Festival time..

It's Jazz Festival time in Montreal... Plan on taking the Chicklet.. Maybe we'll go see this guy play out at one of the free shows.. Wow! Or this guy.. Robin Nolan (he has a sweet gypsy guitar) Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!

For Chicklet... Rock on!

Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!

Think.. act...

Today is the summer equinox and before I fetch my druid robe from the eco-friendly cleaners so I can participate in the "dance under the moonlight" tonight with the other earth goddesses I wanted to show you something... This past June 6th, so many of us in the bloggosphere put up peace globes (Thank You Mimi). I feel the need to put mine up again. Yesterday was World Refugee Day... I was too busy trying to get my daughter's 63 panties and 45 pairs of socks washed (and matched.. WHERE in the H E double Hockey Sticks do the socks go?) to write about this.. I was too busy making certain she was packed for a weekend with her Dad (poor thing will have to lug around new clothes and eat and be merry...) If you're curious about the Geneva Convention and the status of refugees.. you can read it here. My prayers go out to the families of my country's latest casualties in the war in Afghanistan. Three fine soldiers killed yesterday by a roadside bomb. Sergeant Christos Karigiannis, 3rd Battalion Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry Corporal Stephen Frederick Bouzane, 3rd Battalion Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry Private Joel Vincent Wiebe, 3rd Battalion Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry. May their souls be at Peace. Love you all more than my luggage. Hugs, smooches and gropes!

Heroes fall...

For the fallen firefighters in Charleston SC ... May their souls be free, May their families find peace, May their brothers in arms find solace and the courage to go on, May their community recognize what heroes they have lost and honour them. A FIREFIGHTER'S PRAYER -Unknown When I am called to duty, God Whenever flames may rage, Give me the strength to save some life Whatever be its age, Help me embrace a little child Before it is too late Or save an older person from The horror of that fate Enable me to be alert and Hear the weakest shout And quickly and efficiently To put the fire out I want to fill my calling and To give the best in me, To guard my every neighbor and Protect his property And if according to my fate I am to lose my life, Please bless with your protecting hand My children and my wife. In memoriam Capt. William "Billy" Hutchinson, 48 (30 years) Capt. Mike Benke, 49 (29 years) Capt. Louis Mulkey, 34 (11½ years) Engineer Mark Kelsey, 40 (12½ years) Engineer Bradford "Brad" Baity, 37 (9 years) Assistant engineer Michael French, 27 (1½ years) Firefighter James "Earl" Drayton, 56 (32 years) Firefighter Brandon Thompson, 27 (4 years) Firefighter Melven Champaign, 46 (2 years)

Manic Monday - heat...

What to do with such a topic... Chelsea's no longer in heat as we've had her "fixed"... I really don't want to talk weather... unless... I have to dance around the house singing... Canned Heat at Woodstock...a classic.. makes me wanna go skinny dipping, but without the lifevest.. gets in the way (wink wink Turnbaby!) Who doesn't love a little Napoleon... Canned Heat baby! Oh... and when there's heat...there's... Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!

Happy Father's Day

I've said it before.. I'm Daddy's Little Girl. To my Dad... I love you Pop. To my Chicklet's Dad... Elle t'aime beaucoup notre petite grenouille. To all the Dads out there... Have a good one! To the single moms raising their children without a dad... KUDOS! Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!

OOPS...

Not sure if I’m allowed to do this, which makes it even more irresistible… Happy Birthday to “someone” who doesn’t have birthdays… You know who you are… Disclaimer: The normal author of this blog is in no way responsible for this post. She would never do such a thing… Love you all more than my luggage! Especially you Birthday Boy! Hugs, smooches and gropes!

I know what to get Matt-man for Father's Day...

Yummy!! Squirrel Stew Here's a lovely little tune... Mississippi Squirrel Revival Uploaded by StonewallStudios Now...if you can make friends with the squirrel.. it can be useful! Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!

Sharing a washroom...

After a cup of coffee (the required potion to transform me from an incoherent grump to my usual super safety wench self), I launched into my regular mad dash between ironing a top for work (really I should do this in the evening.. I need to get organized...), fixing the Chicklet's snacks for the day (also something I should do the night before... I'm so disorganized!) and feeding Chelsea the beagle her pill coated in peanut butter (vet's orders... must be in the morning... can't get THAT organized... oh.. and did I mention that the pills have a nasty gastrointestinal side effect, in which I almost stepped whilst running from the kitchen to the living room to turn the TV off - yuck - Damn.. must pick this up... double yuck!), when I ran into the washroom to brush my teeth alongside the Chicklet. Luckily, I've managed to make sure my socks match every day and I'm not walking around with a fabric softener sheet stuck to my butt, most days... Sharing a washroom (although she has a perfectly nice pink washroom of her own) with her in the morning is interesting. She sings along to classic rock and roll (her version of Kiss's "I wanna rock and roll" is smokin') with reckless abandon and asks endless questions. Why does the medicine make Chelsea poop that colour? What's that stuck to your butt? Why did you only put makeup on one eye? What's that smell? Who's the cutest kid in the whole world (AHA! an easy one to answer!!!) Can I invent chocolate toothpaste? She and I stood side by side brushing our teeth and...well... I think Blake is rubbing off on us... Beatboxing with a mouthful of toothpaste suds is messy... Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!

For Jo...

My thoughts and prayers are with my friend Jo as she sits Shiva for her father who passed away this past Thursday. She always has a joke to make us laugh and brings great levity to any situation. It's my turn to lay my hand on her shoulder as she did the same for me when my mother passed. "Hamakom y'nachem etchem b'toch sh'ar availai tziyon ee yerushalayim." May God comfort you among all the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem. I love you Jo. So much more than all the luggage in the world. Hugs, smooches and more hugs!

I have a passion...

I have a love of shoes. It rivals my love of luggage! There’s nothing like slipping into a beautifully made shoe, one that accents, in my opinion, one of the best features a woman possesses, her confidence. You thought I was going to say legs or buttocks or feet didn’t you? A beautiful shoe, in many women, brings out a certain attitude, it’s as effective an adornment as jewelry. But it goes deeper than that. I know what a sexy shoe does for me. There’s the obvious effect it has on posture and the feminine form. Honestly, nothing accentuates a woman’s legs and behind like heels. But, the effect it has on posture, making a woman stand straighter, hopefully pushing her shoulders back (slouching is one of the most unattractive things), lifting her head up to face the world and in turn showing off her neck (a most heavenly part of the woman’s body)… Basically, there’s an actual correlation between the body and someone’s state of mind. Don’t get me wrong… I’m not talking about form, weight, size… It’s the way one carries oneself. I’ve sat in many an airport, on countless “terrasses” and on quite a few barstools indulging in one of my favourite pastimes.. No, not drinking! Sheesh! Well.. that too.. but what I was referring to is people watching. And all this people watching combined with my natural tendency to analyze people have led me to a conclusion: The power of a person’s walk, their “démarche” (or strut as you might wish to call it), is a powerful thing. I mean, as much as how “attractive” some people might be based on their physical attributes, there are some men and women who capture your attention by projecting total confidence, self-awareness and an irresistible form of sex appeal just by the way they carry themselves. Being attractive from within… There have been countless times when I’ve noticed the following (hopefully you can all remember a time when it happened to you): If you smile and tell yourself you are beautiful or handsome, if you feel good about yourself and willingly make eye contact with passers-by… you’ll get a positive response. And it sets off a chain reaction that needs to be cultivated. A few weeks ago, I was reminded of that very thing as I was pushing a cart through the local market and being the domestic goddess that I truly am (stop snickering…). I was in a good mood, I was wearing lovely pair of black leather slides and my favourite jeans, and I found myself smiling back at a man I crossed in the pasta aisle, as we both tried to maneuver around someone’s cart. I crossed this gentleman about 4 times through the aisles, and every time I did, I smiled back at him (I may have initiated a smile or two...). I don’t really know why, but I couldn’t help myself. He was attractive and had a bit of grey at his temples and a fantastic head of hair. Ok.. I know why, he had a great strut! As I was finishing up carrying on the traditional womanly gathering of “nuts and berries” à la 21st century, he was done hunting for sustenance and had bagged his frozen pizzas and steaks. We both headed towards the alters to thank the gods and remit our offerings in exchange for the bounty we had harvested and as I stopped to collect one last desired item, he walked up to me and complimented me on my smile. Had I wished it, I would have had a date too… But I must say, the compliment was just what I needed that day. So folks, put your best foot forward (I’ll be wearing lovely shoes as I do) and remember your worth as you step outside today, as I was reminded so thoughtfully myself and smile. Now, you don’t need a great shoe to do get that little boost of self-confidence, but it sure is a good excuse to go shopping for them! A while back, I promised my Hotties and Hoochies a slideshow... Without further ado... Hark! Did I hear some THUMPS? Love you all more than my luggage (and shoes and boots!)! Hugs, smooches and gropes!

Peace

Blogblast for Peace Thanks Mimi! I always snicker at Beauty Queens and the "I want world peace" speech...It's not the concept that makes me grin like Grinch, it's how disingenuous (and I didn't even need a thesaurus to come up with that word - hey ma! look! I'm writing without the use of writers tools) they seem. I think it's the poofed hair and duct taped boobs... I'm prepared to get hate comments and e-mails right about now concerning my "poopooing" (another fine albeit it less scholarly word, I concede) of the fine scholarship programs that are pageants.. I mean really, The Donald isn't in it for the babes... right? I guess sometimes, when people put something out there too much, you start to wonder how real it is.. how truly genuine. World peace... Folks, work on creating peace in your homes, in your circle of friends, in your relationship with your mate. Small gestures have great impact... Be honest, respectful, because "peace is every step".... Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes (they go a LONG way to achieving peace ya know...)

Tails... or is it tales... my weekend...

Ha!! Got your attention eh? I'll get to the tails in a bit... But first.. a short tale (yeah! yeah! I know, bad Anndi...) I’ve been having a rough week folks… The funk came back… I worked crazy hours… and I didn’t even have the energy to visit very many blogs. The highpoint of my week was on Thursday evening when my Chicklet, the awesome child that I’m raising to be, God-willing, a truly stellar human being, performed in a concert at school. She participated in the opening and closing numbers of the show (the kids sang wonderfully). Towards the end of the extravaganza she recited a poem she wrote. She was the only one to have her writing (her first ever poem) featured in the concert and stood up there while I sat in the audience beaming and demonstrated her artistic flair. (Oh.. by the way.. it's in French). It's a cry out for our planet, one main theme they focused on at school over the past year is reducing waste and pollution. La Terre (The Earth) A poem by Chicklet Ma mère la Terre, (My Mother Earth) mes sœurs les Océans, (my sisters the oceans) mes frères les Continents, (my brothers the continents) ma vie la Nature. (my life is Nature). Depuis longtemps ma famille est en danger. (For some time now, my family has been endangered.) Les océans pollués de l’essence de bateaux, (Boat fuel pollutes the oceans,) les continents sont malades, l’air pollué fait mourir les arbres. (Our continents are sick, air pollution is killing the trees.) La terre a ses eaux polluées et ses continents pollués. (The Earth's oceans and continents are polluted) La terre envoie un S.O.S. (Planet Earth sends out an S.O.S.) The concert was held in my old high school’s auditorium. It brought back many memories, and was bittersweet as it was renamed some time ago for a former vice-principal who died from AIDS. I remember watching “Philadelphia” not too long after he passed. I still can’t watch that movie without crying over his death. I told my Chicklet that the auditorium was named after him, and that he had been a wonderful educator. She asked me what made him so great. “He treated us, the kids, with respect. And we loved him for that.” Too few adults respect kids, and we can stand to learn a thing or two from them, that’s something he taught me by example. And he will forever be in my heart. Je t’aime Serge, tu me manques. Merci pour tout ce que tu as inspiré en moi. My weekend in a lobster shell... The Chicklet was away with her father this weekend, so I had some alone time with Dad, and some time for myself, a tub of Hagen Dazs and a chick movie. As it turns out, Chicklet’s Dad was going to cook a dinner for some friends on Saturday night and some lobster was on the menu along with chicken brochettes (anyone need a bib right about now?). Chicklet has always turned her nose up at lobster, although she loves to visit the lobster tank at the local supermarket. She knows they’re on their way to becoming someone’s food but enjoys saying hi (I say she taunts them… “Your father was a Hamster…”). Well, she agreed to try some! If she’s anything like me and my mother (which she is in almost all aspects of her personality so far…) she just might like it. Of course, she and I both have NOT inherited Mom’s taste (if you can seriously call it that without snickering.. or saying “bad taste”) for liver and something my mother thought was a delicacy, pig tongue pickled in vinegar (all together now… EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!) on saltine crackers (mom was crackers herself sometimes). I drove her to her father’s new apartment. I had changed out of my jammies and pink fuzzy slippers and gotten dressed although I did joke about driving over in my nightwear to a friend (hehehe... you were right! It DID end up in a post LOL!!). Besides, I actually find it easier to drive in high heeled red sandals than the fuzzy pink slippers! And I probably would have caused a slight stir at the market in my baby doll top and cotton capris… After dropping her off, I drove back from the city and stopped off at Dad’s. Some friends are helping to get the pool started and I chatted with them for a bit. Thoughts of lobster were firmly planted... swimming.. crawling(?) in my head and I know it’s been ages since Dad had some. Dad LOVES lobster! We had some fresh from the pier every summer when we went on vacation to Hampton Beach back in the days when I was a kid. So I offered to go pick up some boiled lobster and make Dad a scrumptious lobster salad. Well… seems if you want the folks at the market to boil the lobster for you (and believe you me, that’s what I had in mind) you have to order ahead of time (how inconvenient!). Now, she could have boiled them in a batch later on .. but then Dad would have eaten too late so… I sucked it up, bought two live and squirming lobsters, got the boiling instructions and a small bag of sea salt and then I went into the liquor commission (booze store) and bought a lovely bottle of wine to bolster my courage. When I returned to Dad’s, I set out to commit lobster homicide.... lobstercide? Cooking! I had a big pot with water, some sea salt ( to REALLY make it feel at home), a very large glass of wine (for me) and a big spoon with a very long handle to poke the lobster once I had conned it into believing it was going for a lovely spa experience… A very wise woman suggested I dump a bit of wine in the pot so my squirming and backpedaling soon-to-be dinner would have a little buzz. I decided against it.. can lobsters actually drink I wonder? Besides, by the size of it , it was decidedly underage although I’m willing to commit lobstercide, I stop at providing alcohol to minor lobsters (and I have no clue about Maritime law..) Besides, I do NOT, as a peace loving conscientious Canadian want to cause an international incident.. (what if they were from Maine?). For those of you who have never boiled a lobster, it’s an interesting experience. The hardest part was putting lobster number two in the water… it put up a fight worthy of Muhammad Ali or Laila Ali (depending on it’s sex... and no... I didn’t ask, and I didn’t look.. I’m no perv! Turnbaby, stop snickering this very instant!). All those videos on YouTube about poor unsuspecting people who chuck a lobster in the pot only to find it tries to crawl out of the pot to exact revenge are all too true! Lobster number one (I don't name my food.. I'm funny that way) spread out his claws (I've decided to assume the lobsters were male, don't read too much into it.. really) and tried to hold on to the sides of the pot as I attempted to shove him in the nice lobster jacuzzi. And lobster number 2 (the one on the right in that there picture) just straightened himself out as soon as I invited him to join his compadre making it VERY difficult for me to drop him and close the lid. I learned that lobsters do not, in all actuality, scream the lobster equivalent of "save me" when you put them in boiling water... they mutter something about a pox and attempt to spit on you (but I don't believe they have salivary glands). As I attempted to shove number one and number two in the pot, I stopped to fortify myself with a little vino.. Closing the lid on a jittery lobster feeler was not enjoyable. In fact.. it reminded me David Cronenberg and his bug movie... CREEPY. I kept expecting number one (clearly the more feisty of the two) to sit up, drape his little legs over the rim of the "lobster spa" and carry on a conversation about Noam Chomsky's views on child language acquisition and the innate basic grammatical structures that children are born with allowing them to have the ability to learn any language they are exposed to within the formative years. Ok.. maybe a little too much vino for me... I was reminded of my mother's chief complaint the odd times when she ended up having to steam the lobster herself... the water, sea salt and lobster combination makes the kitchen smell like the ocean.. and NOT in a good way. When all that was said and done... the lobster tails (see.. I finally got to them) were yummy when dipped in homemade garlic butter... Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!