A Teacher's Love, Elementary My Dear

Hello and welcome back, seeing as this is the first blog entry for 2013 I hope I don't disappoint you. By now you should all know the drill but in case you have forgotten or perhaps this is your first time reading my blog I will give furthur instructions. Thats right it's time to sit back, get comfy and grab your favorite beverage of choice and join me on an epic adventure of "A teacher's love, elementary my dear"

 My first day of school will be one to go down in the history books. Picture it, a terrified kid being hauled out the door by her mother and oldest brother. Kicking and screaming arms and legs latched onto the door, an hour later they get me out the front door only to find themselves repeating the process of getting me in the car. I cried the whole way and begged to just be able to go back home but no amount of begging was going to get me out of this horrific state, no ideed. We are soon at the school, my mother is thinking of FREEDOM and I am thinking I am being sentenced to a lifetime of prison, my mother bless her heart reminded me it wasnt a life time, it was only 12 years. 

 I tucked and rolled out of that burgandy K car I was running for home when my brother swooped me up by the back of my pants and promptly handed me over to the teacher on duty and said"have fun shes all yours". I was greeted by the principal his name was Dale Horncastle, a gentle giant I later found out but at the time he scared me to death. He took me by the hand and said you will have fun here, you will learn how to read and make new friends. I replied, I already know how to read and I already have friends, casey and finnigan keep me company. He laughed like I was the next best thing to Lucielle Ball and told me he would take me to my teacher. Off I went carrying my little Sesame street lunch box tighly clenched in my fist and a dont mess with me kind of attitude. Long of the short, grade one was an epic fail, Miss Sparkes told my mother I was a bright child but lacked social skills, this still makes me laugh. The person who had more tongue then a mounties boot(as my father liked to remind me about so much) couldnt stand being away from her family. Keep in mind I was the youngest of 9 kids. Sheltered I was but anti social I was not, I just didnt like to be away from the only people I had ever spent time with. 

 The second year of grade one was totally different, I no longer carried my sesame street lunch box oh no I was way to cool for that, so I opted to use a brown paper bag like all the cool kids, mostly my older siblings. I didnt have to be drug to school that day I was no longer young and naive. I also found out I had Mrs Love as my teacher and that made all the difference in the world. Soft spoken, gentle and she soon discovered not only could I read but I did it well. She made me her reading buddy and I got to help other kids, boy did that feel good. From the moment on the sun rose and set on my beloved Mrs Love. She used to keep her roll of masking tape on her wrist, for easy access I realize now but when your 6 years old it was the fashion statement of the 80's if it looked cool on Mrs Love, it had to have looked just as cool on me. I saved my allowence and bought,,, my very own roll of masking tape as a badge of honor to my idol. 

 Change has never been my friend, back then it could set me into a whirlwind spiral. I walked into class one day all set to tell my Angel of education that I had read "chicken soup with rice" to my nannie after supper and never missed a word. But instead of my strawberry blonde idol greeting me with "theres my smart girl" I was greeted with the dreaded" SUBSTITUTE TEACHER".   Mrs Love had to have an operation Mrs Hickey told us she would be back in a few weeks. After watching soap operas with my nannie I knew often times "operations" meant you never saw the person again or they came back but looked different, even then my imagination ran wild. We made her get well cards and mine had hearts with blurred spots where my tears dripped, that was the longest two weeks of my life. When the day came where she was well enough to come back to us I hugged her (mindless over the fact she just had surgery and was probably sore) she was probably thinking this kid needs help but all I could think about was my hero was back and life could go on.

 Mrs Love taught us great songs, who who who who said the owl whos afraid of halloween was my favorite, we had to make owl eyes where you flip your wrists and make circles with your hands,I was a pro at that. She taught us never to run with scissors and never eat glue. She also taught us "In Flanders Field" She even took me to the grade 6 class and had me recite it to those kids who in the mind of a 6 year old were not only giants, they were super cool. 30 years later and I still remember all the words to who said the owl as well as in Flanders Field and I can still remember the bittersweet feeling of knowing in the fall I would be going into grade two and would have to leave my strawberry blonde angel of education behind. 

Grade two was an exciting year, there was a brand new teacher and I got her. Barb Young believed in magic and imagination. We had a teepee in our classroom as well as a "cave" this cave was a long table with paper all around it, you could go in there and read, it was a magical place which can only be descibed as getting to see Mr Dress up's tickle trunk. On Halloween she made us all caramel apples, its safe to say we were the "popular kids" on the playground that day. Everybody wanted to be your friend even if it was only to get a small smackeral of that delicious caramel apple. Mrs Young was tall and blonde, soft spoken and kind and she saw my potential and always made me feel special. 

Grade three well here was the beginning of what my parents refered to as the "rebel year". I had Kathy Brown and I was on cloud nine. Mrs Brown now Mrs Bowen had a passion for pink peppermints and her favorite red pen. I soon found out the red pen could be a good thing or usually during math class for me, a bad thing. If you did well you got a nice big red smiley face, if for some reason you didnt do so well again in my case with math you got a sad red face with words of encouragement to try your best the next time. I later found out Mrs Brown loved her pink peppermints so much because,,,, she was a smoker !!!! Yes past students of Alexander Gibson Memorial School, the jig is up I saw her one day in the school yard puffing away with a contented smile on her face, its no wonder why she was always so calm after recess and lunch. In my eyes that just made her even more cool, kind of like seeing a teacher wear jeans or seeing them at the grocery store. Mrs Brown taught me cursive writing and she also taught me its never wise to take the fall for someone else. You see there was a teacher who was so strict that her name alone had you shaking in your boots. And one winter day a friend of mine whipped a snowball and hit this teacher upside the head. When she turned around the kid was gone and there I stood. Frozen unable to move, and for the first time in my life,,, speechless. 

 The teacher grabbed me by the hood of my coat and marched me to her classroom and opened the desk drawer where she kept the strap. She grabbed my little hand and just as she was about to come down on her rein of fury I jerked my hand back causing her to hit her own hand. BIG MISTAKE, just sayin. My young life flashed before my eyes because I knew I was going to get it even worse the next time. And then my Angel of Mercy came into the room. Mrs Brown stormed into that room and demanded, not asked why I was being punished. The "warden" told her why and my hero said I cant believe she would do that  I was saved and I learned a valuable lesson. Next time you whip a snowball make sure THAT teacher is not on duty. Confession time, yes Mrs H, it was ME who threw the snowball and I laugh every time I think about how your corporal punishment came back to slap you on the hand. I didnt say every teacher was great, just the one who taught me.

 Grade 4 was an exciting time in my life, I was introduced to the beloved works of Lucy Maude Montgomery, Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary, compliments of Mrs Kathy McBride. She used to read to us so well that I often felt that I was Ramona Quimby, Anne of Green Gables and Fudge from tales of a forth grade nothing. Mrs McBride told me I could be anything I wanted to be I just had to try. All those years that have passed since I sat her in classroom and I can still hear her telling me that. She was pregnant that year for her daughter and because I already had 2 nephews and two nieces I was a pro in that catagory, not only did I know where babies came from, I also knew how they got there. Again everybody wanted to be my friend but I told them to go home and ask their parents, most likely much to Mrs McBride's relief.

Grade 5 came along and I had my very first male teacher. Brian Cornell was larger then life and a fountain of  of information. He would bring in a cassett player and pop in a tape of waves crashing, birds singing and tell us to put our heads on our desks, close our eyes and listen. After a brief meditaton he would get us to write about what we heard. Needless to say I kicked butt in that class and once again failed miserably at math. Mr Cornell told me I showed great strength in writing and encouraged me to do so each day. Once again all these years later and I am happy to report I am doing exacly what that fine man told me to do. 

Grade 6, my last year at Alexander Gibson Memorial School and I am proud to say I was taught by the legend, the larger then life,,, Maggie Gibson. Oh how I loved that gentle lady. She used to do spelling bees with us and the first kid who could rattle off the word got a gold star, bot did I feel special. One of my favorite memeories of Mrs Gibson was on one hot day before school was done for the summer, she gave my friend and I $5 to go to the store next to the school to buy lime popsicals for every kid on our playground. We thought we had the world by the tail that day and everytime I eat a lime popcicle I am taken back to that hot day in the 80's when a teacher reached into her pocket and gave us something so special. 

 I've kept in touch with these beloved teachers of my youth. Mrs Love is now retired and a proud grandmother. I still call her Mrs Love as I find it very strange to call her anything but. She is and always will be my strawberry blonde angel of education.

Barb Young is now retired and not only taught me her first year at AGMS but taught my oldest son Austin her last year before retiring. She told me it was like going back in time teaching him as he was so much like me. He too thought the sun rose and set on Mrs Young.

Kathy Brown now Kathy Bowen, still has a passion for pink peppermints along with her cigarettes, years later at a Y's men function we laughed so hard over that story we both choked on our cigarettes. I still remember never to lift my pen until I'm finished writing a word and I've also learnedwhen your croakin for a smoke, pop in a pink peppermint.

Kathy McBride is now retired and also a grandmother, the daughter she was pregnant for while teaching me in grade 4 also went onto become a teacher and taught my youngest son Isaac in middleschool. Isaac informed me Miss McBride was AWESOME, you know what they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Brian Cornell also is retired and when I see him he always asks if I still write everyday, I like to think he would read my blog and say she still has a way with words and she still makes me laugh. Thank you for introducing me to writing, I cherish it deeply.

Maggie "the legend" Gibson  has long since retired but her words live on in my heart"treat others as you would have them treat you" A smile is the best gift you can give, its free and it makes everybody including you happy" 

May you all have had the pleasure of having a teacher make you feel extra special and it make you so happy you to can say "I'm so happy I could shit rainbows, and fart fairy dust"  

An Angel Named Fred

Hello and Welcome Back:

 It has been sometime, January in fact that I have last wrote a blog entry, for that I apologize. So sit back, get comfy, grab your beverage of choice and join me as I tell you about "An Angel Named Fred"

 I never got to know my grandfathers, my dads father died many years before I was born and my moms dad died when I was 3 but I have no memories of him as I never got to see him much. Instead I had an uncle who I guess was like a grandfather to me. Uncle Fred never married, he lived with my grandmother in the family homestead in Juniper New Brunswick. Uncle Fred was a taxidermist, he was also a guide for americans who would come to Carleton County to hunt and fish,snowshoe maker, canoe builder, furniture maker, he was a legend. Everyone knew uncle Fred. To me he wasnt just a legend, he was my hero. We would go to grams and before the car was even stopped I was running for Uncle Fred's shop. Mom would yell, get your ass back here, get in that house and kiss your grandmother. A quick peck on the cheek and I was off seeking my uncle Fred. The taxidermy shop was in the same yard as the house and it never took me long to reach my destination. I would fly the door open to the shop and yell I'M HERE" as if I needed to make an announcement. Fred would look up from whatever victim he was preparing to "stuff and say welllllllllllllll its about time, been waitin since 5am. I could touch anything in that shop and the choices were endless, at any given time you would find beavers, bear, deer, coyotes you name it, he had it and the best part was there was never any fear of being bitten because well,,,, they were all dead. My favorite place in the shop was the drawer that held the glass eyes. To most small kids seeing dead animals alone would scare the bejesus out of you let alone a whole drawer filled with glass eyes. But I was an exception to that rule I guess. His only "rule" was I had to wash my hands good when I was done, because as he put it there was no way in hell he was having the wrath of my mother on his case if I didnt. A quick wash up in the cold Mirimichi river would kill any germs and off I would race to grab a cookie from Gram's cookie jar.

 Uncle Fred took me hunting once, and only once. We got up at the first crack of a sparrows fart , ate pancakes and trout caught from the river before I had even woke up, and we were ready to go shoot something. We walked for what seemed like hours me talking the whole time, even when I was little I had the gift of gab. Uncle Fred had a studder that would appear more often if he were excited or in this case pissed off. He turned and looked at me and said welllllllllll if you want to be able to sho sho shoot somethin you gotta stop talking and learn how to listen. Long of the short we never did shoot anything but we did stop and watch a deer eating. Uncle Fred told me later on the only reasons he didnt shoot that deer was A it wasnt deer season and B it was a goddamn miracle my yacking didnt scare it away. He always had a way with words, poet laurier he wasnt but when he spoke, you listened because behind each story there was a lesson to be learned, mine was talk less, listen more.

 When I was 6 I got my very first cabbage patch doll, I was proudly showing that my doll was an original because his little bum had a signiture. Uncle Fred said come here for a minute, so over I went an innocent 6 year old kid. He said you want to be a cabbage patch doll, he grabbed me and quicker then you can say holy crap on a cracker there was I laying over his legs, my little bare ass showing for all the world to see and with a red pen he wrote on my ass FRED D GRANT. He slapped my ass, yanked my pants back up kissed me on the head and said there,,,, now your a cabbage patch doll. Memories, sweet sweet memories.

 When my gram took a turn in her health Uncle Fred took over making the meals and let me tell you nobody could come close to making his homemade beans. Mishy Comeau asked him one time Fred how do you make those beans. Fred held up a bag of beans, Mishy poor guy didnt get what Fred was trying to tell him and said well how do you make them. Quick as a wink Fred said you open the bag and follow the instructions you stupid frenchman, that was our uncle Fred he told it as he saw it, if you didnt get it well that was your problem not his.  Fred had a bunch of Americans in his shop one day along with a guy I would later in life work with in the veterinary clinic. Tony tells me this story one day while we are in a cat neauter surgery and he had me laughing so hard I ended up dropping the poor cats nuts that we had just removed onto the floor. He said this one american man kept rubbing and feeling these balls that Fred had on a string on the wall, the american was so infatuated with these objects he practically had them in his face rubbing them. He says hey Fred what are these things. Fred looks up over his glasses and says their ba ba ba the guy says jesus Fred spit it out what are they. Fred yells their BEAVER NUTS !!!! Tony went on to tell me that american dropped the beaver nuts as fast as I did the cats nuts but for different reasons. Lesson one while being in Fred's shop dont put anything in your hand and especially near your mouth without first finding out what they are.

 Uncle Fred was able to spoil our kids as much as he did us. With my son Austin he took him fishing and like he did with me he gave Austin a nickname, Austin will always be known as "the little Indian Boy" I dont think he ever called him anything other then that and Austin never took offence besides saying Uncle Fred the proper term is Aboriginal boy, Uncle Fred said well Im not proper your my little indian boy. My niece Nicole went to uncle fred's for the first time when she was only 3 weeks old. He was uncle Frevvy for a long time and then Uncle Fred. He would buy makeup from Avon for her and never forgot her when he would go to the dollar store. He bought duck cookie cutters so he could make her gingerbread cookies in the shape of duckies. Her response was oh uncle Fred you are so very kind to me. That was our uncle Fred he was kind. I will never forget the first time Trevor got to meet uncle Fred. We all got together for a family potluck. Keep in mind my grandmother had 15 kids and they all went on to have large familes, even going there and just having the aunts and uncles is a houseful let alone when us crazy cousins join in on the fun and the food. 

 We are driving along and I said to Trevor, we are almost there, I can smell it. His reply was hun I know I keep telling you your family is from the woods but we cant be close yet there are no power lines is there indoor toilets or an outhouse. I reassured him that yes there is indoor plumbing along with woods on one side of the road, the river flowing by the house and yup you guessed it woods on the other side of the river. I also told him its a little piece of Heaven and your going to love it. For once I was right, he agreed it is a little piece of Heaven and he loves it there. We finally arrive and amongst all the people out comes uncle Fred to greet his latest guests. I say Uncle Fred this is my boyfriend Trevor, the men shake hands and Fred says so your the one whos going to marry "TITS" someday, she likes to talk alot,but we love her anyways. I guess I should have also mentioned to Trevor that uncle Fred gave me a nickname and yup you guessed it TITS it was. Trevor and Uncle Fred were fast friends from that moment on. 

 When we would all get together for a potluck uncle fred always made his beloved homemade beans and you knew it was time to eat when you saw Fred going with his plate. No need for a dinner bell just watch for uncle Fred. The last time we got together was for his 80th birthday and to say he had a party was an understatement everyone from near and far came to wish him a happy birthday.

 Fred loved the outdoors, he was always out hunting, fishing or cutting wood. If you got there and he wasnt home you would find a sign on the door that simply said in his hen scratch writing"Gone Fishing" I remember sitting around the huge table one night eating supper, I was at the back of the table by the window eating away when all of a sudden Fred jumped up, grabbed his gun, reached over me threw open the window and KABOOM shot a partridge. I was in shock, half deaf and most likely sitting in shit stained underwear. He looked at me, smiled and said there we will have partridge and pancakes for breakfast. Being a city kid this gave a whole new meaning to knowing where your food comes from, I had a front row seat !!!!. 

Fred always said that when it was his time to die he wanted to be doing what he loved most..... Fishing. He wanted to meet his maker in his boat, his fishing rod in his hand and ever present rubber boots on his feet. On July 3rd 2011 Fred put the sign on his door "Gone Fishing" one last time. A while later fishermen found him in his boat, fishing rod in his hand and his rubber boots on his feet. The man who had so much love in his heart for his family his friends, for the beauty of what was around him died peacefully of a heart attack doing what he loved to do most. I wont tell you I didnt cry, I sobbed like a baby when I heard of his passing yet I couldnt help but give thanks for the man I considered a grandfather who gave so much, was granted his wish of going to Heaven as if he was off for the best fishing trip of his life.

Fred's funeral service was standing room only and through the tears there was laughter just as Fred wanted it to be. We laughed about times gone by, each niece and nephew talking about the special times they had with Fred and when the soloist sang the song "suppertime" I looked at my sister Janet and said there was no better song for Uncle Fred, you always knew when it was suppertime when you were with Uncle Fred. My second cousin gave Fred's eulogy and when she said each of us have special memories and for one cousin especially the drawer in the shop with the glass eyes I couldnt help but think even in death Uncle Fred can make me laugh. Thats how Fred was he surrounded himself with laughter, with love and with his family. God Speed sweet dreams.

 May you all be able to have a person in your life half as special as my uncle Fred was to me and may it make you all so happy you to can say "I'm so happy I could shit rainbows and fart fairydust"

Things You Learn At 3AM

Hello and Welcome Back

 I can't tell you how good it feels to have the time and ambition to once again write my blog. Like the old song says "It's been a long time comin" So sit back, grab your beverage of choice, get comfy and join me on an epic adventure of "Things You Learn At 3AM.

 I guess I should start by warning you all in advance that as I am writing this blog is truly is 3AM here In Fredericton NB, I am pajama clad, my hair is in such a wild state it could almost be considered sexy and is jacked so high I am almost certain it is reaching for Jesus. I wish I could say that bitch named insomnia is once again at my door, it would have made this so much more simple. A nightquil shooter and off to la la land I would be. However my mother's expression of "what happened to you, did you shit the bed" rang true this morning. And for once I am happy to report the said "shitter of the bed" WAS NOT ME !!!!. 

 No instead it was our beloved once clean, snow white, so fresh from the groomer she still smelled pretty, angel in my eyes, tugger on my heart strings dog Piper. I guess giving her a few minced up pieces of roast beef was one of those, "it seemed like a good idea at the time" kinda things. We went to bed at 10pm, Maverick Piper and I were snug as bugs in my queen sized bed. Her sweet little warm body pressed up against me, Maverick's oversized carcass under the covers, head on the pillow taking up half the bed, and snoring so loud for a moment I felt sure Trevor was home and sleeping beside me. We drifted off to dreamland knowing the sooner we got to sleep the sooner Trevor would be home, I fell asleep with a smile on my face and a full heart. What I awoke to could only be desribed as "A shitty mess". I have always fancied myself a hot mess, but today will always be remembered as a shitty mess.

So here I was at 3am jumping out of bed yelling NOOOOOOOOOOO dont step in it, Maverick thinks my jumping around is a new game, so he too joins in the fun, Piper thinks its a game of hide and go seek so she runs through the mess and dives under the covers. She reappears looking like she went to one of those fancy spas and had a mud  bath. Now I love Jesus, but I drink a little, and lord knows I have had my share of being well,,,, shit faced. But never in any of my fireball induced benders have I ever literally come away from the experience covered in shit. My worst fears have come into action. "Bathing a petrified dog". That's why I happily pay our groomer, and after the mess I cleaned up I am even more appreciative of her !!!!

 To the bathroom we go, one shit covered dog, one half asleep get me the hell out of this situation owner. There was never a thought of spot washing, or even sponge bathing at this point, to the tub we go. She is shaking so bad I am worried she may have another explosion, I am shaking so bad I fear I may drop her. In the end it went pretty well. Maverick our faithful and large dog with a huge heart, got out of his comfort zone and put his front paws in the water to show Piper there was nothing to be afraid of, and lowered his head so she could clutch onto his chest with her wet yet stinky paws. She was lathered and rinsed before you could say "Holy crap on a cracker" I then set the blow dryer on low and got her looking almost as good as the groomer. I also discovered during this epic adventure, I can even put her little flower bow in her hair with minimal fuss, and when you are worried you may fall asleep with a still damp fresh from a 3am bath, that tiny little elastic that holds her hair in the little flower bow I am so found of, will wake you up in a hurry when you snap it against your fingers. It's a wonder I can still type and it leaves me wondering, does this injury classify a day off work.

 Our little snow white, angel in my eyes, tugger on my heart strings pooch is now sound asleep in her bed in the kitchen. I however am wired for 4-40 and figure there really isnt much sense or logical reasoning for me to try and sleep now, the alarm will be going off in 2 hours. Might as well make the most of it I tell myself, self says "Lady your one hot mess", to which I reply I'm a sexy hot mess and dont you forget it. Not everyone can pull off this look and come away from it looking half as good. So the things I have learned from this experience goes like this.

 Piper will never again eat even the smallest smackeral of roast beef.
For now on her little bed in the kitchen may very well soon become, her little bed in our bedroom. Never under estimate the power of a fart, even from an 8 pound dog, one good fart always leads to one powerful shit, my father always used to say, and boy dad were you ever right on this one. I have also discovered I am able to bathe my little dog and do a pretty decent job, however I will leave it to the expert and make grooming appointments as often as needed. I will always appreciate what effort goes into making our little girl look like a princess and will never forget to tip the lady who does all that hard work for me. I have also discovered that being up at the first crack of "Piper's fart" I can get alot done. Bedding is in the washer, kids lunches are made, garbage is taken out to the end of the driveway for pick up. One long over due blog written and an adorable once again, clean good smelling dog sound asleep at my feet.  May you all be able to find your silver lining to every cloud. And may you all be so happy, like me that you to can say "I'm so happy, I could shit rainbows, and fart fairy dust.

The Night The Bottle Let Me Down

Hello and Welcome back"

Where the hell have I been is probably what you are all asking. To which I will say LET ME EXPLAIN !!!! My life has taken a brand new turn, a turn in the right direction I may add. So sit back, grab your favorite beverage of choice and join me on an epic adventure of The Night The Bottle Let Me Down

 Picture it , the love shack late August 2011. A crazy redheaded unemployed vet tech with not a cent in her pocket but lots of love in her heart takes a leap of faith. Welcome five adorable orphaned foster kittens at the ripe old age of 2 weeks. Gone are the days of my wild and crazy alcohol infused life, gone also are the days of sitting on my arse watching soap operas. Instead my life became brand new, a sense of purpose, a full time job. I may not get paid money to raise these adorable babies but I get rewarded with milestones, cuddles and the sound of purring that if you close your eyes you would almost swear you were on an african safari and were surrounded by a pride of lions. Of course once you open your eyes you sadly discover you are just in our living room amid chaos, kitten poop and most of all LOVE.

 The babies are now rambunctious 5 1/2 week old kittens, no longer needing bottle feedings every 3 hours, no longer needing maverick the wonder dog to perform operation hiney wipes and sadly for me,,, no longer needing me ,,,, as much. They now eat moist food and can use the litter box and keep me in stitches everyday with their actions. I knew I was smitten for the kittens, when on my 35th birthday I was far more concerned with bottle feeding babies and the thoughts of bottle feeding myself with a healthy dose of fireball never crossed my mind. Two weeks after my birthday I decided that since they slept through the night I could treat myself to a taste of that cinnamon goodness. Once a pro always a pro, or so I thought. Three shots in and I was LOADED !!!! Long gone are the days where I could drink a bottle and still have room for more. I gave it a valiant effort but by 10pm not only was I drunk as a skunk I was also falling asleep. A part of me died that night, where the hell did the party animal go. I went to bed feeling like a rock star and woke up feeling like road kill. The only sense of party animal I have in me now is doing the "potty dance" when the kittens use the litter box. 

 Fireball sales have dramatically dropped in Fredericton, but in all honesty I dont miss it,,, much. One of these days I will get a little hitch in my giddy up , throw caution to the wind and open that bottle of cinnamon goodness with my teeth, the way I used to, back in the good old days when I indeed was a rock star. Just to give you an example of what I looked like before and after becoming a foster mom I thought I would include a few pics, I will let you all be the judge on my rock star status.  This is me ,, the former Fireball Queen

 Here you have the former fireball queen newly reformed into foster mom grand champion.

Sure I look tired, my attire has gone from taking time to find that perfect outfit to wearing pajamas because I never go far and they are comfy and I dont care if they get anything from food to crap on them.Moist cat food now graces my hands and sadly for me my mouth more then fireball has and you know what? I'm happy doing what I do. Seeing those kittens transform from innocent defenseless oprhans blossom into wild eyed adventure seeking 5 1/2 week old kittens is better then any trip I have ever taken with fireball. 

 Not to fear, that crazy, wild always ready for a few shots girl is still here, shes just busy doing more important things for the time being. And I am sure that when the day comes when my little ones are old enough to leave Angels Gather Here, to find their forever home, a Bottle or two of fireball will be needed. After all its not everyday you have to say goodbye to little ones you have cared for , fallen in love with and put all your needs and desires on the back burner for. So yes my friends when that day comes, I will have empty arms, a piece of my heart taken from me and memories that will I will cherish for the rest of my life. Fireball will always be there waiting for that wild and crazy redhead to make her return and the good people at the liquor store will all rejoice in knowing the girl with the taste for fireball is still around. These kittens have made my life feel complete and make me say "I'm so happy I could shit rainbows and fart fairydust. I hope you all can have something in your life give you that same happiness so that you may all be able to say, that you to are so happy you could shit rainbows and fart fairydust.

Confessions Of A Fruity Pebble Addict.

Hello and welcome back:

  I know, I know it's been forever since I last wrote a blog entry, but let me explain.  I have been busy enjoying my break from work, well the work I got paid to do, for now until it gets busy at work again I stay home and do lots of work I may not get paid money for, but the rewards of a nice tidy home, freshly washed, dried and folded with love laundry and the occasional decent meal made by my hands, often times out weigh the job I brought home a decent pay every two weeks, at least I dont have to claim taxes on freshly washed drawers and a clean turlet. But I do have a slight confession to make, so sit back, get comfy and grab your favorite beverage of choice and join me on an epic tale of "confessions of a fruity pebble addict"

 Picture it, Fredericton New Brunswick Canada, roughly 3 weeks ago. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, ok so the weather was rather dismal however, my sunny disposition made it seem like it was a balmy 30 degrees in mid June. You see, Trevor decided that since we had just bought a brand new 2010 Dodge Avenger, and we had fresh off the presses, brand new passports we should make a quick dash across the border into the Great U S of A . I was so happy I could shit rainbows and fart fairy dust. I could barely sleep Friday night, and with saying that Im sure I kept Trevor up a good part of the night as well. But non the less we arose early that Saturday morning, had a cup of coffee, grabbed a shower and jumped into our car, did I mention its a brand new 2010 Dodge Avenger???  

 From Fredericton NB to Houlton Maine, its only about an hour and a half away, we talked, sipped away on our drinks, bottled water for me, caffeine free coke for Trevor, we laughed, talked about work, the kids, commented on vehicals that were nice, but not as nice as our new baby, and sang away to songs on the radio, let me clairify, I sang, Trevor did his best not to take his hands off the wheel to plug his ears.  Finally we get to the border, there was a bit of a line up, but nothing and I mean nothing was getting me down, no siree, this little redhead was on a mission.  As we get closer to the guard, a bright light flashes, IM BLIND, no wait Ive regained my vision only to see the biggest african american man I have ever seen in my life standing there. Come to find out they take your picture as you near the border guard, a sign stating that may have been nice. 

This very large black man is standing there with his hand very near his side, by his side I may mention is a gun, he peers into our car and says" wheres ya all goin? To Houlton sir we reply, he takes our passports and seems very happy that I have them already for him, I guess it does pay to be organized. He then asks, wheres ya all from, Trevor replies Im from Moncton, I then squeak out, Im from Fredericton, he asks how long we will be over there, oh only a few hours my chauffer replies, and then the man squats down so he can actually look at us, gives us a wink and says "Y'all have a nice time" Im thinking to myself,dear jesus did we take a wrong turn, are we now headed to the deep south, I later find out that some people in the states just sound rather southern even though they are a mere hour and a half from us in Fredericton New Brunswick Canada. I could have listened to that man talk all day, however I was on a misson. It took all my strength not to tell Trevor to "GIVE ER" and peel on out of there unto my destination.

 Oh my I was shaking with anticipation, I had to piss like a racehorse but didnt want to take the time, I was hungry but didnt want to cave into my growling belly, Trevor however had other plans, pee first, then eat. Goddamnit all to hell I explode, what if they are all gone before we get there, Oh wise one pats me on the head and reassures me that he is sure they will have plenty. I say to myself, well if they dont WE WILL go to every store until we find them. Self replies, Trevor help me I think shes lost it.  By now my bladder is relieved, and my belly is full of 2 pieces of kentucky fried chicken, the extra crispy kind, because you cant get it that way in CANADA, can we go yet I ask, Trevor sighed and pushed away the last mouthful of green beans and said yessssssssssss. WHOOPPIEEE I rejoice.

 Oh Boy I yell as I run to the car, or what I thought was our car, give me a break we had only had it one day , so I mistook a ford for a dodge, shoot me. Trev then went on to tell me when I get confused, look for the temporary license plate sticker on my side of the windshield, point taken, its bright orange how could I have ever missed it. From KFC we go to a store called Mardens, their commercial says, shoulda bought it when I saw it at mardenssssssssssss, the 5 minute drive there I sang that song about 5 times, even going through the store I was humming it, the whole while willing Trev to just scan not stop and give full inspection on every little artical. I did buy a few things there, a 12 pack of legal pads for $3.99, for note taking I told him, a stock pot for $8, for making homemade soup was my reply, and a bra for 50 cents, my response to that was if they dont hold the girls in, I will suspend it from the tree one cup can be filled with bird seed, the other cup full of water, always the animal welfare activist. The birds will say, look Ethel the cup really does runnith over.

 Praise be Jesus, we are finally out of Mardens and onto my destination, when I yelled, I should have bought it when I saw it at mardens, they had a 24 pack of bic pens for $5, Trevor said I figured you would knowing you have an obsessive compulsion for pens, my reply was , more money left to buy what I came for, and now my friends you are about to find out what it was that had my knickers in a twist. Yes my friends, it was a ya ba daba do moment. My name is Lois, and I am a fruity pebble addict. This is where you should all say, Hi Lois,,,, IM WAITING !!!!! Fine dont support me, I will get over it,,,, in due time.

I flew open the car door before Trevor had made a complete stop, forgot my seatbelt was still on and for a brief second, had a jesus take the wheel moment. Through the parking lot I trotted singing flintstones, meet the flintstones, leaving poor little Trevi in my dust. He finally caught up to me in time to catch my purse as I threw it near the closest cart, hoping it would land in there. Up and down the isles I raced, nearly taking out two bluehaired ladies in my quest to find the modern stone age family. I knew I had to be getting closer because I could smell the aromatic scent of my beloved fruity pebbles, and oh sweet mary magdeline did I ever. Actually, for the record I have to admit it was Trevor who found them, well a distant cousin to the brand name but a much larger bag, a 2 pound bag I may add for over 2 dollars cheaper then an actual box of the real deal, seen in the picture above, I grabbed a bag, my little fingers itching to just grab one more for good measure, Trevor must have noticed my desire, because he said for that price you might as well get another bag, WHOO BABY, that landed him a big ole smack on the yap, I bet if he had of known 2 bags of fruity pebbles would cause a kiss like that he would have told me to get as many as my little belly desired.

 To the checkouts we went, and I must admit I did feel a little foolish slamming my bags of cereal on the conveyer belt, you see we also bought a 2lb bag of knock off berry capt crunch and a 2 lb bag of chocolatley pebbles, ( Trevor picked those not me !!! ), So I felt I should explain myself to the young cashier with hair dyed so orange she rather resembled casey from mr dressup.

Mr Dressup, I told you not to buy me Herbal Essence Hair Dye

I quickly explained to her that we cant get fruity pebbles in Canada, she then went on to tell me with the most concerned voice heard only in bad soap operas, that they have discontinued making herbal essence hair dye, her favorite brand, well honey if your hair is any indication of what that hair dye does, PRAISE JESUS, they decided to save other helpless victims was what I was thinking to myself, self for once actually agreed with me.

My mission complete I was now ready to come back to Canada, home of damn cold winters, mosquitos as big as hummingbirds in the summer and our beloved national symbol, the beaver. But not before I reenacted my Ikea commercial of the woman coming out of the store with all of her bags yelling, START THE CARRRRRRRRRR, after all I wanted the americans to know Canadians are also known for their sense of humor, as well as snow, mosquitos and beavers. 

 On the way home my belly took to grumbling so bad it sounded like distant thunder, I later found out it was the KFC I had for lunch trying to make its escape, by the time I got back home I was one fart away from blowing a hole in my drawers. After a day filled with my singing for an hour and a half, racing through isles nearly knocking over blue haired ladies on their quick trip to walley world before bingo and faining deep concern for the casey look alike, I was ready to settle down and have a delicious bowl of my bounty, I was shaking so badly I could barely pour it into the bowl, but after a few deep breaths I was able to achieve what I drove an hour and a half for, yup you guessed it, FRUITY PEBBLES.

Trevor, on the other hand was ready for a much needed nap after that trip and I am almost positive I heard him humming the tune of , its alright to be a redneck as he went up the stairs, I on the other hand, was so happy I could shit rainbows and fart fairy dust, my cousin Peggy told me not to each to much of that colorful cereal or I would be shitting rainbows, I told her it was a risk worth taking. 

 I hope you all find something in your life that gives you as much joy and happiness that you to can say, "I'm so happy, I could shit rainbows and fart fairy dust"

A Nannies Love

Hello and welcome back:

 Today is Valentines day,but for me its also a day filled with reflection, great memories and a sense of sadness. 13 years ago today we lost our beloved grandmother, the woman we all loved and held with high reguard and often times got great advice as well as love and laughter. So get comfy, get your favorite beverage of choice and come join me on a journey of a nannies love.   

 Our grandmother, my fathers mother lived with us, it was supposed to be for a month, and as the legend tells it, 30 years later she was still with us. She was the nannie every little girl dreams about, fluffy and soft, smelling of chantilly lace perfume and dumaurier king sized cigarettes. Always there with a hug and usually packing candy to go with those soft,  never ending chantilly lace/dumaurier king sized cigarettes hugs. Nan had a birthmark that took up one whole side of her face, I asked her once what it was, she responded, an angel gave me a kiss and that is her lipstick . It made me feel proud to know that the angel thought my nannie was as special as I did and it also made me a little afraid of lipstick, until the teenage years. 

 Nannie had spunk to put it lightly, she got up every morning at 8am, shuffled out to the kitchen and made the same breakfast every morning, toast, corn flakes, half a grapefruit and a cup of tea. From there she would get ready for her daily trip on the city bus to the mall, and hell hath no fury if you were sitting in "her seat" because she would on no uncertain terms tell you "thats my seat,,,, get out.  All the bus drivers knew her, some loved her, others not. But when my uncle passed away, all of those bus drivers one by one streamed into the funeral home and offered her their condolences, my nan never forgot that , looking back I dont think any of us did. I guess it was their way of giving thanks to the white haired lady with spunk who travelled on their buses on a daily basis. 

My nan had funny ways about her , she would ask you what the weather was like and no sooner would you tell her what it was doing outside, she would open the door, stick her hand out and promply tell you the weather conditions better then any meterologist ever could. She also had a passion for game shows, she would holler her answers at the tv as if the people inside the tv could magically hear her, and godforbid if they didnt listen because she would then yell, YOU STUPID ASS. Wheel of fourtune jeopardy , the price is right and press your luck were her favorites, it never failed to make me laugh when she would yell big bucks no whammies no whammies.  I think of my nan often as I watch wheel of fortune and I smile when I find myself yelling, you stupid ass. I also smile everytime I think of my grandmother yelling "your old ass" when someone told her something she didnt want to believe. My son Austin used that very line on my mother one day, mom said the hair stood up on the back of her neck thinking nannie was back to live another 30 years with her. Austin was just little when Nan passed away and to my knowledge never heard her say those words, guess Nan was watching over him giving him her classic line.

 Growing up with a nannie who lived with you had its perks, being the youngest of 9 kids I knew that all too well. She used to call me tiddlywinks, and in her eyes her little tiddlywinks could do no wrong. Everyday afterschool I would race home to see what special treat she would leave me in her little basket on her dresser, usually it was a piece of candy but sometimes I would hit the motherload, BON BONS, little coconut delights covered in a hardshell sugary candy, it was every little girlsdream and desire to come home and find those little beauties , she would also leave me little notes telling me not to tell anyone else,,, but I was her favorite, sorry to the rest of my siblings,, the secret is now out, tiddlywinks wins again. 

Other perks were coming home on wednesdays when in elementary school I only had to go until noon. I would arrive home to a feast of a mini chicken pot pie or mini pizza and a class of her sussex gingerale,found only in the maritime provinces. Together we would eat our lunch, sip away at our gingerale and yell at stupid contestents on game shows.  She also had a book that she would read to me, if I close my eyes I can still hear her husky voice read about Johnny being bad and throwing a rock at his grandmothers goose. She left me that book and inside she wrote, to my dear Loisann, I hope someday you will have children of your own that you can read "The old Goose" to and think of me when you do, all my love , nannie. I did as she wished, I had kids of my own and often read them that story, often times having to pause to clear my throat that got clogged with tears for my nannie.

 Nannie not only loved her grandkids, she also loved her great grandchildren, Adam, Peter, Courteney and Emily ,her first of many great grandchildren became fixtures in her life as well as her heart, they would come into the house running to see nannie, or as Peter called her , nannie dewheeze, instead of nannie Louise. She loved cantelope melon and she and Peter used to share it. Although the first time we realized Peter enjoyed the melon was when he was quite young and got around by means of a walker, that kid was like greased lightening in that thing, one minute he would be beside you the next you would hear the wheels and see a flash of red, as his little redhead would be off on another grand adventure of lets see where and what I can get into with this contraption, (thankfully due to to safety issues they stopped making them in the late 90s). Nannie was sitting at the table with us eating away on her melon wedge, when all of a sudden we heard the most ungodly sound, slurping and smacking, we turned around, and there was our little redheaded boy, whos face was now half covered by the rind of a melon wedge, seems as though Peter was dumpster diving into the garbage can and decided nannie dewheezes melon looked good. Poor nan was horrifed, she jumped up got out a new melon and diced it up for him , imagine her baby eating from a garbage. Good news is, Peter is now 25 and the dumpster diving incident didnt harm him. Hes alive and well and now a chef, I wonder if he still likes melon.

 Nannie also had funny little sayings or do funny things. Some examples are, right after eating she would begin tapping her fingernails on the table humming, hmm hmm hmm, mom would look up from her meal and say deserts coming nan, ( the woman loved sweets), from there the tapping and hmm hmm hmming would continue until not only did she get her desert but also her tea. Mom would say, cup of tea nan, Nannie would reply, well if your making it. She also used to come in from outside, turn on every light in the house and then bellow "where was moses when the lights went out" Dad would finally reply, in the goddamn dark saving money on the electricity bill. 

There wasnt anything my nannie couldnt knit or crochette, she made my two older sisters ponchos back in the late 60s early 70's when they were the in thing, and she knit my brother Stephen a green sweater and matching hat, that he lost when the school caught fire. As she got older and her eyes gave her trouble she switched from knitting to search a word books, often times never actually finding the word but circling randoms letters. Nannie loved to play cards and board games, and god strike me dead for saying it but the woman also loved to cheat. Playing snakes and ladders with me when I was 5 SHE CHEATED, her rules stated during her turn that you went up the snakes as well as the ladders, but when it came my turn I had to follow the offical hasboro game rules of you land on a snake you went down the snake, I never minded, we played that game for hours. She loved 45's as well and legend has it that she was quite good at slipping a card up her sleeve a time or two. But for every gambling sin she had she got aboslution from every sunday at churh and even in the lords house she had her own seat, and the devil bedamned if you happened to be sitting there.

 My nannie also gave advice, most of the time it worked in our favor, for my brother stephen one time her advice was helpful although left him with a burning sensation. You see, Studly aka stephen got a terrible case of the roids, so bad infact that he was supposed to have surgery. Upon hearing this, my grandmother said surgery bedamned, what you do is put some vicks vapor rub on those hemmoroids, it will clear them right up. The woman at this point was in her 80's a legend of her time, she was old, she knew all the rememdies so Stephen did what she said. Even though the poor man nearly cleared the roof at first impact of the vicks vapor rub hitting his arse, the good news is he never needed that surgery and til this day I dont think has ever had a reoccurence of the roids again. Moral of the story is listen to the old folks, they know what they are talking about, and you never need a weatherman to tell you what to expect, if an older person says it must be going to rain because their knees are cracking, chances are good that within the next 12 hours you will get rain.

 My grandmother lead a rich life, not in the way of money, but with love, laughter and faith. She married the love of her life and had 3 kids, and went on to have many great grandkids whom she loved like there was no tomorrow. Sadly with age her memory started fading, she no longer knew who we were often times calling me her daughters name, I was no longer tiddlywinks, but deep down I knew, I would forever be that little girl she read the old goose story to, the one who would watch gameshows and sip ice cold gingerale with and I would always be her tiddlywinks.  On Valentines day 1998, I awoke to the ringing of the telephone to hear my mom say, Ive got some bad news for you, nannie passed away, at those words, time stood still and I was again that little girl rushing home afterschool to see what special treat was left for me, I was surrounded by that fluffy soft hug and her husky voice telling me she loved her little tiddlywinks best.

Nan was a lover of the gospal songs, she would sit in church and tap her little foot to the music, my sister janet remembering this she laughed because she said she could just see nans little foot tapping away as her favorite hymn played during her service, I was 4 months pregnant with Isaac at the time and during the singing Isaac kept the beat and sadly my bladder felt it as well. After the service, my sister said to the minister I didnt mean to laugh during the service, he said laughter is a good thing, through life and death, its how Nannie would have wanted it.I bet her little feet were keeping time to the music up in heaven as she looked down at us saying arent my grandchildren beautiful to anyone who would listen. She used to have a grandmas brag book which she would fill with all of our pictures and that woman would show it to anyone who would look, to her we were more then grandkids, we were a look into the future, we would be the ones to keep her memories alive as well as make new ones and someday have grandkids of our own, and tell them all about the fiesty grandmother who lived with us and taught us about love, laughter and family.  I miss my nannie terribly, but I know that she is happy now, shes with my grandfather, my father and my uncle, and is watching over us.  Sometimes I get a little whiff of chantilly lace perfume and I smile, because I know nan is around watching her little tiddlywinks all grown up with kids of her own. May you all be blessed with that special grandmother, and may it make you all so happy you to can say "I'm so happy I could shit rainbows and fart fairy dust"

Kitty Cat Bliss And Mama Is Pissed

Hello and welcome back:

 First blog of 2011 and we are already into February, what the hell happened you asked, well sit back get comfy and grab your drink of choice and come join me on an epic tale of Kitty cat bliss and mama is pissed. 

One thing I learned in college was there are no guarentees in life and especially in animal medicine, point taken I got that part, but no where and I do mean no where was I taught that at some point in your career of being a technician will some little creature tug on your heartstrings so badly that you feel your life and family just wont be complete until they are forever in your heart as well as your home, now enters Miss Ella Blue, a gorgeous steel gray long haired tabby cat that did indeed do all of those things mentioned above. I knew nothing about her life as I prepped her for surgery, I knew nothing of her life as I kept a close eye on her stats as she was under the knife, nor did I know anything of her life as I held her in my arms as she woke up, yawned and looked into my eyes, what I did know at that point was, she was beautiful !!!  

 The next day I was told her owner was there to take her home, little did I know that this woman is a close friend of the vet I work for and she brought the cat into be spayed because someone dropped her off at her home because for some reason they didnt see the beauty that I did. The woman realized that the cat and I were like contestants on the chuck wollery game show "the love connection" she explained the case to me and said if you want her you can have her. I looked around to see if there were any other technicians around me, could she possibly be talking to me ?? To my relief she was , I never hesitated and said I would love to give her a home.  Long story short, I never thought at this point to even attempt to call Trevor at work to clear it with him, the little voice in my head said, remember what he always says, "What my baby wants, my baby gets" well his baby wanted this cat and guess what, his baby got her. I told him later that night when he called home, he wasnt upset, just a little concerned about what Moses would do. To say that Moses saw little hearts floating above his head when Ella first came home would be wrong, instead he saw red and took every oppertunity to show me he wasnt impressed, mostly with more ambushes then normal and  yacking up furballs in my slippers.

Moses and Ella still are not friends although Moses is trying, Ella is having nothing of it. She and Spirit get along quite well, and when the other two are staring each other down making noises that Im sure are only heard in really bad 70's pornos, Spirit sits on his butt in the middle of them and puts his little paws in the air like he is Rodney King saying cant we all just get along, sadly neither cat listens to Spirit aka Rodney and continues the porno talk and staring down. It will get better is what I keep telling myself and self replies thats right girlfriend think positive and pour yourself another shot of fireball. Come to find out, Self is a very smart person, who knew?

 A heartfelt story isnt it, but if you know my animals then you know they have done something by now to put a hitch in this little redheads giddyup, and you would be correct in that assumption, so refresh your drinks and join me now for the continuing story of kittycat bliss and mama is pissed. 

 Trevor is a very smart man, but like every other human in this world sometimes he doesnt always make great choices and this part of my blog entry is a classic example ,,, the damn fool bought cat nip !!!! Sure they say its all natural but I still say its like weed for cats, or at least in Moses case it turned out to be. His eyes got big as saucers, he flew up in the air, landed none to gracefully on the clothes hamper and then as though in slow motion fell from that did a flip through the air and landed on his feet with a look on his face as if to say, LETS DO THAT AGAIN. 

From there he rolled around on his back with his feet in the air and I swear to god he was laughing, either that or he was yacking up a furball, he sniffed some more and did a few more leaps of faith and then,,,, he got the munchies, the damn cat ate half a bowl of kibble and then sniffed the dogs ass to see if he was packing anything tasty, Maverick had a look of fear and promply sat down, sadly on the cats head.  I made Trevor put up the catnip and also made him promise me that not only was it securely closed but also put away, oh yes hun it is he replies. 

Two nights later when Trevor is back in Moncton leaving me faced with this feeling of this queen sized bed is to damn big without him snuggled beside me and that bitch named insomnia is yet again making her presence known.  After flipping , flopping and turning my pillow over to the cool side for the 50th time that night I finally doze off only to be awaked by an animal running through the house, jumping, leaping, meowing and running up and down the stairs so fast it sounded like a herd of horny elephants. I tell Spirit to stop it and go to sleep, only to roll over and come face to face with Spirit !!!  It was Moses making all the noise, a storm must be coming I tell myself and again finally drift off to a fitfull sleep.

 At 6:30am the next morning I wake up to the blaring of the alarm, the meowing of cats, the pacing of Maverick doing his I really have to pee dance and one hell of a migrain from not getting enough sleep. I leave the comfort of my warm cozy bed to place my feet onto the cold floor and go rouse the troops and feed the zoo, the whole time complaining to the cats that I could feed them alot faster if they would stop trying to kill me on the stairs. As I round the corner to enter the living room I let out a shriek that I knew had to have reminded the kids to get up and ready for school.

The sight that laid before my eyes looked like a very large bag of weed exploded in our living room. Apparently Trevor not only didnt secure the bag of catnip closed he also didnt lock it up and throw away the key either. It is now Wednesday night and after vacuuming numerous times there is still catnip everywhere and Moses still hasnt completley come down off his cat nip high nor has his case of the munchies subsided any. I guess you could say Moses is so happy he could shit rainbows and fart fairy dust. 

And to you my loyal readers , I hope you to have animals in your life that make you so happy you too can say, "I'm so happy, I could shit rainbows and fart fairy dust"