Rip-snortin' ass-kickin' Sunday Round-up

Pretty darn good.  That's probably my best way to describe this weekend.  No complaints here.

Friday night I picked up some Sushi for dinner at the local RCSS, and since they've changed the delivery day to Friday, it was very very fresh.  I really want to go out for actual restaurant sushi but I'm good with grocery store grade in the meantime.

Headed down to the Legion for karaoke with mom and Sharon.  Dad was already there for darts.  I haven't been out since before Christmas so I was having some withdrawal.  Ended up having a blast and getting some work out of the deal.  Looks like I might have a gig hosting the karaoke night on my kid-free Fridays.  I go in on the 11th so that Lance, our current KJ can train me on the equipment.  Pretty awesome.  Some extra cash to go towards my house-downpayment-fund for two nights work a month, for being where I might already be any given Friday.  Can't beat that.

Speaking of house hunting, mortgage calculators of the ilk that you find on real estate sites are bullshit, and depressing as hell.  According to the mortgage calculator, I can afford roughly $278 a month for a mortgage (which puts me at about $38,000 for a house.  I can't get a mobile home for that little around here).  I pay $700 bucks a month rent, plus hydro and I am not behind on my bills, and I'm managing to pay down my debt so CLEARLY I can afford more than $278 a month for a mortgage.

So eat me, mortgage calculator.

Back to happier things.  While at the Legion a group of about 10 snowmobilers/cottagers from Strathroy come walking in, most of them around my age (couple older dudes, and at least one paperboy).  My first thought, as one of the youngest available women in the Legion was "Oh! Hello Boys! Happy Birthday to Me!"

Normally I'm about as socially awkward as they come but on Friday, whether it was the beer or just a general sense of well-being and oneness with the world coupled with just feeling like holy-shit-I-am-one-hawt-mamma I was kind of on that night and lapping up the attention, especially from one of the cuter guys, who bought me a beer and asked for a dance.  He was a riot, and we spun and twirled and made clumsy attempts at dipping while his friends hooted and hollered and we all sang along to any given songs.  What a fun bunch they were, and I was feeling full of confidence.

Saturday I got up and went into town to take some clothes to the Salvation army and attempted to find a plain wood frame I to use for this print that I bought at the craft sale I did a few weeks back.  I can't for the life of me remember the photographer's name but if I remember it I will link back. In the meantime, please, no one steal this image, kay?  I'd feel really bad if you did.   'preciate it.  I just want a plain wood frame so I can paint it.  I'm thinking either red with white polka dots, or black with white polka dots.

Got a source now - Corey Ramsbottom Photography

Saturday afternoon I went ice skating with my friend Tessa and her boyfriend and her kids.  My ankles felt like jelly and I think I need to invest in some hockey skates.  I think they'd be more conducive to my skating style than the figure skates I currently have.   We left soon after Tess fell and bruised her arm pretty good, which was unfortunate and quite surprising since Vegas odds would be on me being the one that wiped out, but I miraculously didn't fall once.

Saturday night I grabbed my guitar and headed to the local church for their coffee house night.  I showed up a bit late so as a result I was dead-last on the roster, but I held out and managed to get a few songs in.

Here's what I played:

When I Come Back - NQ Arbuckle and Carolyn Mark (I posted a vid of myself playing this a while back.  You can see it here)

I Make the Dough, You Get the Glory - Kathleen Edwards (I've always kind of considered her a poor-man's Sarah Harmer, but I enjoy this tune a lot.)


Tina's Glorious Comeback - Dan Mangan (Future Husband and Stepfather to my children.  I wish.)

If You're Gonna Be Dumb You Gotta Be Tough - Karen O (This song is fun as hell to play)

Just a little Open Mic Ettiquette 101.  Everyone wants a chance to play.  If the mode number of songs people are playing is four, it might be poor form to play seven,  you know?

Because I was very last on the bill, I was a little late to catch the free show being put on by Run With The Kittens at one of the local restaurants, but I did manage to make it about halfway through their first set.  I've never actually heard of them before, but I found them enjoyable.  Their sound is an odd mix of experimental sounds and blues-based rock.  When I listened to them, all I could think of was the Moldy Peaches tune Downloading Porn with Davo (NSFW people).  Later I found a similarity to catl as well.

Sadly, although a great restaurant, I found the Explorer's Cafe lacking as a live music venue.  Lacking space to move, that is, so I left at the intermission as my claustrophobic tendencies were making me a bit twitchy.

Today was laundry and grocery shopping day.  I met up with my mom and sister at the seventh circle of hell and promtly informed them that I was totally compromising my principles just to hang out with them, because I rarely shop at Wal-Mart if I can avoid it.

Feeling accomplished as I managed to make both Jello and Rice Krispie Squares for the girls lunches. Making them homemade is way cheaper than buying these things. A box of Jello costs about 69 cents and makes around six servings.. a pack of jello cups is about 2.99 and they have four.

With a box of Rice Krispies (4.99), three bags of marshmallows (@1.27 each, so $3.75 let's say) and a half pound of butter (1.50) you can make 4-6 dozen rice Krispie squares.  A box of 8 individually wrapped ones are about 2.99.  Plus by making the stuff, you get around the litterless lunch manifesto of the schools.

Don't get me wrong,  I love the idea of a litterless lunch, and we should all do our parts to cut down on garbage.  But telling a kid to take a granola bar out of it's wrapper and bring it in a container is bullshit.  And I doubt the school is going to come to my house and wash all my bloody plastic containers.  So I tell the girls "No, it's not litterless, but it's still less litter."

Who is Snoop Dogg and Why is he hanging around my dog house?

Today, over at Simple Dude in a Complex World, SD posted a blog about internet porn, which reminded me of a story from my convenience store days.

For most of my early 20's I worked off and on for a independently run Convenience store (as opposed to a chain like 7-11 or Mac's).  Our magazine rack was topped off by what was possibly the largest collection of porn to be found outside of any adults-only shop.  We also had a wide array of X-rated video-cassettes for sale, well out of reach of any young shoppers.

In SD's post he questions why anyone still buys porn when it's readily available on the internet.  I maintain that some people would rather shell out cash for DVD's than to pay someone to clean their hard-drive once a month.  Much like in real-life, the cheaper and easier porn is to acquire, the better chance of picking up a virus.

I have two stories related to the giant porno-fest that was the top-shelf of our magazine racks that stick out in my mind to this day.  One day, a girl about my own age comes in, and furtively starts checking through the tapes.  After picking one out, she approaches the counter, eyes down.  I ring it up, trying my damnedest not to smirk, but I'm kind of a child so I'm not doing a great job.

"It's not for me."
"Okay." It's none of my business, you know?
"It's my friend's birthday and we want to get him a gag gift.  My asshole friends made me buy it so they don't look like perv's."
"No worries.  That'll be [book value of VHS porn circa 2001], please"

She pays, takes the tape and skulks out.  I allow myself a bit of a giggle.  A few minutes later, the door jingles and she comes back in, beet red in the face.

"Hello, can I help you?"
"I can't fucking believe I'm asking you this...", she says, grumbling.  "Do you have anything with more lesbians?  Apparently I picked the wrong one because it doesn't have enough friggin' LESBIANS."
"I.. uh.. um.. don't really know what the um.. lesbian ratio is on any of these movies.  I haven't seen them.  Sorry."
"*sigh* it's okay.  gah. Idiots."

Goes over to shelf, grumbling to herself.  Comes back and slams another tape down on the counter and proclaims "I'm getting this one and if they don't like they can bloody well come back here and pick one themselves!!"

My other story involves a group of about 3 college aged guys that came in one day.   I smiled and giggled to myself as they were very loudly talking about the selection and I got the impression that this was another gag gift purchase.  They made no bones about being in a small-town convenience store buying porn, and I was having a hard time hiding my amusement.

Now, although I was fully aware that we had a well-stocked porn selection, I can't say I was real familiar with the specific titles we carried.  So I was totally unprepared when they came up and put this on the counter:

Source

I lost my shit, right then and there.  At that point in time I was complete unaware that Snoop Dogg had even produced porn, let alone that we had this little nugget right in our little convenience store.

I lost it.  In a completely uncompromising professional manner,  I started laughing hysterically and could not stop.  I tried to duck down behind the counter, but that was a completely pointless pursuit, so between giants gulps of air in an attempt to catch my breath, tears streaming down my face, I attempted to apologize.

"I'm sorry... hahah... I just... I mean I didn't know... SNOOP DOGG... BWAHHAHAHAH... omg.. don't mean to... *gasp* ... just didn't know... *giggle*  ....I'm so sorry.. *gasp*.... heheheheheh"

The guys, being in the jovial mood that they were, took my embarrassment from my outburst and just ran with it, feigning great indignance.

"Well, I never!"
"Where's your sense of professionalism?"
"They wouldn't have treated us like this at the Triple-X store!"

Finally I managed to catch my breath and ring them through, but I continued to giggle like an idiot for a good hour after they left.

*****************************************

In other news, my friend Sean who blogs over at SeansJeep got called last night for the lung transplant he's been waiting on.  Last update was that he had come out of surgery with no complications.  So, although he's not completely out of the woods, that is very very good news indeed.  He's got a great support system and we've all be sending our thoughts, prayers, hoodoo and whatnot out for a good recovery.

Karaokeing tonight, haven't been down to the Legion since before Christmas I believe.  Feel like having some beers and belting some tunes.  There's a coffeehouse tomorrow night as well at a local church so I'll be packing the guitar up  and playing some songs there as well.

Enjoy your weekend, all.

My Indie Crush of the Moment Danny Michel

Hello Folks!  Welcome once again to Reverse Objectification Thursday!

A friend of mine, upon returning to Ontario for a visit home (she current resides in San Diego) commented to me that Canadian guys are just a lot cuter than guys in California.  Maybe it's a combination of  a more laid-back and relaxed attitude, along a certain ruggedness I've found, but without the hyper-masculine neanderthalness.

Right now, right here, this moment, I'm harbouring a huge crush on singer/songwriter Danny Michel.

There's something sexy about a man and his accordian. Source

Cute, no? Looks a little like Robert Downey Jr. in this pic.  And I loves me some RDJ.

I'm not entirely sure where Danny Michel hails from, but I always like to imagine he's from somewhere in Quebec.  The name screams Quebecois and I'll be honest, I have a bit of a weakness for the Quebecois accent. Ohm.

I'm not a big fan of the European French accent.  I don't know, but the times I've heard it - and working customer service for a company with an international user-base I come across it from time to time - it just always sounds.. I don't know.  Fake.  Stereotypical.  I always want to laugh because every time someone speaks Parisian French to me, it sounds like they're channeling Pepe LePew.  Sorry, people from France.  It's not you, it's that stereotypical imitations are so bang on, that I always think that you all are playing it up for laughs.

I never said I was a good person.

But French Canadian accents?  Yum.  Friends can attest, they have an.. *koff* effect on me.

....

Anyway, where was I?  Yeah... so, cute in a laid-back indie-folk way, way talented, imaginary sexy Quebec accent (can't find a home town on the bio, so my fantasy gets to live on another day).  Can't ask for much more for Reverse Objectification Thursday.

He has a song called Maybe You Can Find It In Your Heart, and if I listen to this song in the car, the intro sequence always makes me feel like I'm starring in the opening credits of some kind of  romantic comedy, or possibly a family comedy.  I think if they ever made a movie of my life, I'd have to insist that the film open with me getting my car and pulling out of my driveway with this song as the soundtrack.

Incidentally, the end credits of the movie of my life would roll out to Mike Ness' cover of "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright."

In case you were interested.

So yeah, go check him out.  

Source

Margaret Atwood can't roll in her grave, as she's not even dead yet.

In other news, but related on the war on reproductive rights front, I just read an article that almost made me spit pop all over my bloody computer screen.

Georgia anti-abortion bill would require investigations of miscarriages

I don't even know what to say about this.  I'm fucking fuming.  It's like these state governments are not even TRYING to hide their contempt for women's autonomy over their own body.

Like I said previously:  ProLife=Pro-Fetus=Anti-Choice=Fuck Women, Who Gives a Shit.

The bill was apparently introduced by Georgia State Rep. Bobby Franklin and would "...classify the removal of a fetus from a woman for any reason other than to produce a live birth or to remove a dead fetus as 'prenatal murder.'"and that it would "it would require miscarriages to be reported by hospitals and other medical institutions, and a fetal death certificate issued."

What.  The.  Hell.

Of course, this is the same genius that introduced a bill mandating that victims of rape, stalking, harassment, and family violence be re-classified as "accusers."

As others have pointed out, if your car gets stolen, or your house gets broken into, or you have the shit kicked out of you, or you're murdered, then you're a victim.  Get raped, and report it, and you're an accuser.

Georgia State Rep. Bobby Franklin

I'm curious to know if Bobby F's dear wife (assuming he's married) has ever suffered a miscarriage.  I haven't, but I know people who have, and that shit can be downright traumatizing.  Even without being investigated to make sure it really was a miscarriage and not "prenatal murder".  I can't even begin to imagine how invasive such an investigation would be.  It's mortifying.

Has Franklin any daughters, I wonder?  If something happened to one of them, would he be comfortable with them being referred to as accusers rather than victims?


I was being facetious the other day when I referred to Margaret Atwood and The Handmaid's Tale.  I'm not finding it quite so funny now.  If you've read it, you know what I mean.

This is downright scary.

On her Facebook page, Anne Rice posted this link for anyone who wants to contact this guy and tell him what-for.

My cat issue as a metaphor for family planning

Hey!  Guess what I learned today!  Cats have no natural aversion to incest.  Isn't that lovely?  Do you know what that means for me?  It means that my remaining kittens have spent the last day or so trying to bugger their mother.  Gross.  So I've sequestered poor Chloe to the bathroom until I can A) find homes for the boys and/or B) set her up an appointment to get fixed.

I've got ads in Craigslist, Kijiji and on Facebook to find the not-so-little ones homes, because frankly, four cats in this tiny house is too many.  Going to make a poster tonight as well.  I've kicked the boys outside for an hour or two so Mama Chloe can actually roam the house in peace until i decide to go to bed.

But isn't it typical that I have to lock the girl away so she doesn't get knocked up?  Of course, it is easier when the males out number her 3-1 (although Spartacus isn't a problem, having long parted ways with his wee baby-makers before he joined this household) but yeah... She suffers cause the boys 'just can't control themselves'.  Typical.  Of course, they ARE just cats.  Not people.

home made is nice but sometimes I like to leave food prep to the professionals

I'm at the grocery store, and I'm looking for guacamole.  This is a FoodBasics, so it's not like a high-end grocery store.  I check the aisle with all the dips and such and find nothing.  So I head to produce because sometimes they have dressings and stuff.

Me:  Do you know where I might find guacamole?
Stockboy #1: Hmm.. i'm just produce, so I'm not really sure, but I can ask someone.  We do have avocadoes if you want to make your own.

I've made my own guacamole before, and it turns out I'm not very good at it.

Me: I've made my own, I'm pretty bad at it.  Rather just buy it pre-mixed.

I follow the guy about 6 aisles over to another guy.  They discuss.

Stockboy #2:  Are you the lady that needs help?
Me: Yup, sure am.
Stockboy #2:  Here, follow me.

I follow him back to the first aisle that I check.  He scans the shelves.  Looks perplexed. 

Stockboy #2:  *sighs dramatically* They've moved it.  Hold on a second.

Leaves, coverses with a woman in the bread section.  Returns.

Stockboy #2:  So it turns out we don't carry guacamole anymore.  We used to but now we don't.  We have avocados though, if you want to make your own.
Me: I've made my own, I'm pretty bad at it.  Okay, thanks anyway.

Take the girls to the check out.  Explain that we'll be going to another store after this.

Me: We'll go to Foodland after this, they'll have some.
Cashier:  Was there something you weren't able to find.
Me:  Yeah, guacamole.  You guys don't carry it apparently.
Cashier:  Oh.

Pause.

Cashier:  We have avocados.

Me:  ....

Half-assed Sunday. No, it really is.

I feel out of sorts today.  I guess it's a combination of cabin fever, a few disconcerting conversations and just.. I don't know... February blahs.  There's something odd in the air I suppose.

Yesterday I made a giant pot of spaghetti sauce and while I was cooking it I was struck with the urge to put out a mass-dinner invite via the Facebook.  Sadly about 80% of my R.S.V.P's were from people who live 12 hours away or further.  I had fun imagining how awesome it would be if they had all showed up.  I think this spring and summer I'm going to make a point to entertain more.  As it was, Kay and her daughter came over for dinner, so that was fun.

After not talking since before Christmas, I contacted the most recent ex just to say hi and see how he's doing.  After a few minutes I kind of regretted it and wished I had left well enough alone.  It wasn't really anything that was said, it was just kind of awkward.  Maybe this means I'm getting over it.  Hrmph.

For reasons unknown, a completely random post that I wrote back in September, has been getting a number of hits today.. according to the rather vague analytics that Blogger gives us, they seem to be coming from Facebook.  14 hits today, which is a lot in one day, when you look in proportion to the traffic this little blog generally gets, and when you consider that as far as posts go, it was a bit of a non-entity.  Just a few random thoughts that were in my head that day.

We had a spell of warm weather this week but now the snow and wind seems to be back with a vengeance.  Blargh.  This weekend has been all down-time, just organizing my closet, doing a ton of laundry and yeah.  It's nice but I'm kind of bored now.

Well, I'm off to check the dryer, which has been taking a stupidly long time to, you know, dry things even though I've cleaned the lint thing. 

I think one of my stitches from my wisdom teeth is coming out.  That's lovely.

This has been a

Go visit the Simple Dude.  What do you have to lose?

I'm not sure I like the view from up on this soapbox...

I'm seeing a lot of stuff going down in the American media concerning the apparent war that the religious right seems to be waging on women's reproductive rights and all I can say is:

"What the fucking fuck, America?"

It's becoming pretty damn obvious to me that the term Pro-life is a misnomer and would be more correctly referred to as Pro-Fetus, since if you are a woman, or low-income, or both life suddenly becomes pretty friggin' neglible.

And this isn't one of those situations where I can sit back and feel smug in my Canadian-ness like I did when it came to the Social healthcare debate in the U.S. (and I did, I admit it).  Because, let's face it, as America's hat the stuff that's been going on could happen here too.  Think back a bit.. Our own PM, Steve Harper, cut funding to womens groups focused on women's health in developing nations who wouldn't "...shut the fuck up" on the abortion issue.  If old Steve-O is willing to cut funding to developing nations over a conservative ideology, well, it's just a small step before cuts start here in our own country, which is what basically happened in the U.S. today when the House voted to cut funding to Planned Parenthood because they provide abortion services, even though the funding provided cancer screening and access to contraceptives to thousands of low-income families.

As my brother-in-law, Frank, is usually quick to point out, what happens in the States stands a good chance of affecting Canada in the long run, which is why the House's decision has my panties in a bunch.

I'm sure Margaret Atwood never really thought she'd see this kind of Handmaid's Tale stuff played out in her lifetime.

First there was the issue of the nun getting ex-communicated for allowing a woman to receive a life-saving abortion in a catholic hospital, because clearly the merciful thing to do would have been to let the woman die on the off-chance the fetus might have been viable, which to my understanding, it likely would not have been.  Very Pro-Life indeed.  This story was disturbing enough, but because the situation was so entrenched in the inner workings of the Catholic church, the level of threat was not the same, because a simple solution to someone whose life hung in the balance would be don't go to a Catholic hospital.

Last week I heard a story that a law is on the table in South Dakota that would allow killing in the defense of a fetus to be considered justifiable homocide.  Now, unless it is worded very carefully this could leave a lot of holes for the killing of doctors and nurses who perform abortions.  It's my understanding that the idea is that it would protect pregnant women from being attacked in domestic disputes, but let's be realistic and admit that this law would have more than likely been used in the former situation rather than the latter.  For now, it looks as though the law has been shelved, thankfully.

This latest news about the defunding of Planned Parenthood is upsetting at best, as it presents a huge step backwards in reproductive rights and in access to healthcare for low-income people.  Jill at Feministe puts it well in saying that this goes well beyond just being about abortion and has become an all out war on our reproductive rights, as well as a war on the working class and those below the poverty line:

This isn’t about abortion — it’s about cutting access to health care for women. One in five American women has used Planned Parenthood’s services. The vast majority of care — more than 90% — offered at Planned Parenthood health centers is preventative. Every year, Planned Parenthood carries out nearly one million screenings for cervical cancer — screenings which save lives. Every year, Planned Parenthood doctors and nurses give more than 830,000 breast exams — exams which save lives. Every year, nearly 2.5 million patients receive contraception from Planned Parenthood — a service which prevents enormous numbers of unintended pregnancies and, by extension, an enormous number of abortions. Every year, Planned Parenthood administers nearly 4 million tests and treatments for sexually transmitted infections, including HIV — tests and treatments which save lives, extend lives, preserve fertility, and maintain reproductive health.

What the anti-choicer's are not realizing here (or perhaps they are fully aware of) is that cutting funding to Planned Parenthood is not going to save any significant number of lives, even those of the unborn.  This will not reduce the number of abortions being performed - it could even increase the number, when you consider the fallout is reduced access to contraceptives and family planning information.  What it will reduce is the number of safe abortions being perfomed.  But of course, as we touched on earlier, Pro-Life is really just Pro-Fetus, and the life of the evil, bad, dirty secks-lovin' woman is neglible, as is the rape victim, or the married couple whose condom broke.

In a rather moving speech given to the House, Rep. Jackie Speier made a bold move and spoke about her own experience in having an abortion for health-related reasons.



Speier hits the nail on the head. Most times, this is not a decision that anyone takes lightly.  And for the few who do, that is unfortunate, but the idea of choice is that we have choice, whether or not we use that choice responsibly.   I used to rail against women that used abortion as a form of birth control, and you know, it still bugs me.  But it is not my body.

I'm going to get a little personal here.  I've always maintained that being Pro-choice is not the same as being pro-abortion.   The idea of being Pro-choice is that a woman has a right to decide what happens to her body, under any circumstances.  It is our right to decide whether we are physically and emotionally ready, willing and capable to carry a child to term.  And this is something close to my heart because I've been there.  My ex left when I was six-weeks pregnant with my youngest daughter.  And I faced that choice.  In my heart of hearts I know I made the right choice and I wouldn't trade my baby girl for anything in the world, but the point is that is the choice I made was my own and what was good for me, is not always good for others.

It's also close to me because I know there's a possibility down the road that I could face that decision again.  After I had Reegs (and I might add I will always be glad to be able to look her in the eye and tell her she is here because I WANTED to have her..) my OB told me that carrying another child could and would likely kill me.  On that warning I took the precaution of having my tubes tied because A) dying is bullshit and B) Two kids is more than enough for the less-than-maternal type.  But even though tubal ligation is considered 99% effective against pregnancy, well, simple math states that 99% is not 100%.  There is a chance, albeit ridiculous slim, that down the road I could find myself in the position of having to choose between terminating a pregnancy or trying to carry to term and possibly leaving my children motherless.

I cannot fathom what I would do if a lack of resources, or my beliefs, or a piece of legislation were to force my hand in such a situation.

I've been frustrated as hell over the last day or two because I've been seeing all these calls-to-action to support Planned Parenthood, but being in Canada I generally have been unable to sign petitions, so all I can do is talk about it.  Access to family planning is important to everyone.  If you are able, please show your support.

Isla de Encanta - Day Eight, Apparently. Momma, I'm coming home.

I was not ready to fly home Thursday.  I missed the girls, and I missed my guitar and beyond that.. well, I would have made do.  I would have forged the girls some passports, and had them and the axe shipped to me if it meant I could stay on the beach for just a little while longer.

Nonetheless, I got up early, packed up all my shit and headed down to breakfast.  You know how you can never seem to pack everything up the same way you did when you arrived somewhere?  Yeah, I'm really glad I'm not big on buying souvenirs for people.  I had a drum, a chess set, and a flute and a plinky-plunky weird instrument to bring home.. somehow, someway, I got it all into my suitcase, oddly enough, and ended up with LESS in my carry-on bag even.  The plan was to check out and then take all my stuff to Kaylee and Mindy's room since check out time was 1pm, but my bus for the airport didn't leave until 8pm.  This would save me either paying for late-checkout, or storing or lugging my shit around for the rest of the day.

A few times I was close to tears, I did NOT WANT TO LEAVE.  All I could think of was having to go right back to work on Monday, and snow.  Holy crap, I did NOT want to see snow.  Especially knowing that we were supposedly supposed to get a giant mother of all snow-storms here, and knowing that my car would be sitting at the Park N Fly for a week in all that B.S.

Really, would you want to leave this...

...for this?  Photo Credit

So I spent the morning on the beach, guerilla-tanning because to my naked eye, I still looked Irish as all hell.  Go SPF 30.  I set my phone alarm so I would know when it was time to go check out.  When I went to the check out desk, I ran into Alain the Quebecois taxguy and his friend at the front desk heading out for an excursion.  In the name of keeping what happens in the tropics, in the tropics, I chit chatted, told them I was checking out and wished him a pleasant remainder of his holiday but did not ask for contact info.  He kissed me good bye and wished me well and that was that.

I just shared a rather awkward lunch with an elderly German by the name of Fritz who spoke not a work of English.  After a stilted introduction, we chewed in silence for a good ten minutes.  Upon finishing, I didn't want to just walk away so I said a quick "Guten Tag, Fritz," as it's the only German I know.  "Ah, Danke Shen (sp?)" he replied.
I think I've hit my weirdness threshold for this trip.  - Vacation Journal, 02/04/2011

Yup, the lunch with the elderly German man was an interesting point to the trip.  For the remainder of the day we kind of took it easy, sat on the beach some more, then went back to the plaza for a while as we still had not completed our souvenir shopping.  We spent a good amount of time in one store that was being run by two friendly local girls, one of whom was fascinated with both mine and Kaylee's facial piercings and expressed a wish to get something of her own done.  The music they were playing was killing me, in a good way.. they were playing bossa nova type covers of Guns 'N' Roses songs by an unknown (to me) female singer.  Most other GNR fans might kill me for this, but man, they were AWESOME and I wanted to find out where I could get the CD, because I would have played the hell out of that at home.

I made a mistake in my last post and it was actually the last night while we were waiting for the buffet to open up that we ran into our family from Listowel and had our pictures taken.

About five minutes before the bus for the airport showed up, I realized I didn't have my travel documents in my purse and I pretty much lost my shit.  After rifling through my bags near tears and muttering 'ohshitohshitohshitohshit' I ran like the devil back to the girls' suite and lo and behold there they were, on the kitchen table, so I grabbed them and ran like the devil back to the lobby.

Getting on the bus I struck up conversation with my seatmate, whose name escapes me now, and it struck me how comfortable I got over the week with just talking to strangers.  A week previously I had sat silent and awkward and not talking or making eye contact.  One week later I was telling this guy from Newmarket my life story.

Vacations make you friendly.

I narrowly escaped an awkward three and a half hour plane ride when I misread my boarding pass and sat myself down in row 11, seat H only to discover 10 minutes later that J, one of the young hamilton boys who had been systematically avoiding and/or being vaguely awkward with me since things had gotten a bit hot'n'heavy at the beginning of the trip came and sat down in seat J.  Hoo boy, yes that would only happen to me.  Weird.  However, one of the other guys came up and made the discovery that I was in HIS seat, to which I had to ask "Well, where the hell am I sitting?" to which I replied to myself "Oh, you're sitting another ten rows back, you jackass."

So I suffered 5 or so minutes of awkwardness of looking creepy in exchange for 3 hours of awkwardness sitting one seat away from my holiday booty call.  I'll take looking like an idiot who can't read a boarding pass, thanks.

However, these guys were not to get rid of me so easily, because after the flight, and customs and such I got my stuff and got on the shuttle bus to the Park N Fly, and all bloody twelve of them were on the bus.. and as it turns out, were parked about six spaces away from me.  Oh, and the good news is that my car had maybe 2 cups of snow on it, so there was no digging to be done, which is good because I had a 3 hour drive to Mildmay to embark on so that I could attend the wedding of one of my best friends that day.

That's right, I de-planed, drove out to farm country in the middle of the night and went to a wedding the next day, because I am hard-core like that.  It was a beautiful wedding too, small but very elegant, and pulled together in a very short period of time.  Krys and her new hubby Dean seemed ridiculously happy, and I am happy for them.  Warms this cynical jaded heart of mine.

The restaurant where they had the reception was attached by a small corridor to a sports lounge so after all the family went home, we went to the lounge and in all our wedding finery had some beers and did some karaoke.  I ran into the ex-girlfriend of one of my online friends who lives in the area.  After I introduced myself she rang him up to let him know I was in the area.  Unfortunately our ride ended up leaving before he got there so we were thwarted on meeting in person once again.  Such is life.

Sunday we all went out for breakfast in Walkerton before I headed out to see my Grandma Ruth.  We had a nice visit, then I headed home as I was having dinner at my other friend Tessa's place that night, which was a good time, I met a friend of hers and we've been chatting since.  Tess also packed me leftovers for lunch the next day and it was kick ass.  So all told, I didn't get home until 8:30 sunday night, just in time to have to work Monday.

Okay, phew.  Done.  On to other topics now....

Isla de Encanta - Day Seven - Last night in Puerto Plata

Yup, so apparently the day I flew in did NOT count as one of my days, so my seven day trip actually had eight days.

Author's note:  I had two wisdom teeth extracted yesterday.  I apparently have the healing abilities of friggin' Deadpool because I was able to go to work today and have taken maybe three T3's in the last 36 hours for pain.  Or fun.  Whatever.

Photo Credit

"Hankering for a Spankering."  Heh.

So Thursday morning I got up and hopped on the hotel interwebs once again to try and get a hold of Karen, but with little luck.  After depositing some towels and bags on some beach chairs, I tried calling out, and got a hold of Ryan who informed me that she was on a bus on her way to Puerto Plata as we spoke.  Since we weren't sure where exactly the bus was going to drop her off, I sent out a series of text messages, and eventually figured out that the bus had dropped her off just outside of the Playa Dorada compound.   The three of us set out on foot to find her, which we eventually did, wandering around out near the shopping center. 

Not having seen each other for about 8 months, we did a comedic slow motion Chariots of Fire run at each other as a means of saying "Hi".  As we made our way back to the hotel we decided to hire a cab to take us into Puerto Plata proper for a few hours so we could shop for souvenirs for the kiddies and get some lunch.  Karen negotiated the cab for us.  It was quite a sight to see my very blonde, Irish/scandinavian looking friend speaking fluent Spanish with the cab driver, while negotiating as well as through most of the ride to town.

Note on Dominican traffic.. holy hell am I glad I never followed through with my plan to rent a car to go to Santo Domingo, because drivers there are friggin' NUTS.  I'm pretty sure there's no posted speed limit, and people actually honk to communicate to other drivers, rather than as a mere expression of road rage.  Oh and we saw a couple carrying a barbecue.  On a frickin' MOTORBIKE.  Yeah.

The driver took us to a flea market type place, where we explored the various stalls that mostly had a lot of the same stuff that we had seen in the other flea market, and in the mall and being sold by the wandering beach vendors.  There was one stall that had a lot of potions and powders and voodoo-ish type stuff, including baby dolls hanging from the ceiling with blood-stains (fake or real, I don't know).  It looked kind of like my house at halloween, and I finally understood what some people meant when they said that dead baby dolls were disturbing.

We had lunch at a local restaurant, but still tourist-board approved so as to avoid all that pesky cholera and whatnot.  I attempted to order off the menu in Spanish but probably came off like kind of a dink.  The restaurant had a neat atmosphere.. it appears run down, but when you look closely, the chipped plaster and exposed brick is all painted on.  I had some fried chicken, but the meat portion was huge and I couldn't finish it all.  Over lunch we all got caught up on what had been going on in our lives and Kiki told of her varying adventures in academia abroad.

After lunch we went to a large department store which was basically the Dominican equivalent to Zellers or Wal-Mart.  They had shirts on for super cheap and I thought about adding to the collection, but instead bought a lovely tramp-top to wear out for my last night on the island.  Oddly, the large box store was the only place we went where they would NOT accept U.S. dollars, which I found odd.

We came back to the hotel afterwards but were informed that without paying upwards of 60 bucks for a day pass we wouldn't be able to bring Karen into the hotel.  Fortunately Reynaldo, a friend we made at the hotel informed us of a public access to the beach that we could get to by crossing this huge empty field.  while we were making our way across I kept getting struck with the idea that snipers were going to start shooting at us from nearby buildings.  Weird, I know.

After chilling out on the beach for an hour or two, we walked Karen back to the bus so she could head over to another resort to visit her cousin who was also in the country that week.  We got caught in a rainstorm on the way out, only the second instance of rain we had the whole week (the first being a light mist the day we went on the Runners excursion). 

I may have napped.  I am not sure.  Maybe that was the day before.  We may have gone straight to dinner.  No, no, that's not right.  We ran into our "Family" and insisted on having a family portrait taken, then ran into some of our H-town buddies who would be leaving on the same flight the next day, then we got dressed for dinner one last time at Michaelangelos, and one last awesome canneloni.

After dinner we sat out by the pool bar and attempted to play some cards until the disco opened but we discovered the card pack had two Jacks of spades so our three-handed Euchre game was thwarted and we were left with crazy eights, which gets old fast.  We watched one of the live shows which was pretty cool, and we danced with a couple of the animators, one of which took a shine to K, but would prove to be a giant ass-hat later in the evening.  While at the disco I met up with Alain from Quebec again who invited us to come to Coco Bongo, but at the time it didn't look like we were going to go.  After we started chatting with one of the couples who had been on our excursion, Paul and Katherine, a lovely couple from Quebec as well, said they were going to go check it out, we all changed our minds and decided to go.

At Coco Bongo's K's wee admirer started being a douchehat and had her really upset, to the point where when our Hamilton friends showed up, they were called into do damage control, as this guy had her freaked right out.   They were good guys and helped her out.  Later we told our friend Reynaldo about it, and asked if this was just a cultural thing we didn't pick up on and he pretty much confirmed, "No, that guy's just a dick."  While at the bar I had run into my friend the Quebecker, who after some conversation asked if he could come by my room to say hi.  For reasons unknown I said sure (and no, it actually had little to do with alchohol).  After the awkward situtation with the sketchy douchehat Kaylee and I had gone back to the hotel and talked for quite sometime, so I was surprised when Mindy showed up (she had left the bar earlier due to back issues) and told me that he had been looking for me.  More surprised I was when about half an hour after I got back to my room there was a knock at my door.  So I let him in and we visited (okay, shit, made out) for a bit, before I sent him back to his room.  Hey, the deal was just to say hi.  Amiright?  Yeah, thought so.  Hey, it was my last night there.  Sue me.