Proof that there is a God:
Evidence #1: The dream is dead The nightmare is over.
Evidence #2:
Super Target’s Spoils = Heaven on Earth
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Blogging: World Domination Tour
November 11, 2007 By
We have had a grand weekend chez Canuck. Grandma had the kids over for a sleepover on Friday while Jamie and I had a date night that continued into the morning. We were at the trailhead of my favorite hike shortly after sunrise. I know that most people don’t wake-up at 5 a.m. on their “morning off” but I established my sleep issues long ago. And when else would I have had time to bake 10 loaves of pumpkin bread, clean the house and blog?
Well, I guess normal people do it between the hours of 8 a.m. and 8 p.m.
And then it was off to to church for that-thing-I-vowed-I-would-never-attend again: Super Saturday. This is where once a year, good little Mormon girls congregate to relish in the joys of domesticity by making crafts. Everyone except for me. More later on why Super Saturday still sucketh.
That night, our dinner group met at The Melting Pot for a dress rehearsal of The Gluttony That is Thanksgiving. We carpooled with our punctuality-obsessed neighbors, who were undoubtedly thrilled when Jamie took the wrong exit that led us on a 15-minute detour through the mountains. And yes, I am that kind of wife who will mention this little experience every time he attempts to criticize my superior navigational skills.
Because is that not what marriage is all about?
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Bloggers unite: I need your help! I am doing a Blogging: World Domination Tour this week at Mile High Mamas. In an attempt to recruit more bloggers, I (a.k.a. The Least Technical Person in the World) wrote about how to start a blog. I included a brief blurb about the various blogging hosts but would be ever-so grateful if you would leave a comment about how you got started and your likes/dislikes of the service you use.
Don’t forget to read the hilarious tongue-in-cheek commentary I included at the end of the post: How to start your blog in fifty-one easy steps. If I was a morning coffee drinker, I would have assuredly spewed it all over the screen when I first read this post dedicated unto blogging addicts.
Oh, and make sure to drop by on Monday and leave the link to your all-time favorite post. All our Mommy Bloggers are writing about theirs this week and I can’t wait to read yours.
You know, in all my spare time at 5 a.m.
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Get Found, Kid
November 10, 2007 By
Years ago, I read an article by Robert Fulghum in The Reader’s Digest that I have never forgotten. Now I know why.
He spoke of a neighborhood hide-and-seek game. As children scattered, he noted there was always that one kid who hid so well, nobody could find him. After a while they would give up on him and leave him to rot wherever he was.
Sooner or later he would show up, all mad because they didn’t keep looking for him. In turn, the “seekers”would get mad back because he wasn’t playing the game the way it was supposed to be played. There’s hiding and there’s finding. But sure enough the next time around, he would hide too well again.
As Fulghum reflected upon his childhood merriment, he spotted a kid hiding under a pile of leaves. He walked over and shouted, “GET FOUND, KID,” scaring the life out of him and probably sending him home for shock treatment.
My mom was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis 25 years ago. She was that person: a successful business owner whose domestic prowess was renowned throughout the city. She was the life of the party, the one even my friends came to visit.
The disease crept in slowly like a predator stalking its prey. We could never talk about it. We lived for years with a monster hiding under the covers. Maybe if it was just not discussed, it would go away.
It never did.
A grown-up game of hide-and-seek. Wounded and hiding. Prideful and worried about being pitied. Desperately wanting to be found. But all play and suffering were done alone.
There were times she just wanted to die. And I wanted her to die. Not because I could bear the thought of losing her but because when you see someone you love suffer so much you want the ultimate healing – even if that means death.
Today, she is the shell of the woman she once was. Time is slowing eroding her battle. She has good and bad days but I feel grateful she held out. That my husband and children have come to know even a small piece of my incredible mother.
I just wish she would let us in.
Forget hide-and-seek. Fulghum asserted that we should be sardine players. If you are it, you are the one who hides and everyone comes looking for you. When you are found, everyone piles in. Before long, someone usually giggles and your cover is blown – together.
Life as a game of sardines.
Ready or not, here I come….
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Whispering Sweet Nightime Nothings into My Ear
November 8, 2007 By
“Amber, you need to keep our bedroom door closed. The light wakes me up every morning.”
“I need to keep it open so I can hear Bode at night.”
“Why?”
“With our fan on, I can’t hear him unless we keep the door open.”
“Isn’t that what the baby monitor is for?”
“It’s crappy and old. The only way to avoid the static is to turn it way down but then I can’t hear him.”
“And that is exactly how I want it to work.”
****
Stupid Parent Note: When fiddling with the monitor later that day I realized Haddie had switched it to the wrong channel. I hear that helps. Sometimes. No wonder I was sleeping so well.
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Vegetarians R Not Us
November 7, 2007 By
Last week, I had a blast from the past when one of my best friends from my single life in Salt Lake City called to tell me he was moving to Denver.
Jason and I were pretty inseparable those years. While I loved being swingin’ single, he endured hours of lamentations about alllllll my glorious relationships. And believe me, as a SWF who did not marry until I was 30 (a veritable Old Maid in Mormon culture), I had a lot of them. And they were not all glorious.
Jason lived with a few other guys in the foothills overlooking the city. Their only furniture in the living room was a killer entertainment center and four ratty recliners. Because is this not the sign of the ultimate bachelor pad?
He and I shared a love for the outdoors and cooking. We spent countless hours concocting recipes, man-handling raw meat and devouring every carnivorous pound of it. The two of us had history.
He married a great gal the day before Jamie and I tied the knot and we lost touch. Until now.
They have a son a month older than Bode so I offered to let them stay with us last week while they looked for a place.
Now, we all change to some extent when we get married and breed. I used to run up mountains for fun and discuss politics, culture and current events. Never once did I utter the words “Poop” or “Potty.”
But nothing could have prepared me for the change in Jason. I mean, this was my cooking bud! I was ecstatic to try some of my new recipes on him. I’d start with my famous Chicken Tikka Masala with homemade naan and end with Jamie’s fantastic smoked ribs. Maybe we’d even make a bacon-wrapped turkey for old time’s sake.
Until the bomb was dropped.
As I discussed the menu, Jason turned sheepish.
“Well uhhh…actually, I meant to tell you that Kate and I are [mumbling] afafjarians now.”
“You’re what? Agrarian? What’s that?”
“No, vegetarian. I don’t eat meat anymore.”
I could not have been more shocked if he had told me he was having a sex change. He is a big guy. A really big guy. A big carnivore-eating guy.
I stared at him blankly, giving him the reaction he anticipated. I honestly have never been friends with a vegetarian. To my knowledge, I don’t discriminate or offend except for when I walk around Taste of Colorado with the juices of my life-sized turkey leg oozing out of my mouth.
I realized last week that even though I am not against the lifestyle, I just cannot relate. I don’t consider myself a huge meat eater but most of my most favorite dishes revolve around it. And there was no way I was going to try some of his “substitute meat.” I am still recovering from the trauma of once eating Spongebob’s cousin tofu.
Entertaining guests is stressful enough but my fretting reached a new level over what to feed them.
Finally, I threw in the white flag and pandered,
“So, what do Your People eat?”
“Vegetables. A lot of vegetables.”
Who knew?
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Why I have hated the end of Daylight Savings Time Crime Since Having Kids
November 6, 2007 By
Note the 5 a.m. timestamp on this post.
‘Nuff said.
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Cabin Fever Redefined
November 5, 2007 By
I am writing this as part of my recovery. At least this is what my pseudo-therapist-husband prescribed.
To preface this confession, my disclaimer is that I have never been one to be caught up in the material world of lavish houses, clothing and cars. I loathe the haughtiness of country clubs and abhor shopping anywhere except for R.E.I., Super Target and Costco (the latter of which is only during “sample” hours. Because evidently I am also a big fan of freebies).
Most of our discretionary income goes towards travel, travel, travel. And muzzles for the children.
So, here’s the deal. I am obsessed with The Granddaddy Purchase of them all: a cabin in Breckenridge. Last summer, I even had a checklist detailing the reasons why this is my ideal location.
Gorgeous mountains: check
Nearby lake: check
Close proximity to Denver: check
Extensive network of hiking trails and paved bikepaths: check
Cool resort town: check
I excitedly shared my list with Jamie and elucidated that everything was in place. Until my bubble was burst: “Sure, Amber. Everything except for the financing.”
Oh, yeah. That minor detail.
As with most addictions, I started out as a casual user. I would glance at the listings posted outside the real estate offices on Main Street. Then it turned to flyers, which evolved into Mountain Homes Illustrated. I currently have in my possession every single flyer, pamphlet and booklet on the area.
After a recent trip to Breck, I was slowly weaning myself off the real estate sites until I found this listing.
Authentic naturally hewn custom log home with stunning mountain views. Close to trails and the wilderness, high alpine getaway at its best. Birds of prey are your neighbors. Hot tub deck and porch are magnificent. Triple log cathedral ceiling, Douglas fir and ponderosa pine log construction, custom granite counters, different custom wood flooring themes throughout home.
The only problem? The “F” word again.
But then I found a listing that we could maybe possibly afford if we gave up all our discretionary income, television and Internet subscriptions. Oh yeah, and our current mortgage.
The glowing description of this place?
“Close to the bus route.”
I guess I’ll just keep dreaming.
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
A Mom Blogger’s Plea for Help
November 2, 2007 By
To those nice people who butchered Jamie’s beloved pumpkin last year:
Halloween is over and Hunky Hubby’s 141.5-pound beast is STILL here.
HALP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
P.S. Special thanks to the local paper for featuring Jamie and a picture of his award-winning pumpkin today. Nothing like prolonging the misery.
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Farewell to a Dear Friend
November 1, 2007 By
I realize I invest an inordinate amount of time and energy into Halloween. Between the pumpkin patch, the parties, the scarecrow festival, the neighborhood parade and oh yeah–trick-or-treating– it is a month-long celebration chez nous.
In recent years, Halloween has come close to trumping Christmas as my favorite holiday. The only reason I can’t quite admit to this is because of the whole Jesus thing. Because he is, after all, Jesus.
The biggest letdown after Halloween is putting my decorations away. To add to the ambiance, I went on a dusting strike all month and I even scored a few cobwebs in the process. I have decided it is such a pity to wipe away a month of hard-earned indolence that I may just hold off until after Christmas. By then, it may just resemble a lovely layer of snow.
But the real story of this Halloween?
Jamie and the great pumpkin. He finally carved his award-winning beast on Monday.
He started strong.
But then came the question: what would he carve? A traditional face? A creative picture? A funny saying?
The answer: None of the above.
The Man carved the pumpkin’s freakin’ weight.
Obsessed, anyone?
P.S. To those inconsiderate folks who scheduled school pictures the morning after Halloween: evidently you think sugar-crashed children with orange hair and black fingernail polish are in vogue….
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 