okay, so I am going to find a video camera so I can do a proper tour for you guys, but until then I just thought I would say we are mostly on-line (at least one computer is until we get some wireless cards and a wireless router) and I am up to my armpits in getting Hayley's room painted so I can get her moved properly into her bedroom. We have to head to Golden this week to get Scott's bed, Ian and I have a dresser still in transit and my dining room table is being refinished (lovely old oak), but lucky Justin, he is actually all in his room, just needs a kick start to get the boxes unpacked! So, we're happy, tired, I'm covered in a mix of "Fuzzy Mitten" white and "Mirrored" purple (a sort of amethyst colour) but we are getting there! Okay, back to work!
xx
Monday, September 24, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
update
okay guys and gals, here we go... I have put in the call and at 2 a.m. Set. 19 my internet is gonzo, and I have no idea how long it will take shaw to get me hooked up again, so though I can check email and bloggy stuff while at work, it may be more sporadic for a bit.
As for the move, it is going.... well... it is going. Ian and I, as much as we love each other, have EXCEEDINGLY different packing styles, and it has caused a little tension and to add to that we both work so much that it is all just.... getting tenser.
But, girlfriends to the rescue: my very dear friend Donna, who owns an insulating company, is sending over two of her lads and a five ton truck tomorrow to be at my disposal for three hours! So tonight my mission is to get as much big stuff ready to be moved as possible. Then any remaining small stuff can be done on the weekend.
Poor Ian is stuck to his desk for a long night of pagination and has to be back at it immediately in the morning, so this is a lifesaver for him as well!
So darlings wish us luck!
Back as soon as I can be!
xxxooo
Stevie
As for the move, it is going.... well... it is going. Ian and I, as much as we love each other, have EXCEEDINGLY different packing styles, and it has caused a little tension and to add to that we both work so much that it is all just.... getting tenser.
But, girlfriends to the rescue: my very dear friend Donna, who owns an insulating company, is sending over two of her lads and a five ton truck tomorrow to be at my disposal for three hours! So tonight my mission is to get as much big stuff ready to be moved as possible. Then any remaining small stuff can be done on the weekend.
Poor Ian is stuck to his desk for a long night of pagination and has to be back at it immediately in the morning, so this is a lifesaver for him as well!
So darlings wish us luck!
Back as soon as I can be!
xxxooo
Stevie
Sunday, September 09, 2007
For Margie, Gypsy and Val: S'mores 101
Okay class. This is an intensive course with explicit instructions regarding the making of S'mores.
Several marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate pieces were sacrificed in the name of culinary science, and the following scenes are graphic, so my more senstive viewers should proceed with caution. Note: no S'mores were actually harmed in this process. Just eaten.
First, the ingredients as they look prior to unwrapping.
The next three photos are of my intrepid lab assistants, all trained and ruthless professionals.
Agent Hayley.
Agent Scott.
Agent... erm... Justin.
This is my personal favourite for the chocolate aspect of the S'more: a square of a Caramilk bar: milk chocolate filled with rich, oozy caramel. And Rache, I found dark chocolate Caramilks... just say the word, baby.
This is perhaps a more traditional chocolate filling: a square of Hershey bar.
But whether you go Caramel or Hershey, the basic ingredients, pictured here, remain essentially the same.
Now, there are two ways to go about this. The first is more traditional, but the second is my preferred method.
First, the traditional method:
To begin, you toast the marshamallow, preferably over an open fire, but a candle inside will do in a pinch. Of course, proper camaraderie and support is vital, a pictured here by our intrepid agents.
Here in our inner sanctum, we are exceedingly fortunate to have the talented marshmallow toaster, Scott, at our beck and call. Agent Scott has used this ancient roasting technique to provide perfect marshmallows for all occasions, as well as to defend our country from terrorist threats.
As you can see, his talents in this field are awe-inspiring.
Agent Justin displays the chocolate fill choice for the first lab: ultimately, despite a close vote, the Hershey won out.
The pieces are now painstakingly assembled: the bottom graham cracker, followed by the chocolate piece, the marshmallow, and then the second graham cracker is placed on top, used not only to act as a top level, but also to hold the toasted and gooey marshmallow in place as the roasting tool is removed.
And voila! La S'more! Up close and personal! Note: this S'more was over 18 when the photo was taken.
Now, the second method, and my personal favourite, requires a wire roasting "basket" of some sort, as you will see in the next few photos.
The basket being loaded up...
The S'more is assembled cold, and all three componants are roasted simultaniously, creating not only a gooey middle, but a warm and toasty outer cracker.
This technique also allows for more than one S'more to be cooked at the same time... another bonus! Here, agent Hayley demonstrates the technique.
And here you see it, this time with a Caramilk square inside. As you can surely deduce, not only does the chocolate get gooey, so does the caramel... mmmm... caramel....
All right then. Class dismissed. I will be grading your practical techniques upon receipt of your homework via Bert.
Several marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate pieces were sacrificed in the name of culinary science, and the following scenes are graphic, so my more senstive viewers should proceed with caution. Note: no S'mores were actually harmed in this process. Just eaten.
First, the ingredients as they look prior to unwrapping.
The next three photos are of my intrepid lab assistants, all trained and ruthless professionals.
Agent Hayley.
Agent Scott.
Agent... erm... Justin.
This is my personal favourite for the chocolate aspect of the S'more: a square of a Caramilk bar: milk chocolate filled with rich, oozy caramel. And Rache, I found dark chocolate Caramilks... just say the word, baby.
This is perhaps a more traditional chocolate filling: a square of Hershey bar.
But whether you go Caramel or Hershey, the basic ingredients, pictured here, remain essentially the same.
Now, there are two ways to go about this. The first is more traditional, but the second is my preferred method.
First, the traditional method:
To begin, you toast the marshamallow, preferably over an open fire, but a candle inside will do in a pinch. Of course, proper camaraderie and support is vital, a pictured here by our intrepid agents.
Here in our inner sanctum, we are exceedingly fortunate to have the talented marshmallow toaster, Scott, at our beck and call. Agent Scott has used this ancient roasting technique to provide perfect marshmallows for all occasions, as well as to defend our country from terrorist threats.
As you can see, his talents in this field are awe-inspiring.
Agent Justin displays the chocolate fill choice for the first lab: ultimately, despite a close vote, the Hershey won out.
The pieces are now painstakingly assembled: the bottom graham cracker, followed by the chocolate piece, the marshmallow, and then the second graham cracker is placed on top, used not only to act as a top level, but also to hold the toasted and gooey marshmallow in place as the roasting tool is removed.
And voila! La S'more! Up close and personal! Note: this S'more was over 18 when the photo was taken.
Now, the second method, and my personal favourite, requires a wire roasting "basket" of some sort, as you will see in the next few photos.
The basket being loaded up...
The S'more is assembled cold, and all three componants are roasted simultaniously, creating not only a gooey middle, but a warm and toasty outer cracker.
This technique also allows for more than one S'more to be cooked at the same time... another bonus! Here, agent Hayley demonstrates the technique.
And here you see it, this time with a Caramilk square inside. As you can surely deduce, not only does the chocolate get gooey, so does the caramel... mmmm... caramel....
All right then. Class dismissed. I will be grading your practical techniques upon receipt of your homework via Bert.
Friday, September 07, 2007
A little impish moment...
Okay, Anne-Marie's love of languages made me remember this story, and yes I was being dreadfully irresponsible, but I spend so much time being responsible, I couldn't resist a little fun.
When I was in Ottawa last month, my friend Mike, a youth centre comrade, and I went to the pub for a few beers. On the way back from said pub, and after we went climbing this really great tree (another story), we passed this GIANT brilliant pink stuffed dog with purple spots, floppy ears and a big bow on the side of the street with the other garbage. Being a little inebriated (no really, only just a little) we thought: wouldn't it be ever so funny to put it on the roof of the University of Ottawa (which we happened to be about a block from)over the door so the students would see it looking down at them when they walked in the next morning. So, giggling like idiots, we carried this dog (and when I say big, I mean BIG. It was at least six feet tall) and Mike, the younger and very agile part of our team, climbed up on the roof while I watched out for security guards. I didn't watch well enough I guess, because about one minute after we got there, Mike was on the roof with this pink dog, and the security truck pulls up. So Mike hops off the roof with the dog. Oops, we say to each other quietly, grinning. This seriously over-the-top security guard gets out and starts yelling at us to get our hands up. So we put up our hands, and he comes over and starts searching Mike, checking all his pockets and demanding to know what we were doing.
"Well, you see, we thought it would be funny to put this big dog on the roof where the students would see it," Mike explained. (Mike is fully bilingual, incidentally).
The security cop finishes searching Mike's pockets, all the time warning him not to move and keeping half an eye on me (as I tried VERY hard to keep straight face) and gets Mike's full name. After he hears his last name is Bergeron, he asks if he speaks French. Of course Mike responds that he does, and the interrogation continues en Francais. He radios in Mike's name and birthdate (Mike is only just 26, so at least has the excuse of youth on his side, unlike the pushing 40 me), and asks when he was a student there (Mike was wearing a U Of O tee-shirt). After he is satisfied that Mike has no prior trespassing convictions (which had he, we were told we would have both been arrested) he turns to me. Now, I understand enough French to get the gist of what was being said, but I speak only just a very little. So the guard tells me, in French, he is not going to search me, so I nod, and then he asks me if I speak French, of course in French, to which I replied, with my best French accent, "non."
Well holy Jesus I thought Mike was going to combust he was trying so hard not to laugh.
The security guard found it somewhat less amusing.
After he ran my name, and I came up innocent as well, he lightened up a bit. We apologized for our immature behaviour, and the guard even went so far as to admit putting the dog up there would have been "kind of funny, but trespassing is illegal and we were now in their system."
After we walked away, with dog in tow, Mike started laughing.
He said, "I was just waiting for him to ask you your birthdate, so you could look him right in the eyes and say, mille neuf cent soixant neuf! (1969)! with a big grin on your face!"
Ah, oui oui.
When I was in Ottawa last month, my friend Mike, a youth centre comrade, and I went to the pub for a few beers. On the way back from said pub, and after we went climbing this really great tree (another story), we passed this GIANT brilliant pink stuffed dog with purple spots, floppy ears and a big bow on the side of the street with the other garbage. Being a little inebriated (no really, only just a little) we thought: wouldn't it be ever so funny to put it on the roof of the University of Ottawa (which we happened to be about a block from)over the door so the students would see it looking down at them when they walked in the next morning. So, giggling like idiots, we carried this dog (and when I say big, I mean BIG. It was at least six feet tall) and Mike, the younger and very agile part of our team, climbed up on the roof while I watched out for security guards. I didn't watch well enough I guess, because about one minute after we got there, Mike was on the roof with this pink dog, and the security truck pulls up. So Mike hops off the roof with the dog. Oops, we say to each other quietly, grinning. This seriously over-the-top security guard gets out and starts yelling at us to get our hands up. So we put up our hands, and he comes over and starts searching Mike, checking all his pockets and demanding to know what we were doing.
"Well, you see, we thought it would be funny to put this big dog on the roof where the students would see it," Mike explained. (Mike is fully bilingual, incidentally).
The security cop finishes searching Mike's pockets, all the time warning him not to move and keeping half an eye on me (as I tried VERY hard to keep straight face) and gets Mike's full name. After he hears his last name is Bergeron, he asks if he speaks French. Of course Mike responds that he does, and the interrogation continues en Francais. He radios in Mike's name and birthdate (Mike is only just 26, so at least has the excuse of youth on his side, unlike the pushing 40 me), and asks when he was a student there (Mike was wearing a U Of O tee-shirt). After he is satisfied that Mike has no prior trespassing convictions (which had he, we were told we would have both been arrested) he turns to me. Now, I understand enough French to get the gist of what was being said, but I speak only just a very little. So the guard tells me, in French, he is not going to search me, so I nod, and then he asks me if I speak French, of course in French, to which I replied, with my best French accent, "non."
Well holy Jesus I thought Mike was going to combust he was trying so hard not to laugh.
The security guard found it somewhat less amusing.
After he ran my name, and I came up innocent as well, he lightened up a bit. We apologized for our immature behaviour, and the guard even went so far as to admit putting the dog up there would have been "kind of funny, but trespassing is illegal and we were now in their system."
After we walked away, with dog in tow, Mike started laughing.
He said, "I was just waiting for him to ask you your birthdate, so you could look him right in the eyes and say, mille neuf cent soixant neuf! (1969)! with a big grin on your face!"
Ah, oui oui.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
The tag is on!
1) Post rules before you give your facts (these are they).
2) List 8 random facts about yourself (oh... oh dear...)
3) At the end of your post, choose (tag) 8 people and list their names, linking to them (Like Margie, I am worried several have been tagged already, but I'll do my darndest)
4) Leave a comment on their blog, letting them know they've been tagged. (Okay ... that's do-able).
So, eight random bits aboot me:
1) I really struggle with the concept of extreme wealth. I know many ridiculously wealthy people, and while several are good people (others are just arrogant fucks, pardon my language), I fail to see how one could morally allow themselves to wallow in such obscene luxury why so many many more suffer. In Canada alone, millions go to bed hungry, or live on the street, or in their car if they are lucky enough to have them, and to me the most obscene and heartbreaking of these situations, is the number of senior citizens who are homeless, HOMELESS, in their final years, their country that promised to care for them via pensions and old age security turning a cold and unfeeling back on them, most the bureaucrats turning said cold shoulder going home to a warm table of food after convincing themselves they’ve “done everything they can do.” May I burn in hell before I allow my parents to suffer so. And having said that, I cannot even comprehend the suffering in some third world countries.
2) My most favourite gift to receive is nice new socks and underwear.
3) I still want a cigarette nearly every day.
4) I am a Scorpio. Worse yet, a redheaded one. And as nears as dammit all the things they say about Scorpios ring true for me, most especially the passionate aspect of my personality. I love with true fervor, and should I happen to love you, whether friend, family or lover (okay, Ian’s my only lover), I’ll lay down my life for you. Rather not, mind you, so let’s not put that one to the test, shall we?
5) Like Margie, between the good or the bad in a (wo)man, I choose to believe in the good. But I have a freakishly sensitive bullshit detector, and am a pretty good judge of character.
6) I am something of a squirrel (mum says I was a gypsy in another life) when it comes to baubles. I love jewelry. Not so much diamonds and gold and that lot, but show me funky original stuff, ethnic or exotic looking, and I am all a-twitter. I LOVE LOVE LOVE open air markets, the best place to find funky such wee treasures.
7) Pot makes me violently ill. Can’t touch the stuff. Found out the hard way many years ago.
8) I believe in fairies.
Okay. I haven't checked to see if they have been tagged yet, but I am going to tag:
Gypsy: http://www.gypsynoir.blogspot.com/
Cheryl Ann: http://bloggersbest.blogspot.com/
Chantal: http://chontzies.blogspot.com/
Koos: http://koosfernhout.blogspot.com/
Margery: http://www.dinanbretagne.blogspot.com/
Darling Lovely: http://sleepingcurves.blogspot.com/
Ian of Nottingham: http://iangordoncraig.blogspot.com/
Dale: http://www.dalef.blogspot.com/
and hope I've left enough of us for you guys to tag, if I have not already re-tagged some of you!
2) List 8 random facts about yourself (oh... oh dear...)
3) At the end of your post, choose (tag) 8 people and list their names, linking to them (Like Margie, I am worried several have been tagged already, but I'll do my darndest)
4) Leave a comment on their blog, letting them know they've been tagged. (Okay ... that's do-able).
So, eight random bits aboot me:
1) I really struggle with the concept of extreme wealth. I know many ridiculously wealthy people, and while several are good people (others are just arrogant fucks, pardon my language), I fail to see how one could morally allow themselves to wallow in such obscene luxury why so many many more suffer. In Canada alone, millions go to bed hungry, or live on the street, or in their car if they are lucky enough to have them, and to me the most obscene and heartbreaking of these situations, is the number of senior citizens who are homeless, HOMELESS, in their final years, their country that promised to care for them via pensions and old age security turning a cold and unfeeling back on them, most the bureaucrats turning said cold shoulder going home to a warm table of food after convincing themselves they’ve “done everything they can do.” May I burn in hell before I allow my parents to suffer so. And having said that, I cannot even comprehend the suffering in some third world countries.
2) My most favourite gift to receive is nice new socks and underwear.
3) I still want a cigarette nearly every day.
4) I am a Scorpio. Worse yet, a redheaded one. And as nears as dammit all the things they say about Scorpios ring true for me, most especially the passionate aspect of my personality. I love with true fervor, and should I happen to love you, whether friend, family or lover (okay, Ian’s my only lover), I’ll lay down my life for you. Rather not, mind you, so let’s not put that one to the test, shall we?
5) Like Margie, between the good or the bad in a (wo)man, I choose to believe in the good. But I have a freakishly sensitive bullshit detector, and am a pretty good judge of character.
6) I am something of a squirrel (mum says I was a gypsy in another life) when it comes to baubles. I love jewelry. Not so much diamonds and gold and that lot, but show me funky original stuff, ethnic or exotic looking, and I am all a-twitter. I LOVE LOVE LOVE open air markets, the best place to find funky such wee treasures.
7) Pot makes me violently ill. Can’t touch the stuff. Found out the hard way many years ago.
8) I believe in fairies.
Okay. I haven't checked to see if they have been tagged yet, but I am going to tag:
Gypsy: http://www.gypsynoir.blogspot.com/
Cheryl Ann: http://bloggersbest.blogspot.com/
Chantal: http://chontzies.blogspot.com/
Koos: http://koosfernhout.blogspot.com/
Margery: http://www.dinanbretagne.blogspot.com/
Darling Lovely: http://sleepingcurves.blogspot.com/
Ian of Nottingham: http://iangordoncraig.blogspot.com/
Dale: http://www.dalef.blogspot.com/
and hope I've left enough of us for you guys to tag, if I have not already re-tagged some of you!
zen
Hey Koos,
There isn't much new stuff on my website, but this is Hayley last year at Lake Lillian... I took this just as the sun set and it seems like such a calming image to me. You'll get a better look if you enlarge it.
This one... not so zen, but I did laugh!
Ah, the sadness...
Bush sits in disbelief as his longtime buddy disappears forever and ever and ever.
WASHINGTON, DC—A confused President Bush broke free from the restraint of Secret Service agents this morning and ran in pursuit of departing deputy chief of staff Karl Rove's car for several blocks down Pennsylvania Avenue before being outdistanced by the vehicle.
"Why can't I go with him?" Bush tearfully asked advisers as the longtime Republican strategist's sedan disappeared over the horizon. "When is he coming back?"
White House staff were deeply moved by the scene, saying that despite their best efforts, no one was able to explain to the president that he would no longer be able to remain at his chief adviser's side. Onlookers were clearly choked up as a tearful Rove, trying to close the car door behind him, told Bush in a stern, commanding tone to back away.
"Go on…you hear me? Get out of here, I say!" Rove said. "I don't love you anymore, understand? Now get! Get!"
Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice witnessed the emotionally charged moment. "We knew that deep down [Rove] still cared, that he was only pretending to be mad at the president," she said. "But he had no choice. Leaving was the only way to avoid the ongoing Congressional inquiries."
Rove reportedly tried to prepare Bush for this inevitability in late July by taking him on a special fishing trip so they could spend some quality time together and he could also give Bush a brief rundown on how the presidency works. Rove said he "didn't have the heart" to break the news to the president, who fell asleep in their rowboat with the fishing pole still in his hands. On his last day, nearly two weeks later, Rove spent the whole morning with Bush before the tear-jerking exit, ruffling his hair, telling him to "be brave" and "listen to Cheney," and explaining that he was going to have to be "the man of the White House now."
Enlarge Image
Rove was finally able to leave the White House, despite Bush's heartrending stalling tactics.
Though Rove's resignation had been imminent for weeks, Bush appeared oblivious to the situation, which is evident in photos of him smiling as if nothing were wrong until the moment he discovered several suitcases near one of the West Wing's back-door exits. According to high-level administration sources, Bush asked Rove, "Where are we going?"
While sneaking the departing official out to a waiting town car, Secret Service agents were briefly able to deceive Bush by telling him Rove was just running down to the cellar to get him some ice cream. But when Bush heard the car's engine start in the driveway, he burst outside to stop Rove.
"I'll never forget the sight of the president, watching Rove's face in the back window becoming smaller and smaller as the car pulled away forever," Rice said.
The president continued to ask about his former adviser throughout the day, often clutching Rove's day planner, dialing his extension, and blinking uncomprehendingly when told that Rove was never coming back.
White House press secretary Tony Snow was finally called in to attempt to convey the reality of the situation to the president, but he was unable to do so.
"He kept looking up at me with those wide, innocent eyes, and I didn't know what to say," Snow told reporters. "Maybe someday when he's older, he'll understand how the public lost trust in his big buddy after a series of crucial political missteps, and how firing those attorneys and the..."
At this point in the briefing Snow fell silent, overcome with emotion, and moving many in the press room to tears.
White House officials say they would like to give President Bush more time to process the loss before pressuring him to appoint a new deputy chief of staff, since he does not yet appear ready to confront the concept of a "new Rove."
Bush sits in disbelief as his longtime buddy disappears forever and ever and ever.
Rove was finally able to leave the White House, despite Bush's heartrending stalling tactics.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
We had a joint birthday party on Saturday for Hayley and Karen, our dear friend and soon to be ex-landlord! Hayley turns 14 tomorrow (Sept. 3) and on Sept. 1 Karen turned 40. We're having a family party for Hayley on her actual birthday tomorrow, but so many of my family members were leaving (the younger ones all heading to university again) we wanted to have a party with them as well. So... we did!
Click on the photos for a better view!
The kids all hung out on the tramp and were... well.. kids! This is their "goofy" pose.
This is Hayley's friend Amanda... they've been pal-ing around the past couple of summers and Hayley went camping with her and her family this weekend right after the joint birthday party.
This is Tanja, Karen, Jill and my sister Sharon (in front). Tanja flew in to surprise Karen, another reason for the weekend party... as if we needed another one!
Karen and Joe... our extended family. We've been through a lot together over the past eight years. Sure glad we're not moving too far away.
"You have one more bite before cake missy..." This is Karen's three-year-old daughter Trinda.
Make a wish!
The birthday girls!
Click on the photos for a better view!
The kids all hung out on the tramp and were... well.. kids! This is their "goofy" pose.
This is Hayley's friend Amanda... they've been pal-ing around the past couple of summers and Hayley went camping with her and her family this weekend right after the joint birthday party.
This is Tanja, Karen, Jill and my sister Sharon (in front). Tanja flew in to surprise Karen, another reason for the weekend party... as if we needed another one!
Karen and Joe... our extended family. We've been through a lot together over the past eight years. Sure glad we're not moving too far away.
"You have one more bite before cake missy..." This is Karen's three-year-old daughter Trinda.
Make a wish!
The birthday girls!
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