Sooooo much dramas!

*My head asplodes*  Okay...so the sketchy neighbours we share the driveway with (we call her Mad Eye Moody for reasons that would be evident if you dear readers, were to ever see her in real life), got a dog.  No big deal, it's just another check off the ol' adhering-to-low-income-stereotypes list.  Of COURSE they got a husky-german shepherd mix.  OF COURSE.  OF COURSE they don't walk the dog, ever, and just let it run loose.

So a few neighbours had already asked her to keep her dog on a leash.  I don't particularly care about that, but what I *do* care about is her dog pooping on our side of the back area (which is one big open area until we can put up a fence).  What the Dotytron certainly cares about is NOT stepping in a pile of dog poop (he had shoes on, thank goodness!) on our deck when he goes to take out the trash/recycling/whathaveyou.

Anyway, we asked her a few times to please pick up after her dog.  I still find dog poop, so I talked to the tenant relations person that manages the property. Contemporaneously, our one busy-body neighbour called animal control on Mad Eye (independent of us).  So the Dotytron goes out back to put out some green waste yesterday and finds our garbage, recycling, and green bins on Mad Eye's side of the yard.  When he opens up our green bin (which, if you recall, I spray painted, along with our garbage and recycling bin, with our address and the words, "fire walk with me" when we first moved in, which PREDATES Mad Eye moving in by a whole year), what does he find?  Loose dog poop.  Unbagged.  Sitting in OUR green bin.

So he's obviously pissed off.  Mad Eye comes home from an outing and they have a discussion, where she gets all wrangy because animal control was called on her (again: not by us!) and accuses us of STEALING her recycling and garbage bin.  According to her, they're given an ID number and the ones we have been using are not ours and are hers.  I'm like, "you crazy!" because the dog poop has nothing to do with the bin stealing, but whatevers.  I call Toronto's universal line, 311, and as it turns out, our garbage can ISN'T ours! The recycling can is ours, the green bins are like everyone's - they're not given a unique identifier.  So according to the rep I talked to at the City, the City is "opening an investigation" into our M.I.A. bin which will be concluded WITHIN THIRTY DAYS, at which point, if they can't find my bin (and let's think about this here: what are they going to do?  CSI that shiz?  Put up signs?  Take statements?), they send me a replacement one.  I'm like, "where am I supposed to put my garbage for a month?" and the rep is all like, "who said that? Is that a crazy talking squirrel?" So whatever.  

I go over to Mad Eye's house and tell her what I learned.  She explains, in her Mad Eye Moody way, that she was angry cuz she thought we called animal control (and I assured her we didn't) and she thought we hated dogs.  I explain that I have no problem with dogs, but the reason I don't have a dog is because I don't want to pick up dog poop, so you can imagine how frustrating it is to NOT have a dog and STILL have to deal with dog poop.  Anyway, she calmed down and seemed reasonable about it.  She was also mad that I contacted the property management person but I was like, well look, we'd already asked you a few times and you hadn't done anything...so we didn't know what to do..." and she's all like, "well, I'd appreciate you telling me because every time they get a complaint I get a mark next to my name" and I kinda clucked sympathetically but internally I was like, "well, BE NORMAL ABOUT STUFF THEN!" but obviously I didn't say that.  So she agreed to clean out our green bin for us and that was that.

I was mentally exhausted from it all yesterday.  It was just too much!  Thankfully we had an episode of Game of Thrones to watch, which I washed down with one of two (!) free coconut waters Dr. Rei and I scored on our lunchtime walk yesterday.  I was also feeling down because we had that crappy dinner the Dotytron had made.  It was an unsatisfying night with a happy ending in the form of coconut water and fantasy political intrigue.

Tonight was Friday Night Takeout Night, so we checked out this new place my neighbour (a totally normal neighbour) hepped me to, called Leslieville Pumps.  They took over this old convenience store attached to a gas station and put in a new façade, but I had thought that the inside was still gas-station convenience store, with a new old timey country store outer. As it turns out, they've turned it into a store/take out restaurant serving smoked brisket and stuff.  We got the smoked brisket sammy (with fried onions), the pulled pork sammy (with coleslaw), and the smoked chicken sammy (with arugala and tomato).  We also got poutine, and coleslaw and cornbread muffins.  Everything was really, really good!  I have small quibbles, the barbecue sauce is applied a little too heavily and it's a bit of a one-note sauce...a sweet Kansas-city style that's a little too sweet for my personal taste.  But the coleslaw is fantastic - nice celery seed seasoning, perfect amount of light mayo dressing, great texture, and only SIXTY CENTS A PORTION!  The poutine features fresh cut fries, and real curds.  I wasn't a fan of the cornbread muffins, but that's because I really prefer my own cornbread.  This version wasn't too sweet and had pieces of fresh corn.  All in all, my quibbles were small (rhyme!), for a barbecue option that's so close, is out of a gas station, and is run by really well-intentioned, well meaning people who seemed super-hype on their project and receptive to input and constructive criticism (the owner/chef came in and was super-cute and was asking a local rubbie what he thought of the renos and was super-friendly with us).  I just think it's so cute.  The gas station part is overseen by this sweet Sri Lankan couple and apparently they're going to offer late-night curry (made by the Sri Lankan couple).  So cute!!!

I'm so pumped tonight is Friday, guys.

Fin.

F-F-F-Friday!

Whaaaat.  A couple of weeks ago the Dotytron decided that he wanted to get into Leonard Cohen, so he d/l a discography and put it on while we were cleaning the house.  Obviously, my opinions are my own, but guys: LEONARD COHEN IS THE WORST.  It's so...Québecois.  Like, literally accordion instrumentation, fraaanche.  Like, you can practically hear someone twirling a moustache in the background while pedaling a unicycle.  Then you have the standard Leonard Cohen droning delivery.  I think the point with ol' Lenny is that he's supposed to be a superb lyricist.  Unfortunately (for him), lyrical prowess is wasted on me.  As I said at the time, unless the lyrics are, "take rings off" or "kidnap that fool" - I stopped listening 5 seconds in.  LOL!


Not much to report.  I went on a bit of a spring work wardrobe shopping spree.  Here's what I got:

To be paired with either my black, wide-sleeved blazer or my fitted blazer or a cardigan for that oh-so-professional, "ladies that lunch" look

Because I feel that spring means that colour should be welcomed with open arms into a wardrobe.  I like this because it can be dressed up or down - I think it'll look smashing on it's own at a garden party (I think I might actually be going to one of those this year!), or with a jean jacket for an adults-only dinner out, or with a navy blazer for work.

Again, more colour.  This saucy sweater would look great with any number of bottoms - navy, white, denim, khaki, brown.  It's perfect!

Same goes for this one - I bought it because it was neutral enough to pair with a lot of different things, but I loved the pop of colour by the face, and the sweetness of the Peter Pan collar

This scandalous top is VERY sheer.  I don't know if I'll be ballsy enough to pair it with a tank top or cami underneath for work, but it will certainly be a nice weekend look.  Unless I'm too old to be wearing sheer (with a tank top underneath, people!!  I'm not a total harlot!)

Finally, a last sheer blouse - but one that's got demure enough styling to make it very work-appropriate with the proper layers underneath.  

I'm not necessarily going to keep them all, but when shopping online, I feel the safest thing to do is buy now, try later, return even later after that for full refund.  

There has been a lot made of the whole Rihanna working with Chris Brown thing in the media already.  So much so that I don't feel I have to weigh in on how ABSOLUTELY ABHORRENT it is that someone who BEAT THE CRAP out of a woman can be welcomed back into the music industry with open arms.  Haven't we learned anything from James Brown, Ike Turner, etc.?  It's sickening.  She is a HORRIBLE role model for young women, and I say that as a former Chris Brown/RiRi fan (remember the Kanye concert?  Remember how thrilled I was when mothereffin' Chris Brown surprised us by coming on stage?)  I can't believe that she would consent to work with him, professionally or otherwise.  It's not like he's the ONLY PERSON SHE CAN COLLABORATE WITH.  

Ugh.  We need a cleanse.  Here's a photo of Becks holding his daughter, Harper, dressed in a suit, looking foine:

Ummm...ARE YOU F**KING KIDDING ME?  I feel like he's a good dad and it makes him a billion times hotter.  Stop, Posh and Becks, just stop.  Posh seems like she's just the awesomest.  Designs amazing clothes, isn't afraid to mess up her greyhound body by having kids, owns who she is but doesn't coast on it.  She just seems very likeable to me.

Okay, enough celebrity ranting and raving.  I also think about serious things.  Such as how my previous post included huge spelling/sentence/grammar errors, but I'm too lazy to change it.  It's because I've been fending off the Big Yam when I'm crafting my posts at home.  He's super-into his mama right now, which of course warms the cockles of my heart and gives me ammunition in the incredibly childish comparison war of "who does the Boobla love more?" that I insist on waging with the Dotytron.  It's kind of crazy how much he understands, even though he can't express everything he wants to express.  I've got him toddling around doing all kinds of things: "go get your shoes!" "put that in the cupboard!" "go get your story!" "give baba a hug!" just to marvel at how he can FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS.  He understands me!  Yesterday I started giving him little Eskimo kisses (I know it's not PC to call them that and I acknowledge, but I don't know the suitable replacement name for rubbing your nose against another person's nose!  So sue me!)  and I called them "smushies" just once, but he instantly picked up on it.  So later that day when I said, "give mama smushies" he PRESSED HIS NOSE AGAINST MINE AND IT WAS THE CUTEST THING. GAH.  But I kinda wish I hadn't picked such a weaksauce name for them.  It's so...mawkish.  

Tonight the roomie is coming over!  Yay!  We're having my mac'n'cheese (recipe already posted before) with a mix of fontina, cheddar, and asiago.  Topped with toasted thyme panko breadcrumbs, with sautéed rapini on the side.  And a little wee devil's food cake baby cake frosted with Momofuku Milk Bar birthday cake frosting for dessert.

Fin.

WE ONLY HAVE 6 HOT DOGS!

In the ongoing chronicles of me being a psycho - I shouted "We only have 6 hot dogs!" at the roomie as she was exiting our car today, after we had arranged tentative plans that she was going to meet up with us again later tonight.  She had just said, "don't worry about saving me dinner, if you want to eat without me, that's fine," and me, in a panic that we only had one package of Shopsy's all beef hot dogs, made sure to tell one of my oldest friends who just happens to be 5 months pregnant that we only had 6 hot dogs.  The implication being, obviously, that there wouldn't be enough for her, our guest.  The Dotytron gave me one of his patented head shake/incredulous resignation expressions that he reserves expressly for when I'm being a psycho.  "You're only saying that because you know you're going to eat 5 hot dogs." Sigh.  He knows me so well.  What is WRONG with me?  Why can't I eat less than 4 hot dogs, ever?  Why am I a hot dog hoarder?  No one knows.


The Dotytron had the day off so we went to Kensingston Market with the roomie who is on her month-long vacation month.  We picked up yerba mate and then ate a tonne of Chilean empanadas and pulled pork on plantain goodies at Segovia.  So good!  I checked out the menu at Agave Y Aguacate (the spot that totally exploded in Kensington last spring)...but we weren't feeling it.  The stuff is kind of expensive and the menu didn't sound too appetizing.  We also got churros, of course.  Just practicing leading up to Fat Tuesday.


In amid all the personal and professional craziness this week, the much-hyped Drummond Report (aka The Commission on the Reform of Ontario's Public Service) dropped on Wednesday.  It was kind of a big deal.  I haven't had a chance to read through the whole thing yet (it's like 500+ pages), but it's the most comprehensive review of the OPS in recent memory, with an eye to finding cost-saving measures so that we can accelerate the elimination of the deficit.  The spectacle surrounding the Drummond Report has been kind of buck and leading up to its release, the fear over the types of austerity recommendations it would contain served to paralyze the workings of the province.  It was pretty fascinating.  I haven't really thought through the political strategy behind commissioning such a sweeping audit, but on a gut level, I think it was pretty brilliant.  


Tonight we're doing Friday Night Junkfood night - which is being expressed in the form of the aforementioned hot dogs, Kraft Dinner, and Bobette and Belle cupcakes with movies and knitting.  Yay Friday!


Fin.

T.G.I.F., mofos

Sooooo glad it's the Friday.  The Big Yam woke us up at 5am this morning and I was exhausted by 11am (when I had already been up and working for SIX G-D HOURS!)  Any time he does something wrong he likes to lean in, reeeaaaallll slow, with his mouth gaping open, for a big, passive, dead-fish-mouth kiss.  It's pretty cute.  Sometimes, it's less cute.  Like when he does it after trying to bite my nipple off.  I said to the Dotytron, "I think he misunderstands the point of the 'sorry' kiss.  He thinks his kisses can fix anything."  We looked at each other for a beat and then said, "He's not entirely wrong about that."  Seriously, the dude could have just blithely chomped down on my boob with his bajillion teeth and hung on like a pitbull with lock-jaw, and then he'll lean in with one of his kisses and I completely forget that I was mad at him.  


I keep telling him he's a super-genius and I don't know if it's working and I have no idea what child development milestones he's supposed to be meeting, but I'm fairly convinced that he is one (you mean, you can't will your child to be gifted?!?  Not on my watch!)  When I tell him to go get his socks and shoes, he does it.  His "bum!" noise in the dancing video below we've figured out his him trying to say "jump!" and do the action.  He also tried doing up the zipper on his hoodie this morning.  I can't wait until he can help me fold laundry and wash dishes.  That should be in like, 2 months, right?  


Speaking of genius kids, the Dotytron teaches a gifted class at his middle school who sound HILARIOUS.  They do things like come up with mathematical equations for the bottom number in a time signature or when he plays "musical jeopardy" for them, one of them will write down the different category values as "2 to the power of 6 - 10" or something and I'm always joking that the Dotytron is laughing along with them but in his head is like, "HAHAHAHAHAHA!  I don't know if that's right."  Anyway, they're not gifted kids in the way I was a gifted kid.  Oh, you mean I haven't mentioned before that I was gifted?  I was.  No biggie.  Quit asking me about it, really.  These are gifted kids in the math-y/robotics extra-curricular class kind of way.  Anyway, the Dotytron was telling me that he was telling them yesterday about how he always wanted to do a musical installation based on Pi and the kids lost their s**t.  They basically thought it was the coolest thing ever and were already wondering where they could find some "open source software" to compose the thing.  Today the Dotytron told me that two of his kids wrote the program last night.    The Dotytron loves his little nerdlinger gifted kids the mostest.  Why are nerds so endearing?!?  I love nerds, but I absolutely LOATHE (on sight) kids who look like this:

Kids in fedoras are the worst.  Even worse than that are kids in fedoras wearing dress shirts with loosely knotted ties.  That's like, every privileged kid whose parents indulge them (ie. the kids who go to the alternative school close by us.)  

We've jettisoned Friday Night Take Out Night in the name of household austerity measures.  We always have plans to eat at least one meal out (frequently more) on the weekends with friends/family and I didn't want to spend the whole weekend eating out.  So Friday Night Take Out Night has morphed into Friday Night Junky Food night.  Tonight we had moco loco, which is that Hawaiian dish we're crazy for - traditionally hamburger patties on white rice, with fried eggs and canned brown gravy.  DEEELICIOUS.  I also made us Momofuku Milk Bar Compost Cookies - which have potato chips, graham crumbs, coffee grinds (fresh, not used!), butterscotch chips and chocolate chips.  


My plan this evening is to eat like a pig, watch a million episodes of Top Chef: Texas (rooting for Paul from Austin, obvs) and then pass out on the couch at 8pm, fall fast asleep, then wake up in a fury at 10pm and instantly start shriekily accusing the Dotytron of "keeping me awake" (I generally repeat this ritual about once a week).  


Fin.

Dream a little dream

I've been having crazy, vivid dreams lately, but none nearly as entertaining as the great penguin dream of 2006.  Speaking of which, can you believe I've been hacking away at this wee little corner of the blog-o-verse since 2006?!???  This is my fifth year of spewing my life all over the interwebs (in a non-message board format).  Wowza!  


My dreams have become the boringest.  I woke up last week completely enthralled and elated because I had a dream that the Dotytron and I were stocking up on supplies for a cabin that was going to be snowed in all winter.  Is that sick or what?  It was the apotheosis of all my emergency preparedness/pioneer dreams.  The dream basically consisted of me making lists of everything we might possible need to ride out the winter and making sure that we got enough bags of grain and salt pork and that the Dotytron had a good enough supply of wood.  I'm totally insane.  It must say something about me that the part that always captivated my imagination the most in The Shining (book and film version) - after I was done having the bejeezus scared out of me, was thinking of the stocks and supplies in the Overlook Hotel that would be needed by the Torrance family to ride out the winter.  I woke up from my stocking-up-the-cabin dream so unbelievably happy that I immediately had to turn to the Dotytron and explain, breathlessly, how I had just had the best dream.  Picture if you will, how unimpressed he was when he heard about it.


Last night I had an awful dream about shooters at a school.  School shooters are the worst.  Seriously.  In the dream I was trying to get stacks of books to put in boxes and stick them in the windows of the classroom and in front of the door so that they would absorb the gun shots.  There was also panic in my dream about how we were moving towards an e-book world and then what would we do?!?  See - I'm telling you - the boringest!


We had a pretty jam-packed weekend.

On Friday night I preserved the integrity of Friday Night Takeout Night and ordered from Parlour Deep Dish Pizza  which is this pop-up deep dish pizza restaurant running out of the kitchen of Trevor Kitchen & Wine Bar to gauge Toronto's interest in deep dish pizza.  Let me tell you this: Toronto's deep dish pizza interest is high (if by "Toronto" you mean, "Karl Lagerfeld"), but I would rather just eat deep dish the rare times I go to Chicago, then suffer the over-priced, poorly executed rendition offered here.  Lou Malnati's, which makes my favorite deep dish, serves a 14", fatty, greasy, soul-satisfying pie for $22.25.  Two people can barely eat half.  Parlour, on the other hand, insults you with a $25 10" pie, that with the delivery charge comes to $36.  THIRTY SIX DOLLARS!!!!!!!!!!  The classic Chicago pie consists of a layer of cheese, covered with a thin layer of sausage, and then topped with sauce.  The Parlour sauce was egregious.  It tasted tinny and raw and overly acidic, too much like tomato paste and not enough of sauce.  The sausage was pork, maybe?  That's how unmemorable it was.  It was like the random TED Talk on social media equivalent of sausage.  The cheese was pretty paltry and the whole thing was under seasoned.  What makes a Chicago pie is the yellowy, buttery, crisp-chewy, crackery crust.  It's a wonder of crust engineering.  This was neither crackery or buttery enough, or good enough to stand alone as a regular pizza crust.  It was in some weird hinterland of crust.  A monstrous, New York style/Chicago style crust chimaera.  


Saturday we went to St. Lawrence at the crack of dawn and I took out money from a TD Bank and they gave me 100 extra dollars.  It was one of those plasticky new hunnies that slipped through the cracks.  I cannot tell you how buzzing I was from the adrenaline rush of it all.  The Dotytron was like, "We have to break it. We have to break it right away."  LOL!  FAO TD: I'm not giving it back.  It's already been laundered (by way of food, into my belly) so tough beans.  Take THAT!  Every time we walked by a cop (and cops love nothing more than loitering outside of St. Lawrence Market), we got really nervous that the jig was up.  


The upshot of doing all our errands so early on Saturday morning was that we were done everything by 11am and safely ensconced at home, to prepare for our shrimp boil night with L, and J & S.  Those guys went buck.  I delegated to them to bring bread, beer, and salad.  J & S and then L EACH brought those things!  There was a swiss chard caesar, a broccoli salad, cornbread, fresh baked bread, the shrimp boil, oysters on the half shell, and finally, the Momofuku Milk Bar apple pie cake:

This cake has only (!) 6 components in it: barely brown butter cake, apple cider soak, apple pie filling, liquid cheesecake, pie crumbs, and pie crumb frosting.  It was AMAZING.  So freakin' delicious.


I love those guys - the conversation was funny and hilarious.  


Sunday we had brunch with M & M at Lady Marmalade and then we had dinner at Dr. Rei and Hanbo's.   The Big Yam hit his nose on their coffee table and got a bloody nose which was kind of traumatic for the both of us.  It was so gross!  So much blood!  Dinner was awesome - black bean chili, leftover corn bread, and I made this brownie pie from Milk bar cookbook (of course, since I'm systematically making my way through it).  This only had 2 components - a molten, salty, chocolate barely-set brownie filling with a crackly crust sitting in a chewy graham crust made more chewy and deep-flavoured with the addition of milk powder.  

Served slightly warm with a dollop of completely superfluous whipped cream, it was a decadent delight.  Served cold out of the fridge, I can only imagine how good it would be.

We had such a nice talks with those guys.  It was so cute to be lying on their Persian rug, watching Theo be a crazy butt, talking about: Stephen Harper, Attiwapiskat, ETFs, the situation in Greece, politics in general, etc.  I love those guys.  


The Big Yam has recently unveiled some new words.  He said "bear bear" for the first time yesterday, and he routinely waddles up to me or the Dotytron and lifts up his arms and says "po-po" (which is Cantonese for carry [specifically carry a person]).  When he grabs his ghey story he also likes to pat the ground, mimicking the motion I make when he gives me a story and I pat the seat next to me so he can sit down.  He also started doing this hilarious standing-up dance, which involves cocking his head to one side, and doing a weird slow, spin, that inevitably results in him toppling over.  There's also a squat element to the dance.  It's the new Dougie.

I feel like my videos have gotten 75% grainier with time.

Tonight we had Momma D over for prime rib sandwiches, melted with cheddar cheese and horseradish mayo in the panini, with roasted brussels sprouts on the side.


Fin.

Clear eyes, full heart, can't lose.

Soooooo...you may or may not be aware that for the past month plus, casa Dotytron Lagerfeld has been ALL OVER Friday Night Lights. The show has been getting mad daps from my bible, Entertainment Weekly pretty much since it started, as well as my pop culture early adopter sister (who also hepped me to the Hunger Games) and teen author Sarah Dessen. We were INSTANTLY hooked. One episode in bed and we were hungry for more (Dotytron: "already this show is a million times more interesting than Mad Men") despite initial skepticism about the premise's (football and football culture in small town Texas) appeal to diffident sports watchers like us.

This show is sooooo good! Anchored by Connie Britton and Kyle Chandler's pitch perfect husband and wife relationship as Tami and Eric Taylor, this show is about sports, football, small town America, class, parenting, community, coming-of-age (me watching the opening credits: "It reminds me of Geneseo!" Dotytron: "That's the whole point"). I can't say enough good things about it. It's been criminally neglected by the Emmy's. Tami and Coach have one of the most real, loving, commendable TV relationships I've ever seen and they're given equal prominence. I loves me some Coach Taylor (father figure vacuum filler alert!) The writing (save for an abysmal Season 2 divergence into teen-soap territory that was clearly a misguided attempt by NBC to re-brand and re-market the show to a younger audience), is top notch and the actors really inhabit the characters - they were apparently given a lot of leeway in terms of improvising dialogue as long as they hit major points and the show is shot with a loose improvisational feel that speaks to the fact that the actors didn't rehearse scenes prior to shooting (yes, my fandom has extended to Wikipedia-ing info on the production techniques.)

No one, though, loves it more than the Dotytron. The other day he came up to me and was all like nonchalantly, "So I was looking up East Dillon Lions [one of the teams on the show headed by Coach] gear and I found all this Tim Riggins [the show's requisite troubled-with-a-decent-core brooding bad boy] paraphernalia with his face on it - I think I'm going to get some." LOL! Coach's saying is "clear eyes, full heart, can't lose," and I only recently realized that it was his saying, and not the team's motto. Let me just say that the Dotytron let me have it when he realized that I didn't know. I got a big lecture about how, "NO, YOU IDIOT. IT'S COACH'S SAYING. THAT'S WHY IT'S THE BEST. GOD!" The Dotytron wants to implement something similar for his band program...but it's tough. My suggestion was "tight embouchure, self-whittled reed, can't lose" but it doesn't have quite the same ring.

Coach is the best coach/father/husband EVER. I can't wait until I can tell the Big Yam to "take a knee" whenever I want to impart something serious to him. It's going to be hilarious. Also LOL at my neighbour G who recently posted that Tami has "magic hair" on my Facebook wall when I posted an FNL related status. Tami TOTALLY has magic hair. Look:

TOTAL magic hair. LOL!

Anyway, so our pre-bedtime routine has been to allow ourselves a single, savoured episode of Friday Night Lights. That way we can draw out the experience and make it last. Well, there's that but there's also the fact that we don't have time for more than 45 minutes of TV a day.

Today is more drop-in centre fun times with the Boobla and then hanging with Dr. Rei and Hanbo. The drop-in centre has been hilarious now that the Boobla is older. They were only closed for the summer break but there's been a HUGE leap in the Big Yam's ability to engage and explore the world now that he's so much more mobile and with it. I wasn't looking forward to getting stuck in mom gossip world (I usually spend my time chatting with newcomers to Canada, because I find them nicer and less gossipy) but I'm doing it for the Big Yam and I can tell he's enjoying it. He's super-into tambourines and shakers and drums right now, so yesterday he crawled up to one of those shakers that's shaped like an egg and was starting to shake it and bop around. A slightly older (walking-age) kid came up and grabbed ALL the eggs and it was hilarious to watch the Big Yam's reaction. It's the first time that he's ever had something taken from him by a stranger or a peer. He was kind of struck dumb for a second and then he SCREAMED. He crawled over and tried to grab it and when the kid walked away again he screamed again. It was super cute and funny.

Tonight is FNTON (Friday Night Take Out Night). Not sure what the rest of the crew will want to eat. I'd like to go for pide, which are Turkish pizzas, from our local, Pizza Pide.

Fin.

camp momma & poppa d

oy. yesterday i called in sick to work. one too many sleepless, restless nights in a row - a combination of the heat, the no a/c at lil' ugmo, and the fact that on wednesday night we went out to see the dotytron's friend K play at gate 403 on roncesvalles in a straight ahead vocal jazz band. we didn't get home until midnight. i've been going to sleep at 9:30pm. it was a combination that resulted in me waking up on thursday morning feeling tired, cranky, head-achey and like a giant, sweaty, over-heated tubster. i couldn't face going to work.

instead, we went to the dotytron's parents' house and i napped and soaked up their a/c and loved life. it was so nice to visit with them anyway. the live up the street (but quite a distance away - like a 25 minute walk?) but we don't see them nearly enough and so we drank their pop and they bought us pizza and spoiled us and treated us like big kids.

it was heavenly.

this all meant that even though i woke up at 3am last night and had to stay up reading on the couch (we're still sleeping on the living room floor) by flashlight for 2 hours until i could get back to a fitful sleep, i am much more well rested today and ready to face the mountain of work ahead of me.

tonight we're going for AYCE sushi and then a viewing of "twilight: eclipse" with jenny calendar, lolly, dr. rei & hanbo, bwong and his new gf (!!!) and my mum. what a crew!

i'll try to take some pics.

big weekend ahead!

fin.

80s hair metal

tonight is going to be about this:



and this:



and maybe some of this:



all leading up to this:

isn't the lead singer super-charismatic and a hottie? i'm totally pumped for this.

i'm also totally pumped for an M-R-I reunion with dr. rei sleeping over cuz she's done the first draft of thesis hell AND unfortunately hanbo is out of town. but if that means a sleepover with the bfffff then we'll have to make do with a hanbo-less weekend. yay sleepovers!

i woke up just shy of 6am this morning, so we'll see how i last. i predict some post-dinner pre-spin gallery napping might be in the cards.

i'm LESS enthused that last night was the last dodgeball game of the season, and do to my burgeoning belly, of my foreseeable future. not happy. at least i went out on a good note - i rocked a solid game with some key catches and got some people out with the much sought after "foot shot" but i'm so sad i can't play! this is the first season i've taken off in like, 4 years, since i started. it's balls i tell you. the only thing making it easier is that summer yields SO MANY physical activities. we haven't played a single game of "no rules tennis" and we've only played a couple rounds of frisbee. haven't hit the driving range yet and once the pool opens, i'm sure we'll be there quite a bit - at least for senior citizen lane swim time.

last night we ate leftovers, but on wednesday we went a little buck and ordered pizza and a meatball sandwich to split from this new place, recommended by cousin al, who incidentally is the former drummer and now 2nd guitar player for the diemonds. the new place is called colombo's pizza. the food was pretty good! you could tell it was homemade. they're known for their "neapolitan" pizza, which is a no-sauce pizza with fresh tomatoes, sausage, oregano, and mozzarella. the toppings are super-tasty, especially the sausage chunks which are redolent of fennel. unfortunately the crust needs some work. the crust is very much like a slightly less cardboard-y pizza pizza crust. if the crust was just a little bit thinner and greasier, it would be perfect.

the meatball sandwich is legit. tender, soft meatballs gently nestled in a perfectly crusty-yet-yielding bun with a sweet tomato sauce and cheese. we'll definitely be ordering from there again:

 

 

tonight will probably be leftovers or some freezer-clearing pierogies, before cleaning the house takes over and a pre-show nap.

fin.