Thirty-three Years Ago Today

A mommy blogger was born!


Um... Yeah, that would be me.

I don't have a baby picture to share (a blogger without a baby picture of themselves on their birthday? Isn't that a bit like a surgeon without a scalpel? Pooh Bear without his honey? A taxi driver without his cab?)

This is the oldest picture of me I have:

Yes, graduating from high school. This was me.
I'm wearing my mom's pearls.

The style for grad write-ups (for the yearbook) when I graduated was to string together a bunch of "rememberies" - little phrases that would recall moments from high school. Want to read mine? It says: "Remember: Boating bruises from the great ship "Jaunty Carl". Climbing Pickwauket Mountain. Wading in the Mud Flats with good friends MY, JW and LM. Sharing a mind... and my cryptic comments that no one will ever understand. "Hello Polly!!"

Yup. I was that much of a geek. Who knows where "Hello Polly!!" comes from? Tell ya what... The person who comes up with the best quotation from the same people who brought us the "Hello Polly!!" of my grad write-up will win a crocheted eyeball toy of some description. The winning quotation will be chosen by me, based on which one is my favourite. The eyeball toy will be designed and created by me and sent to you.

This is what a crocheted eyeball toy looks like.

Your eyeball toy will be different, though, because I'll be deciding what it should look like when I make it. But it'll have a big eyeball, just like this guy. Okay?

And, "cryptic comments that no one will ever understand." Hun? What am I talking about exactly? I really have no idea. I'm not cryptic at all. At least, not now. Now, every stray thought that comes into my head makes it out of my mouth; often without the benefit of a filter.

And isn't thirty three a great number? 33. I've always like threes. There.... that's kind of cryptic, no? "I've always liked threes." I'm obviously a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. Yup. That's me. No one will ever understand my cryptic comments.

And I tend to babble. Have you noticed?


But I'm 33 today. So happy my birthday everybody!

Teacups and Teapots and Coffee, Oh My!

Working Mum at Working Mum on the Verge wanted to know what my teacups look like. I would like to congratulate her on what I consider to be a truly English question. I guess I should reciprocate by asking her what her touque, or her hockey puck, looks like. Or, perhaps even more fitting considering how much Canadians love coffee, what her favourite coffee mug looks like.

Okay, enough with the senseless stereotypes... Here are my favourite mugs.

This is their beauty shot.

This is the type of cup I drink tea out of. This mug is part of a set of dishes my mom gave me one Christmas time, long ago. I like them for tea because tea tastes better out of a thin mug... the closer to fine china, the better. And to answer Working Mum's second question: Milk in first (MIF) or (TIF) tea in first? I am a TIF, I put the milk in after I've poured the tea. I like only a tiny splash of milk to mellow the tea. Every time I put the milk in first, I end up with too much.


But, what do I use to make my tea, you ask?

Well, let me show you my teapot collection.

Hubby and I love cute teapots. The one in the back, on the left was his Grand-maman's. The one in the back on the right is Crimmins pottery. In the front, on the left is one Hubby gave me as a gift. In the front, on the right is one Hubby's mother gave us... And in the middle is the one we actually use. We got it at Walmart.


Here they are, safely in the bathtub at our old place. This is where they were while we packed up our stuff. They ended up in the tub because they were on display high up, on top of our cabinets, and really needed a good dusting.


I like tea, yes... But my true love is coffee.


This is my coffee maker. It was a gift from my father in law. It's not my favourite thing ever and I'll probably replace it soon. I need a good coffee maker... possibly one that grinds the beans for me. Fresh coffee is good coffee, after all.

Ah, sweet, sweet nectar.

This is my all-time favourite coffee mug. It's from a little breakfast place we visited, called Jordan's Restaurant. It is a thick mug with a big handle, perfect for coffee. I liked it so much that I asked at the cash if they sold them. They did, in blue and red. I picked blue because Jordan's specialty is blueberry pancakes and muffins, as evidenced by the dancing pancake and muffin on the mug. It is a beautiful piece of North American kitsch and I adore it.

The back of my mug, "Home of Bar Harbor's Best Wild Blueberry Muffins and Wild Blueberry Pancakes."

I feel I should also point out my second favourite cup, which I've mentioned in a previous post. It has a picture of the hospital in which I was born.

Years ago, they imploded the building because it had been closed and empty for years and was dangerous, but also to make way for a far less interesting looking police station. When it was demolished, it was covered in amazing graffiti art. Look at the building - it was huge - and just imagine it. It was beautiful in its own way. I hope someone immortalized it in pictures.

Those are my cups, Working Mum. Hope you enjoyed.

Helloooo! Blog World?

Where did everybody go?

Just wondering.

Should I Get My Hair Cut Like This?

What do you think?

Here it is on my Meez:

So... What d'ya think? Should I go for it?

And I Am Officially Losing It

It's been a very long day. A hard slog from start to finish.

I took the kids to Dairy Queen for a treat today. I got both kids out of the car and into the restaurant. I ordered two kid size chocolate cones, paid, and then went back to the car. Outside, there was a long line at the drive-thru and a narrow lane for people to drive around the restaurant. We were parked in one of the parking spaces on the side of the lane. As I buckled Monkey into his car seat, I was surprised by a car horn. I stood up and stared in surprise at the middle-aged man who was too impatient to wait for me to buckle my child safely into his seat . My butt was in his way, basically, and he thought he'd honk. When I looked at him in surprise he indicated by gesture that he wanted to drive up the lane. I made the international sign for "I've got a little kid here and I'm just buckling him into his car seat." He made an impatient gesture and indicated in even larger gestures that he would like to get his ice cream RIGHT NOW. So I (and here's where things get a little out of character) stuck my butt out and smacked my butt cheek as if to say, "Kiss it, Mr!" Then I nicely got out of his way.

I think I'm officially losing it.

Did I mention it was a LONG day?

Oh Yes We Are EVEN MORE Excited

Guess what?

My best old friend from college, we'll call her CG for "College Girlfriend," got us tickets to see Madonna!

See? CG (isn't she cute?), Madge and Reluctant... Bffs (and ever). Naturally.

Squeeeeeee!


And in other housewife news. I'm done the bear for my giveaway winner.

Here he is:

Differences between my bear and the pattern bear: There was no pattern for the little bag, so I made one up & decided to do a skull n' cross bones thing since he's a pirate; and there's an added ridge along the edges of the sweater to make it look like he's wearing the sweater.

Here he is with Monkey so you can get an idea how big he is.

Here he is from behind - he has a wee little tail.

And, for no particular reason, here's a picture of me in my strange mirror cubby.

Look at me with my bad self y'all.

Oh Yes, We Are VERY Excited

Buddy has been playing Mario Cart on the Wii.

He is really good at it.


Are you familiar with the Wii? It allows you to create little beings called "Miis". They're very similar to our Meez avatars. Buddy's Mario Cart game is saved under his Mii. It looks exactly like him... Down to the bedhead and freckles.



The reason we are so excited?



Buddy has won 1st place is so many races that he's opened a racer based on his Mii. Now, instead of racing as Mario or Donkey Kong, he can race as himself. Imagine his excitement... I'm sorry I didn't get a video of it.

"Oh! Mommy! Look! I can race as me! That's ME! Look! Ha! Ha!" etc...



And it is the CUTEST thing EVER - the little Buddy racing along in his little cart in video game land.



Seriously.

10 Things About Right Now

1. I'm way behind getting the bear done for my last giveaway winner. That's right... still not done. I emailed her, though, so she knows I haven't forgotten. This is what I'm making, at her request:

Cute, eh?

If you'd like to make one too, you can get the pattern at Crochet Me. I'll post a picture when I'm done so you can see how I did.

2. We've been using a new laundry detergent because they didn't have our regular stuff at the store. I think we'll have to switch back, though, because it's making me itchy.

3. My hair parted in the middle today. I think it makes my face look wider. But I still kind of dig it, cause it makes me look more artsy.

4. It looks like two little boy pinatas exploded in here - cars, transformers and Pokemon everywhere... Must tidy.

5. We went for a walk this morning, first thing, but I didn't bring my camera. How very out of character, no?

6. I saw that there were a bunch of new episodes of Bones up on the 'net and I'm looking forward to watching them. Sadly, I read at one of the blogs that Zach is somehow responsible, or in cohoots with the crazy bone collector guys (or whatever - haven't seen an episode since the start of the writer's strike)... Total spoiler! Hello! These should have WARNINGS people. Not all of us have cable.

7. I'm am surprised to find myself developing a bit of a crush on Gordon Ramsay... I know! What the hell, right? Well, I've been watching the F-Word. He's not all red-faced and screamy on it like he is on Hell's Kitchen (not attractive at all - the red faced, screamy thing). He's just sort of enthusiastic, and funny. He has a funny little bounce he does when he's excited about something. I like his carefully messed-up blond hair and blue, blue eyes. And he's huge! So tall that he makes everyone else look short. And you get to see him with his kids. And you actually get to see him COOK. And then there's the opening. Have you seen it? Okay, youtube does not have the opening, just on its own, so I'm putting part one of episode one of season one. K? Just watch until after he takes his clothes off (un hun). Whee. Or watch the whole thing... I don't mind. But it's a fun show & I recommend it.



8. Gordon Ramsay is not really not my type.

9. The maintenance guy is here fixing the few things that were wrong with the place when we moved in. Yay.

10. And it's time for me to go get Buddy at school

Bye.

Maybe This is What's Wrong With the World

Cost of a new toner cartridge for our printer?

$88.95

Cost of a new printer?

$69.00

So we bought a whole new printer because our old printer was out of ink.

That's sick.

Especially considering that there's a GIANT FLOATING ISLAND OF GARBAGE in the Pacific Ocean.

Paragraphs and Stuff

So, I've noticed a marked difference between the blogs of real writers and my own. The real writers actually write - their posts are well thought out, carefully worded, intelligent and long... You know, with paragraphs and stuff. I, on the other hand, am simply playing. My posts are short, picture filled and jokey. It might be fun, but I don't think it can be called writing. Not much for content, am I. I read the real writers' blogs with interest... with a touch of envy... and just a bit of hero worship. Hero worship is a bad habit of mine. I tend to think other people are universally more accomplished than me; and, worse, I let that intimidate me. People? Kind of scare me.

I've always been shy. Well, that's not true. My mother tells me that I made friends with ease when I was a small child. It was when I started school that the shy thing kicked in. Starting in grade one, I remember feeling ashamed whenever people noticed me. I developed a "don't look at me, please," attitude. I was quiet. I hung back. I didn't assert myself. In my teens and twenties, my shyness intensified. I would almost describe it as a social phobia. Speaking to new people, or in class, or to people I didn't know very well (speaking to anyone who wasn't immediate family or a close friend, really) would induce panic. My heart rate would go up, I'd blush, I'd feel warm and shaky, I'd feel nauseous and I'd want to run away. It was not a good thing. Now, at the notthatoldbutnotyoungeither age of (almost) 33, I've managed to work past most of my shyness. I am comfortable in my own skin and able to speak up in company without dying of embarrassment. I've finally come to the conclusion that, maybe - just maybe, I might have something to offer; I might be just as worthwhile as everyone else. I'm even able to relish a bit of attention on my blog... But that makes sense, I've always been more comfortable expressing myself in writing than face-to-face or, god forbid, over the phone. I hate the phone!

Possibly because of my shyness, or maybe just because I actually am a bit left of "normal", I've never felt like I fit in. Let's just say that I've never been one to jump on any of the passing bandwagons, waving a flag that reads, "I fit in here." So, I'm surprised to find "my people" among the mommy bloggers of the internet. Mommy bloggers are often funny, articulate, intelligent, creative types who are looking for an outlet for all their fabulousness in between all the dishes, laundry and diaper changes. They're like me*. It's great. Here comes the bandwagon, just let me get my flag.

I might never be a writer. In truth, I'll probably never be a writer, but I'm okay with that because, for now, I can proudly call myself a mommy blogger.


*Shy reaction I am having right now: I dare to call myself "funny, intelligent and creative" in writing (well, pixels anyway) where anyone can read it and scoff? Scary stuff. Yikes!

Interview with a Buddy and a Monkey

I got these fill-in-the-blanks questions off of the Friday Playdate blog and I thought it would be fun to ask Buddy and Monkey to fill in the blanks. I put Buddy's answers in italics and Monkey's answers in (brackets).

My mom’s name is Mel-A-nie (Melly).

She is 25 (5) feet tall and weighs 10 (5) pounds.

She is 30 (5) years old.

When I’m at school my mom takes care of Monkey. (works her Melly-puter?).

Her favorite store is... I don't know. (Chipmunks? Silly chipmunks?)

Her favorite food is broccoli (chicken nuggets).

Her favorite TV show is designers (chipmunk movie).

The thing my mom likes to do the most is watch chef Ramsay. (Play toys?)

The thing my mom likes to do the least is eating garbage. (Play?)

My favorite food my mom cooks is peanut butter sandwiches... actually, soup... yeah, soup. (Potatoes and chicken nuggets and french fries and eye balls and broccolis and charlies... Charlies? Charlies? Charlies? Ha! Ha!)

My mom’s favorite color is pink. That's easy, right? Because girls really like pink... Am I right or am I left? (Pink)

I love her because she's my mommy (Chipmunks love Daphne).

Buddy requested some questions about him.

Me: Buddy, what is your favourite character from a book?

Buddy: Uh... (pointing at Asterix in book he's reading) that guy.

Me: You don't have to pick from the book you're reading right now, you can pick from any book, ever.

Buddy: But this is my best book and I like that guy best.

Me: Okay, why do you like that guy best?

Buddy: Because he's strong when he drinks his potion.



Me: What's your favourite game to play?

Buddy: Mario Cart and Super Mario Galaxy.

Me: What about a game that's not a video game?

Buddy: Uh, I think Pokemon.

Me: Who is your favourite Pokemon?

Buddy: I think... I think Graveller.

Me: What does he do?

Buddy: Hun? What? What does he do?

Me: Yeah.

Buddy: He punches everybody... Every Pokemon, just to beat them.

Me: And you think that's a good thing?

Buddy: Uh... He's STRONG!



Me: Can you tell a funny joke?

Buddy: Why did the horse cross the road?

Me: Why?

Buddy: To get to the hay store! Get it? It's a funny one.



Monkey's turn:


Me: Monkey, what is your favourite character from a book?

Monkey: Chipmunks books?

Buddy: There's no chipmunks books!

Monkey: In the library... the chipmunk library.... I want to watch the chipmunk movie in a minute?



Me: What's your favourite game to play?

Monkey: Chipmunk games... and Monkey Ball Banana Bits.



Me: Can you tell a funny joke?

Monkey: Uh... Poop. Poop? Ah-hahahaha! Poop on the floor. Ha! Ha! Can I watch the chipmunks in a minute?

Fun Little Personality Test

Quirky pointed out this fun little personality test, called Personal DNA. Try it out and let me know what personality you have.

I'm a Considerate Idealist.

Here's the description it gave me:

About you

You are an Idealist

As an IDEALIST, you are distinctive for your integration of confidence, imagination, willingness to explore, and desire for competence over style.

You have a strong capacity to comprehend the inner workings of things, finding new ideas and innovative insights to feed your curious nature.

You are quite comfortable in the realm of abstract thought. You don't need a practical solution to every one of life's questions.

You are comfortable with the decisions you make in life. You don't need to second-guess yourself, or seek a lot of opinions before you make up your mind.

You enjoy the routines that you have created in your life, and don't feel the need to shake things up just for the sake of change.

You generally succeed at what you do, and others would describe you as successful.

It is important to you that products be efficient – looking good has to come second to working well.

You aren't the kind of person who needs to collect stylish items in an attempt to create an attractive environment – you know that what matters most is function, not style.

Generally, you believe that you control your life, and that external forces only play a limited role in determining what happens to you.

how you relate to others

You are Considerate

You trust others, care about them, and are slow to judge them, making you CONSIDERATE.

You value your close relationships very much, and are more likely to spend time in small, tightly-knit groups of friends than in large crowds.

You enjoy exploring the world through observation, quietly watching others.

Relating to others so well, and understanding their emotions, leads you to trust people in general, even though you're somewhat shy and reserved at times.

Your belief that people are generally well-intentioned contributes to your sympathy regarding their problems. Although you may not vocalize it often, you have an awareness of how society affects individuals, and you understand complex causes of people's behavior.

You like to look at all sides of a situation before making a judgment, particularly when that situation involves important things in other people's lives.

Your close friends know you as a good listener.

Extraneous Shots of Trees in Spring

Another Sunday, another walk in the park.


The trees were beautiful.

Just Buzzing Along with the Cosmos

I get a horoscope delivered to my email everyday. You can click in to read all the details about what your day is supposed to be like, apparently, according to the stars. I like to read the subject line of the email; I usually don't bother even opening it to get the details. The subject line sums up what is in store for Geminis for the day. Usually, it is comically apt. Usually, it says things like: "Gemini: Your thoughts have a mind of their own." Or, "Gemini: Your emotions can impact your creativity today."

Today it is gibberish. Today it says, "Gemini: You are buzzing along with the cosmos."

Hmmm... Okay, then.

Thanks, I guess.



So, for today only, if you hear an unexplained buzzing you're probably standing next to a Gemini.

Extraneous Tulip Shots and One of a Cherry Tree

The Ramblings of a Lunatic

Hey! My last post was #111. My lucky number. Cool.

MIL READY

My house is almost MIL ready. It doesn't have to be perfect, but I don't want it to look like we live in squalor either. Ya know? So I'm doing some last minute unpacking and cleaning. She also sent me a shopping list because she's going to make us the yummy French-Canadian treat boulettes. Yum. Pictures and recipe to follow, 'cause, you know, I gotta blog about something... It will also serve as my article for Bella this week. Yay. Two birds, one stone... such is the magic of boulette-makin'-grannies. My brother-in-law and his partner are also visiting, which is somewhat more nerve wracking. He's a designer so I always feel as though my decor is seriously lacking in panache when he visits. Oh well, it's comfortable and kid-friendly, which is what's important to me.


IKEA

I managed to misplace the hardware for the last two rooms' curtains yesterday. Hubby and I looked around for awhile and came to the conclusion that a trip to Ikea was in order. The hardware costs about a dollar and I wanted to pick up a small table for my work area. I'm going to use it to write, blog (not that those are always mutually exclusive) and craft. Do you think I could sell my crochet toys? I'll have to come up with my own designs first, but I think I could... Can anyone give me the down-low on Esty?

Where was I? Oh yeah! Ikea. So I picked Buddy up at school and, armed with snacks and comic books, headed to Ikea. People seem to either love or hate Ikea. Personally, I'm all love. The people who hate Ikea seem to have been personally offended by the store; or they believe that Ikea is too mainstream and normal and mass-produced. But, come on people, we have student loans... We'll buy real furniture when we make it rich; and when the kids stop their reign of destruction.

Where was I? Oh yeah! Ikea. Monkey was asleep when we arrived, natch, so I got a cart, put both boys in and hit the tiny imaginary worlds that make up the Ikea show room. I picked up the stuff I needed, and a few tiny extras (like picture frames, yay), fed the kids some meatballs for supper, had a sort-of play in the play area off of the cafeteria, picked up my table in the warehouse, picked up some frozen yogurt on the way out the door. I managed to get two boys, a table, and a bunch of odds and ends (brand new retail therapy-related odds and ends) out of the cart and into the car when all three of us were holding ice cream cones with no accidents or unfortunate incidents. Aside from all the junk food - I am superwoman.


MUSTACHE

RE: Your comments on my "I've seen the face of yuck... and it is me" post... You're right, of course. I look fine. We all look fine. We are all GORGEOUS. At least everyone who reads this blog is. But who among us doesn't have moments of self-yuckiness? Let she who always feels attractive cast the first stone... Or inject the first botox... or whatever.

I will not be bleaching or waxing the 'stache because I would probably break out in hives. I get hives if I put on make-up or if I wear jewelry for too long. Apparently, I'm allergic to being a girl. Also, I can't walk in heels - they hurt my feet. And I've never worn a bikini, or even a tankini.

I fact, I am practically not even female.

Oh well, I'm okay with me...



most of the time.


EARACHE

Monkey was up the night before last with an earache. We only fell asleep at 2 AM, after I gave him his second dose of Tylenol. When he woke up in the morning, he felt fine. And he seemed fine all day. Not even cranky. Then, yesterday evening, he started complaining again of an earache... in the other ear this time. I hit the internet and searched frantically for a walk-in clinic that was open at 9pm. They all closed at 8pm. I wondered at the Murphy's law of it all - Monkey's ears only start to complain after all the doctors have gone home for the day. I didn't want to take him to the emergency room, it seemed like that would probably do more harm than good. We decided to wait for morning. Hubby walked Monkey to sleep, but he was up within half an hour, crying and squirming with discomfort. I held him in my lap while we watched an episode of Justice League to distract him from the pain. Hubby and I searched the internet for home remedies for earache. We tried holding a warm cloth on Monkey's ear; we considered trying warm drops of oil, dropped into the ear they're supposed to offer some relief. Then Monkey coughed and put his hand to his throat with a surprised look. I asked him if his throat hurt too, but he said no. I offered him a drink of water and sent Hubby to get it (cause that's what Hubbies are for, right?). He drank his water and settled in with us on the couch. 15 minutes later he was laughing and cheering along with Justice League, who were working together to clear the Green Lantern's name - he'd been framed with destroying a galaxy. Monkey seemed fine. No pain, no discomfort. He fell asleep, finally, and we put him in his bed where he slept through the night. This morning he seems fine, happy and active and playful (and stubborn, and demanding and loud) and cute as a button.

Weird, eh?

Hubby and I have a theory. We think he got water in his ear in the bath... and it eventually drained into his throat (hence the cough). And he's fine.

Cross your fingers for me that he won't end up with yet another earache tonight.

It's in the Details...

I read an article today that said that good writing is all in the details. While I was reading the article, I was sitting in my kitchen, at a small table in the corner, while enjoying a cup of coffee; my second cup of the day. My coffee was in a mug with a picture of the hospital in which I was born. The mug was purchased for my husband, who was also born in that hospital, by his mother when the hospital was imploded to make way for a new police station. The hospital hadn't been used for years and was derelict. It was covered in elaborate graffiti art, not just tags, but beautiful, carefully thought out works of art. It must have been dangerous to create the images, since they were huge and reached so far up the sides of the building. There were also many broken windows and, apparently, the inside was extremely dangerous, with holes in the floors, missing staircases and broken glass everywhere. But I was never inside. Well, not since a tour with school when I was very small, while the hospital was still in operation. It was good that they tore it down but it was a bit of a shame to destroy all the graffiti, which I loved. The sun shone in (to the kitchen where I was reading the article about sharing details with readers to broaden their experience and to capture their interest) as I sat sipping my hot beverage. It was bright and warm. I thought about details and which ones I would share with my readers. I stopped thinking and merely sat, enjoying a rare moment of solitude. I was still in my pyjamas, pink cotton bottoms and a green long-sleeved t-shirt that was soft to the touch. It was very comfortable. I was very comfortable.

The article concluded by saying that writers should also be careful not to share too many details.

Oops.

Argh! I have seen the face of yuck and it is me.

So we were sitting at the gas station on our way home from a nice walk in a park near our house. It was warm and the sun was shining. I had the visor down and on the back of the visor is a mirror. My eyes were drawn to my reflection which was lit up mercilessly by the bright late afternoon sun. I could see every wrinkle and every hair. It looked like I had a moustache and tons of wrinkles on my cheeks, all along the edge of my nose; not to mention those on my forehead. I couldn't look away - it was a horrible visage. Scariest damned thing I've seen in awhile.

The Face of Yuck is
Hairy and Wrinkled.
And it is me.

For the record, I feel I must point out that I don't normally look like I have a moustache. At least, not to my knowledge. Ack. Oh no, I hope I haven't been walking around with a moustache all this time. The bright late afternoon sun and me? We are not friends.

Crazy Dream

I had a crazy dream last night. My glasses were broken and I couldn't fix them. I kept putting the lens back in and it kept falling right back out. Finally, the frames were bent and the lens was cracked and I couldn't see.

And I had to do a presentation. But I couldn't remember what the presentation was about. I was trying to subtly ask my team members without freaking them out. I figured out eventually that everyone was presenting about toys, and I remembered that I was supposed to do a presentation about a small white bouncy ball. But I had no idea where I'd put the ball.

And I had a plane to catch and no idea how I was going to get to the airport.


I'm awake now, but I'm still kind of stressed out. Urg.

A Package From The Other Side of the World!

One of the first items of mail I was expecting at my new address was a package from ScrappySue. She sent it a few weeks ago and it made its way via snail-mail from New Zealand to Canada to arrive this morning. The kids and I opened it together, while Hubby took pictures... Because a package from the other side of the world is a moment one must capture for one's blog - if a blog one has (which one does - if "one" is me, which one is - in this case, anyway...) Don't you agree?

Time to break into the package.
(Aside: See my new couch?)

The excitement is mounting.
The boys helped me remove the packaging.

A nice postcard. Look at the lamb, Monkey.

Sue sent beanies* for the boys.
We call them touques** (pronounced "tuke") in Canada.
Although, I'm also partial to calling them "hoser hats"***.

But since they say "New Zealand" on them maybe we should call them by their NZ name?
"Beanies" it is - although to me a beanie is a round hat with a propeller on top.


Honorary Kiwi?

The boys were very excited about the chocolate treats.

I was excited by the Kiwi body butter.

The package also included two very cool magnets, which now grace my fridge, and a New Zealand keyring, which I shall carry with pride attached to my keys.

Buddy tries a "Pinky" - a chocolate covered marshmallow treat with caramel (the marshmallow is pink).



Monkey likes chocolate.
Nom nom nom.

Thank you, Sue! You brought us fun and excitement, along with some great NZ gifties.



*Beanie:

This is what I think of when I hear "beanie".

**Touque:

This is actually an official Team Canada Touque.

***Hoser hat:

These are what Hoser Hats actually are, although I use the term, in a jocular kind of way, for any touque.

There you go. It gets cold here so Canadians take their winter hats very seriously. Well, not really - I mean, we're not weird about it or anything - but it does get cold, so we wear hats. Yup.