Friday, August 17, 2012

NO Pigtails In Public! (If You're In Your 40's)

Last Sunday, I was cleaning the house.

Not a fun time on the best of days, but doing so in the summer heat is even worse!

Because I have long hair, I tend to pull it back into a ponytail on days like these.

ESPECIALLY when cleaning the house.

However, THIS day, I thought I'd try something different.

I grabbed a couple of elastics and threw it into braids.  Something I hadn't done in a long time.

Hair out of the way.

Off to clean the house.

A little while later, Alec came up from his room.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw me, and let out a 'WHOA! ... Nice hair.'

I replied with a, 'What?  Not a fan of the braids?'

'No no,' he said, 'I like them, I just don't remember ever seeing your hair like that before.'

Gee ... guess it had been longer than I thought, if the kid with the memory of an elephant didn't remember me sporting pigtails.

A couple hours later, I picked up Adam and his friend.

First thing he said when he saw me was, 'MOM!  You look like you're four!!!'

He did NOT approve, and let me know it.

Unfortunately, for him, it's MY hair and I'll do it any way I please!

And let HIM know it ;-)

But it was my first indication that day, that apparently there seems to be the perception that a hairstyle like that is fine around the house, but ...

NO pigtails in public! (If you're in your 40's).

Unfortunately for the public, after I dropped the boys off, I went to the grocery store.

Yes, STILL sporting the braids.

I got the few items I needed, and while on my way to the cash, I passed a woman, I'd say in her 60's, who gave me 'the look', as I went by.

You ladies know 'the look'.

The once over that other women will give you, mentally assessing you from head to toe.  Your wardrobe, shoes, hair and makeup, all in a glance.

THAT look.

When I got to the cash, who shows up behind me but 'the looker'.

Looking at the braids.

And this time, there was no mistaking it.  She wasn't pleased with what she saw.

I even got the semi-nose-scrunch!!!!

The, NO pigtails in public! (If you're in your 40's), semi-nose-scrunch.

Now, we all know I'm not one to hold my tongue in many situations.

But I'm also not one to take down little old ladies in the check-out line either.

So I simply stared right back, waited until our eyes met, gave her my OWN look ... yes, my friends and co-workers know which one I'm talking about! ... held her gaze for a few extra seconds, and turned around to the cashier.

I didn't look back when I left.

Have no idea if she was still semi-scrunching or not, but to be honest, I really don't care.

If the fact I'm a 40yr old woman sporting a couple of braids bothers you, too bad.

But I DO have a solution .....

Look away.

Simple.  Isn't it.


Sunday, August 12, 2012

THREE For THREE On The Babyshit Green!!!

I'm not a big gambler.

Never have been.

We have a casino right here, in my own back yard, and I couldn't tell you the last time I was there.

I do, however, like to buy a lottery ticket now and then.  And I like my Bingo.

No, not the 'sit in a hall with your cards and dobber thingy' kind of Bingo.

I mean the scratch ticket.  I like the Bingo scratch ticket.

And ... I hate to even say it ... and tempt the fates ... but, I'm usually pretty lucky with them too.

I'll buy one, win $3 on it, and just cash it in for another.  Until I don't win.

Sometimes, I'll get a line in one of the other boxes, and end up with $6!

Yes, it's the little things that make me happy, people!

So, a couple of weeks ago, I walk into my neighbourhood corner store, and while chatting with the owner, I look down, and notice the Attlantic Lottery Corporation had changed the colour on the tickets again.

Something they do on a regular basis.

However, I had never recalled seeing this particular colour before ...

'Oh ... look!', I said,  'It's babyshit green!'

Although the owner did laugh, I could see he was uncomfortable calling it 'babyshit green' himself, so we settled on pickle green.

Hell, I'll call it whatever he wants, as long as it's a winner!  

Later that night, I scratched.


One line in the first box.  $3.  Yay me!

The next night, I went into the store waving my ticket (while glancing around to make sure his kids or customers weren't around) and said, 'Hey John*!  WINNER on the babyshit green!'  

He laughed, and said, 'I thought we agreed on pickle?'

I replied with, 'You can call it pickle, to me, this little winner is babyshit green!'

I exchanged my winning ticket for another.


Later that evening I scratched it.


One line in the second box.  $6.  Yay me!

A few nights later,  I was back at the store.

Once again, I walked in waving my ticket, with a little swagger and a, 'Two for two on the babyshit green, John*!'


No ... really ... that's what his machine says when it checks your ticket, and it's a winner.

It makes this 'lottery noise' and then it gives out a 'woohoo!' if you have a winner.

I exchanged my winning ticket for another.


Later that evening I scratched it.


One line in the third box.  $13.  Yay me!

THREE for THREE on the babyshit green!!!

I couldn't resist, I had to stop at the store the next night. 

Unfortunately, the owner wasn't around.

So, I asked the girl behind the counter if she would give him a message for me.

She said, 'Sure!'.

I held up my latest winner, and said,  'OK.  Can you please tell him, "THREE For THREE on the babyshit green"!!!!'

She looked at me sort of funny, but I just said, 'He'll know what I mean.'

And then handed her my ticket.


Regardless what happened after that, I thought the fact I had won three times in a row, increasing in winnings each time was pretty cool in itself!

As it turns out, the next two were losers.

The one after that, I bought in Truro this week, on vacation.

That one was another $3 winner.

I cashed it in at my store this weekend for another ticket.

No winner.

But hey, no matter WHAT the next one gives me, or doesn't, I can still say ...

THREE for THREE on the babyshit green!


Thank you lottery fates!


  -  * - No, his name isn't really John.

Friday, August 10, 2012

When The Zombies Attack ... We're Goin' To Walmart!

I learned something new about my 16yr old while on vacation this week.

He is completely prepared (in theory), for a zombie apocalypse.

I'm not even sure how we got on the subject, but at one point, we were driving down the highway, when I turned to him and said, 'Ya know, if the zombies ever DO attack, I'll have to move a step down in the family chain of command, as you know a whole lot more about zombies than I do.'

He turned to me with complete confidence, and said in a firm, clear voice, 'Mom, if the zombies attack ... we're goin' to Walmart!'

I couldn't help myself.   The laughter would NOT be suppressed.

And then, of course, I asked, 'Walmart?  WHY Walmart?'

This time, he looked at me as if I should already know this crucial information.

'Because, it's got EVERYTHING you need!', and then it went something like ...

'Weapons!  First you go to the weapons and get a crossbow.  Gunfire attracts zombies, it's gotta be a crossbow. And right through the brain.'

Can you get a crossbow at Walmart?!?!?!??!

Then ...

'And, it has food!  And sports equipment to use for protection.  And paint to write SOS on the roof.  And electronics, and furniture, and appliances, entertainment, and ... and  ... and ... 

And the list went on and on, until he finally came to ... 'And clothes!  Clothes to change into, in case you run into a zombie in there and shit yourself!'

Well now, I guess he's pretty much thought of everything.

There are many strange things I believe in.  However, zombies aren't one of them. 

And while I don't ever expect to be living through, or at least trying to, a zombie apocalypse, if one ever DOES occur, and you noticed we've gone missing, I'll trust and follow my boy ...

... look for us at Walmart.

I'll be in Sporting Goods. The Mama with the baseball bat, and zombie stompin' attitude.

Bring it, Zombies!  Batter up! ;-)


Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Night Boys. Night Belle and Linken ........ Night Bat.

Ahhhh, Sunday night, 11:30pm.
Time to relax.
After zoning out in a nice hot shower for half an hour, I was ready for bed. 
On my way out of the bathroom, Adam stops me with, 'Mom, I'm going to show you a magic trick'.
He takes me to the dining room to show me his latest trick, then he goes to get Alec for his encore presentation.

I'm sitting at the table, waiting for their return, looking at the clock, thinking of crawling into bed in the next few minutes, when I hear the screams ... 
SCREAMS from the basement, and the sound of pounding feet on the stairs.

Both boys flew through the door, and started shouting at the same time, 'There's a bat downstairs! It's HUGE! It flew into Alec's room! There's a bat downstairs! There's a bat downstairs!'

CRAP! So much for crawling into bed.

Apparently, it was time for; Operation Bat Evacuation!
But first, we needed bat evacuation attire
Picture it, if you will ... red plaid jammies, hair still damp from the shower, winter jacket zipped up to the neck, hood up, with face protector jacked up to the eyes.
And of course, rubber boots to the knees ... and broom in hand.
Oh, wait a minute, there IS a picture of it ...

Bring it, Bat!  I'm ready!   
Scarier looking than you are at the moment, perhaps, but READY!
Once we were sure we were protected, we headed down the stairs.
Me first. Yes, with the broom. Then Adam, and Alec bringing up the rear.
Keep in mind, the basement still hasn't been finished, aside from Alec's room, which was built last year.
It's dark down there.
LOTS of places for a freakin' bat to hide!
But, there was light shining from the laundry room, and Alec's room.
The boys had left the door to his room open, in their haste to get the hell out of there!
Now, before I have the animal rights/control people after me, let me be VERY clear in saying, I never had ANY intention to hurt the bat.  At all.
I only wanted to stun him enough, to get him out of my house! 
NO bats were harmed in Operation Bat Evacuation.
M'kay? M'kay!
I made it down the first three steps. Slowly creeping down each one. Eyes scanning as much of the room as I could see.
On the fourth step, I saw it.
Or at least, I saw a HUGE wing span shadow swooping across Alec's door and on the ceiling of his room.
Without even thinking, I let it out.
Then turned around on the stairs, nudging Adam in front of me, with a, 'BACK!  BACK!  BACK!'
Funny thing was, in my head, I was actually saying 'RETREAT!  RETREAT! RETREAT!'
But for some reason, I didn't want to risk making anyone laugh at that moment.
With Plan A - Face Him Head On- a failure, we turned to Plan B.
Yes, I'm flying by the seat of my pants here ...
We ventured back downstairs a minute later.  Adam ran into the laundry room, unlocked the back door and then charged through it, while I 'had his back' at the laundry room door.
Ya know, making sure there were no sneak attacks from behind.
Once he was outside, I ran back upstairs and slammed the door.
Amazing, how fast I moved in those boots!
No sign of the bat.
The three of us waited on the deck, just to the side of the door, so we could see when the bat flew out.
Cause that was 'the plan (B)' of course.
Open the door, and the bat would find his own way out.
Not so much.
45 min later, bat won round one. 
He had the advantage. He can see better in the dark than I can!
With both doors to the basement closed and bat sequestered, I hearded everyone off to bed.
Myself included.  I'd face him again the next day.
In daylight.
MY advantage!
'Night boys. Night Belle and Linken. .............. Night Bat.'
Next day, I left work around 2:30 to head home and finally execute Operation Bat Evacuation.
As soon as I got through the door, I headed for the boots, jacket and broom.
This was it.  Bat was going. TODAY!
Without giving myself time to think about what I might find, I headed down the stairs.
About midway down, I stopped, scanning the room.
No sign of the bat.
I got to the bottom of the stairs and listened.
As I started to get further into the room, I leaned around a wooden beam, streatching my neck out ... just far enough ... to see if I could spot him.
And there he was.
Sound asleep on the side of the beam, near the top.
CRAP!  I found him.
Again, without giving myself too much time to think, or for the boys, who were lingering around ... just close enough ... to distract me, I pushed him with the broom off the pole.
He fell on the floor, and started to spread his wings.
Pump them.  Sort of.
I admit.  I screamed like a girlie girl, flapped my arms and backed up a few steps.
But I didn't run.
I did NOT run!!!!
Instead, once I saw he wasn't going anywhere, I took a deep breath, and took a step forward.
At first, I tried to scoop him directly into the garbage bag. Didn't work.
So, I scooped him into a dustpan, dropped him in the garbage bag, ran out the back door and let him go outside on the lawn. 
I don't think he was too happy about that.
Did you know those little suckers chirp like birds when you throw them outside into the daylight?
A much nicer variation of the sound vampires make, though ;-) 
He may not have liked it, but he was alive, and well, and most importantly ... outside (in the shade)!
I checked on him a little while later, and he was gone.
He may be under my deck, plotting his murderous revenge, and sending bat signals to all his buddies, but for now ...

For tonight ... 
Bat - 0
Kim - V-I-C-T-O-R-I-O-U-S!!!!
And once again, if you didn't catch it earlier, NO bats were harmed in Operation Bat Evacuation.