The title isn't what you think. Although my boyfriend's little 5 year old informed me tonight that I am "too hot for us", it wasn't about my irresistible charm and good looks. No. It was in reference to my chili.
Apparently children prefer the super mono-saturated flavors of cheese, cream and/or potatoes. They do not enjoy the following spices...
Cumin
Oregano
Garlic Powder
Cayenne
and chili Powder
So, while Mr.Brady and I enjoy my home-made chili, the children will be eating a nice bowl of 4 cheese raviolli.
Can anyone recommend any kid friend meals?
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Ants in yer pants...
Well, now I know why the garage door attacked my car. It’s so simple, really. I killed an ant colony, and now the universe is giving me a dose of karma cough syrup. I feel horrible about the whole thing. Do I regret killing the ants? Maybe not. But what if I hadn’t? Would I still have a car door?
Here’s how it happened.
Last week we noticed an abundance of teeny-tiny critters crawling around the bathroom floor. Upon further investigation, it became painfully obvious that we had an ant problem. They were wiggling their way out of a hole between the bathroom tub and the wall, and although they proved to be extremely entertaining whilst sitting on the john, I couldn’t help but be grossed out. I mean, our bed is only 15 feet away; how many ants have we shared a bed with in the last week? Or worse, what if they crawled into my ears, mouth, or nose? If they had built themselves a nice big anthill in the backyard, I would happily leave them alone. But my bathroom?
So, I went to Ace hardware and bought an ant trap. I placed it at the entrance of their bathroom palace, and waited.
And waited. (Yes, I actually sat down and waited to see what would happen - am I sadistic?).
Finally, a little ant came crawling out. He stopped short and stared at, what I imagine would seem like a mammoth cornucopia. I was careful not to move or make a peep. Was this a standoff? He suddenly turned around and scurried back into the ant hole. I figured the ant trap had failed.
But no! Seconds later, 10 little scout ants exited the hole and made their way into the ant trap. It was amazing! Within minutes, the entire ant trap was swarming with ants, food on their backs, taking it back for the rest of the colony to feast. I have to admit, I felt like an ant bully. It was pretty evil what I was doing. Tricking those poor buggers into some good eats.
As of the yesterday there has been no sign of the bathroom-ants. I killed them. But not without a price; they took with them my car door, and karma came around and kicked me in the ass, but there was a lesson in all of this: Next time we have a pest problem, leave it to Mr.Brady to take care of.
Here’s how it happened.
Last week we noticed an abundance of teeny-tiny critters crawling around the bathroom floor. Upon further investigation, it became painfully obvious that we had an ant problem. They were wiggling their way out of a hole between the bathroom tub and the wall, and although they proved to be extremely entertaining whilst sitting on the john, I couldn’t help but be grossed out. I mean, our bed is only 15 feet away; how many ants have we shared a bed with in the last week? Or worse, what if they crawled into my ears, mouth, or nose? If they had built themselves a nice big anthill in the backyard, I would happily leave them alone. But my bathroom?
So, I went to Ace hardware and bought an ant trap. I placed it at the entrance of their bathroom palace, and waited.
And waited. (Yes, I actually sat down and waited to see what would happen - am I sadistic?).
Finally, a little ant came crawling out. He stopped short and stared at, what I imagine would seem like a mammoth cornucopia. I was careful not to move or make a peep. Was this a standoff? He suddenly turned around and scurried back into the ant hole. I figured the ant trap had failed.
But no! Seconds later, 10 little scout ants exited the hole and made their way into the ant trap. It was amazing! Within minutes, the entire ant trap was swarming with ants, food on their backs, taking it back for the rest of the colony to feast. I have to admit, I felt like an ant bully. It was pretty evil what I was doing. Tricking those poor buggers into some good eats.
As of the yesterday there has been no sign of the bathroom-ants. I killed them. But not without a price; they took with them my car door, and karma came around and kicked me in the ass, but there was a lesson in all of this: Next time we have a pest problem, leave it to Mr.Brady to take care of.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Hello?? McFly!!!
I have never wanted a time machine more than I do right now. If bad things happen in 3’s, then I am currently on #2 (the first being Mr.Brady’s “unavoidable” encounter with a soccer ball). I left the house yesterday to meet Mr.Brady at his place of employment; we were planning on doing some evening shopping for Marcia’s birthday, which is today.
Happy Birthday, Marcia!
Let me start this by saying, we only have one garage door opener. Mr.Brady keeps it in his car; he drives more often, so we figured it would be best to keep it in the PT cruiser. That being said, things can get a bit tricky if it’s me parked in the garage - with no garage door opener, I have to make like FloJo, and hurdle over the “garage eye”. If I cross the eye’s path, the door will stop dead in it's tracks, and begin to retract. It’s a vicious cycle, but it's the sacrifice one has to make, if one wants to park in the garage.
Where does the time machine come into play? Well…I was in a bit of a rush yesterday, and knowing full well that I’d have to back my car out of the garage, jump out, hit the garage door button and then leap over the eye - I kinda...sorta...fully forgot to close my door.
Yep. I FORGOT to close the door. It was only slightly ajar, so perhaps my feeble mind made the assumption that all was secure. Nope. Nada. Nilch.
I didn’t notice it was open until I heard the….CRUNCH!
I immediately pulled forward, parked, turned off the engine, and proceeded to yell out something rhyming with the following sentence: Oh for duck’s sake, dog darn mother ducker!
I inspect the damage. It’s bad. Real bad. The impact squeezed the door inwards, causing it to crush along the top. I can’t, for the life of me, close my dog darn door.
I wasn’t even going that fast! How did this happen?
I ventured my way through Mr.Brady’s tool box and found a hammer.
Hammer good. Jane beat door with hammer.
Apparently the hammer is over-rated. No use. I couldn’t bend the steel back into place. What!! So I thought I could!! It was worth a shot, no?
Boy, what a stupid mistake! I wanted so badly to go back in time 10 seconds, cause really, that’s all I would need. 10 seconds to close the dog darn door!
I call Mr.Brady and tell him what happened. He says he'll be back soon. I sit. I stare at the broken door. I have no idea what to do. But, I DO know that we have 10 overipe banana's sitting in the freezer. So, I make banana bread.
60 minutes later, my bread is cooling on the counter...check it out!
Mr.Brady comes home and gives me the, "Wow...how did you manage to do that?" look. I sigh. He comes over and gives me a hug and says, "I'm sorry this happened to your car. We'll find a replacement door somehow."
Even though my poor little car is broken and has been beaten with a hammer...I find his word soothing, and am reminded of what a great man I've landed.
...that being said...if anyone has a time machine they wanna loan me...
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Man Down! Man Down!
“Some people think soccer is a matter of life and death. I assure you, it's much more serious than that.” - Bill Shankly
Well, Mr.Brady landed himself a visit in the ER last night. Before y’all start to panic, let me assure you that he is a-o-k. It all started at 7:30pm last night, whilst driving down I-5; I received a text message that read the following.
In the ER. Head laceration.
Right. Ok. So there’s nothing I can really do about this except drop a few more dilithium crystals in the warp drive of my firefly, put the petal to the metal and get my ass to the hospital. However, since Washington state seems to have a lack of dilithium mines, and I’m seriously to cheap to pay a $150 speeding ticket, I decided, instead, to text him back.
Me: Are you OK? Is it serious?
Him: 9 stitches. I’ll be fine.
After the longest hour ever - I arrive at my new home and bust through the doors, in such heroic fashion, that even Adam West & Burt Ward would breath a sigh of relief to see me enter. Poor guy’s head is wrapped up in white gauze, which kind of makes him look like Ralph Macchio in the Karate Kid. His forehead is puffy and the laceration runs down between his eyes - it looks painful!
How did this happen? Soccer game. He played in his third match of the season last night, and prior to game one, he hadn’t played (let along kicked) a soccer ball since grade 4. I’m not sure who evoked the Ronaldhinho Gaucho in him, but suddenly he seemed to think that he could gain possession of the ball by heading it away from another player. Sadly (and not surprisingly), he missed the ball completely and instead, headed the other player. Ouch.
Suffice to say, my first night of officially living in the burbs proved to be more interesting than I thought. We’ll see what today brings.
Forecast: Grocery shopping with the stepford wives.
Well, Mr.Brady landed himself a visit in the ER last night. Before y’all start to panic, let me assure you that he is a-o-k. It all started at 7:30pm last night, whilst driving down I-5; I received a text message that read the following.
In the ER. Head laceration.
Right. Ok. So there’s nothing I can really do about this except drop a few more dilithium crystals in the warp drive of my firefly, put the petal to the metal and get my ass to the hospital. However, since Washington state seems to have a lack of dilithium mines, and I’m seriously to cheap to pay a $150 speeding ticket, I decided, instead, to text him back.
Me: Are you OK? Is it serious?
Him: 9 stitches. I’ll be fine.
After the longest hour ever - I arrive at my new home and bust through the doors, in such heroic fashion, that even Adam West & Burt Ward would breath a sigh of relief to see me enter. Poor guy’s head is wrapped up in white gauze, which kind of makes him look like Ralph Macchio in the Karate Kid. His forehead is puffy and the laceration runs down between his eyes - it looks painful!
How did this happen? Soccer game. He played in his third match of the season last night, and prior to game one, he hadn’t played (let along kicked) a soccer ball since grade 4. I’m not sure who evoked the Ronaldhinho Gaucho in him, but suddenly he seemed to think that he could gain possession of the ball by heading it away from another player. Sadly (and not surprisingly), he missed the ball completely and instead, headed the other player. Ouch.
Suffice to say, my first night of officially living in the burbs proved to be more interesting than I thought. We’ll see what today brings.
Forecast: Grocery shopping with the stepford wives.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Seattle or Bust...
Before I invite you take this journey with me, I feel it’s only appropriate that I offer some background information. I will now introduce the cast...
Alice Nelson – me
Mr. Brady – My boyfriend
Mrs. Brady – His ex-wife
Greg – His eldest son
Marcia – His eldest daughter
Jan – His youngest daughter
Mr. & Mrs. Brady were married in the early 90’s – and as of today, would have been married for nearly 15 years. They split up. Obviously. They actually get alone quite well – when they aren’t around each other. Mrs. Brady is a very nice lady, and I honestly can’t complain about my relationship with her. She has always been pleasant and sincere to me. If this is a façade, she is a very good actor. I don’t really know much about her, in terms of being a mother. This year has been a busy one, and between school and work, she hasn’t been around much. What she was like before I met her – I have no idea. Mrs. Brady is 10 years my senior, and is currently dating a man 16 years her junior (you keeping up?) Mr. Brady is 12.5 years my senior and is dating me.
I met Mr. Brady last summer (June 2006) at an industry conference. We fell in love immediately. We haven’t spent a weekend apart since. Nevertheless, it’s been a turbulent year. The actual distance was one thing - his long distance availability was far worse. For the first 6 months, we barely spoke during the week. Text messages and msn conversations, lots! But no phone conversations. I put my foot down and said, “I am not your weekend girlfriend”, he immediately put in the effort. We have since spoken everyday, and I’d say our communication skills are pretty damn strong. There really isn’t anything I can’t say to him. (This is so not true, but I figure if I keep saying it, pretty soon we will get to the point where we can be fully-completely open with each other).
He has three great kids! Greg is 12, Marcia is 10 and Jan is 5. I am slowly beginning to understand them. I am also slowly beginning to understand the way siblings function. Myself, I am an only child, raised in a single-mother home. Attention, peace and quiet weren’t hard to come by. You can imagine how frightened I was the first time one of them walked in on me sitting on the toilet. I mean, who locks the washroom doors in their house? Pfftt….
I do…now.
The range of emotions I feel when I’m around them can catapult between joy to jealousy in mere seconds. I look forward to discussing these issues on this blog. I really look forward to hearing your thoughts on the matter, AND if possible, your experiences.
So there you have it…some background on the Brady family. You’ll learn more as I go along. You’ll probably learn way more than you wanted. Or maybe you won’t – because I am the only one reading this.
Regardless, I leave for Seattle in 4 hours. Wish me luck.
Alice Nelson – me
Mr. Brady – My boyfriend
Mrs. Brady – His ex-wife
Greg – His eldest son
Marcia – His eldest daughter
Jan – His youngest daughter
Mr. & Mrs. Brady were married in the early 90’s – and as of today, would have been married for nearly 15 years. They split up. Obviously. They actually get alone quite well – when they aren’t around each other. Mrs. Brady is a very nice lady, and I honestly can’t complain about my relationship with her. She has always been pleasant and sincere to me. If this is a façade, she is a very good actor. I don’t really know much about her, in terms of being a mother. This year has been a busy one, and between school and work, she hasn’t been around much. What she was like before I met her – I have no idea. Mrs. Brady is 10 years my senior, and is currently dating a man 16 years her junior (you keeping up?) Mr. Brady is 12.5 years my senior and is dating me.
I met Mr. Brady last summer (June 2006) at an industry conference. We fell in love immediately. We haven’t spent a weekend apart since. Nevertheless, it’s been a turbulent year. The actual distance was one thing - his long distance availability was far worse. For the first 6 months, we barely spoke during the week. Text messages and msn conversations, lots! But no phone conversations. I put my foot down and said, “I am not your weekend girlfriend”, he immediately put in the effort. We have since spoken everyday, and I’d say our communication skills are pretty damn strong. There really isn’t anything I can’t say to him. (This is so not true, but I figure if I keep saying it, pretty soon we will get to the point where we can be fully-completely open with each other).
He has three great kids! Greg is 12, Marcia is 10 and Jan is 5. I am slowly beginning to understand them. I am also slowly beginning to understand the way siblings function. Myself, I am an only child, raised in a single-mother home. Attention, peace and quiet weren’t hard to come by. You can imagine how frightened I was the first time one of them walked in on me sitting on the toilet. I mean, who locks the washroom doors in their house? Pfftt….
I do…now.
The range of emotions I feel when I’m around them can catapult between joy to jealousy in mere seconds. I look forward to discussing these issues on this blog. I really look forward to hearing your thoughts on the matter, AND if possible, your experiences.
So there you have it…some background on the Brady family. You’ll learn more as I go along. You’ll probably learn way more than you wanted. Or maybe you won’t – because I am the only one reading this.
Regardless, I leave for Seattle in 4 hours. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
The calm before the storm...
Is my title too cliché? Perhaps. But that is exactly how I feel. Today is the day before I embark on a new chapter in my life. Tomorrow is my last day at work. My last day living in Vancouver. And my first official night living in small town Washington, USA. Tomorrow, I leave behind everything I have known for 27 years.
Tomorrow, I move to the burbs.
I can't really begin to explain how this feels. I'm guessing it hasn't really sunk in that I am, in a sense, exchanging my fabulous single life in Vancouver, BC, to be with my boyfriend of 1 year. We are moving in together. "We", can be considered a loose term on this site. For example, when most new couples refer to "we", they are usually pointing the finger at themselves and their partner. When I say "we", I will (from this point on) be referring to myself, my partner and his 3 kids. It's at this point that I usually receive the "woah....that's crazy talk, girl!" look. Believe me. I know. I wake up in the morning, mozy on over to my bathroom mirror and mumble those exact words to myself.
The truth is, I am scared shitless. No exaggeration. I have no idea what to expect. For the past year we have been commuting back and forth on weekends to see each other. With a 5 day break between visits, we managed to keep the "honeymoon" stage alive for quite awhile. We're still there. But now this...now I'm moving, and will be with him nearly every day.
The kid's primary residence is with their mother, but who knows what that means. I get the feeling that they will be over at our place a lot. And you know what? I have no problem with that. But I do forsee some (ok, a lot) of challenges that will be coming my way. I already have a list of questions that I'm asking myself constantly.
1) Are you on crack?
2) How are you going to find time to develop a relationship with a man who has 3 kids?
3) Are you going to be able to cope with his kids and his ex-wife?
4) You grew up as an only child...are you ready to be hit the ground running - living in a home with 4 other people?
I decided to start a blog so that I could keep a diary of my, in-progress, answers to these questions. I welcome comments, emails, and suggestions. It helps to know I am not alone in this. Hell, it helps to just be heard.
So here it is.
The beginning.
Tomorrow, I move to the burbs.
I can't really begin to explain how this feels. I'm guessing it hasn't really sunk in that I am, in a sense, exchanging my fabulous single life in Vancouver, BC, to be with my boyfriend of 1 year. We are moving in together. "We", can be considered a loose term on this site. For example, when most new couples refer to "we", they are usually pointing the finger at themselves and their partner. When I say "we", I will (from this point on) be referring to myself, my partner and his 3 kids. It's at this point that I usually receive the "woah....that's crazy talk, girl!" look. Believe me. I know. I wake up in the morning, mozy on over to my bathroom mirror and mumble those exact words to myself.
The truth is, I am scared shitless. No exaggeration. I have no idea what to expect. For the past year we have been commuting back and forth on weekends to see each other. With a 5 day break between visits, we managed to keep the "honeymoon" stage alive for quite awhile. We're still there. But now this...now I'm moving, and will be with him nearly every day.
The kid's primary residence is with their mother, but who knows what that means. I get the feeling that they will be over at our place a lot. And you know what? I have no problem with that. But I do forsee some (ok, a lot) of challenges that will be coming my way. I already have a list of questions that I'm asking myself constantly.
1) Are you on crack?
2) How are you going to find time to develop a relationship with a man who has 3 kids?
3) Are you going to be able to cope with his kids and his ex-wife?
4) You grew up as an only child...are you ready to be hit the ground running - living in a home with 4 other people?
I decided to start a blog so that I could keep a diary of my, in-progress, answers to these questions. I welcome comments, emails, and suggestions. It helps to know I am not alone in this. Hell, it helps to just be heard.
So here it is.
The beginning.
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