PIMPLES!

Pimples! I'm getting pimples!
I am nearly 50 years old – 50!
And I'm breaking out in PIMPLES!
WTF???????

Taking A Shower

I Do Countdown: 13 Days

Peeps, pasta and presents! The goils gathered at one of my favourite
restaurants, East Side Mario's in Huntsville, for a "surprise" bridal shower
yesterday. IT WAS SO MUCH FUN! Vic snapped this picture at the end
of the "do" so dear sweet Laura (the nicest funniest bean counter I've ever met)
had already gone home, but here's the rest of the A-listers. From left is Lisa, who works
with me at the paper; Leah, who made the yummy cake and is doing our wedding cake
as well; my future sister-in-law Bonnie, who is also running for council in Joly;
me and my boa - aren't I beeuuutiful? my gorgeous and funny mother, Dot;
my other future sister-in-law, Sue, who loves camping as much as I do; my funny
sparkplug of an aunt, Bingo Mary;  my dear maid of honour, Tammy, who
(along with Leah and Vic) organized the shower and will look gorgeous in her dress;
and my friend Gail, who is also my boss at work, so I have to kiss butt
(smooch, smooch -doesn't she look pretty????). 

My Mom and Auntie Mary: now these two are trouble!

Gail, who looks real good in my boa, and Vic, who hates having her
picture taken!

Mmmmmm, cake.... Leah made this!
Isn't it beautiful? And it tasted great, too!

Leah and Lisa - cute as bug's ears, these two.

The Webster girls: Sue is married to Tom and Bonnie is married to
Max and, in 13 days, I'll be married to baby brother, Dave.

The lovely corsage that Tammy bought for me. Thanks, Tammy!

Tammy is my maid of honour and she wears that title very,  very well.
Thanks, Tammy, for all your help, all your support, all your everything.
You're the best! Now, next time, let me take your picture!

The gang's all here (except Laura, but if you imagine a pretty blonde
lady with a great sense of humour, that's Laura). Thanks everybody for
coming, for making the day special, for making me feel special,
for all the great presents and all the laughs, and for being the best
friends and family anyone could ask for.
*hugs!*

Seventeen Days ... Tick, Tick, Tick

I Do Countdown: 17 Days

Wondering what I've been up to? Wondering where I've been?

These are the things I've been up to. These are the things I've seen.

My son, Sam, launched into the double-digits on September 5.

Double digits! Holy darn moly!

Happy Birthday, Sam-I-Am.

There's no chocolate in the world sweeter than you.

Even this remarkably chocolate mmmmmousse cake.

There is zen in being ten,
Says my Sam, who hates jam.
The best things, he sings
Are wishes, no dishes
And dreams.

Rub a dub dub, no finish on the tub.
I scratched my back and I scratched my butt
on that nasty finish that liked to cut.
Dave got sick of hearing me whine
So he refinished that tub in record time.

Guests who will be coming to the royal wedding
will be aghast at the lack of bedding.
So we're prepping the bunkie for our treasured guests,
painting my grandma's old bed and spraying for pests.

Grandma's old bed has been in a garage for five long years,
collecting spiders and dust and spillage from beers.
Dave and Spray Nine helped me to clean it up, as fresh as can be.
How old is the bed? Well, look at the date - it says 1903.

When you're paying a photog a really big buck,
you want a nice yard, unless you don't give a *%#*
The wedding pictures will look so mature
With fresh mums planted in the garden manure.

The roses are blooming, their sweet perfume
lingers in the cooling afternoons of September.
Soon I will carry roses
and we will whisper our vows in a sacred chapel
and our souls will mingle and chase the autumn winds.

One of a Kind - Lou Freshwater

I was skulking through Lou Freshwater's facebook account a few minutes ago because I was looking for this photo to steal and put here.


Why?


Do you have to ask why?


Look at that face. If ever a person's face was designed to match up with a name, it would be Freshwater. She looks like she just stepped out of an Ivory soap commercial, for crying out loud. The only way her name would be better was if it was Lou Freshface. But it doesn't sound quite so romantic, quite so, oh, I dunno, authentic.


Now there's a word you can use to describe Lou.


Authentic.


In her life. In her words. In her voice. In her encouragement. And, most of all, in her amazing writing.


This is the first few paragraphs of a story she posted recently called Aunts:
     
     I don’t know what happened to all the men. Used to wonder if they killed them. For a while I even thought maybe they just kept hatchin’ girls all by themselves in some secret spot out in the woods where all the howls came from.

     I called them all by Aunt, but come to find out some of them weren’t really my aunt they were cousins or friends of cousins. One afternoon I was in the house on Brick Street when one of them told me to wash the collards.

     “I don’t want to,” I said.

     “I don’t care what you want, Ms. fancy pants. Now get on in there and wash those collards,” she hollered back. Then another one of them came marching in the room, shaking the whole floor and the earth underneath with every step, and she looked at me real serious and said, “Girl, don’t you know if you eat collards they’ll give you big boobs? You want to be the only woman in this family without big boobs?” I just stood there, and wished I could blink my eyes or wiggle my nose like on TV and make myself disappear. But the snap of her hand towel on the side of my leg got me into motion quicker and better than any magic potion ever would have.


I love this story. I love all Lou's stories, as a matter of fact, but I especially love the ones where she writes of the south. She writes with such tenderness, such intelligence, such humour, that I want to be there. To live there with those aunts and eat collards and grow big boobs. Y'see, they don't have collards up here in Canada and I figure that's why I don't have any. Any worth braggin' about, that is.


So, Lou's photo is up there because it's a great photo. And it's up there because Lou is an amazing writer. But it's also up there because last week, when I was doubting my ability as a writer and feeling a little low, Lou called me to bolster my confidence and smarten me up.


I loved talking to her! We could have talked for hours. She was so warm, so friendly, so smart in every sense. When I finally hung up my heart sang for hours. 


I realized then, that it was finally time to pass on a very special award.


On July 20, Mark Kerstetter brought me to tears when he gave me an award he drew, painted and made up himself. Suis Generis, he called it.

This is the award, the 'badge,' and this is what Mark wrote to accompany it. (I still read these words occasionally and they still take my breath away): 


"In the spirit of showing appreciation I've created my own badge. It's based on my drawing of a rose-kind of fantasy flower straight from my noodle. Sui generis: one of a kind. This is a token of appreciation for someone who's irreplaceable, someone unmistakable, someone who practices great and totally unique artistry. It goes to someone I really like, my buddy Cathy Olliffe. It's for her because her writing kicks ass and also because her spirit throws mighty waves into cyberspace. She may do with it whatever she likes. It only comes with one rule: should the recipient wish to pass it on, it only goes to one person."

I held on to this award since then, rather selfishly, I must confess. That's how much I treasure it. Honestly I wanted to wait for the right moment to pass it on. Finally, after talking with Lou the other night, that moment has come. 

Thus, I have this to say: 

Sui generis: one of a kind. This is a token of appreciation for someone who's irreplaceable, someone unmistakable, someone who practices great and totally unique artistry. It goes to someone I really like, my buddy Lou Freshwater. It's for her because her writing kicks ass and also because her spirit throws mighty waves into cyberspace. She may do with it whatever she likes. It only comes with one rule: should the recipient wish to pass it on, it only goes to one person.

Congratulations, Lou. This couldn't be going to a better person.

To read more of Lou Freshwater's stories, visit her blog, Baby's Black Balloon.

To read Mark Kerstetter's work, visit his blog, The Bricoleur.

I often think about music when I think about my writing friends. This reminds me of Lou, I think because the heroine shows so much strength. She has this strength, Lou does. It's another reason why she is Suis Generis.

Things I Forgot To Mention

If it's true that the only good mosquito is a dead mosquito,
then lots of mozzies went to heaven on our watch. Buzzing bastards.

If you've been wondering if mosquito magnets work, wonder no more.
Look at the dead mozzies on that piece of sticky paper. That, my friends, is the stuff wet dreams are made of. When you live beside a mosquito-infested river (my pig-squealing friends hum the theme for Deliverance whenever they drop by), you will do anything, and I mean anything, to reduce the insect population.
We tried big electric bug zappers but the kids never really cottoned to keeping their fingers out of the mesh. Poor little christers going back to school with frizzy hair.
We were going to hire an airplane to spray the whole river with some poisonous, toxic, venomous cocktail of illegal and lethal chemicals but the guys that organized the G8 already used it all up spraying the golf course so politicians could golf a few rounds and talk environmental issues without getting malaria.
Dave even sacrificed a few virgins out at the dock but neighbours called the by-law officer and Dave got a ticket. He didn't realize you had to have a permit.
We needn't have worried about the other crap, though. We spent a couple hundred bucks and got one of those magnet thinga-mabobs - they turn propane into carbon dioxide, mimicking people breath, with the additional scent attractant of Bug Come Hither, and when the mozzies fly by to see what the fuss is about they get stuck to sticky paper.
Every two weeks during the summer we replaced the sticky paper because it got completely covered with dead mosquitoes.
Every two weeks!
If you an imagine how many bugs were throttled, and thus unable to produce more bugs, you can imagine how our place went from a bug-infested swamp to a place where we could actually hang out. Outside. Without bug suits.

I Do Countdown: 24 Days
Today is the first day of September, which means I'm officially in freaking out mode. Not that I'm worried about the wedding itself – what I am going through is that "cold feet" stage.
Like, am I doing the right thing? I mean, I thought I was doing the right thing 24 years ago and look how that turned out.
Do I want to spoil what Dave and I have going? We have spent five great years together... what if getting married ruins that? I don't think it will, and I am convinced we are doing the right thing... still.
I'm not the only one worried about it. Dave thinks about it, too.
After all, we were both burned the first time around.
We know this time will be different.
We know.
Still...
I called my friend Vic tonight. Vic is training to be a lay minister and is, in fact, sharing part of our wedding service duties with the minister of Bracebridge United Church. Vic is a bit like a Father Confessor. I said to her, "shouldn't I be happy and giddy? Why do I feel a little low?"
She said it's a little known secret that most people are anxious before the wedding, wondering if what they're doing is right. It is, after all, a major life decision. And it's not the wedding that's expensive; in the long run, it's the divorce.
I felt a lot better after talking to her.
And downing a half a bottle of chablis.

Wedding Things I Did Today
Today was a big day, wedding-wise. This afternoon I went to the Town of Bracebridge office and got a marriage license.
WOOT!
I was beginning to think we might not get one.
Dave and I have been legally separated from our spouses for years, but we saw no reason to shell out the mega-bucks for a divorce. No reason until Dave proposed on Valentine's Day. Well, we knew it was going to take a while to get the darn divorces done so we started the process right away. We figured it might take three months. Maybe four.
Wrong!
Even with both of our divorces uncontested and uncomplicated it took until LAST WEEK to get the certificates. I was seriously beginning to wonder if there was really going to be a wedding.
But, they came.
The marriage licence is in hand.
And tonight we pay our final visit to our minister before the rehearsal night on the 24th.

Wedding Shopping I Did Today
Dropped by Wal-Mart and picked up gifts for the boys for being our ushers. I can't tell you what they are because Angus and Sam read this sometimes... suffice it to say they are boring, yucky, stoopid presents, about as exciting as new underwear under the Christmas tree. Which means it was motherly gift-shopping at its finest.
Also bought some fake pearl strings.
Vic had an idea for table decorations... but I don't have time to tell you about it now.
Later, gator.
Now, must go to see the minister.
Dave? Get me to the church on time!