wifercize wednesday: hormones and hand sanders

Andrew has been such a dear in keeping up with his hormone-flooded wife.  The downsides have included fits of frustration (generally nesting related or sleep deprivation related) followed by a gush of tears.

A few months ago I decided to tidy the first floor of our house.  AND I HAD TO DO IT RIGHT.  NOW. Coming across a few pairs of Andrew's shoes in the hallway, I asked him if he would like me to put them in the front closet or upstairs in the bedroom.  He told me to hold on one moment, as he was busy paying a bill online.

I waited a moment.  I waited a moment more.  Still answerless, I abandoned the shoes and stormed off to complete some other equally-as-pressing task until Andrew tracked me down and asked me if I was OK (the banging of objects tipped him off).

"Yes.  I'm fine."  (I wasn't.)
"Reeally?  You don't seem fine.  Are you mad?"
"No.  I'm not."  (I was.)
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know."  (I didn't.)

About 10 minutes after this futile discussion Andrew was back on the couch and I furtively joined him.  I sat as close as I could manage with my bulky abdomen, put my head on his shoulder, and started crying.

"Are you crying?  What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry."  (I was.)
"That's OK.  For what?"
"I don't know."  (I still didn't.)

Andrew has been wonderful at decoding (or, rather, lovingly disregarding) many of my extreme ups and downs and for this I am grateful.  The truth is that, most of the time, I truly don't know why I'm upset.  In the past week alone, the answers to "Are you crying?  What's wrong?" have included "I'm tired.  And you're nice." to "This movie is too sad."  Both legitimate answers.  To me.  At the time.

Another behavioural development has been a slightly unhinged desire to refinish furniture, as mentioned on Monday.  The first of which was a stool.

I spotted the stool on the side of the road the day Andrew and I were parking near St. Joe's hospital for an ultrasound appointment.  It was a painted (chipping), white (yellowing), wooden stool with a slab of the seat broken off.  I thought it was marvelous.

After my dad reattached the broken seat with carpenter's glue, it looked a little something like this:

After a generous sanding with my handy Black & Decker GelMax Mouse Sander and Polisher with Touch Zone Technology, it looked like this:

And after two coats of black CIL semi-gloss latex interior paint (primer included!) it looked exactly the way I wanted it to:

You might remember that I've been working on this little plot of the house ever since I designed my own wire hooks to display decorative French cheese plates on the wall:

Since it's completion, I am happy to report that it is the first DIY project that Oberon approves of.  In fact, he approves of it so much he almost exclusively owns property rights to it.

"How handy," he told me when I placed the finished stool in the kitchen.  "You've finally given me the throne I so rightfully deserve.  From here I shall survey my kingdom and all that transpires throughout."

foto friday: in memory of 518 jane

Now, from the archives of my iPhone's camera app...

A few weeks ago, my good friend Nicole Evans was wed in Sunbury, Pennsylvania.  Nicole has starred in my blog before, as we once were roommates at the best apartment in all of apartmentdom, 518 Jane: Where Life Is The Party.

This is the diner where we all ate breakfast.  A full breakfast in Sunbury was $3.49.

This was the incredible wall hanging at said diner that was beyond words. 

Baby squirrels have emerged from our neighbour's eavestrough (we are OK with this, primarily, because they are cute and it's not our eavestrough).  This is the closest I could get to three of them - there are four, but one is a bit of a mama's boy and stays inside most of the time.

This is how much fur we can brush off of Solmon once he begins to shed his winter coat.  Better outside on the porch than inside on my floor.

Every year, our church runs a youth conference called Freshwind for thousands of youth.  I have attended the conference for many years and Andrew and I ran it for the past three year in a row.  Since we're no longer youth pastors we don't run it anymore which, this year, was both odd, and very freeing.  

Oberon, hunting wild birds on BBC Life.

My mom and I went to Elmwood Spa in celebration of mother's day.  This was the third picture we attempted to take, but were laughing too hard to take properly.  My mom peed a little.

Here lies The Couch from 518 Jane: Where Life Is The Party.  It was a good couch, and had a good life. It has gone to live in Couch Heaven.

foto friday: I'M ALIVE

Here's proof that I have not deserted you.  I'm apparently just perfecting my skill of writing drafts.

In fact, most if not all of the drafts that I've written recently have been typed, deleted, re-typed, deleted again, and onwards in a never-ending cycle of indecision.  If only soul searching didn't act as as a costive block for my writing.

And now I've likened my writing to a bowel movement, which would make my blog...a toilet?

In a tremendous effort to write SOMETHING down - yes, I've read the comments left for me on my Facebook wall:

I figured I'd a) stick to writing and not deleting (hence, the above toilet comment), and b) start with a Foto Friday to get back into the swing of things.  How intimidating could photo captions possibly be?  We shall see.

These two parties should never meet.

Since watching this video, it has become impossible for me not to comment on things like this.

Sunbathing, part 1.

I found this book in the bookshelf of the amazing Red Room on Spadina.  The key adjective is "happily".

He's a wee bit bigger than he was last October, but we still treat him like a lap dog.  Solomon's take on it?  A+, as usual.

Sunbathing, part 2.

Andrew and I volunteered at this year's Kids Fest and I checked an item off my Bucket List: to pet a tiger.  Yes, it was everything you thought it was.

Hipster Cat, a portrait.

A wonderful little cafe on Annette called The Good Neighbour.  G'head and check it out if you live/work/shop in the area.

Because Hipster Cat is too good for the couch.

Noah joined a west side gangsta crew early.

Someone does not understand personal space.

Andrew celebrated his 31st birthday on March 6th of this year, and we had friends over for a mammoth meal followed by...Nintendo Wii.  Andrew said he felt like he was 15 again.  But 15 drinking wine.

I can't decide which is the best aspect of this portrait.  The mullet?  The pug?  The leather jacket emblazoned with mountain, lake, and giant bald eagle?

mama monday: rent-a-baby

This morning Melissa, mother of Noah, called up and asked if I would like to babysit Noah for a period of two hours this afternoon.

WOULD I?

I managed something to the effect of, "Well, if it would help you out, by all means..." since I didn't want to creep her out with my enthusiasm.  I will chronicle my Adventures With Noah here on Mama Monday.

12:55 p.m.  
Oberon and I excitedly await Noah's arrival.

1:27 p.m.
Realize that I am still in my pyjamas and housecoat.  Change into normal people clothes and make myself presentable.

1:51 p.m.
With extra time on my hands, wash Solomon and Oberon.  Solomon shakes himself dry after he comes out from behind the shower curtain.  Twice.

Give Oberon a mohawk.

2:07 p.m.
BABY ACQUIRED!

Melissa gives me a quick rundown of the diaper bag's contents and goes off to volunteer at the Romero House.  Isn't she great?

2:17 p.m.
Notice how difficult it is to do everything with one hand whilst holding an infant.  Including, but not limited to:

• Open a Tupperware container.  
• Place contents of Tupperware container on a plate.  
• Place plate in the microwave.  
• Take plate, along with cutlery and glass of water, to the table to eat.

2:23 p.m.
Piece of broccoli misses my mouth and falls on my jeans.  I consider dabbing the spot with a napkin.  See that we are out of napkins.  Consider using toilet paper from the bathroom directly behind me.  Figure that will involve me getting up, with Noah, and attempting to rip toilet paper from the roll with one hand.  Leave broccoli stain on jeans.

While I'm eating lunch with Noah, Oberon takes his revenge for the mohawk and types this:

nhbnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn


2:35 p.m.

Change Noah's diaper.  Noah starts fussing.  Shirt gets momentarily stuck on Noah's head while I'm changing him.  Noah voices his grave displeasure.

2:50 p.m.

Drive Solomon crazy by using "his" voice with Noah.  Terms that have previously been used solely for Solomon must now be shared.  Baby, Beebee, Coco, Bean, Cocobean.  Also: "Are you hungry?" which we taught Solomon and I just used on Noah.  Solomon looks hungry.  So does Noah.  Noah is noisier about it.

2:53 p.m.

Place bottle in cup of boiled water for five minutes.

2:58 p.m.
Remove bottle from cup of boiled water.

3:05 p.m.
Going...

...going...

...gone.

3:19 p.m.
Best:

Oberon still cleaning himself from offensive bath.

3:38 p.m.
Andrew comes home.  Noah wakes up.  Andrew graciously offers to take Noah to relieve my arm.  I have only been holding him for a half an hour.

3:51 p.m.
Melissa arrives and Noah is all smiles.  Baby successfully babysat!

foto friday: mannequins remind me of "today's special"

Sporadic postings over the past few weeks are due to a rather busy schedule, at work and otherwise.  As soon as I find a rhythm to this gong show I'll be posting again regularly.  In the meantime, may I distract you with pictures?

I'm genuinely beginning to wonder: are they teaching improper use of apostrophes in school now?  Infractions are more common than proper use.  Could someone who graduated grade school recently or with children let me know?

 Excellent marketing campaign: include a tiny QR code image on a poster for people to scan with their smartphones.  Place poster on the opposite side of subway tracks.

Another view Yonge Street from my office.  Even traffic can be beautiful.

One night last week Andrew worked late at his school for a long and boring meeting.  Amusing each other on our iPhones, I took this shot of Oberon and sent it to him.  "He looks skinny!" was my Italian husband's reply.  "Was he fed?"

LCBO's holiday advertisement clearly shows, beyond any doubt, that our dog is the preferred pet of young white couples in love.  

And we are a white couple in love.

There's something about this opera collar that makes me want to break into this Swavorski store front, bypass the jewelry, and steal the dress.

This mannequin shocked an appalled me, hiding around the corner of the Gap.  Boys will be boys.

Is it just me, or are the legs on these mannequins grossly unsubstantiated?