As I look around the rooms of my already cluttered house, I think about all the ‘stuff’ that will be unwrapped come Christmas morning. As always, I’ll gaze at all the unwrapped presents and think, ‘Now where do we put all this new stuff?’
I seriously wish I had enough money and time to get rid of the old ‘stuff’ to make room for the new. What can’t be sold must be put into the trash – garbage is expensive to put on the curb these days – and for what can be sold or given away I need time. The very same time I need to go out and buy NEW stuff for Christmas.
Remind me, would you? To do some spring cleaning come April.
I was going to title this post with the obvious – Friday the 13th – but the words above more clearly state what my day has been like so far.
I woke up bright and… well, late for me. I’m usually up for the day at 5:30 but His Majesty (my youngest son) allowed me to sleep in ’til 6:30. Anyway, at 6:35 he turned on his laptop to find a virus. Not just any virus it seems, but one which wouldn’t allow me to do anything with the computer but shut it down and re-install Windows.
I don’t understand what the people who write and distribute these horrible worms around the internet get out of doing it. It was one of those ones that, if we can read (His Majesty can’t) we usually know better than to click on unless we’re half asleep or drunk – a pop-up with a badly drawn Windows-like shield, telling the user that the computer is at risk. Yeah, from you, dickhead. I mean seriously, do some people have nothing better to do than sit at their computers and snigger at other people’s misfortune? Ugh!
Anyway, I bought Kaspersky Pure virus protection a few months days ago, so I’ve installed it now on all the computers in the house.
I’ve finished the five courses I needed to take, so as soon as it arrives in the mail I will officially be the proud owner of a college certificate in Writing for Publication.
Then I will be able to certifiably hit the “Publish” button on WordPress!
Now all I need is a job. Anyone out there interested in hiring a slightly worn out but enthusiastic, stay-at-home mom/compulsive scribbler? I work for peanuts (preferably chocolate covered). Just ask my kids. Hell, I pay them!
I woke up to a fresh blanket of snow this morning. It’s to be expected – I live in Ontario, Canada.
Strange strange happenings are going on in the world, weather wise, however. In the south – in fact all the way to South America – the temperatures have dropped to past freezing.
And today, while I was delivering my newspapers here in Ontario, it began to rain. Upwards.
It didn’t matter how far I looked down, with the big hood on my winter coat over my head, I was getting rain in my face.
I have a love/hate relationship with Christmas. The decorations are great, the coming together of family, the big dinner (which I have to cook, but I don’t even mind that), the joy and the caring community – *needle screeches across record* – wait, what was that? Caring community? HA!
I live in what I expect is the politest little city in the world – eleven months a year. But on that twelfth month, you’d better watch out!
If I lived in Whoville and the people from here could be called Whovillians for most of the year, come December they can only be considered Whovillains. The claws come out in the shops and they’re in such a hurry, they’ll run you down with their cars as soon as look at you. Gone is the interminable wait at a four way stop for everyone to say, “No, you go first.” Now it’s every man, woman and child for themselves.
It seems Christmas brings out the worst in people when they’re out in public – it makes you wonder if those same people are as thoughtless at home as well, or if they’re just taking out their frustrations on people they don’t care about. Either way, it’s the most horrible time of the year to have to go out shopping!
‘Tis the season to be surly, fa la la la la, la la la la. Sing with me!
Deck your friend and plow your neighbour, fa la la la la, la la la la
There are the old standbys, like not walking under a ladder (which is really common sense if you think about it), or the black cat crossing your path being bad luck. For good luck we have the found penny, though it seems to me there are fewer good luck superstitions than bad ones.
If you think of any more, leave them in the comments.
Anyway. The real reason for this post is to talk about the superstitions that run in families. Many of us have them I think.
Mine include:
if your hand itches: rub it on wood and it’s sure to be good, rub it on your ass and it’s sure to pass. This refers to good luck. Hey, there’s one!
lilies signify death. Don’t give them.
never seat 13 at the table – I’ve never known quite what to do if I actually have 12 guests. Then again, I’ve never had a table big enough. 😛
if you drop a knife, don’t pick it up yourself or you’ll have a bad surprise. When someone else picks it up for you, don’t say thank you, or they’ll have a bad surprise. So if you come to my house and there’s a knife on the floor, you’ll know why. And don’t expect any appreciation if you pick it up. 😉
It’s a phrase we hear all the time. Songs have been sung, people pass it off as words of wisdom to the forlorn and the heartbroken. I found it in my horoscope today. The sentence before it stated that my emotions must not be ignored.
As advice, it sounds pretty. It lends to the imagination the idea that our hearts speak to us and can guide us on which way to go when we are unsure. But when we listen to our hearts, must we necessarily go in the direction we really want? Or does it mean that we should do what we know is right?
I wonder if cardiologists everywhere roll their eyes whenever they hear the phrase spoken aloud?
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump…
Blog post of December 6th, in honour of Every Damn Day December. Check it out! It’s not too late to join in!
There should be a word specifically for the feeling you get when you say something you shouldn’t have.
It happens to everyone, I’m sure. It’s the verbal vomit that comes out of your mouth in what we delicately label a faux pas.
It’s the facebook post that you realize was something that should have been kept a secret, or the mass email you thought you’d sent to only your best friend and closest confidant, just to discover your kids’ teacher is now aware that you have a yeast infection.
For things like this, the word “regret” doesn’t quite cut it. It’s that disconnect that separates good intention from devastating action.
Even the witty comment you think of half an hour after the fact, which is far less embarrassing but easily as annoying.
Communication impediment is too bulky. Linguistically challenged comes to mind… How about “linge”?
We could say, “Excuse me, I linged,” when we ask an acquaintance how her husband is, only to find out she just went through an ugly divorce. Or, “Damnit, I could have said ‘Duck!’ when the ball came flying through the air behind that guy, rather than ‘Watch out!’ making him turn and get it in the face instead. What a linge!”
Yeah, “linge.” It’s gonna be big.
Blog post of December 5th, in honour of Every Damn Day December. Check it out! It’s not too late to join in!
I’ve had one of these every year since I was a child.
I used to be the only one in the house with one, now every year I buy four – one each for the kids,
and one for me.
I don’t know… Apart from the obvious miniscule sugar rush each morning, there’s something inherently comforting in hunting down the right number for the date, and then popping open the little door. And if you’re lucky, the chocolates didn’t all come unglued during shipping, and they’re not all sitting down at the bottom of the packaging.
So far, so good.
Blog post of December 4th, in honour of Every Damn Day December. Check it out! It’s not too late to join in!
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