Multi-faceted post

Vinegar rules, did you know that?  Yes, of course this is a strange way to start as post, welcome to my thought vomit.  Vinegar really is a wonder cleaner, I kid you not.  A few years back I had dumped out almost all other cleaners in favour of 2: 1 vinegar and water solution and another organic orange one that I love for my counters because it smells lovely and cleans well.  I still am attached to one cleaner for my bathrooms but that’s because I’m letting it run out for now.  I’ve been cleaning floors with a mild vinegar solution for a long time now and am extremely please with the results.  Sweet Pea’s diapers soak in a stronger vinegar solution which not only deters the urea-to-ammonia conversion, but keeps the smell at bay.  Oh, and the shit makes good pickles too.

When we moved into this house, it was littered with little bits of wall paper.  In my front hallway alone was 1 type of wall paper with 2 different kinds of borders, one on top and one at chair rail height.  Yes, 2 borders.  Decor hounds the previous owners were not.  My bedroom had the same yucky wallpaper.  You know the kind, a faded, grotesque browny, beigy, yellowy colour with off colour stripes bespeckled with miniature faded peachy, pinky, pale roses.  I thank the Lord they didn’t go over board with it and it only was put on one wall.  I did the front hall as soon as we started renovating the main level to what it is now, but left my bedroom because it required too careful of planning.

Since I’m insane, and we’re in the midst of window/siding/insulation renovations I decided to take on the upstairs painting task.  Yes now, why do you ask?    My bedroom is teeny compared to most Master bedrooms. It barely fits our dressers, our bed and 2 end tables (and small ones at that).  It is super squishy, so I’ve kind of put off removing said wallpaper because it is plastered on the only wall that our bed can be against.  Which means moving the bed and tables forward by 2.5 feet, leaving just 15 inches of room for us to walk on the other side.  We just don’t have the room for me to even pull out the bed any more.

Back to my vinegar thing.  Before I did all this, I was distraught because my neighbours were gone for a while and they have a steamer I was hoping to borrow to rid myself of the hideous rose thingys.  Then I turned to the nasty chemical removers available through my local hardware store.  I was a little frightened to be honest.  When something says, ’spray on with garden sprayer, wait 15 minutes and wipe off’, that to me says, super-super-heavy-duty chemical inside, and oh, btw, you don’t mind having that chemical rot your brain while you sleep do you?  Oh sure! I’ve got mommy brain anyway, might as well kill off more memory banks.

*ahem* Anyway, in my searches, I usually check out customer reviews because they are super handy-dandy when buying shite like this.  A reviewer of the product I was going to buy said to not waste my $30 and use vinegar instead.  Well shiester, that sounds like a helluvan idea to this vinegar luva!  Mix a strong (I’m talking 1/3 vinegar) solution and before you spray it on the walls, ignore the strong urge to follow the rules of scoring it and start ripping it off with your fingers because you know you want to.  Go ahead, remember when you were a kid and your mom put that stupid sailboat wallpaper on the wall and she scolded you when you found that loose corner and tore it a bit?  Well, this mommy ain’t gonna scold ya cause it ROCKS to peel that shite off!  So I peeled as much as would come off in large chunks and then sprayed the papery stuff that was left on there (the backing or something) and then within 15 seconds I could scrape it off (I used the old spatula, but a drywallers tool works too).  Since the outer layer didn’t come off at all with the vinegar, I had to peel some more after a bit of a spray on an edge to get it going again, and it was probably more work, but damn, I didn’t have to use a nasty chemical and I only burned my lungs a little bit!

Oh, didn’t I mention you should wear a mask?  Yeah, that’s because I didn’t wear one, not really thinking of it because hey, it’s vinegar right? Oh yeah, vinegar is an acid, one which lungs inhaling tend to feel icky after.  Gotcha, mask first.  Vinegar still rocks.

Windows are on the agenda while all this vinegar sniffing is going on.  A while back we got a bunch of big-ass quotes from window guys claiming their windows were worth the $25, 000 they were going to charge us to install them.  Meh, so we found some another way and are installing them ourselves.  A whopping $6 000 for 11 Low E Argon, dual pane, glazed windows.  We went dual instead of triple because the cost increase wasn’t justified with how little increase in efficiency would’ve gained with the extra pane.  I was giddy when they delivered them and having fun when we were installing the first few.

We have 3 installed, but kind of ran into a small, kind-of, glitch.  It’s small because it may be insignificant really.  Our government is into a rebate program for improving household efficiency so we jumped on the bandwagon.  In order to qualify, every item installed must have the Energy Star logo.  We got our windows and installed 3 of them partially (not completely sealed) before we realized we did not see any Energy Star logo anywhere, even though the place we bought them from said they were Energy Star rated.  Crap.  Not horrible, but still, crap.  The rebate program is fantastic really, it truly is as we’ve discovered that our rebate for the furnace will almost pay for it, the attic insulation was completely covered, but for windows, it’s a measly $40 per window.  Now when you have a $2 000 window (very large), $40 doesn’t go a long way, but, it’s $40 more than we had to begin with, so it’s a nice bonus.  If you don’t have the Energy Star logo on your windows, like we asked for our windows to have, then the government will not include that in the rebate, so we’d lose out on $440 we didn’t have before.  Thankfully, the company is working with dh to find out the loose end.  They’re sure we have the Argon filled (thank God because I’d be pissed if that was wrong), they’re sure it’s only single glaze (not the best and not truly what we thought we were ordering), but they are trying to discover if the factory had made a mistake and built the wrong windows (in which case they get to leave us the 3 temporary windows and take the other ones back) or if they just didn’t put the Energy Star label on.  I’m hoping for the latter so it’s just a simple fix.

Shite this is a long one.

My cousin’s cancer has returned.  She had a weird one last year that was a secondary cancer of a mystery spot somewhere in her body.  Of course I never did find out what the primary cancer was because I don’t see her much and she doesn’t tell any of us what is going on.  We hear of it because she tells her mom, who then tells us.  A strange situation all around, but she’s back at the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale for treatment and more research it seems.

Boy do I wish vinegar would fix that one.

Crap crap crap

Well, I guess living next to our best friends might be a bit much to ask.  The land, my land, is going for the whopping price of $1.9 million… ouch.

There is no way we can afford that, and I would not pay that much for the land.

Crap.

Back to the drawing board I guess.  We may have to get a little more inventive, like calling ranchers in the area who may be interested in selling a quarter here or there at a reasonable price.

Crap.

Can’t think of a groovy title

I always do this, I get a nifty title in my head and then comes the post, but not today.

Remember land?  Remember beautiful land?  And I’m not just talking about your land or the vast Canadian land, nothing like that.  It’s my land, you know, the one I’ve already laid claim to.

This land.  Ah, you say, now you remember.

There’s a new thing that’s come up and I haven’t quite figured out if it’s good or bad for us and my land.  I’ve probably got about half a dozen posts like this one about this particular piece of land, and how much I wub it.

We found out before our holidays that the eldest brother, 90 something, is not the executor of the will.  Frankly I have no idea if that’s a bad thing, but for the cost of the place it might be.  Her tax accountant is handling the estate and is named the executor (with no idea who the beneficiaries are).  Oliver, that’s the brother, told my friends that he would get us the phone number of the executor.  While we were gone he told them that he couldn’t find the information and he couldn’t remember the name of the person.  Well shiester.  But, seeing how my friends are almost as desperate as we are to have us be neighbours they hunted around for information pertaining to the estate and struck gold at an address (for which they quickly looked up the number for us – *side note* I love these people!).

So I have the phone number and address in my hot little hands and so far I’ve done absolutely nothing with it.  I have no courage for stuff like this, phoning complete strangers to put my nose into some business I want to be in but don’t know if I’m allowed yet, or if it’s passé.

I’ll phone dh at work and see if he’s up to it.  Otherwise I have to wait for the ol’ ma mere to do it because I sure as hell can’t.

It’s funny, I’m all gung ho for this but cannot pick up the phone with anxiety kicking in.  That and I don’t even know if my dad is wanting to any time soon.

See what happens when I get interupted while blogging.  I called dh to give him the information and he phoned right away.  Darnit, the accountant is off until Monday.  And, get this, the secretary has no information on that estate.  What the hell does that mean?

Oi.  If it falls through, I won’t be utterly horrified, but just a bit sad.  I’ll keep on trudging through and eventually we’ll find the right land for us all.

Bored, yet unable to blog

That’s my mood as of late I think. It’s a good way to sum it up anyway. So it seems that this is going to be a point form kind of post.

– Sisters, I never had any, so I never had the pleasure of being absolutely tortured by them. My poor son. His days are spent being chased or mauled, and even, *sigh* primped. Oh yes, it has started already. The days where my son is forced to stand still for a length of time while his sisters put barrettes in his hair or paint his nails have already started. I thought that’d wait until they were teenagers and could really tie him down to torture him, but oh no, they started early. And unfortunately for him, since I am one sick puppy, I let them and laugh. Truthfully, at this age he enjoys it and asks for his barrettes to be replaced if they fall out.

– I haven’t figured this out, it’s something my kids and my dh asks me and it drives me batty. “What’s for supper?” This bugs me so completely that it deserves a whole ‘nother post, but I’m posting it here anyway. Oh and what’s right up there with pissy questions is, “when is supper is going to be done?”. Right as freakin’ soon as you stop asking me dumb questions! You walk in the house, instantly smell bacon cooking, see a flour container on the counter and the first question you ask is what … what’s cooking? Are you really so freakin’ oblivious to the fact of what’s in front of your eyes? I answer my kids something purely nasty. i.e. Monkey brains, puke, dog poo, sweaty armpit hair, etc. I can’t stand to answer the question. I think I almost feel like I’m being interrogated as soon as he walks in the door, so I often snap. And then the evening starts off on a great foot. Like if I start to describe my day he’ll then reply, “and that was fun for you?”. How about a big f#ck-you dickwad, how do ya like them apples piss-ant? And he wonders why I rarely share things with him and why this place has become my solace for vomit.

– Do you ever wonder why people can’t see the obvious and avoid good perspective to keep their little world from rocking? This may get confusing as I’m ranting in public about some people that have a huge off chance of reading it, so it may turn cryptic and although I usually don’t care, I don’t feel like rocking any boats today. I’ve always wondered that though, especially when dumb questions are asked like, ‘do I look fat in these pants’, or like the above ‘what’s for supper’ when the obvious and truthful answer is right in front of ya – or in back as in the case of the large booty. I hear so many questions, or even comments about things that are so blatantly obvious to be true, and most of these questions are by people who really don’t want the truth, they just want someone to placate them and poo-poo them instead of telling them, ‘yes fatty, your ass is huge in those pants’. I guess because I’m almost sinfully honest, I truly cannot lie, so I tend to not say anything at all, or fore warn the person asking that I will not pussy-foot if they are asking me a question. Dh asked me yesterday why I didn’t roll up the carpet for our trailer. Well, let me tell ya duck-ass, when I’ve had 13 years of having the expectation thrust upon me to clean up after anymore of your ongoing, always starting, sorry-ass pet projects, I tend to halt any of that shit before it starts. So when you had the idea to pull said carpet out of the trailer to ‘wash’ it in our backyard, on our kids’ only play set, yet didn’t put it back 3 days ago when it was dry, I’m not stepping up to the plate to do that shit anymore. I don’t think he liked my truthful answer.

– I’m having a seriously lazy day today. I slept in too much (I’ve been getting up to run in the mornings – yeah, run/walk I guess I should say) this morning and was groggy for quite a while because of it, so it became a lazy day. I did clean up the kitchen and throw through a load of kids’ laundry, but that’s it. I’ve been playing on the pc and reading in between and it has felt lovely. The kids, and I should’ve snapped a picture, created a slide down our stairs with every couch cushion they could find (15 in all). I just didn’t care to stop their fun, and no one got hurt. Even Sweet Pea got into it.

Losing myself one gift at a time

It’s hard being a parent isn’t it?  I know, there’s no written instructions, you don’t have some handy-dandy supervisor to point out your mistakes and then easily rectify them.

But being a mom is different than being a dad and I’ve realized that more and more, and it has very little to do with my lack of peni$.  A mom has little control really, over the doings in her life.  If she has things to do they have to revolve around a multitude of things; kids, husband, supper, laundry, etc.  And don’t get all ‘Mr. Mom’-like on me and say men are picking up more of the slack because of more women working.  I know more women working who are doing exactly the same household things they were doing before getting a job than men who are helpful (I know exactly one man, and don’t even know if he’s real – yeah you Mr. MTAE ).  Just now I got called away (granted I’m only blogging) to decide for him what to bring to the salvage yard from the leftovers of our garage sale.  The leftovers.  That’s the stuff we decided to sell but didn’t sell.  And I had to go out to ’show him’ what needed to go … uh yeah.  Anything I do must revolve around the rest of the family.  It even goes as far as when I’m exercising.  I have to make sure my exercise doesn’t interfere with anything dh is doing; like his runs, his prayers, his breakfast, etc.

I must share a nice gift I have.  It’s one I’ve passed onto one of my daughters for sure, possibly the other.  I have the inate ability to zone out.  I know that doesn’t sound like a gift, but can you immerse yourself so deeply in a book or a movie that you do not know anything but that book or movie in that moment?  I’ve had conversations about me roll around me as I watched a movie.  Reading a book I’ve missed a kid hurting herself, crying and all.  I just love that I don’t even have to be out of the room to have quiet time really.

That gift is slowly diminishing lately.  It’s slowly being sucked out of me.  I’ve always been really good at getting ‘me’ time, or passing on doing too much so as to keep time manageable.  But when all of your time, all of your doings have to revolve around another person, or people, then for me it has started draining me a little.  I don’t mean I’m extra tired, or that I have no time to read a book, but I have a constant barrage of people vying for attention and so much damn noise around me that I’ve had trouble zoning out.   My youngest has absolutely no control over that of course, but my older 3 have no excuse.  Yes, I said three, and no we didn’t just miraculously get a 3rd child without a homestudy, I’m speaking of my dh.  He’s like a child in many ways because he doesn’t stop to think before asking me something.  Like the garage sale stuff.  Seriously?  Did he really need me to sort through that shit with him?  He could try and use the argument that I may want to hold onto something that he would decide to donate, but then why the hell would it be in the garage sale in the first place if I wanted it?  He’s the packrat, not me.  Oh, and he always, always, asks where something is before even looking so he doesn’t have to look for it.  I never answer him.  I look at him and ignore the question.

I don’t mind losing the bad stuff about me as I grow older, but does all the good stuff have to go too?  And is it solely because I’m married with children or do single women start losing pieces of themselves as they age?  I feel like it’s not slowly seeping out of me by choice, but being forced out through my own choices to get hitched and then procreate (or adopt).  And to think I’m adding one more distraction.

It’s no wonder I can’t get my book done, I can’t concentrate long enough to get a good feel for the entire story.  Although I’d like to blame the littlest person it is almost always the big ones that are constantly at me for something.  They don’t ask me for drinks and such, but always asking if they can get food, what they can do because they’re bored, can they play on the cube, can they watch a movie, can they go to the park, can they play on the computer.  And that’s just in one day.

I have to work on them, I have to get them to understand the importance of not relying on me and my ‘expertise’ all the time and using their own brains.  Even the big guy needs to stop falling back on me when he can’t find his own nose, just open your eyes Duckass.

Whoo … that was a long one

… she said lovingly. … *snort*.

Holidays, holidays, holidays.  Oh crap I need a holiday from my holiday.  I am buried amongst Mt. Laundry, I’m tired as hell, and damn well almost ready to go back and sit on the beach getting the best tan I’ve ever had (although not a healthy thing to do, I was warm!).  I was in a constant state of bliss with only smatterings of pissiness (usually at dh) with some sternness thrown in for measure (always directed at kids).

I saw Alberta wild roses just starting to bloom, I saw garter snakes slithering through the grass and then crossing a river to scare the bejeebers out of my girlie-girls (who btw ran screaming – who are these people? pick that sucker up!LOL!).  I saw cows on a mountain top, I kid you not.  Don’t believe me? Here.

Lovely picture isn’t it?  My pretty truck looking like a toucan, our lovely trailer with a small, still developing, mountain behind it.  At the tippy top, immeditately in the centre of it is a small band of trees.  To the left of those trees are little teeny specs, which are the cows.  We are on what’s called ‘crown land’ which means no one truly owns it but the government keeps it and allows farmers to bring their cattle here to roam for free grass.  And roam they do.

We spent a week at this location, complete with outside potty, built by dh (ain’t no shite-over-a-log situation here, we do a plastic covered wooden box – removable plastic for reusability – with toilet seat surrounded by tarps, add cedar shavings from the gerbil department of your local store and you have a lovely commode), outside shower, built by brother-in-law, and a beautiful river to raft down and that’s our week.  We got some rain, but it didn’t matter.  A camping day in the rain is better than a day at home in the rain.  We also had quad troubles, but you always do when you camp in the back country as that seems to be the only place the many of them can go (and there is a lot).

The next location is more of a popular place, a Provincial Park in B.C. called Kikomun Creek.  A beautiful, yet small, lake nestled in a large valley between the Rocky and the Purcell mountain ranges.  The lake has fishing, and turtle spotting (which is super cool), and also has a beach and nice swimming area.  We had only 3 days at the beach the entire 7 days we were there.  Of course being that the first and last are travelling days it usually pops available days down to 5 but we can often sneak in beach time on the first day for a total possible beach days of 6.  We arrived and set up in the rain so sneaking to the beach wasn’t going to be an option that day.

Sweet Pea was an absolute blast to watch and witness his learning and playing.  He even slept well while we were there, which was awesome since he didn’t sleep hardly at all the last time we were there.  He did have quite a few temper tantrums, that thankfully didn’t turn into seizures (I guess he decided to save that for home since he had one already this morning).

We let go of a bit of control this time too and let out the responsibility for the girls this time.  Any trip previously we had to know where they were at all times and if they did a bike ride they were usually limited to a certain area and had to be back asap.  This trip was the first time they were allowed to do the entire camp ground on their own (well, with a cousin, but even if he wasn’t there they’ve still been able to go).

The only unfortunate thing about this entire trip is something we can rarely avoid.  Swimmer’s itch.  Oi, it’s a strange thing to have a parasite mix you up with a duck and die just under your skin to produce an itchy swell, especially when a sunburn is on top of it.  Sunscreen helps, but doesn’t work 100% of the time, and if you forget it like I did on the first day you get possible swimmer’s itch and a bad sunburn.

We were definitely ready to come home but a little sad too.  We didn’t spend nearly as much time as we wanted to at the beach, but we were tired of living in the trailer (especially when we keep finding more wrong with the lemon).  Although I had grand plans to get my novel rolling while I was gone, it didn’t even come out of the bag.  Not truly a bad thing because I don’t regret my time ‘wasted’ relaxing.

Oh, and you want to know what rocked the most?  No in-law invasion.  None, nada, zip, zilch!  Every year we go through the torture of wondering what kind of crap is going to go on when they arrive but they were pouting so much about my sil not booking the trip for them that they didn’t show up at all!  It was awesome!  I only hope we can piss them off next year so they don’t show up again!LOL!

I’m leaving on a …

Well shoot, that song doesn’t work because I’m not leaving on a jet plane.  We’re off camping, be back in two weeks.

Don’t wreck the place while I’m gone.