Hold my weave: Gourmet edition

Yes, yes, as most of you already know, I was not in the best of shape today. I got my hangover out of the way by the time I woke up for the day...which is good, but at the same time I only ended up catching three hours of sleep...which is bad. Needless to say, I was a tad hazy and as it turns out, it was a really good day to be just that.

I whipped off some client work by early afternoon and then decided on the recipes to use to win major brownie points with Shannon and the family this evening. I'm obsessed with The Culinary Chase because everything is delicious, beautiful, and requires only a handful of ingredients. Usually, when I'm trying new recipes I end up coming home with far more than what I need of things that I will never use again. I probably still have a five pound bottle of the dust off the wing of an Austrian honeybee in the back of my cupboard.

That being said, I had a Costco moment at the grocery store today. I spent twenty minutes looking for one thing: dried breadcrumbs. First instinct: baking needs. Duh. You don't SERVE dried breadcrumbs, you use them to make other things crunchy. So there I am...pacing back and forth trying to balance my increasingly heavy basket, my sugarfree nonfat caramel awake tea misto (yuppie), and my rage while Suzy Homemakers bumped into me repeatedly with their carts because I was blocking the ever-important flour. You may not know this, but I am quite small. I blocked AT MOST one row of the 20ft-long flour section. Obviously I turned green, muscley and busted out of my shirt and messed some baby boomers up.

I would have given up but it was the only thing left that I had to pick up for tonight. So, once again, I tried not to cut people even when they blatantly ignored me when I asked if they might know what it at least looked like. Long story short, you'll find dried bread crumbs next to the instant rice and Sidekick pastas. Right - because dried breadcrumbs are basically instant meals.

Grocery fail.

Drained and angry at the world, I went back out to the car to see Calvin's little face popped up by the driver's side, shaking a little from wagging his tail so hard. As he proceeded to accost my face with puppy oh-my-god-you-came-back love, I forgot about the whole experience. It always hits me when I realize that there is a living thing that loves me THAT MUCH all the time even when I'm considering making an Olympic sport out of knocking old ladies down.

For anyone interested, this is tonight's menu:
Cream pesto gnocchi
Tomato, Mozarella & Basil Salad
Mini Ricotta & Basil Frittatas

Paying it forward winners

Here are the winners of the NOR Pay it Forward competition - a.k.a. the poor saps who now have to do this themselves - chosen at random thanks to www.Random.org:

Lauren from The Dartmouth Soundsystem
Chris from Surviving Myself
Heidi from Life in Pink

Congratulations folks! Please send me your address so that I can creep outside your apartment at night mail you a prize. Lauren, maybe I'll just get it to you in person unless you delight in getting mail, in which case who would I be to take that away from you? I don't know what it will be yet but rest assured, it will be awesome and cheap.

The rules state that the winners each have to do the contest on their blogs now so if you didn't win here, try, try again!

Five drink minimum

It's not often that I blog under the influence, probably because I so rarely AM under the infleunce anymore, but since tonight is a Tuesday and I am officially shmammered, I consider it a special occasion worth posting.

I met up with a client/BFF/mentor for some beverages at the local irish pub, played some serious Rockband/Guitar Hero and stumbled my way home with some sweet-ass quotes. These quotes will not be attributed to anyone (which - to any smart person - means that they are mine and largely offensive) but are definitely worth posting before I forget them.

"Peer pressure is lame, but being thin is awesome."

"I'm make-out-with-a-stranger drunk."

To the new friend who is a corrections officer:
"Did you just say all your colleagues are inbred?"
"-No, he said they're all in prison."
"Oh okay. I just figured...being from Cape Breton and all..."

Only funny to people in the Halifax area:
"I'm going on a Sex and the City bus tour."
"No way! In Sackville?" *immediately realizing what a dumb question that was and wondering why Sackville was put forth versus NYC.
"Ummm.....not so much."

From Mom after arriving home (yes, I am still at my parents' until Friday)
"Ugh. Just please don't spill aspirin all over the bathroom and giggle about it again."

The SATC Sackville bus tour is currently in the works featuring bars and apartments that have never seen the likes of Sarah Jessica Parker. Reservations are required.

Goodnight all and not a moment too soon.

Finally able to tell my secret

Hello lovelies! For four weeks now (thought it was an April Fool's joke? FAIL) I have been keeping something big from you. Something that might just make you lose your minds with envy and desire. Something that will make you stalk by my apartment at night because I am just that famous. Ladies and gentlemen, I am very happy to report that I am invading your lives more aggressively than ever...

I am currently being featured in a national advertising campaign for Empire Theatre's new online music store, Songo (for a marketing take on the situation, click here). If you live in Canada and go to the movies, you will see me dancing around in a cartoon world before every single movie that you go see. If you don't live in Canada or don't go to see the movies, you should be able to catch the ad here (I can't get the embedding to work).

Yes, it's awesome. Yes, I got paid as a result. Yes, I have been singing "I'm your priiiiivate danca!" for a long time now. Bask in my greatness and hate me for adding to the commercials-before-movie-screenings phenomenon.

Thanks to my friends at Firefly Digital for believing in my groovins'.

NOR is paying it forward

I like commenting on posts. It makes my fellow bloggers happy, it keeps us connected and it gives the ones that I like more motivation to keep writing. Plus, the other day I posted a comment on Jenn's blog, You are flawed if you are not free, and won a prize.

Now for the part that matters to YOU. Having won that prize, I now owe the universe. Unless I mail out (small, cheap) prizes to three of the people who comment (chosen at random) on this post before Wednesday at noon (Atlantic Standard Time because otherwise I have no idea when to stop), I will surely be killed a la Final Destination.

Let me know if you want in but be warned that should you be lucky enough to win (cannot stress enough, SMALL CHEAP prizes), you will also be threatened with certain death should you choose to ignore the power of the blogosphere.

The Simon to my Theodore

I haven't mentioned my big brother in quite some time. This hasn't been on purpose, it's just that he made himself really scarce in 2007/2008. He's only been in town for a little over a month since this time last year. I, for one, think that's pretty damn cool.

This time last year, he took off on an adventure in New Zealand without a job or place to stay and ended up working on a ski hill for their winter season and earning his keep on an organic farm on the off hours. How many people can say THAT? Then, a month after he got back, he took off again to catch another winter season (worst nightmare...) in Lake Louise for more ski-hill action.

He's a great guy - two years older than me and the complete opposite in every way possible. Somehow, this worked out in a way where we just moved past the fighting commonly associated with two brothers (likely because his martial arts could beat my flailing and screaming any day) and went directly into rolling our eyes at each other because why the hell is he READING when he could be eating bowls of peanut butter with sugar sprinkled on the top while watching Captain Planet with me?

Yes. I was chubby and unpopular. SURPRISE!

He was tall, thin, smart, and dapper. I was short, round, chatty, and without front teeth for the majority of my childhood. (I whistled both S- and Th-sounds). He connected with Dad by asking "why?" and "how". I connected with Mom by playing with glitter instead of caring about what their geekery. Some things have changed. Some things haven't.

He really balances out the family dynamic with his quiet, patient, compassion and dry wit that brings my Mom to hysterical tears. Needless to say, I'm pretty pumped for him to get back. The fact that he can put up with 1) me, 2) the newf, 3) and my parents all at once pretty much puts him up for sainthood.

OH - and he hasn't met the pooch yet. That'll be fun when he gets in after an all-night flight this morning...He has been very impressed with the idea of a living homage to Calvin & Hobbes though so they're off to a good start.

Plus now we can share the Jack Daniels I bought him [in order to replace the bottle I stole from him when he was away]. MUCH better than peanut butter and sugar.

Okay, fine...it's a close second.

Moments of clarity

Now that I once again have my wits about me (ish), I'd like to mention a two recurring themes I heard last night that you bloggers might be interested in.

1) Finding your blog voice: the biggest hurdle to blogging. Some professionals last night had spent up to six months simply developing their style before going live! I'd agree...a certain level of consistency gives your readers a chance to figure out if they like you or not. This goes for personal/humour bloggers too. Surviving Myself has a killer blog voice. So does J-Money.

2) Content: being a PR grad, I was asked last night why I wasn't blogging about the industry with an east coast perspective (as of this week, I am but elsewhere). Honestly? Tried it. Didn't have anyone bite. Moved on. I think that blogging, when done well regardless of content, highlights initiative, motivation, writing skills, social media savvy, brand power, and many other facets of PR/marketing. I had this chat with Jamie just the other week, was interesting to think about it again last night.

That's enough learning stuff for one day because - who are we kidding? - last night was totally about getting smashed and talking about it on Twitter...

One down

Updated: 1:42pm with more links

Wow. You'd think the fact that it's only seven in the morning might mean that I would have a chance to post a little about last nights social media meet-up here in Halifax before the world got started. NOT TRUE.

Seeing how I decided that going for Thai when tired and more-influenced-than-expected by three gin & tonics (Bombay, thank you very much) was more important than getting the first recap online, I am very much late on the draw here. That's what I get for thinking I can slack off when it comes to a crowd of social media mongrels.

I'm thrilled with how the inaugural event went and happy to meet so many smart, interesting and pleasant folks. I'll leave it at that and recommend that you check out the stellar feedback from Laurel, Lauren in addition to great photos from Justin and Jon. No, I didn't choose these people based on alliteration but I'm quite happy that it worked out that way.

More recaps from and Jen, Ryan, and David.

Catch you at the next one, wired Halifax!

Just for the cool kids...

Pssst....tomorrow after work we're all meeting up at The Argyle for 6pm. No big speeches, no lame service pitches, just the cool kids sharing some snacks on Colour's tab. Swing by for a drink or two and meet some smart, interesting people.

Want in on the Halifax social media scene? Here are a few to start you off in no particular order. Obviously, there are far more than I'd ever be able to list here but don't hesitate to share your favourites or to slap me around tomorrow night if I missed you.

The Dartmouth Soundsystem / @laurenoostveen
JustinGill.com / @justingill
La Belle Écrivaine / @loki_jb
PeterDeWolf.com / @PeterDewolf
Wit Not Included / @ShannonKehoe
Other Librarian / @Greebie
Carman Pirie / @Pirie
Machlanations / @handomac
Blogging Nova Scotia / @Bryan Henry
East Coast By Choice
Your World Today
With a Twist
Halifax Infomonkey

Uggggnnnnfghhhhh

We are now in our third consecutive week of sunshine and warm temperatures here in Halifax (the split personality city that is quite lovely except for when it is impossibly depression during the winter months). That means that the beautiful people are crawling out from underneath their rocks to become even more beautiful in time for summer.

Watch out commoners! You've had your chance to enjoy Point Pleasant Park all winter. If you want to stick around, you had better beef up that feigned self-confidence in order to watch people run by you showing off that elusive muscle that sort of points down into your nether regions. For reference, check out Abercrombie & Fitch...or Pink...

Actually, it's not so bad. I'm not out of shape - OKAY FINE (my Dad probably is choking on his coffee - ahem...scotch - wherever he's reading this)...I am. However, I'm still rather wee so you wouldn't know it unless you started poking me.

I go on 5km walks around the lake with the pooch every day and can generally power through it in about 40 minutes. I'm excited to get back to the rock climbing gym now that my brother is coming home (more on this later), and I love playing tennis during the summer months. Aside from that, I don't do much. This has never bothered me until now. My declining metabolism is staring me in the face while a generation of people six years younger than me look more my age than I do. Not to mention the pressure from YOU - you silly bloggers who still manage to find time to...oh, you know, run the Boston Marathon (that means you, J-money).

Even yesterday in a business meeting a client spoke about how working out to him is like brushing his teeth (it showed). I nodded in agreement although he totally knew that I hadn't worked out since the summer of 1977.

So lately I have been dreaming of being active and fit to the point where I have convinced myself that I can do it. Today I took the first step and went for a run with Calvin...Calvin who loves to run...Calvin who hates when I need to stop before my lungs explode and my heart gives out...Calvin who gives me disapproving looks when I groan and pray for death at the turn-around point...Calvin who has proven to be possibly the greatest work-out partner to date.

Polluted steam of consciousness

Once a morning person*, I have been spending the first fifteen minutes of my mornings praying for death. Or, maybe just for the chance to Mariah Carey it and be put down for eight days to suffocate the crazy with sleep and bed rest.

My lack of sleep doesn't make sense at all. I've been staying at my parents' place for a while now (with the newf, don't go jumping to any scary conclusions here, folks. We're demolishing our apartment through spring cleaning efforts), meaning that we've been enjoying their window-free guest room. You wouldn't even believe how dark this room is. A few years ago I accidentally slept in until 2pm. I woke with a full bushy beard and realized that it was 2007 and immediately started blogging.

Aside from being a haven for vampires (which I think are very sexy*), my parents' house also offers me the convenience of having my car parked directly outside at all times, a fenced-in backyard for pooch-poopery, and the ease of crating Calvin when I need to pop out without having to worry about noise complaints. Stress level = zero, exactly the way it should be at when you're with your parents.

Oh - and there's always booze around. At any given time you can find at least one quart of Bombay Gin in the freezer. Most days there is also a back-up bottle. I'd prefer Jack Daniels* but moochers can't be choosers. (Did I ever tell you the story about when my friends named a drink after my mom*? You pour three shots of tequila into a glass and hold a lime in your left hand while drinking it. Try it. No...don't).

So why am I not getting very much sleep? My guess is that I've ironically been paired with someone who "can't fall asleep without the television on"*. I've come to terms with this but still wonder why I suffer for being able to fall asleep the traditional way. Would the newf have to let it slide if I could only fall asleep after doing three bodyshots of tequila off strippers? Probably not...but then again, strippers aren't really my thang. I've only been to one strip club on purpose in my life* (one by accident, don't ask...) and it was for a hilarious adventure rather than being pervy and watching the drop outs from my high school work the pole. Not cool.

For now I'll keep putting up with the TV and the newf will keep putting up with my my all-round awesomeness at life. I suppose it's all part of the C-word...Compromise, you nasty pervs.

[*Editor's note: Today's post is a tribute to the lovely Ms. EP over at Stylish Handwriting. I read her blog every day and it never disappoints. (her letter to a booty-shaking teenager is awesome)..except in that she tags me in a lot of memes that I never actually do.

I finally succumbed to the guilt (another reason why I might be losing sleep) and have identified six random facts about me and my life throughout this post for your meme-pleasure. Meme prononced me-me or the french way? Riddle me THAT.]

Excommunicated 2006

"I'm up for a scholarship that'll pay for me study abroad for four months."

It was a lie. A big lie. Maybe one of the biggest I've ever told. I used to lie a lot - a childish habit commonly associated with daydreamers.

When you move around as a kid, you have the opportunity to rewrite your own history time and time again. The temptation was more than I could handle. My lies were always modest, based-on-a-true-story type lies. Nothing as extreme as this one.

This one last big lie that would set me free.

The blank stare that met my fake but nonetheless exciting news was deafening.

"So...you're leaving?"

"I'm definitely thinking about it. I mean, it's a great opportunity for me, don't you think?"

"So you're leaving."

"Nothing is for sure yet. You're not as excited for me as I expected."

"You're the one turning your back on me. What am I supposed to do? What do I mean to you if you can just run off and..."

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Please, please don't leave me. I need you. You can't leave me. I'll die without you." Desperate now. Selfish. Controlling. Terrified.

I had my answer.

So I was leaving.

[Edit: Thanks to the crew at 20SB for including this piece as part of their Tests-themed Blog Carnival. Take a look at the other great posts here.]

Union Jane lives with cavemen

[Editor's Note: Since I insist on being a grown-up, Sundays have become Open House Days. Luckily, this works out well for you as it's officially a UNION JANE DAY. Woot! Enjoy another post from our favourite U.K. correspondent!]

So, I’ve yet to introduce all you lovely people in cyber-world to my roommates. Well, it would take a good four lengthy posts to appropriately capture their idiosyncrasies, and frankly I don’t have the energy for that just yet. But watch this space, because trust me when I say they are worth writing about.

But today I’ll share with you one little anecdote that is totally ridiculous to most people but absolutely commonplace in my house.

I woke up this morning with a hankering for a nice, Sunday breakfast. I went to the store to buy eggs and other fixings to complement the fresh loaf of homemade bread I bought at the market yesterday. As I’ve mentioned before, sometimes I like to pretend I’m Martha Stewart or some shit. So when I remembered that my roommates were all hammered last night, one so much so that he apologized in advance for his assumed drunken revelry, I was a little nervous about what state the kitchen would be in this morning. But much to my surprise everything looked fine, save a bottle of scotch on the counter. I let that go because I’ve learned to pick my battles. I was quite impressed with the lack of mess. That is, until I opened the cupboard and was confronted with this:Seriously… someone bit into it right through the bag? Let’s move in for the close-up:

Wow. Forget Martha, I ACTUALLY live with Neanderthals.

The best part – they were all so drunk that none of them can remember who did it.

Cohabitation is awesome.

Union Jane gives me a wake-up call

By email:

Ben, I don't know if it's as a result of you living with a Newfoundlander now or me living overseas but you sound so straight-up Nova Scotian in your blog video it's ridiculous. I would build you a kilt right now if I were good at sewing.

Cruel irony has struck me down again. When I spent my time living over in Ireland, I would've given my left arm to have come home with even a hint of their lovely accent.

Now, without realizing it, I have let my copious interactions with a Newf affect my speech and pronunciation. Adopting the vocal stylings of someone who occasionally forgets to pronounce his "Th" (Some missus treatened me on Tursday!) sounds is NOT OKAY.

Developing...

Excerpts from a moving day

"Gravy is pretty much chicken that you can drink."

"Okay, the tarps are for WRAPPING the furniture, not just popping it over the tops like shower caps."

"Awww little girls next door! Ask them if they want to come see our puppy in the barkyard."
"Ummmmmm....that's how people get arrested."
"Touché."

Much better than our last move where the only quotes were curse words and murder threats.

Related:
Board games gone wrong
10th Circle of Hell

Vlog, champion of the ugliest word contest

A quickie recorded yesterday since I spent the today helping Charlotte move the big stuff into her even-more-amazing-now house and didn't have the chance to write anything.

For anyone wondering, the house I saw was no good. While it had a lot of charm in its 100-year-old farmhouse feel, it lacked things like a shower and a kitchen. Seriously.

Worse than the Olsens

[Editor's note: It's been quite the week. As usual for me when it rains, it pours. I don't mean this in a negative way so much as when I get rolling, I tend to find more on my plate. I've toyed with this post a few times, trying to match it to the mood swings that will be explained by its content. Who knows what it'll end up saying by the time it's officially posted]

On Wednesday evening, Calvin's pooch brother Tofu arrived to relax chez Boudreau while his parents are enjoying Italy in the springtime (other people going to Europe is the theme of my life). I was really looking forward to having him around since Cal loves playing with other dogs now.

Oh, how quickly we forget.

Kidding...kidding...I can't even compare this to the last time since I'm not praying for death thanks to strep-throat. However, I've learned how ridiculous it is when people say, well, I can handle one dog...what's one more? For reference, one more equals the entire army from 300 slamming about your house as you beg for mercy.

I'd like to be very clear though, Tofu is a super dog. He is incredibly lovable, cuddly, excited about life, and happy. He is a joy to play with and he's been so much fun to have around so my poor Dad (Calvin's chosen nemesis for absolutely no reason) can enjoy the puppy love.

The problem is Calvin. There. I said it. Calvin changes completely when Tofu is around. Usually a quiet, timid, introverted little puppy, he has completely drained me of my patience over the past couple of days. You see, from the moment his brother trotted through the door, Calvin has been tugging his ears, nipping his neck, flipping him on his back for total PWNage and calling him fat...all of this is done playfully, but I'm amazed that Tofu's hasn't pushed him out onto a busy street. At this point, I almost wish he would.

[Editor's note: Comments telling me how horrible that is to say will be met with e-bitchslaps. Anyone who thinks I wouldn't be lost without my little buddy is ridiculous.]

Tofu just kinda sits there and takes it, playing along occasionally when he has the energy although he really just wants to cuddle and be loved while his folks are gone. While Calvin is body-slamming him around, Tofu will just come over to my legs with a wagging tail, hoping for some snuggle time. His tail wags so hard that his back end shakes back and forth. That right there is better than the baby Jesus. Hands down.

While Tofu is being adorable, Calvin - in his newfound role as Alpha dog - has taken to barking savagely at everything and nothing. Randomly, he will burst into a symphony of puppy rage for no reason at all. Of course, Tofu - a guest in our house - feels like it would be rude not to join him, leaving me with two, TWO barking puppies (ah! ah! ah!...Sesame Street? No? Anyone??). Seeing my mime of a dog all of a sudden become a barker worries me. Why? Because with each bark, he pushes me closer and closer to an aneurysm.

Adding to the frustration is that Tofu is impeccably house-trained whereas Calvin feels no remorse every time his stomach explodes throughout the house. Sure, he's having some G.I. troubles and yes, he has had a tougher time since we live in an apartment and the connection between our front door and the outside isn't as obvious but C'MON.

I am trying desperately to channel Cesar Millan to find my inner dog whisperer but I fear that the closest I have come has been laying on the ground hissing and foaming at the mouth. But then, just when I think I've had enough, they both get sleepy and cuddle (reminding me of this), making everything okay again.

It's a good thing I love these guys.

So long trans fats!

Excerpt from a client meeting

Coordinator: I'm not even kidding, when they told me to go to Hibernia I said: but I'm wearing sandals! I don't even have Uggs or a parka!

Manager: Not boots....but Uggs?

Me: Right, the most practical of winter-wear when you think you're heading to the tundra.

Client: *flabbergasted, unsure whether to encourage us or just cut the deal short*

A few months ago I emailed Roro, an ACTUAL freelance writer and quite possibly my soulmate. At the time, I was half looking for work and half pretending that being on a radio game show was going to be my ticket to fame. I asked her how I could move from the freelancer who plays with a puppy and eats Ruffles all day to one who actually works and makes money. She suggested that I sleep around until I find someone who needs a writer then promptly excused herself from her email to go finish off her own bag of chips.

I took that advice to heart. I slept around A LOT. Sometimes I even forgot why I was doing it. Who has time to work when you're so busy f...

Okay fine. That whole part was an idealistic, slutty lie. Instead I've been working on producing the best content for the clients I DO have and then taking small, affordable steps to marketing myself and IT'S FINALLY WORKING! I've been so busy for the past week and a half working on a bunch of different projects and it has been so great to get back on that pace.

Is it so wrong that I loved being asked to write a blurb with little to no direction besides "poetic...but still on strategy" on a two-day deadline only to have it switched to a two-hour deadline? That's the kind of stuff my ADD-professional dreams are made of.

I don't know exactly why I'm posting this...maybe just because I feel great about everything today and want to give myself props on making things happen for myself. Is that so wrong?

I'm all business, all the time now suckas...

Just kidding, I'm playing with the pooches as I type.That's right...TWO pooches. More on this tomorrow.

Not to mention the cheese!

This is a picture of the town I grew up in while we were living on Texel. Like I said, my parents are back and are still glowing from the trip back "home". I wanted to show you all a picture that did the island justice and gave you an idea of the place that truly defined part of who I am...this was easier said than done.

You see, the island is only 6km by 12km but it manages to have fields of daffodils and tulips like the one above, sand dunes with highlandy horses running wild, mudflats with thousands of little stick-legged birds running around like maniacs, dikes and windmills (both working and completely authentic), and 80 year old farmers biking in wooden shoes (seriously) to check on their lambs.Listening to Mom's stories, it really struck me how cool it is that there's a place in this world where after ten years since I last stepped foot on the island, I could bike along the fields and watch a tractor pull to a stop, an old man jump out, run over and give me a big hug for being part of the Canadian family that left such a lasting impression.

Our airport is named after underwear, jealous?

My folks got back from their trip last night and I almost perfected my often-lacking airport pick-up skills.

I seem to have inherited my Mom's ability to be completely prepared to leave at the proper time to get there just a bit early to ensure maximum excitement while waiting at the Arrivals gate. On the downside, I have also inherited her terrible luck of calling that last time to make sure the flight is arriving as planned only to hear an automated voice ruin her life by saying, "Flight 275 landed early and your spouse is waiting for you while increasingly hating your guts".

Needless to say she and I have both sped to the airport on numerous occasions.

Not THIS time though! I was there twenty minutes before it was scheduled to arrive and I enjoyed a magazine and juice knowing that I would be there to greet the parentals with a smile as they walked through the sliding doors.

Waiting waiting waiting waiting. A flight arrives. No parents. Waiting waiting waiting waiting.

Oddly enough, I run into a neighbour and we chat about how funny it is that we're both picking someone up at the same time. He's all, yeah, my sister is coming home from Portugal so I'll be over at the International Arrivals.

Say what?

And there they were, my lovely parents, waiting for me as everyone expected they would.

Attention Halifax Web-wizards!

Halifax Social Media Meet-up

Lay down the blackberry for an evening and join students and professionals who are putting social media to work. After a few words from Carman Pirie, principal at Colour and web 2.0 blogger, grab a snack or drink and chat with folks who are making the most of the web. Whether you're already wired or looking to figure it all out, join us at the upstairs bar of The Argyle (1575 Argyle Street) at 6:00 p.m on Thursday, April 24.

Coping with a teenager

Since I don't seem to be keeping to any level of consistency or frequency in posting about Calvin, I would like to apologize to those expecting puppy updates and those looking to avoid them (you horrible, horrible people). But honestly, life with the pooch while house-sitting has been relatively calm and pain-free after that one bump along the road (Yes, envisioning your dog's dead body tangled up in a pile of electrical cords is now known as a bump).

His stomach problems seem to be getting marginally better although we still have another four weeks to go until we get to start challenging what seem to be allergies. He is still on the ever-so-delicious low molecular weight Hydrolyzed protein which - I'm sure you'd all agree - sounds good enough to taste. On the downside, what used to be tear-around-like-your-ass-is-on-fire time in the glorious fenced-in backyard has turned into run-away-from-Ben-whilst-eating-many-twigs-and-leaves-only-to-throw-up-on-the-floor-later time. As expected, "Catch the Calvin" is still his favourite game. "Suppress the Rage" is mine.

Thanks to the warm weather, I've been able to have him out on three mile walks every day for about a week now. I like him better tired. He likes me better thin. We all win. As a reward, he gets to lounge about in the sun, watching people walk by through the glass door and I get to enjoy alone time by eating Dairy Queen Blizzard Cake.

We have one week left in obedience class and he still the star pupil (I'm your basic Starsearch Parent). However, at home he becomes a moody teenager who gives me major 'tude every time I ask him to sit before crossing streets. We were in a big fight by the time we got home today.

Thanks to the classes and our walks, his love of every dog he sees is growing and we're going to have to work on teaching him other ways to express that than throwing a tantrum. After terrorizing his brother Tofu (who is joining us for two days while his folks scamper off to Italy - Happy Birthday Kimberly!), he proceeded to beat up Shopsy (again) over the weekend who is three months younger and three pounds lighter.

Lastly, for the non-dog-owners (sane people), please...for me...appreciate the fact that you can yawn in the mornings without a puppy shoving his entire snout in your mouth without you noticing.
I love you too, Calvin.

If I see her name in my inbox ONE MORE TIME...

This post is a shout-out to Wegrit from A Philistine on the Sidewalk for the four comments she posted in one day. Not to mention that my listing in her blogroll is awesome: Ben, a hilarious Nova Scotian with no arch nemesis. This lovely and talented blogger is a Canadian who has been imported into Prague, my dream city. Here's her bio:

I'm a noted 'Lost' addict. I'm extremely loyal to my friends. I can't dance. I hate dresses. I sing at random. I love the colour orange. I live and breathe baseball. I run through sprinklers. I play rugby. I read Sports Illustrated and Smithsonian magazines religiously. I can't handle needy people. I love to camp. I rarely take myself seriously. I shout at the TV during hockey games. I'll do anything once, within reason. I talk to myself. I've begrudgingly learned to like some country music. I love the freedom of the open road. I make snow angels. I love revolutions. I paint my toenails teal. I smile at people I don't know. I love the smell of rain. I have a hard time keeping plants alive. I will ignore you in favour of a football (soccer) match. I hate mornings. I'm a daddy's girl. I love foreign food. I still enjoy fireworks. I miss the mountains. I am fascinated by combat photography. I need to be challenged. I've never been good at backing down from things. I suck at romance. I still love the theatre. I hate being talked down to. I enjoy foreign films. I named my car. I love languages. I like the sound of trains. I AM CANADIAN!

I meant to post this the day that the rash of comments took place (April 9, if you were wondering) but as you may have noticed, property dreams have taken over my life (we were applauded by our financial lady for our lack of debt and our overall amazingness for mortgage approvals. wheeeee!).

If you haven't noticed, I prefer to highlight the bloggers I enjoy on a regular basis versus add them to a blogroll. I just worry that a long list wouldn't give you all the respect you deserve. Believe me, I absolutely appreciate those of you who have popped me up on your's or who have thrown awards, shout-outs and memes my way. I'm sorry for being a crank-ass and not passing them along. Consider this sort of thing my version.

Stay tuned for more unexpected but much deserved blog shout-outs as the adventure unfolds here at NOR. Believe me, you'll all get your chance in my humble spotlight (sounds dirty...but is not).

Board games gone wrong

For a good year, I played Monopoly with my two best friends on a regular basis. Because of these sessions, we coined the catchphrases "Hoooouses!" and "Viiiiiiisa!" - both to be said in high voices with shifty eyes to imply how irresponsible whatever the most recent decision made in the game actually was.

Luckily, it was a board game. The worst that would happen would be that Nick would feel bad for me (always losing due to lack of strategy and foresight), quit the game, give me all his deeds and money and watch me kick Katie's (heiress to a construction mogul - I love saying this) a