tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-119452962012-01-24T10:22:52.984-05:00<b>Sometimes I just have to let it out...</b>Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.comBlogger1001100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-53677926091679295502008-12-11T11:29:00.008-05:002008-12-11T11:48:33.953-05:00

So, I'm standing in the kitchen, at 9:30 in the morning, putting dinner in the crockpot. Like everyone else, at this point in the year, I'm feeling the time crunch now. Running through my To Do list in my head, I'm jolted by the (uncharacteristically early) ringing of the doorbell and celebrate the occasion by slicing my finger on the lid of the can of tomatoes I was opening. A few celebratory

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-10934381544727646782008-12-09T15:43:00.004-05:002008-12-09T16:28:00.124-05:00

Hello everyone! I know, I know... you thought I dropped off the face of the Earth, didn'tcha? For reasons that are too long (and certainly too boring!) to explain, let's just say I took... hrmmm... a REEEEEALLY extended coffee break. If you know me, then you know the amount of pee time that generates MORE than accounts for where I've been ;) Thanks very much to those of you who still read and

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-12690879573228304322007-10-12T09:28:00.000-04:002007-10-12T09:41:01.949-04:00

I’ve come to the conclusion that there is nothing more elusive than sleep. We spend so much of our (forgive me) waking life in active pursuit of it – yet it’s said that we can never catch up for what we’ve missed. Never mind catching up… I appreciate netting any at all. Witness… The teenager: “I can’t wait for the weekend so I can sleep in!”The competitive co-worker: “Well, you look great

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-18059701245490675172007-05-22T10:34:00.000-04:002007-05-22T10:36:39.709-04:00

Spring is sprung, the grass is riz… I wonder where my husband is?! Oh right. The GRASS. That means he’s outside. Obsessing. Some men attack spring with a battle plan. My husband has joined their ranks. He is currently waging war against formidable enemies: white grubs and ants. These insolent beasts are messing with his lawn and he is NOT happy. The grubs are an unfortunate

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-45115038898238850042007-02-21T11:41:00.000-05:002007-02-21T11:45:40.874-05:00

If you’re a regular reader of Thoughts2Page, you’ll know that I get my panties in a bunch over the potential banning of a book. I have huge issues with anyone being denied the opportunity to choose what they – or their children – read. In recent days, another book has caused a hullabaloo… and it’s all because of one word. SCROTUM. Did you catch that? I typed: SCROTUM. Are you

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-64903928631374273572007-02-13T12:59:00.000-05:002007-02-02T23:01:36.979-05:00

Well, it’s here again. That day of the year that people find so abysmal… so depressing… so deplorable that they just can’t get out of bed to face it. No, no! NOT tax time… that ugly S.O.B. is still lurking in the shadows. I’m talking about Valentine’s Day. I recently read an article that labels January 24 as the “worst day of the year.” It seems that is the day that folks are the

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1168539201686681532007-01-11T13:09:00.000-05:002007-02-02T22:51:34.106-05:00

There are many things in life that you cannot do successfully, legally – or, even, at all – without a license. We are held accountable to a higher authority for our ability to operate a vehicle or to practice certain professions. Our dogs must be licensed and so must our software. A license is required to sell alcohol or insurance. Being licensed conveys a modicum of credibility or security.

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1166459824323477032006-12-18T11:22:00.000-05:002006-12-21T16:08:20.890-05:00

When you think “Christmas,” what comes to mind? Santa Claus? Presents? Shopping? Christmas trees? Decorations? Being stuck sitting next to Awful Uncle Howard with the disgusting table manners? We’re all different and the holidays evoke different feelings and meanings for each of us. For me, Christmas is about family, sharing a Christmas Eve meal, exchanging gifts, enjoying the

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1165938207087601762006-12-12T10:34:00.000-05:002006-12-25T00:03:36.710-05:00

What is with some business people and their outgoing voicemail messages? Have you ever been subjected to someone’s life story, when all you really wanted to do was leave your name and number after the beep? “Hello, you’ve reached the voicemail of Bob Smith. I’m sorry I’m out of the office today. I am doing some incredibly important business in our secondary facility in Shaboogamoo. I will

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1165790138492901602006-12-10T17:30:00.000-05:002006-12-10T17:50:30.880-05:00

My niece slept over at our house the other night. She’s 8. One of the things I love most about 8 year olds is their brutal honesty. She didn’t hesitate to announce “I’m BORED” when she tired of the video game that she and her cousin were playing. She was the first to compliment my dinner – I even got applause! 8 year olds don’t pull any punches – and they expect the same forthright behavior

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1164912814057304612006-11-30T13:43:00.000-05:002006-11-30T23:13:45.686-05:00

At this time of year, everything gets pretty damn cheery. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! It’s just… well… predictable. The appearance of Santa, candy canes and reindeer somehow flips a switch in our brains that sets us in “Merry Mode.” We venture out into retail hell, smile and wish complete strangers all the best (of what exactly?! We don’t know these people!) and pretend we’re

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1164214669558845442006-11-22T11:48:00.000-05:002006-11-29T22:17:21.410-05:00

Now that the some of the kafuffle has died down over the Britney Spears/Kevin Federline divorce announcement, I feel more able to type those names and get on with the business of having an opinion. Back in early 2005, I wrote a column called Media Marriage and part of it included my distaste… uh… disapproval… dislike? … oh hell, my GUT-WRENCING HATRED for the portrayal of marriage in the

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1163825036281908152006-11-17T23:36:00.000-05:002006-11-17T23:50:06.516-05:00

In our house, we love penguins. When the girls were young, their schools would schedule trips to the nearby “Biodome,” which has a great penguin area. One of my daughters was thrilled beyond belief when a penguin decided to play with her. It swam up to the glass, right near her face, and she put her little hand up, as if to pet it. Then, as she walked back and forth in front of the huge

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1163611498215232422006-11-15T12:16:00.000-05:002007-01-22T21:48:19.550-05:00

Do you have kids? You do? Did they give you your membership card yet? If not, don’t worry. If your kids are over the age of about …ohhhh… let’s say four or five, it’s on the way. You’ll know it when it arrives. It’ll read, in big, bold, shiny letters: “This card confirms the holder to be an embarrassing waste of space.” Carry it with pride. I do! You see, having just

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1163004224296589222006-11-08T11:42:00.000-05:002006-11-11T09:27:48.973-05:00

Let me start by saying that I’m not advocating pornography. Let me continue by saying that I am a strong follower of the “to each his own” and “live and let live” schools of thought. Basically, while I do have an opinion about what goes on in the world, I’m sure as hell NOT going to impose that opinion on anyone. If it lives in my head, it’s mine. I own it. You can share it, if you’d like.

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1161831828446579582006-10-25T23:03:00.000-04:002006-10-26T09:44:56.140-04:00

Early on, in my blogging days, I wrote a piece about Man Flu. In the past couple of days, I’ve (unfortunately) been inspired to write about another illness – “Mom Flu.” Let me tell ya, it AIN’T pretty.I woke up with my husband that fateful morning, somewhere around 3AM. While preparing his lunch, I started to feel really nauseous. I knew it had nothing to do with handling food in the middle

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1161574780802108732006-10-22T23:39:00.000-04:002007-01-30T05:32:38.766-05:00

Recently, I started asking people “What makes you shiver?” … and got such enlightened responses as, “You mean like a pee shiver???” Ummmmmm. No. There are the amazing kinds of shivers that hit you when you’re listening to a sad song or when the person you love most in the world looks deep into your eyes and tells you they love you too. Those are nifty. But the ones I was asking

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1160447091420342092006-10-09T22:24:00.000-04:002006-10-14T10:40:59.020-04:00

If you’re at all familiar with my writing, you’ve read about my Mom. She passed away in November 2004 and life since then has never been quite the same. Everyone knows that you go on… you just do it differently somehow. Since losing both of my parents, I have to admit that I have wondered a lot about psychics, seers, clairvoyants, mediums… any and all who proclaim to have the ability to

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1159761022625421892006-10-01T23:39:00.000-04:002006-10-01T23:50:22.636-04:00

I'd like to take a moment to thank a Blogger neighbor, "Blog of the Day Awards," for their tip of the hat on Sunday, October 1st. I appreciate the award for "Thoughts2Page" very much! A big welcome, as well, to the new readers who are visiting by way of their site -- please pull up a chair and stay awhile! :)

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1159216189062194642006-09-25T16:23:00.000-04:002006-10-14T10:42:25.560-04:00

Can you laugh at yourself? Be honest now. I’m not talking about a little snort of self-deprecation here. I’m talking about a full-on, no-holds-barred belly laugh… the kind which tells the world, “Yes, I’m a total jackass and I’m fine with that!” I was never able to do it. See, I’ve always had terrible self-esteem. Not something I’m proud to say - but it’s true. So, to compensate for it,

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1158276085859071462006-09-14T19:19:00.000-04:002006-10-14T10:53:26.110-04:00

“Theirs not to reason why,Theirs but to do & die…”… Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1809-1892 “Why?” One word. A single utterance. Yet, in and of itself, the most unanswerable question in the universe. It’s a question that we even discourage one another from asking, perhaps because responding is just too hard. How many exasperated parents have resorted to “BECAUSE I SAID SO!” as the

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1156977192878417952006-08-30T18:28:00.000-04:002006-08-30T18:33:13.813-04:00

Well, here we are again… the end of summer vacation. How I hate this time of year. Not because of the change in the weather – the nip in the morning air is rather refreshing, as my days of watering my flowers grow numbered. Not because it’s friggin’ dark when you get up at 3AM with your husband and then again at 6AM with your kids – I get used to the routine in a few days. Not because I have

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1155932909120901462006-08-18T16:27:00.000-04:002006-08-18T16:51:03.896-04:00

People who know me generally say that I’m a quiet person… a polite person… a respectful person. These are, I believe, accurate – until someone dares to hurt my child. Then, in the blink of an eye, I morph into a “Mama Bear” that would have EATEN Goldilocks long before fussing over whether she had tasted my porridge, sat in my chair or slept in my bed! You definitely don’t want to be standing

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1155326720572445042006-08-11T16:01:00.000-04:002006-08-11T16:37:40.113-04:00

My husband makes me laugh. (I know – don’t they all, really?) He obsesses over silly things like a receding hairline or the size of his belly. He never seems to consider things like heredity or the fact that he’s lost more than 20 pounds thanks to the physical nature of his job. Perhaps he’d like to remember that, when I worked at that same company a couple of years ago, in a job that had a

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1151937070852751572006-07-03T10:28:00.000-04:002006-07-04T01:10:37.940-04:00

My 12 year old LOVES technology. Microsoft® Publisher is a toy for her. She uses it to create animations. She cares for virtual pets as if they were real. She kicks her family’s collective butt in “Tony Hawk’s Underground” on the PS2. She’s teaching herself html. She’s discovered how to cheat….. Hang on… Things just skidded off the tracks… Cheat? Sighhhhh It’s so easy too.

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1146792842847797502006-05-04T21:32:00.000-04:002006-05-04T21:48:41.483-04:00

It can’t be. Not yet. It’s impossible. You’ve heard others discussing it and wondered how you’d react when it was your turn. You thought you’d be prepared. You thought you’d be laughing all the way there. Wild horses wouldn’t keep you away! Now, the invitation sits soberly in your palm, glued in place by sweat. Actually, everything touching your body at this moment is glued in place by

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1144861956303686282006-04-12T13:12:00.000-04:002006-04-12T13:25:16.190-04:00

By now, you’ve probably seen, heard or read about Robert Turner. If you haven’t, then you might want to get to Googling or just start here. Whether or not you do your own research, I fully intend to vent my indignation and disgust. Buckle up. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.Robert Turner is a just-turned-six-year-old boy from Detroit. His mother is dead. Why? You explain it to me. Robert was

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1143845298524906182006-03-31T17:47:00.000-05:002006-03-31T17:56:12.226-05:00

You know how you react when you enter a home and are immediately assaulted with Parfum de Kitty Litter? You might be inclined to delicately cover your nose, politely look around and say, “You said you have a cat, didn’t you?” or you might unconsciously blurt out, “Here kitty kitty!” – in which case you pretty much have to pray that there IS a cat in the house. Many other smells can be

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1142998131378727272006-03-21T22:19:00.000-05:002006-03-21T22:33:40.860-05:00

Do you like surprises? I like surprises. Monetary surprises are especially nice. Surprise parties can be fun. I do NOT, however, enjoy surprises when I am seated in the doctor’s office. I am distinctly lacking a sense of humor when I am dressed in a huge blue gown that seems to have a circus-tent-volume of fabric in the front and absolutely NONE in the back. Yet, surprised I was, in this

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1142219206030989122006-03-12T22:06:00.000-05:002006-03-12T22:18:25.383-05:00

WOW! Look at all the DUST! * dances around with the handy dandy electrostatic dusting gizmo which shall remain nameless, just like the nutbars on the commercials * Phew… that’s better. I didn’t know where to sit down. Anyway… I know, I know… it’s been awhile. Sorry I’ve been conspicuous by my absence. Life got in the way again, dammit. I’m pleased to report that THE CONTRACTORS

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1140304814342805772006-02-18T18:18:00.000-05:002006-02-18T18:31:15.110-05:00

A mother and daughter experience many watershed moments in their relationship. Moments that begin with first steps, first haircuts, first teeth and somehow, in the blink of an eye, segue into first dates, first periods and first heartbreaks. My elder daughter and I shared one such moment just recently – albeit not exactly a run of the mill happening, I’m sure. Let’s call it “First Exposure to

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1138584554660874592006-01-29T20:28:00.000-05:002006-02-18T21:01:35.900-05:00

"This year I encountered something close to Truth in Advertising. The De Beers people used to say, "Diamonds are Forever." But now their ad says, "Diamonds Will Render Her Speechless." Why don’t they just come out and say, "Diamonds--That'll Shut Her Up!"... Comedian Ron White, "Blue Collar Comedy Tour"~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Looking back over some of my past musings, I’ve noticed that a

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1137211216450912402006-01-13T22:44:00.000-05:002006-01-14T12:47:02.156-05:00

I hadn’t intended to write anything else about “Brokeback Mountain”… and yet I must.As was widely reported, well-known film critic Gene Shalit wrote a negative (and many perceive, hateful) review of the film. He drew sharp criticism from GLAAD for calling one of the characters a “sexual predator” who tracked down the other for trysts. It seems that Mr. Shalit has now apologized for his

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1136925576567123672006-01-10T15:23:00.000-05:002006-01-10T15:46:55.623-05:00

By now, those of you who regularly visit, know that things tend to roll around and ferment in my head for awhile – until they finish rising and burst forth from under the tea towel like so much bread dough. *shrug* Beats me – I must be hungry this morning. Anyway…In the category of “so much FRIGGIN’ ado about nothing,” I’m compelled to saddle up and trot head on into gay cowboy country. I’ve

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1136329889167089142006-01-03T18:10:00.000-05:002006-01-03T18:15:30.063-05:00

Happy New Year Everyone! Did you have a great celebration? If you’re here, you survived New Year’s Eve, so good on ya! We had fun in our house. We nibbled our way through a New Year’s Eve movie marathon with the kids. Sounds boring, I guess. Well, in some homes it might be – but we’re slightly less than traditional. The movie marathon included “American Pie I and II” and “The 40 Year Old

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1134561285738074672005-12-14T06:47:00.000-05:002005-12-14T06:59:28.953-05:00

Elaine's carol #3: "Dusty the Bathmat"Sung to the tune of "Frosty the Snowman"Dusty the bathmatUsed to be all nice and cleanWith its deep black pileAnd its fitting styleWas the best one I had seenDusty the bathmatNow wears some ground-in crudUnder workmen’s shoesIt has paid its duesIn dirt and snow and mudThere isn’t any better wayLeast not that I can seeWe only have one bathroom nowAnd the guys

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1134419310453548122005-12-12T15:22:00.000-05:002005-12-12T15:35:30.523-05:00

Elaine's carol #2: "Living here in Renovation Land"Sung to the tune of "Walking in a Winter Wonderland"Jigsaws buzzzzzzzCan you hear them?In the yardJunk appears, thenWe pray it won’t snow, before it can go,Living here in renovation landAll aroundThere is saw dustUnder foot, you hear glass bustWe hope and we pray it’ll be done todayLiving here in renovation landIn the basementthey'll install

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1134248169467723962005-12-10T15:55:00.000-05:002005-12-10T16:10:52.816-05:00

Have you ever woken up one morning, smacked yourself in the head (a la “I coulda had a V-8”) and screamed “What the HELL was I thinking?!?” No, I’m not referring to an alcohol-induced hangover – this is “home renovation hangover”. Who, in their right friggin’ mind, decides to have renovations done in December… aka “Christmas Stress Central”?!? Well, apparently, ME. Now I’m seriously waivering

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1133910660648074142005-12-06T18:07:00.000-05:002005-12-06T18:17:59.003-05:00

I was thinking, with Christmas around the corner and all, that every woman should get a chance to be Santa Claus. We could do it in rotation! Everyone signs up and we each get our turn. I'm sure St. Nick would appreciate the break and, heaven knows, he's got a pretty sweet deal going on.Let's just consider the perks, shall we?When it's your turn to be Santa Claus:... You must flaunt your jelly

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1133748375605306482005-12-04T20:57:00.000-05:002005-12-04T21:12:52.646-05:00

Hi (and welcome new readers!),I'm so excited to let you know that Thoughts2Page has been selected as a Finalist in The Weblog Awards 2005 in the category of "Best Canadian Blog"!! If you consider my blog worthy of your vote, please click on the Finalist icon in the left margin or go to http://weblogawards.org/2005/12/best_canadian_blog.phpIf you're new to Thoughts2Page, you'll find that it's all

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1133487740213355952005-12-01T20:29:00.000-05:002005-12-01T20:42:20.233-05:00

Hi everyone! Well the first round results are in and, although Thoughts2Page won't be advancing to the final round of voting, I'm really thrilled with the results all the same. Thank you SO much to all of you who voted! This is my first year of blogging and was the first time I've been nominated for an award. I'm happy to share the results:In the "Best New Blog" category, Thoughts2Page

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1132805502159753552005-11-23T23:10:00.000-05:002005-11-23T23:19:23.230-05:00

WHEN did it become winter? Yeesh… I look up from my computer (to which I am chained for more hours a day than I care to admit) and BOOM! Somebody dumped a pile of white crap that those in the disgustingly perky “winter sports are fun!” crowd like to call “awesome powder DUDE” – and they had the nerve to dump it in my driveway! What were they thinking? I am a firm believer that this stuff

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1132019790139867242005-11-14T20:53:00.001-05:002005-11-14T21:07:04.006-05:00

I walked into a restaurant for dinner recently and immediately noticed a huge bird flapping frantically near one of the back tables. From my vantage point at the entrance, it looked for all the world like it was trying desperately to escape, yet was somehow tethered to its spot. It was then that I realized – this was no BIRD! It was a middle-aged woman and she was now seated, much to her chagrin

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1131399337414300862005-11-07T16:34:00.000-05:002005-11-07T16:44:00.790-05:00

For Halloween this year, after my earlier lament, I decided to leave the candy-giving-outting to my older daughter who, at 15, grudgingly hung up her pillowcase. This is the child who has always loved Halloween – even more than Christmas. Fortunately, she didn’t need to be sedated.In any case, while she got into the spirit of giving by donning a red and black devil wig (complete with red horns)

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1130351672304113332005-10-26T14:34:00.000-04:002005-11-08T11:35:12.750-05:00

Well All Hallow's Eve is quite nearly hereand children are wailing the same cries this year -"I need a great costume... it's gotta be cool...it's my one day to dress like a hooker for school!""It's gotta be sexy... I hafta be HOTTTTT...." In other words, everything they're usually not?! Little girls get all freaked out and break down in tearsfinding out that their boyfriends will be Britney

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1128770160327503632005-10-08T07:15:00.000-04:002005-10-08T07:48:19.516-04:00

To those of us “north of the border,” Monday is a special day. It’s Thanksgiving, to be exact! Before he moved up here, the American-born love of my life asked me “What the HELL do ya’ll have to celebrate Thanksgiving for in the first place?! Thanksgiving is an AMERICAN holiday!” What a turkey… ;) I asked him, in return, “Did you enjoy all that fresh corn on the cob you ate over the past few

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1127124271344185702005-09-19T06:03:00.000-04:002005-09-19T06:15:52.843-04:00

There are days when I think I’m incredibly old-fashioned. Well, ok, if you listen to my older daughter, I’m ALWAYS old-fashioned but that’s beside the point. I’ve been on a bit of a tear lately about manners… etiquette… consideration… let’s just call it “NOT being incredibly self-centered.”I’m trying to raise my girls to be good people. Good citizens of society in general. They respect their

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1126012912230222792005-09-06T09:21:00.000-04:002005-09-06T09:33:25.520-04:00

No, no … relax… it’s not Christmas yet! It’s that “other” season that drains your bank account and turns your children into hyperactive little hairballs. Yes, it’s September and that can only mean one thing – back to school.A few days ago, the girls embarked on their new school year. I’m always sad when this happens… partly because I really do miss having them at home but mostly because it means

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1125437759988748612005-08-30T17:35:00.000-04:002005-08-30T17:52:39.596-04:00

The agony of the antiperspirant. The demands of the deodorant. We all (well, except for those folks crushed up against me on a crowded subway, apparently) have faced the personal hygiene aisle. We’ve all stood, eyes glazing over, mesmerized by the colors, the swirls, the logos, the packaging – each crying out to be our choice to fend off possibly putrid pits. Over time, we tend to settle in and

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1125005010975018512005-08-25T17:22:00.000-04:002005-08-25T17:34:31.953-04:00

Have you ever had a hard time envisioning something? You know, rationalizing an idea that’s perfectly normal but just seems so…. well…. strange? I’ve been struggling with just that situation – ever since I found out that you can email the Pope! Yes, that’s right – the holiest of Fathers, the chieftain of the Church, his Eminence himself has an email address. I don’t know why I find this amusing –

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1124567752661435562005-08-20T15:55:00.000-04:002005-08-20T16:27:15.723-04:00

They’re scary! They evolve from something so meek and mild into something so truly horrifying! They trample over everything in their path, leaving nothing but pain and irreparable damage. As a society, we’re under constant attack but they peak in the summer months, swarming in droves. They are BRIDEZILLAS. Take my advice and run for cover.A friend of mine was in a wedding party recently. She

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1123815334374996522005-08-11T22:55:00.000-04:002005-08-11T23:06:01.763-04:00

As a wife and mom, I think it’s natural that I spend a lot of time (ok, I admit it – a HELLUVA LOT OF TIME) worrying about the health of my husband and kids. I worry that my older daughter is too thin, my younger daughter is too heavy, my husband doesn’t eat right, maybe we need vitamins, perhaps flu shots would be a good idea, we all need to exercise more…. ARGH!!!!! I drive myself crazy. Oh – I

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1123721425717096852005-08-10T20:48:00.000-04:002005-08-11T20:44:34.546-04:00

Let’s get right to the nitty gritty. I’m 40 – how old are you? Oh, really? Now, how about the truth?What is it with people and age? Young people want to be older, older people want to be younger. We become legal, birthdays become outlawed. Can someone clarify this for me? It’s like someone flips off the switch on the flashing “Happy Birthday” sign! Where’s the fun in THAT?My husband says that I

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1122485560334622552005-07-27T13:32:00.000-04:002005-07-27T13:38:11.843-04:00

Hooters… ta-ta’s… boobies… sweater puppies… or, as my husband has been known to call them – fun bags. Sighhhhhh. WHAT is our obsession with breasts? I mean, seriously – as a society, we seem to spend an inordinate amount of time staring at, critiquing, discussing, coveting or pining over women’s cleavage.I married a “tit man.” Sounds like a song, doesn’t it? “Ifffffffff I were a tit man… daidle

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1121890206470196522005-07-20T16:09:00.000-04:002005-07-20T16:20:06.413-04:00

I like to consider myself a pretty non-judgmental person. Heck, I live in one of only about three countries that has now legalized same-sex marriage. Who am I to care what goes on behind other people’s closed doors? They’re CLOSED doors for a reason. MYOB, I say. I entrust others with their own beliefs and they should leave me alone with mine. I do like to keep up with the happenings in the world

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1121741491722169042005-07-18T22:44:00.000-04:002005-07-18T22:51:31.736-04:00

In the past, I’ve referred to our home as “the circus.” Today, it dawned on me JUST how accurate that really is. I’m the ringmaster. So… LAAAAAAADIES AND GENTLEMEN! CHILDREN OF ALL AGES! Welcome to the “Ding-a-ling Members, Laugh-at-‘em-daily Circus!” We’ll entertain you for hours! Let me introduce our line-up of performers…First we have Dad - or Dee Dee, as he’s known under THIS big top.

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1121051578137750242005-07-10T23:11:00.000-04:002005-07-10T23:20:42.613-04:00

All my life, I’ve been somewhat of a packrat. Not in the slobby, “can’t see the dust on top of the furniture” way. I just have the unfortunate tendency to attach far more sentimental value to “things” than they deserve. For that reason, I’ve moved boxes from house to house to storage locker to house without opening them. I just keep loading and re-stacking. Why do I do this, you may ask? Well

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1120494506442912642005-07-04T12:27:00.000-04:002005-07-04T12:43:50.670-04:00

Do people understand the concept of “overstaying your welcome” anymore? I’m thinking the answer to that is a hearty and annoying “NO.” When it comes to some teenagers, it seems that the only way to get them to go home is to pick them up by the scruff of the neck and deposit them on the curb, while simultaneously reaching for their cell phone and hitting speed-dial to Mom or Dad for a ride.

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1120276976263717222005-07-02T00:02:00.000-04:002005-07-02T00:06:44.496-04:00

Do you believe in ghosts? Spirits? Angels? Life after death? Reincarnation? There are many choices out there, with an equally varied number of advocates for each one. Personally, I don’t know what I believe. I like to believe in guardian angels. I like to believe that my family that has gone before me still loves me enough to watch over me and protect me from totally screwing up. I like to

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1119821465589874592005-06-26T17:30:00.000-04:002005-06-26T17:49:16.556-04:00

What are we doing to our daughters? Our sisters? Our friends? I write that like I’m distanced from the problem – but that’s far from the truth. I’m talking about body image. Self-esteem. Confidence. Like it or not, all of those things are rolled into one package. It’s a package that many of us routinely slam with a brick. For no good reason other than as a result of outside influences. It’s got

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1119634458196679072005-06-24T13:33:00.000-04:002005-06-24T13:39:05.436-04:00

I consider myself to be a pretty capable person. I have good management skills. I’m organized (well, except for my desk – we all have our downfall). I can successfully coordinate groups of people. So, why the HELL am I having so much trouble getting a birthday party off the ground?!My daughter just turned 15. My incredibly gracious sister offered to throw a pool party for her and some friends,

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1119464051956117262005-06-22T14:13:00.000-04:002005-06-22T14:23:03.043-04:00

When you have kids in a one-income family, vacations can’t lay claim to a huge chunk of the budget. As much as we’d love to jet off to foreign lands, the closest we come to jets are the ones in my sister’s in-ground pool or perhaps in a hot tub at a “driving distance” hotel. No one complains – but no one would complain either if I were to muse “hmmmm… how does Disney World sound this year? Or

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1119035970393699532005-06-17T15:19:00.000-04:002005-06-17T15:42:06.786-04:00

I can feel it. Like a heartbeat. It’s palpable. Just around the corner. It’s about to beat down the front door, shrieking and screeching…. “SCHOOOOOOOOOL’S …. OUT…. FOR…. SUMMERRRRRR!!!” Go ask Alice. Cooper, that is. He knows what I’m talking about because he’s been singin’ that damn song since time began – or since I was in school which, according to my kids, must have been when dinosaurs

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1118204229673369352005-06-08T00:16:00.000-04:002005-11-12T10:48:39.180-05:00

Our town has instituted a new by-law surrounding garbage… oops, sorry… GARAGE sales. Where it used to be a summer-long activity, yard sale-ing is now restricted to two weekends per season – one in June, one in September. Husbands everywhere are rejoicing. Their “hauling s*%t to the curb” jobs have just been severely downsized.I know, I’m being harsh. Garage sales are actually a lot of fun. To

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1118025330236140742005-06-05T22:34:00.000-04:002006-02-18T12:04:09.516-05:00

I love music. Actually, I love lyrics first, music second. I’ve been known to be so deeply touched by song lyrics that I’ll play the same tune over and over, for hours on end, until I can get past the emotions – or – until the family starts screeching and banging on the floor because I’m driving them absolutely insane. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that my musical tastes are not

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1117812356856671252005-06-03T11:25:00.000-04:002005-06-17T15:57:11.563-04:00

I watched them for a long time, just to be sure. It wasn’t possible. Was it? The signs were all there. The similarities and differences. I have to admit it. It’s the undeniable truth. My daughters are clones. They are exact replicas of my sister and me. Someone should have warned me this could happen.One of the most interesting things I’ve determined is that my sister and I were somehow mashed

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1117639134682967802005-06-01T11:18:00.000-04:002005-06-01T11:33:46.633-04:00

I just read an article about Viagra. No, it wasn’t in my inbox along with the multitude of offers to super-size my penis. Given the volume of spam on that subject, I was really starting to be self-conscious. Until I remembered I don’t even HAVE a penis. I was even more thankful for that fact when I read that there are instances of male blindness possibly linked to Viagra and other such “woody

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1117464918711849022005-05-30T10:53:00.000-04:002006-12-09T12:43:10.363-05:00

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… stupid people shouldn’t breed. Ever hear something and just find yourself staring in utter disbelief, unable to process another thought or get a word out edgewise? That happened to me this morning – when I read about the mother who hired a stripper for her son’s 16th birthday.Ok look – just about anyone can be a parent. We’re wired for it. Created in

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1117212275571119332005-05-27T12:44:00.000-04:002005-05-27T12:52:32.176-04:00

My mom was a witch. Well, not really. My dad and assorted relatives always called my mom a witch because she “sensed” things. She would dream something before it happened. She would get “feelings” about something and they would come true. We joked about it a lot but, in actual fact, it was a tad creepy. On more than one night, I was jolted awake by my mother standing over me, calling my name. She

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1117036532804278752005-05-25T11:54:00.000-04:002005-05-25T12:15:26.933-04:00

Aging is rough. No, I don’t mean the wrinkles and grey hair (of which I have neither – thanks to great genes and pretty good hair color). We just seem to prefer things young (and, in worst-case scenarios, that gets folks arrested). On this side of the law, we ooooohhh and aaaaahhh over cuddly kittens, playful puppies and gurgling babies. It’s inevitable that someone will say “wouldn’t it be great

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1116900464964431652005-05-23T22:06:00.000-04:002005-05-23T22:14:05.393-04:00

I once had a Social Studies teacher who, upon being asked to explain something, would roll her eyes and screech – in her strong English accent – “Look it up in the OXFORD!” To this day, I’ve never forgotten that some things are best understood by looking them up in the dictionary.Romance n 1: a relationship between two lovers 2: an exciting and mysterious quality 3: the group of languages derived

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1116638916413585902005-05-20T21:21:00.000-04:002005-05-20T21:28:36.416-04:00

When is enough actually enough? Where’s the line in the sand that isn’t to be crossed? In the work-a-day world, it apparently doesn’t exist. I read a story online today about a fellow that was fired from his job at a beer distributor for being “caught” drinking another company’s beer … in a bar … on his OWN time.The basic storyline indicates that this guy was a warehouse supervisor who went out

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1116432351611909492005-05-18T12:04:00.000-04:002005-05-18T12:14:44.096-04:00

Things become a lot clearer when you gain perspective. Growing up, we all experienced those moments of thinking, “When I have kids, I’m NEVER going to be like MY parents.” Who were we kidding? Most of us, as parents, will wake up one day and see Mom, Dad - or both! – gleefully waving back at us in the bathroom mirror. Not a “paranormal” experience, mind you… “pretty damn normal” is what I’d call

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1116271236303874862005-05-16T15:19:00.000-04:002005-05-16T15:32:00.506-04:00

I’m a slave to fashion about as much as the next… well… man, I suppose. I’m one of those curiosities of the female gender that dislikes… no, hates… oh let’s call a spade a spade – I DESPISE shopping. I can think of no bigger waste of my meager free time than wandering aimlessly around a mall, staring at things I either (a) can’t afford, (b) can’t stand, (c) can’t imagine pulling up any higher

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1115999724681938442005-05-13T11:54:00.000-04:002005-05-13T12:05:24.796-04:00

I first heard it on the radio as I was driving to work the other night. The next day it was front-page news in the paper. No, I’m not talking about the current upheaval in Canadian parliament (although that WAS on the same page). I’m talking about pregnancy tests. Yes, you read that correctly – pregnancy tests. On the front page.Apparently, it is now possible to purchase a pregnancy test for a

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1115828480289173402005-05-11T12:15:00.000-04:002005-05-11T12:23:54.740-04:00

Well, it’s official. I’m creating a union. It’s called WOW. That’s Worn Out Women, in case you wondered – and we’re goin’ on strike!WOW members meet some or all of the following criteria:1. You are female – That goes without saying but let’s stick to protocol, shall we?2. You have family – Under subsection 2(a) of our soon-to-be-enacted by-laws, “family” shall be defined as “any individual,

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1115665317213177582005-05-09T15:01:00.000-04:002005-05-09T15:13:52.986-04:00

“It’s not FAIR!!!!!”As a mother, how many times have I heard THAT indignant cry?! I expect homework to come before television… and I’m not FAIR. I expect a clean room before video games… and I’m not FAIR. I expect a consistent bedtime whether you’re 4 or 14… and I’m not FAIR. Well, imagine my surprise when I heard myself screech, at a rather loud level for a Monday morning, “I’m so freakin’ fed

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1115567294682375032005-05-08T11:31:00.000-04:002005-05-08T11:51:04.536-04:00

I learned the most important life lessons from my mombecause she led by exampleIn her presence, I knew and understood the value ofhonesty, integrity, respect …. and, most of all, loveThe love in our home was unconditionaland as I grew, I was guided by firm but loving handsThe best parents understand that children need boundariesthey need guidelinesThey need parents who are consistent and fair and

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1115311295717326992005-05-05T12:30:00.000-04:002005-05-05T12:41:35.743-04:00

“Hi. My name’s Elaine and I’m an independent contractor.”“Hiiiiiiiiiiiii Elaine.”Ok, so it’s not that bad. I don’t need any particular number of steps JUST yet. A lot of my issues could be solved by a good swift kick in the ass – and I would be on the delivering end. It’s often frustrating to be self-employed. I can live with the short-term contracts, the uncertainty of wondering how well we’ll

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1115138461624434592005-05-03T12:30:00.000-04:002005-05-03T12:41:01.626-04:00

One of the basic tenets of good business is treat your customers well and you’ll keep them for life. Well, in my opinion anyway. Someone needs to tell this to the chick that grooms my dog. RANT WARNING … cue the creepy music… reeet reeet reeet reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet! Today’s entry will be much less about humor and much more about getting something off my chest.Our family has a darling, 10-year-old,

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1114997287601801802005-05-01T21:19:00.000-04:002005-05-01T21:28:07.603-04:00

Early this morning, I was half-listening to my daughters through a “haven’t had coffee yet” induced fog. They were talking about it being May Day. Wow. May already?! How the hell did I manage to miss April? Anyway, one of them jokingly said something about dancing around a May Pole. Lack of caffeine and inadequate sleep habits take a toll on my brain sometimes. I stood there and laughed

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1114917166716398652005-04-30T23:03:00.000-04:002005-04-30T23:12:46.720-04:00

“I didn’t do it!”... “That’s not mine!”... “It’s not my fault!”... “I’m not losing my mind!”. Oops! Didn’t mean to say that last one out loud. It’s a little game I play to remind myself that I still have a grasp on some level of reality. Just when I think I’ve heard all the excuses, another one pops out of someone’s mouth. Raising three kids - well, in all honesty, two kids and a husband - I tell

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1114658364907454312005-04-27T23:07:00.000-04:002005-04-27T23:19:24.916-04:00

Greetings to all from the “frozen North” – where it’s currently in the mid-50’s or 60’s and pouring buckets. Egads boys – the igloos are a-meltin’!! Someone call “Bob” in Vancouver…we all know him, right? We MUST. He apparently lives “up here” – albeit five provinces and about three time zones away. No matter! Tell him to bring some of that Canadian bacon over when he shows up since we eat ours

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1114446304837350512005-04-25T12:15:00.000-04:002005-04-25T12:25:04.840-04:00

I’m rather convinced that some folks just don’t understand that there’s a difference between “public” and “private.” Well, either that, or they don’t care. I (like many of you) have been an unwilling witness to things that I really wish people would keep to themselves. Some bother me more than others.We’ve all seen them – the people who believe that their car is the equivalent of the “cone of

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1114382764736668102005-04-24T18:34:00.000-04:002005-04-24T18:46:04.740-04:00

Someone near and dear to my heart celebrated her birthday recently. As she recounted how her husband had helped her to.... celebrate? .... it made me realize quite clearly that we’ve been misled by the whole “Mars and Venus” theory. In actual fact, when it comes to any special occasion, I think men are from Home Hardware and women are from Tiffany’s. Consider any relationship, past or present,

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1114186835380265162005-04-22T12:05:00.000-04:002005-04-22T12:20:35.383-04:00

Looking back at my time in school, I fondly remember the “special days”. Special meant so many things.Craft days! Who can forget the Ukranian easter eggs or clay ashtrays? My dad loved that ashtray. Once he stopped laughing and calling it a “sculpture”, he decided it would work great on the front porch since it was the only one he ever had that wouldn’t blow over in a strong wind and would

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1114092272578343972005-04-21T10:00:00.000-04:002005-04-21T10:07:49.003-04:00

I’m starting to believe there is a classification hierarchy for families. I’ve been giving this a great deal of thought lately and have decided that we all, like it or not, fit into groups which, oddly enough, are defined by the type of vehicle we drive. Bear with me here while I explain the acronyms…HUMMERS (Happy Urban Money Makers Exuding Radical Success) – This is the one family on your block

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1113936986309271272005-04-19T14:48:00.000-04:002005-04-19T15:05:41.396-04:00

I was standing outside, coffee in hand, enjoying the warmth of the sun, the freshness of the breeze, the chirping of the birds, the flapping of the granny panties… yep, laundry’s out = winter’s over. I’ve never needed a thermometer in my window to follow the changing seasons. I can gauge the temperature instantly by whether or not my neighbor has laundry on his line.When I first moved into this

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1113856930961325582005-04-18T16:32:00.000-04:002006-10-25T17:31:03.636-04:00

There's quite a number of seasons, beyond the obvious four, according to my TV. There’s “allergy season,” “cold season,” “baseball season,” “hockey season,” “barbecue season” and so many more. But then, there’s this other one – and no one seems to mention it. It’s called “Man Flu Season” – and it seems to run on a continuous loop. In my mind, there are only two possible reasons that no one’s

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1113711557640120662005-04-17T00:13:00.000-04:002005-04-17T00:19:17.643-04:00

Someone asked me the other day what kinds of “housekeepers” the men in my life have been. I laughed. Oh.... sorry.... that was a serious question?My opinions on most men’s domestic engineering abilities have likely been formed by earlier generations. From our grandfather’s “I’m goin’ fishin’. I’ll be back when you’ve cleaned the house, plowed the back 40 and hunted down dinner” to our father’

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1113623040470688562005-04-15T23:34:00.000-04:002005-04-15T23:44:00.473-04:00

I’m always interested in articles about how to be an effective working mom without losing your mind. Sanity is something I aspire to regularly, yet achieve rarely. So, when I caught sight of a “tips” item on MSN, I immediately clicked on through. I read the advice… purportedly by a few mothers who “manage to keep it all together”… and have come to the conclusion that there are theories and there

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1113535689554956852005-04-14T23:20:00.000-04:002005-04-14T23:28:09.556-04:00

I’ve had an epiphany. My life is a symphony. OK, that doesn’t really rhyme but I was shooting for something that would sound lyrical. I realized, quite recently, that there are a number of predictable melodies that punctuate my days - and nights. Here is a random sampling - and do feel free to hum along if anything seems familiar.“Doggie Dirge” - This wailful tune is one of the first I hear every

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1113406692581836102005-04-13T11:26:00.000-04:002005-04-13T11:38:12.583-04:00

Not so long ago, the media gifted upon me the knowledge that two more actresses had written or were writing books. This isn’t a phenomenon or anything remotely special, I know. I mean, bookshelves are rife with contributions by actors and actresses alike. They range from the expected autobiographies and musings to cookbooks to children’s stories and more. These are creative folks we’re talking

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1113323419962266492005-04-12T12:21:00.000-04:002005-04-12T12:30:19.970-04:00

I really shouldn’t gloss over the newspaper. I have a habit of scanning headlines or making mental notes about things that others point out. I save the pages and read them in my abundant spare time. This past weekend, I noticed an article in The Gazette titled, “Russian surgeons grow penis on man’s arm”… and you KNOW I put that one aside for later perusal.Thing is, in spite of myself, I spent the

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1113192148366870622005-04-10T23:54:00.000-04:002005-04-11T00:02:28.370-04:00

The bath. Ahhhhh. Those two tiny words bring me such joy. What female doesn’t relish the idea of soaking in a warm tub, full to overflowing with soft bubbles, surrounded by scented candles, a good book in hand or at least some nice music and maybe even a perfectly chilled glass of white wine? Well – to begin with – the two females that I’m raising. To set the right tone for this piece, let’s

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1113063819678392222005-04-09T12:13:00.000-04:002005-04-09T12:23:39.680-04:00

I’m feeling marriage-minded today. I have no impending nuptials … and, if I did, it would come as quite a shock to my husband, I’m sure. I’ve just seen and heard a lot of marriage-related discussion in a short period of time and it’s got me to thinking about the perceptions of that institution. To say the least, times have changed.I was feeling a little nauseous the other day. Morning sickness

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1112990474226618292005-04-08T15:54:00.000-04:002007-01-26T03:24:32.880-05:00

I was baking brownies today and, looking out the kitchen window, I got SO excited! I saw GRASS! Wait.... that doesn't sound right. One thing has entirely nothing to do with the other. Really. No matter how open-minded the Canadian government may be. What I meant was - I saw GREEN! This is a big deal to me because basically that meant I wasn't seeing WHITE. To a resident of the "Great

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1112845221205704562005-04-06T23:37:00.000-04:002005-04-07T12:12:28.333-04:00

I was reading the paper the other day and was smacked upside the head (no pun intended) by an article on oral sex. If just the term “oral sex” makes you squirm, then you might not want my opinions on this. But opinions I have. The reason being, this article was about teens and their beliefs about that particular activity – and I’m worried.As the mother of two girls who are becoming old enough not

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1112730202288166822005-04-05T15:36:00.000-04:002005-04-05T15:49:01.333-04:00

I can change a diaper faster than a peeing child.I can leap Barbie's breasts in a single bound.I can help with multiplication tables while simultaneously calculating how long to bake a chicken.I am Super Mom!Yeah… right…Super Mom would imply that I'm capable of anything, wouldn't it? That I fear nothing? Well. Have you seen my reaction to the dentist? It's highly disappointing from your basic

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11945296.post-1112728491385430532005-04-05T14:38:00.000-04:002006-12-19T14:04:56.996-05:00

*looks left and right*... *looks up and down*... wow... so this is what it feels like. I've been meaning to start a blog. For the last year or more. Guess I've been busy!?! In all honesty, I've been trying to decide whether I wanted one or not. Friends, family and colleagues have encouraged it. I've read their blogs, poked around the blogs of complete strangers (Mom never warned me not to) and

Elainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266666033191293846noreply@blogger.com0