The Mouse Repair

The mouse that I use for work was on the blink. It developed a clack-clack-clack on the left button, and this sound (and feel) was most disturbing. At first I thought that it was time to go mouse shopping, but I really like this particular mouse.

Today, the mouse was behaving in the same manner. So I poked and prodded, cleaned it, tried everything.

Still the same clack-clack-clack noise.

I resorted to the final straw. I disconnected the mouse and whacked it on my carpeted floor a few times.

Mouse is now fixed.

Not the most technical way of handling things, but it seems to have worked.

Where'd You Come From Anyway?

Yesterday, I was driving to the gym, in a slow, casual drive.

Thank goodness for my driving slowly.

There was a teen walking home on the side of the street that has no sidewalk. I had him in my view, and I could tell that he was not paying attention to his surroundings. Maybe he had earbuds, but I can't recall. Anyway, just as I was approaching him, he did what I thought he was going to do.

He started to step in front of my vehicle. Of course, I had to brake, and stop while he made up his mind whether to proceed to cross the street. He decided to stay put and waved me on.

Now imagine if I had been one of the yahooooos who drives like a banshee. That kid might be in the hospital today.

Moral of the story? Pay bloody attention!

First Hand Road Rage

They were approaching quickly. Two vehicles of a late model vintage. The first vehicle was a wagon of sorts. The second vehicle was a 2-door sub-compact.

Their drivers were behaving as drivers do, except that, the first car came to an abrupt stop, and the second vehicle bumped into it. The first driver got out of his car and proceeded to whack the windshield of the second car. There was no damage, no carnage, and I couldn't tell if this was an accident or whether it was done on purpose.

Well, it was done on purpose and this was the most blatant case of road rage I have ever seen.

Two little 2 year olds in their toy cars......experiencing road rage at this very young age.

Cheers!

Archuleta! Archuleta!

American Idol....ahhhh!

I am a huge (huge I say!) American Idol (and Canadian Idol) fan. My most favourite seasons were the Fantasia season and the one and only Taylor Hicks season.

This season, it has been a cliff hanger, with every week watching another talented person going home.

Tonight it is down to the two Davids. David Cook and David Archuleta.

David Cook (I'll call him big David) is a high style rocker. I enjoyed his song selections and enjoyed his performance. At one point I even thought that he would indeed win the whole thing. But there was always a little tug that said 'Hey...wait a minute! There's Little David too!'.

Little David Archuleta (and I say little because he is a small guy and young...only 17 years old!). Little David has a voice which is as smooth as silk, and he sings with so much emotion, that he can literally reduce one to tears (as he has done with me).

So....who has my vote tonight (but I can't vote because I'm in Canada)???....
Little David

This is Just Plain Creepy

I read this online yesterday. Then re-read it. Then re-read it again. It was incredulous to me. It reminded me of tales from another world...spooky stories told at Halloween. In fact, I wanted to post this yesterday, but I still hadn't come to grips with it. Not to say that I have come to grips with it any better today.
So here it is...

"Girl with stomach pains carrying embryonic twin.

ATHENS, Greece (AP) — A 9-year-old girl taken to a hospital with stomach pains was found to be carrying her embryonic twin, doctors in central Greece said Thursday.

Doctors examined the girl and surgically removed a 2-inch-long growth they later discovered was an embryo.

“They could see on the right side that her belly was swollen, but they didn’t suspect that this tumor would hide an embryo,” said Iakovos Brouskelis, director of Larissa General Hospital.

The girl has made a full recovery, he said.

The embryo was a formed fetus with a head, hair and eyes but no brain or umbilical cord, said Dr. Andreas Markou, head of the pediatric department.

He said cases in which one twin absorbs the other in the womb occurs in one in every 500,000 live births."

....from CNN News

Ants in our Pants

Not quite, but we did spend the day evacuating carpenter ants and there nests and colonies from the basement wall. All because we repaired some of the bricks at our back wall, thus closing off their entrance. So now they're angry at us, and the ones that were already living in the basement are escaping upstairs...so we are doing the ant dance. The ones outside can die...or go and live somewhere else.

So, we have destroyed a few colonies of ants that were taking up residence in the basement wall, sent a few babies to the guillotine and just basically tried to remove any trace of the little buggers.

Someone told us to try cornmeal. It seems that these guys will eat it, but can't digest it, so they simply die from being overfed.

hmmm I guess you can have too much of a good thing!

Smell Sensitive

I am smell sensitive. I am sensitive to perfumes and lotions that have an over-powering air, so much so that I will get a headache. In fact, I can't even wear perfume, because I'll give myself a headache.

This is especially evident when ladies apply more of the pretty, smelly stuff before they work out. That wonderful odeur (to others, not me) gets multiplied when we workout. What I end up doing is moving to different spots in class to get away from the smell.

Now, this is particularly difficult to do when I am in a cycling class, trapped on a bike, with someone's Eau de Chanel wafting through my nostrils, invading my sinuses, and leaving me with a headache.

So, the next time you apply your perfumes etc, be kind....k?

Much appreciated.....

Burger on Top?

It's a good thing that my hospitalized SIL isn't reading my blog today, because this one is about food. She'd be very unhappy....and hungrier.

It's not a really long post either. This idea just fell out of the sky and landed on my todo list.

It has to do with burgers, and how people dress them. You see, I am a fan of putting the burger on the bun and then dressing it with my favourites....cheese, lettuce, and tomato, and nothing else. Pretty much a naked burger.

Now, there was a TV ad the other day where a burger being dressed, but they put the burger on top of everything! So the bottom part of the bun had all the fixings and then the burger and then the top part of the bun.

I know what some smart fart is gonna say....'just turn your burger over if you don't like it!'.

hrumph....Happy Weekend everybody.

Goosed!

It was the end of the day. I was nice and relaxed after returning from the gym, and had just pulled into the driveway. As I looked back as my car was reversing, I spotted something on the lawn that wasn't there earlier.

A goose.

Not a real, live goose, but a goose that once belonged to a neighbour. A lawn ornament. I know this because every year, this particular neighbour sets out a few phony geese on her lawn (some people do garden gnomes, she does geese).

This was probably a prank by some of the local kids, possibly the same local kids who thought it was a joke to steal our solar rock from our front lawn last year or the year before (can't remember; old age). The rock never did come home.

Anyway, back to the goose. Yesterday we went to try and ask the goose lady if she was missing a goose, but she never answered the door.

We tried again, but no answer from the goose lady.

My Sweetie happened to look out of his office window and saw that her garage door was open, which meant she was either at home or going out. So he went over, and proceeded with the goose interrogation, thus determining that the found goose was in fact her goose. It was returned to its rightful owner.

Later, we drove past the house, and sure enough, the goose was reunited with his family, the threesome of plastic geese, protecting the tree.

On days like this, I love living here.

And Her First Question Should Have Been....

The other day, My Sweetie was trying to subscribe to a service (doesn't matter what). We were in the car using the hands free. The company we were calling was satellite based out of who-knows-where, so you can imagine the bad reception, bops and bips that occurred throughout the call (plus the lost cell at times).

The following conversation took place (you'll just have to imagine my peals of laughter in the background HEEEEEE).

CS (Customer Service): Yes, how can I help you?
MS (My Sweetie): I'd like to subscribe please.

CS: Okay let me bring up your account. What is your account id?
MS: I don't have that handy.

CS: Okay. Can I have your telephone number?
MS: yes........(proceeds to provide telephone number).

CS: I'm sorry but I cannot locate that number. Do you have an email adress?
MS: yes. schnook@mycar.net. That's S as in Sam, C as in chocolate, H as in Halo, N as in Nerd, O as in ohoh, O as in ohohohoh, K as in kindergarden, AT mycar, that's M as in Mother, Y as in Yamaha, C as in Cookie, A asin Atlantic, R as in Rambo, dot net, N as in November, E as in Ewe, T as in Tartar.

CS: okay, thank you. I'm sorry but I cannot locate that email address. Can we try your home address?

(I am already laughing beyond belief)

MS: 68 Berry Blvd, that's six eight, B as in Bear, E as in Ewe, R as in Raspberry, R as in Raspberry, Y as in Yuck.

CS: thank you.

What comes back next is bizarro.

CS: Do you have an address in Kansas?
MS: No.

CS: How about Illinois?
MS: No. I live in Canada.

CS: Oh! My! This is the US 800-number that you called. You need to call the Canadian 800-number! (Huh?)

By this time, both of us are just about driving off the road in a fit of laughter, having gone through almost the entire alphabet for this.


So, her first question should have been =====> ....what country are you in?

Mixed Messages

HEADLINE
Obama's support fading, polls say.
HEADLINE
Barracks aswim in feces, ickiness

No wonder Obama's support is fading.

(sometimes I amuse myself).

p.s. - it was snowing in Barrie this morning. *snortle*

p.s.s - I know....Omaba's name is Barack....

"Outer Dialogues"

My blogger SIL is in the hospital. She's been there before, but it is worse this time.

For those of you who are regular visitors to her blog, please send your thoughts and prayers her way so that she sees a speedy recovery.

*hugs*

Hear the Roar

No, not lions or tigers or bears (oh my!). The roar of life. Anywhere we seem to go, there is a roar. A dull roar of the city traffic, or the hum of the well used roads. It exists everywhere, city and country. A constant hum of whatever.

Yesterday was a perfect day for sitting in the backyard. It was sunny and warm. The birds were singing. It was great.

Then the roar started.

First it was the guy changing his winter tires in his driveway. Frrrrip friiip of the nuts being whirred from the tires.

Added to that little symphony was the guy with his power washer, trying to kill the bejeezus winter residue out of the driveway. Braaap-braaap-braaap.....annoying piece of s*i*.

Added to this was the guy running his ATV...not running it anywhere, just running it.

Add to this the cacophony of dogs, put outside to catch some rays, and to get the barking out of the house (go and annoy the neighbours Fido).

So, I finally found some quiet by retreating inside the house, turning on the sat radio, and chilling.

Today I am listening to hammering outside. No doubt someone is building something. A deck. A doghouse for Fido to bark in. Whatever.

The only place where I have ever heard total quiet is when we are sailing...away from the dogs and the machinery and the constant noise. I look forward to this...very soon.

Peace.

Still Remembering

Stewart Allen Sleno
SLENO, Stewart Allen. In memory of my dearest Dad who passed away twelve years ago. There is an ache in my heart that will never go away. What I wouldn't give for one more hug from you. Sadly missed and loved always, Maureen and Brian.
Published in the Montreal Gazette on 4/19/2008

Gimme More

Every day we receive something in the mail. Some charity sends us an envelope complete with a return envelope, a donation sheet, a letter of who we are supposedly helping, and a gift.

The gifts lately have been a 5 page notepad, with a picture of a flower or a bird or something. Or a bookmark.

What gets me is that they ask for a minimum of $15.00 or $10.00. To offset the cost of course.

It gets to be a bit much.

Besides, I already give at work.

A Dark Hour in Barrie

If there was ever an appropriate time for one to be dim, it was yesterday. It was okay for everyone to be dim......dimming your lights that is.

This morning I read the newspaper to get caught up on the events that took place in the world. How the big city buildings were plunged into darkness for an hour. How accoustic musical events took place, no amps. How the Prime Minister's house did not darken for the hour.

We actively took part in the second Earth Hour (apparently there was one held last year, but, just as with newborns, it was still in development stages). This year was quite a different matter. The people of the world chose to have a voice in what happens to our planet, turning out their houselights for just one hour, and lighting candles.

All in an effort to try and save our poor planet....our planet which is stretched beyond all means trying to keep up with an ever growing demand on power consumption.

At 7:55 pm, we had darkened the house, donned our warm clothes and headed out for a walk. At the corner, a family had their outdoor fireplace burning, and a mini Earth Hour party was happening. We continued our walk and noticed house after house in darkness.....a few candles glowing in the windows.People stood inside their houses and watched outside, waving to people as we walked by. We snarled silently at the homes who either didn't give a hoot about the whole thing or just plain forgot.

We walked for a half hour, then returned home and lit the candles on the main floor, and sat in the dim light and quiet. It was rather nice. No computer. No TV.

It didn't end at 9pm either. When the hour was over, we didn't suddenly jump up and flick on all of the lights. Na uh. We left the candles on, especially the front window candle...the one that (I hope) sent a message to all who could see it. For the remainder of the evening, we were careful about our lights, not flicking things on at random.

In the end, the whole experience was positive, in fact it was inspirational. Just think if we could do this all the time...one hour each night. Shut it all down. We have 8760 hours in a year. Doesn't sound like much does it? Take away 365 hours and just think what a difference that would make, not to mention our electricity bills.

I guess that's the bottom line. Be aware and make small changes.

.....'cause if we don't do it, nobody will.

Peace

Earth Hour 2008

Got a candle or 2? Then light them tonight.

Do your bit with the rest of the world to get off the grid for 1 hour.

....tonight

........8 to 9 o'clock

............don't forget to sign up => http://www10.earthhourus.org/


I'll be there.....not here.

A Little Cheese with your Spaghetti?

Mealtime is our nice evening time. It's the time when we arrive home from the gym, hungry, talkative (sugared out), and ready to eat. Usually My Sweetie cooks. He is the better cook, and so I let him do what he does best.

Last night was spaghetti. Spaghetti always bring back a certain fond memory, and a few of my readers will recall what I am thinking of. Maybe I'll even recount this little story in this post. For now, let's get back to dinner.

The pasta was made, the sauce was ready. We were sitting at the table with fork in hand ready to go. Then the famous question.....would you like some Parmesan cheese on your spaghetti? Sounded like a good idea. So I picked up the container, and tried to shake out some cheesy flakes. I shook and shook and shook. One tiny little flake fell onto my plate. Most of the cheese had formed a ball, so nothing was getting out.

Until My Sweetie decided to shake the living bejeezies out of it.

The bottom cracked open...and there was flakey bits everywhere! All over him. All over the floor. All over the table.

And, what else does one do at a time like this? One laughs hilariously!!! Belly laughs for sure.

Which brings me back to a time many years ago. It was summer, we were wearing shorts, and we were at my MIL's house for a family gathering. Spaghetti was on plate for dinner.....wait, let me correct that....spaghetti was in lap.

While the plates were being handed out, My Sweetie's portion somehow slipped off his plate and landed in his lap....teeming hot pasta, landing on his bare legs.

People were yelling, scooping, cleaning.....not My Sweetie.

He was off of his seat like a rocket. He propelled himself to the upstairs bathroom, stripped out of his shorts, and proceeded to try and save his groin and private parts. He didn't care about the rug or the chairs.

Would you?

To this day, we still convulse in laughter at this story (heck I am laughing now!)....not laughing at My Sweetie though. No. But for some stupid reason, recounting this story is sure to bring a tear of laughter to our eyes.

But to be honest, I am not sure why we crack ourselves up on this one.

Easter Greetings

Happy Easter, although it feels more like Christmas here, temperature-wise.

It was good to have a long weekend. Part of it was spent shopping, going to a ladies afternoon party, and Spring cleaning. Of course, there was the usual catching up on sleep.

I still have a few posts up my sleeve...just have to find the right time to post about them.

*beware the chocolate Easter eggs*

Heads or Tails

For blogging regularity, I decided to give Heads or Tails a try. This weeks topic is 'favourite room in the house'.

This may seem odd, but my favourite room is the basement. Yes, the basement.

For me, the basement is my hub of activity. Many things happen there.

Laundry gets done there (groan).

Scrapbooking happens there (ahhhh).

American Idol, and all of my other shows are viewed there (woohoo).

It's also the place where kitty, BJ, and I have a regular date. It's a regular routine for us. After dinner, I go downstairs and turn on the softer lighting. The gas fireplace is flicked on. I sit in my Mother's chair, and curl up in a warm blanky. Within minutes, BJ will come down, stand by the ottoman, and promptly jump up, plop himself beside me, and stay there for the evening.

purrrrrr