. One has to assume that, with enough time on your hands to successfully spin a potential media fallout, you must have projects up your sleeve that will solve all our problems here at home. I can't wait for the press conference announcing what plans for our area have developed to such an extent that letter-writing is your top priority. Is it a new plant of some sort? A change in the Accord agreement? C'mon Premier, don't play coy! We're chomping at the bit over here.
I don't have much more time to write, as I'm on my way to the post office (I can't afford to go visit my family in Richmond County every week, what with the price of gas and all, so we've started corresponding by mail). However, I would like to commend you on your flair for the dramatic. It's not every day a Premier has a letter published in every provincial newspaper for the purposes of damage control, attempting to clarify a point that is, I feel, pretty clear to everyone already. It must be difficult to compete for headlines with the likes of Judy Streach and your other colorful cohorts in Halifax. How very Strait regional school board of you to make much ado about nothing; it almost indicates a knowledge of goings-on in our region after all.
In closing, Premier, I'd like to extend to you an invitation to my son's third birthday party next week. I notice that you're usually in enthusiastic and jovial attendance at other functions around Port Hawkesbury as of late, and I'm willing to bet a well-to-do man like yourself will probably spring for a pretty nice present (there will be free food, after all). Just look for the blue house with the white "surrender" flag hanging on the deck.
Very sincerely,
Gina MacDonald
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Dear Mr. Haagen-Daas - The Battle of the Bulge, Part 1
Dear Mr. Haagen-Daas,
I regret to inform you that I will no longer be purchasing your fine selection of ice cream products.
Normally a notification like this wouldn't be necessary, but seeing as I'm such a loyal customer, I am fairly certain my abstinence will reflect in your future sales figures, and I wanted to give you a head's up. You should expect to see a decline in the sales of, most notably: chocolate peanut butter, cherry vanilla, and rocky road.
If it's any consolation, the same effects will be felt by the folks at Dairy Queen, Scotsburn, Farmers, Ben & Jerrys, and every student ice cream barn in the Quad County area, to whom this letter has also been forwarded.
Trust me, it's not that I have any desire to stop consuming your delicious creations. Given the opportunity, I would gladly eat nothing but ice cream three meals a day for the rest of my life. Nothing gives me more pleasure than to open my freezer and see a pint of your wonderful diary goodness gazing back at me. To eat it is like a sweet, frozen kiss on the lips, and my taste buds covet every pecan, marshmallow & caramel swirl.
Many a death threat has been uttered to members of my household in an effort to sanctify and sustain your product, and I am both proud and joyless to report that my efforts have been met with much success. My husband isn't a big fan of ice cream, period, so he wasn't a big threat to begin with. My kids love it, but they're easily distracted, and I have been able to tempt them with other treats and keep the majority of the ice cream for myself. While this has been a wonderful reality for me to enjoy, I am now paying the price.
You see, I could have swore your packaging labels read "fat free" or "ideal for diets" or something along those lines, but I guess I was mistaken. And here I was, eating Cherry Garcia almost as if it were going out of style, not giving a second thought to the caloric repercussions of my actions. The result, to put it mildly, is not physically ideal.
First, I noticed my pants were fitting more snugly than usual. Soon after, I found I had a bit of extra padding when I would sit down. Coming on the end, I noticed an extra chin was forming. But the biggest wake up call came the other night, when I was startled at pictures I found; my husband has, at some point, married another woman! Sure, she looks a lot like me, and mysteriously she even wore my wedding dress...and had all the same guests...and was holding my children in a few shots. But that couldn't be me, I don't look like that! I may not have the same pre-babies bod I once did, but I couldn't have changed that much, could I? In any event, since my clothes have recently been rejecting my body, I feel it's in the best interest of everyone involved if I stop eating ice cream and begin a new diet regimen. Especially since, if you listen very closely, you can actually hear my arteries clogging.
So, allow me, if you will, to offer a few suggestions as to how to improve your products and make them more suitable for people like me.
First, each label should include a disclaimer, written in big, bold letters. Your advertising staff should have final copy, but I advise it should say something like, "WARNING: Consumption of this product, while providing instant and powerful gratification, may lead to obesity, with side effects including self-consciousness, denial, guilt, frustration, and lack of clothes-shopping enjoyment. Crying jags, hissy-fits, and temper tantrums are more infrequent, but have been reported in some cases." You may need a bigger container to fit all that, but I think you can afford it, considering you charge over $5 for as much ice cream as one could fit on a single large cone.
As the more expensive, yet more rewarding, alternative, you could invest millions of dollars in the research and development of a fat-free, calorie-free, organic and health-smart ice cream. Imagine being the brain behind that! Your profits would compensate one hundred fold for the initial investment, and you could win back faithful customers like me. Run with it, trust me. You're welcome.
In closing, I want to again express my regret concerning my new-found temperance, and I apologize for any negative effect it might have on your bottom line. Should you happen to take action on that idea we talked about, let me know and I'll be the first in line.
With fond memories & admiration,
A new & improved Gina MacDonald
I regret to inform you that I will no longer be purchasing your fine selection of ice cream products.
Normally a notification like this wouldn't be necessary, but seeing as I'm such a loyal customer, I am fairly certain my abstinence will reflect in your future sales figures, and I wanted to give you a head's up. You should expect to see a decline in the sales of, most notably: chocolate peanut butter, cherry vanilla, and rocky road.
If it's any consolation, the same effects will be felt by the folks at Dairy Queen, Scotsburn, Farmers, Ben & Jerrys, and every student ice cream barn in the Quad County area, to whom this letter has also been forwarded.
Trust me, it's not that I have any desire to stop consuming your delicious creations. Given the opportunity, I would gladly eat nothing but ice cream three meals a day for the rest of my life. Nothing gives me more pleasure than to open my freezer and see a pint of your wonderful diary goodness gazing back at me. To eat it is like a sweet, frozen kiss on the lips, and my taste buds covet every pecan, marshmallow & caramel swirl.
Many a death threat has been uttered to members of my household in an effort to sanctify and sustain your product, and I am both proud and joyless to report that my efforts have been met with much success. My husband isn't a big fan of ice cream, period, so he wasn't a big threat to begin with. My kids love it, but they're easily distracted, and I have been able to tempt them with other treats and keep the majority of the ice cream for myself. While this has been a wonderful reality for me to enjoy, I am now paying the price.
You see, I could have swore your packaging labels read "fat free" or "ideal for diets" or something along those lines, but I guess I was mistaken. And here I was, eating Cherry Garcia almost as if it were going out of style, not giving a second thought to the caloric repercussions of my actions. The result, to put it mildly, is not physically ideal.
First, I noticed my pants were fitting more snugly than usual. Soon after, I found I had a bit of extra padding when I would sit down. Coming on the end, I noticed an extra chin was forming. But the biggest wake up call came the other night, when I was startled at pictures I found; my husband has, at some point, married another woman! Sure, she looks a lot like me, and mysteriously she even wore my wedding dress...and had all the same guests...and was holding my children in a few shots. But that couldn't be me, I don't look like that! I may not have the same pre-babies bod I once did, but I couldn't have changed that much, could I? In any event, since my clothes have recently been rejecting my body, I feel it's in the best interest of everyone involved if I stop eating ice cream and begin a new diet regimen. Especially since, if you listen very closely, you can actually hear my arteries clogging.
So, allow me, if you will, to offer a few suggestions as to how to improve your products and make them more suitable for people like me.
First, each label should include a disclaimer, written in big, bold letters. Your advertising staff should have final copy, but I advise it should say something like, "WARNING: Consumption of this product, while providing instant and powerful gratification, may lead to obesity, with side effects including self-consciousness, denial, guilt, frustration, and lack of clothes-shopping enjoyment. Crying jags, hissy-fits, and temper tantrums are more infrequent, but have been reported in some cases." You may need a bigger container to fit all that, but I think you can afford it, considering you charge over $5 for as much ice cream as one could fit on a single large cone.
As the more expensive, yet more rewarding, alternative, you could invest millions of dollars in the research and development of a fat-free, calorie-free, organic and health-smart ice cream. Imagine being the brain behind that! Your profits would compensate one hundred fold for the initial investment, and you could win back faithful customers like me. Run with it, trust me. You're welcome.
In closing, I want to again express my regret concerning my new-found temperance, and I apologize for any negative effect it might have on your bottom line. Should you happen to take action on that idea we talked about, let me know and I'll be the first in line.
With fond memories & admiration,
A new & improved Gina MacDonald
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