Man Eating Fish, Bakery Theft and KKK Heaven: Let’s Introduce the Contestants

Tex is applying for new jobs. Which means we are potentially moving. I’ve listed the possibilities in order of how much I like them.

  1. Where we currently live

There is a job opening here that Tex is applying for. Because who wouldn’t want to remain in a community where people question what types of knives are necessary to cut up a moose in the Canadian Tire? Also, where else is it normal for one of your band mates call in sick because they have eight stitches in their hand from a jackfish bite? I love our tiny, northern home.

  1. A smaller version of where we live

This spot would totally be number one on the list if not for the move because in addition to the risk of losing digits to unruly jackfish while fishing here, there is the opportunity to both downhill and cross country ski nearby. If that isn’t nine fingered heaven, I don’t know what is. However, getting a job here would involve moving, which involves lifting, a task that is against my religion, or that I hate so much that it ought to be in the good book somewhere.

  1. Charm City

Not the cake place.

ace-of-cakes

Everyone would want to come to my house. (Photo Credit: CBS Baaltimore)

Although living in a bakery would totally also be nine fingered heaven where I’d help myself to a ten fingered discount everyday on my way out the door after sleeping next to the piping bags. But number three was succinctly and accurately described by Tex as “charming”, before we visited it. He was right on the money, from the cute shops on the main street, to the quirky ice cream place, to its storied history, this place oozes charm. A top pick for sure.

  1. The place with an indoor playground

I didn’t actually hear all of the other strengths of this city after Tex mentioned that it has an indoor playground. Y’all, I live in a place where it’s so cold that the mercury routinely curls up in a frozen ball at the bottom of the thermometer because it’s too frigid out for this element to do its job and rise up the glass to show what temperature it is. The idea of moving somewhere with mini trampolines and slides where there isn’t the threat of losing multiple digits to frostbite (because the cold is meaner than jackfish) warms the cockles of this mother’s icy Canadian heart. Irrespective of the beautiful nature around our current home, there is no indoor playground to speak of, so I am STOKED at the idea of taking a rowdy toddler somewhere that he can launch himself off of structures which aren’t our fireplace or antique tables.

  1. The town with the German name

One word. Oktoberfest. Yes, I recognize that I’m breastfeeding, and old, and therefore can’t get raucously drunk like some sort of undergrad, but once a year, I could pretend that I was going to, then back out at the last minute citing ringworm or some other equally disgusting childhood ailment that makes people run in the opposite direction.

  1. The place that I always get the name wrong

I can’t tell you much about this place. It is, however, close to my Aunty Betty, so it gets points for that. But not much else, it probably has a store, also a gas station, possibly indoor plumbing.

  1. Where we are likely to end up

Tex likes this place. I don’t. We visited because Tex knew his job was ending and was all “What do you think of this spot?” and I was a good wife and didn’t say “The restaurant can’t even make decent fries and the mall smells funny” but I’m telling my thoughts to you dear readers, so that you can pray for me. Because there is nothing here. Remember how that last place might have had indoor plumbing? I’m 98% certain this place doesn’t. I didn’t use the bathrooms at the mall, but they likely had some sort of medieval set up with a outhouse trough near the horses so all of creation could do their business together. Admittedly I didn’t see any horses and have no evidence of this trough set up that I’ve described but it’s one of those things that a person knows in their soul.

  1. The place that I always forget about

I can tell you even less about this place than about number six. It’s possible that I myself will stop existing if my family moves there because it’s so forgettable.

  1. The KKK believe that if they are very good, after death, their members end up here

Once upon a time, a yuppy turned to another yuppy, and said “Hey I like hanging out with you, shall we go to place where we can hang out alone?” So they drove, a really long time, but they could still hear the other poor and multicultural people, hence the Caucasian yuppies continued to drive for another hour and a half. And thus this community was born. It’s far, far away from anything resembling civilization. It looks like it’s been dropped in the middle of the prairie like some sort of city planner’s version of a joke. The inhabitants consist entirely of labradoodle walking, seven-dollar-boxes-of-organic-seed-based-cracker-eating, white people who drive their kids to hockey practice even though it’s thirty seconds away by car. Based on the layout of the place, I think the city planners thought peyote was a food group. Housing prices here are ABSURD, given that it’s four hours away from anything and has limited amenities. It’s like the old rich white people, turned to the other rich white people and asked “How can we only let in yuppies to our club in the middle of nowhere?” and then decided to make homes laughably expensive and all the roads highways because there’s nothing that white people like better, myself included, than driving to the store which is two minutes away in their oversized vehicles, feeling pious for remembering their reusable bags.

What do you think readers? What would be YOUR pick for a place for me to live? Leave your choice in the comment section below.  Come back tomorrow evening and I’ll let you know where we end up. And again, pray for me, otherwise I’m going to end up using the loo next to Black Beauty.

 

Advertisements

Fifteen Minute Funkbuster: No Running Or Farting

It’s February, and I don’t know about y’all but I’m in a rut. I’m stuck. In a funk. And I know I’m not alone, because as stated above, it’s February; days are cold, tempers are short and buttocks are very, very wide. Ok that last one just might be me, but mine is wide enough for all of us, let me tell you. Anyways, in this terrible, cold, unforgiving month, right in the dead center of winter (the cold season starts in October and extends until May where I live- your sympathy may be sent to sarahwritescreativethingshere@gmail.com), as I was moaning, in this frigid month that makes people do strange things like contract “you” and “all” despite not being from the South, at times, one can get into a routine. And not a good kind of routine, more like a “Why are the Kardashians contributing more to the world than me?” routine.

hottest-members-of-the-kardashian-family-u1

Based on my observations, these ladies alternate between sitting on the couch and taking inappropriate pictures of themselves. Proof and point; they couldn’t even be bothered to get up from their chesterfield for this photoshoot. (Photo Credit : ranker.com)

Well, I’ve got a funk buster for you. Back when I used to run, (I know it was awful, the only reason I did so was because my mother would chase me the entire time with a giant spider. You may send your sympathies to sarahwritecreativethingshere@gmail.com) as I was saying, back when I used to run, and I wouldn’t feel like running, which was always, my mother would say “Just put on your shoes and run for fifteen minutes, after that time, if you still don’t feel like running, turn around and come home” then she’d shake the feared arachnid in my direction. This was a super sneaky tactic because if one adds this up, unless you’re in the habit of running fifteen second loops around your house, in all likelihood, you’ve been tricked into a thirty minute long run. A strategy almost as devious as my mother’s ability to animate that rubber spider into something that looked like an escaped nightmare.

So look at your To-Do list, or your Project List, or your List Of Things Too Awful To Make A List Of and grab the lowest hanging fruit. To determine which item is the low hanging fruit, subject it to the following test; upon reading or thinking of the item, is your next thought “Well, it IS slightly better than stabbing myself in the thigh with a fork repeatedly”, then do that, for fifteen minutes, that’s it. No tricks, no rubber spiders, just fifteen minutes. Pick one thing that you don’t hate, unless it’s running, because we can agree that no one actually likes running. Or farting, unless you live alone and have excellent ventilation.

It sounds overly simplistic, and that’s because it is, I actually learned an entire language using this method. My agreement with myself was that I would read a French comic book for fifteen minutes each night, no matter how tired I was, no matter if I didn’t understand much, no matter if I had read the exact two pages the same three nights past, no matter what, I read. And now I speak French.

So I’m using this same strategy because I have a baby. So my list is endless, and full of things like the art piece that I’ve been in the process of finishing FOR EIGHT YEARS. My painted covered albatross is hanging in our soon to be nanny’s room. So at present, the nanny will arrive and ask “What’s that?”. In it’s current state, my artwork looks like modern art that someone threw under a bus, then deciding that wasn’t bad enough, threw bits of sand and muck on for good measure. And I could lie, responding with “It’s our Paul Klee, one of his early years, isn’t it precious?” or I could tell the truth “That’s my art piece. I shall finish it when my mother finally gets around to cleaning the basement.”*

For the record, the art piece isn’t even at the top of my list, the reusable diapers with elastic so saggy that they could pass for an elderly gentleman’s underpants are the only items meeting the “Better Than a Stab Wound in my Femoral Artery” criteria. However, fifteen minutes adds up quick, especially on a daily basis, so I may very well get to my art. And if not, everyone is invited to come by my house and enjoy our young Paul Klee.

*Please nobody tell our nanny that my mother moved out of the house and it was sold before she ever got around to cleaning the basement.

I might have exaggerated slightly about the whole being chased by a rubber spider bit, but my mother DID sing and dance around my exhausted, still running body (my brain had floated away in self preservation) as a way of taunting me into finishing a run once. It’s also possible she viewed said action as “encouragement”. I love you Mom, I’m sorry I told your untidy basement secret to the interwebs.

These Penises Aren’t For Me

The following is a text message conversation that occurred this past week.

February 8th 10:17 AM The Great Unwashed to Sula

“Can you do me a favour?”

February 8th 10:17 AM The Great Unwashed to Sula

“Can I send you a whole bunch of pictures of animal penises to print off?”

~The Great Unwashed realizes how strange this request sounds and sends a text message explaining the situation.~

February 8th 10:25 AM The Great Unwashed to Sula

“They’re not for me, they’re for my Mom.”

Recognizing that this statement might need further clarification, The Great Unwashed sends off yet another text.

February 8th 10:32 AM The Great Unwashed to Sula

“For Valentine’s Day”

In a show of just how understanding a friend she is Sula replies;

February 8th 11:04 AM Sula to The Great Unwashed

“No problem. Only in black and white though.”

This is the Valentine I had intended to send my mother on February 14th.

On the cover:

“Dear Mom,

I know you hate flowers so I decided to send you images of the genitals of other animals instead.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, “written below a giant walrus stiffy

“I love you very much” written above an excited elephant.

And on the back “May you have a fun and unique day loving others “the text encircling a  picture of a seahorse about to get it on.

For everyone who isn’t a biologist, flowers are the fun bits of a plant. My mother is a scientist, so I thought she would get a kick out of my strange Valentine. That is until I saw a whole bunch of walrus stiffies. They’re totally awkward and not at all safe for work. Also the sight of them is enough to put anyone off love of any kind for a good, long time. Thus even I, in all my weirdness, could not send something so bizarre and pornographic to my mother. She got a nice email instead. And Sula got points for being an awesome friend who was willing to print out pictures of kangaroo goolies. Although I don’t think the strangeness of the request registered with her, seeing as Sula broke her boyfriend’s electric razor last week trying to clean up a mountain goat hide that she had skinned out herself. Apparently two foot long erection bones are just another day at the office for field biologists.

Finding Inner Peace with Children: Namest-Hey Put That Down!

Once a week, I attend a class where women stand on mats, jiggle babies and talk about Namaste. It’s called “Baby Yoga”. Because babies need to do yoga because life is hard. Or maybe because moms need yoga, to find inner peace. Regardless, here are instructions on how best to discover calm with a small child.

10:14 – Arrive for the 10:15 baby yoga class. Do a small victory dance over not being late then sprint up the stairs because still need to roll out mat, set up “nest” for Mini-Tex that he won’t use and lay out range of toys for him to ignore.

10:15-10:18 – Shuck off layers and layers and layers of clothing because only crazy people decide to walk in the frigid cold with their babies. Run on tiptoe to not disturb other women who are supposed to be focusing on their breathing but are nursing or swaddling their babies.

10:19- Lie on mat with eyes closed, pretending to focus on breathing but actually listening to Mini-Tex crawl towards a group of unsuspecting three month olds.

10:20- Cock open an eye only to see Mini-Tex playing three month old’s head like a set of bongos. Forget all intentions of inner peace and sprint to move Mini-Tex away from bewildered three month old.

10:21- Am instructed to sit Mini-Tex on lap and do sitting version of cat and cow. The three month olds sit placidly in other mother’s laps. Mini-Tex wiggles his way out of my arms and takes off. Continue doing cat and cow.

10:22 – Inhale, am cat. Exhale, release all tension associated with carrying small person everywhere. Inhale am cat again. Exhale, am cow. Inhale, cat. Exha-where is Mini-Tex? Out of corner of my eye spot him ripping toy out of smaller baby’s hands. Jump up to return stolen plaything.

10:23 – Other moms are windshield wiper-ing knees back and forth. Attempt to convince Mini-Tex to play with toys from home. Mini-Tex has seen said toys and prefers other babies’ toys.

10:24 – Mini Tex takes off, invariably to steal someone’s rattle. Lay back into butterfly pose.

10:25- Feel tension releasing from lower back. Hear noise. Is sound of Mini-Tex climbing all over woman on next mat over. Leap up to move him, feel tension returning as apologize profusely to woman.

10:26 – Carry Mini-Tex to far side of room to area with lots of toys and blankets. Lay back down on mat and lift rear end into bridge pose.

10:27 – Breathe in bridge pose. Close eyes, love bridge pose.

10:28 – Breathe in. Fill self with air. Breathe out, remember how calm feels. Realize Mini-Tex is uncharacteristically silent. Open eyes to see Mini-Tex once more using woman on next mat as jungle gym.

10:29 – Grab Mini-Tex while repeating “Sorry. So sorry” over and over while transporting him back to “nest” next to mat.

10:30- Being in tree pose gives excellent bird’s eye view of Mini-Tex pulling leaves off of nearby decorative tree. Dash to relocate Mini-Tex and save greenery.

10:31 – Lug surprisingly heavy tree into yoga studio bathroom and close door. Mini-Tex has made his way across room and is yanking lamp cord out of wall. Rush to prevent damage to lamp and store it with tree in bathroom.

10:32 – Instructor picks up Mini-Tex and carries him to demonstrate warrior one.

10:33 – Am strong warrior, focus on breathing and keeping knees over big toes.

10:34- Instructor continues to hold Mini-Tex to demonstrate warrior two. Am composed of straight, relaxed lines. Am zen.

10:35 – Mountain pose to chaturanga. Feel peaceful intention slowly returning while instructor wrangles squiggling Mini-Tex.

10:36 – Instructor lets Mini-Tex down to show class proper downward dog. Class follows along. Hear surprised yelp from instructor, look up to see Mini-Tex pulling on her bun as instructor tries to lower to child’s pose. Race to remove tiny baby fingers from instructor’s hair.

10:37 – Place Mini-Tex back in play area at far side of studio. Sit back on mat and rock foot like baby with fingers interlaced between toes.

10:38 – Switch sides to rock other foot and open up other toes. Mini-Tex crawls across room at top speed and grabs hold of curtains to closet, then yanks with all his might. Drop foot baby to catch actual baby.

10:39- 10:47 – Accept defeat and play with Mini-Tex quietly in corner while other women with docile babies in adjacent “nests” do yoga poses.

10:47 – Shavasna.

10:48 – 10:50 – Decide to attempt shavasna pose. Stretch out on mat while Mini-Tex blows raspberries on all available patches of skin.

10: 51- 11:05 – Visit with ladies and well behaved babies. Intercept Mini-Tex’s attempts at toy thievery. Apologize profusely.

11:06 – 11:10 – Layer up. Feeling surprisingly exhausted despite not having done any poses.

11:15 – Find inner peace as Mini-Tex falls asleep in carrier during walk home.