Showing posts with label Me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Me. Show all posts

30 Jan 2008

Time Lost

What I could be doing right now...

  • Going for a walk in the lovely, sunny winter weather
  • Shopping for a dress to wear at Emil's christening next weekend
  • Baking a cake for my boys when they come home from school

What I should be doing right now...

  • Work, work, work, so ever more desperate emails will stop clogging up my inbox
  • Laundry in preparation for next week's mini getaway with the boys and their cousins
  • Exercising to at least attempt to combat the frightening results of all that yummy Norwegian chocolate

But all I want to do....

Is watch this:


6 Nov 2007

It MOCKS me

You know the word verification thingy all you 'portant bloggers have activated? It. Hates. Me. And the feeling is mutual. Here's how our relationship works:

I punch in my supportive/cheerful/sympathetic/sarcastic comment and press 'Send'.

Immediately little miss Word Verification answers back, quite snippily, with intimidating red letters:

Enter the letters as they are shown in the image.

She even uses a bossy little Warning triangle! Sort of like a veiled threat. Only not veiled. More like an in-your-face 'be afraid...be veeeeeeery afraid' threat. A 'you-are-going-to-lose-your-entire-comment-if-you-don't-do-as-I-say' dare.

Fine. So I look at the stupid letters. But they're in a cursive I have never, ever seen before, unless it's the type that my oldest son tries to pass off as cursive (meaning little miss Word Verification is not just rude but also a lazy bum). I can't tell for sure what's a 'v' and what's a 'w'. Lazy, mean bum.

I punch in the letters while muttering 'what a pain in the butt' under my breath.

Press 'Send'.

What?!

She's back. And this time, I swear the message is bigger, bolder and redder:

Enter the letters as they are shown in the image.

The triangle is larger, too, and more ominous. Like the exclamation mark is ready to jump out of the screen and in my face.

She's got new letters up there now. Fewer this time, and slightly easier to read. It's like she's mocking me. She's clearly thinking I'm so stupid, I need the idiot version. She's trying to make it easy for hopeless little me. The nerve! I'll show her!

Punch, punch, punch... 'Send'

Wait...wait...what?!

Third attempt Word Verification reads as follows: BENDOVR

Sorry.No.Comment.For.You.

26 Oct 2007

The Evil Forces Of Fall

Warning: Self-indulgent post follows...

You should know that the Universe is not in Order. That evil forces are at work, throwing expected patterns of development out the window. And you better run for cover before it's too late.

Need proof? I give you Three Irrefutable Signs:

For days now, ever since the thermometer started hovering around 0 degrees Celsius in the morning, I've had a battle on my hands to get my children to wear warmer clothes to school. A thicker jacket, a hat, perchance some gloves.

Benjamin's 7 year old protestations eventually wear down and he can be persuaded to do the right thing. A promise of extra computer and/or playstation time may have something to do with it. [ What?! Don't roll your eyes at me like that. I'm fighting the good fight, people!] Satisfied, I'll watch him march off all snuggly warm, only to have him return from school, his jacket stuffed into his bag, blithely declaring that he didn't need it. All day. Because it was So. Hot! Grr.

Christopher is an even harder nut to crack. He simply refuses to put on anything other than his very light spring/fall jacket. Since reasoning isn't working, I've tried appealing to his vanity by arguing that his winter jacket is 'cooler', but no go. Apparently his jacket prevents him from being able to move. And as anyone with two brain cells know, it is vital that he move when he's playing soccer at recess. This is all explained with a look of utter exasperation on his 10 1/2 year old face. Needless to say, he's won most days.

So I've been waiting for the day when one of them would come home sick as a dog. Everyone knows that running around outside, getting hot and sweaty with minimal clothing in freezing temperatures is a first class ticket to illness. Right?

- Sign Number One That The Universe Is Not In Order -

Well, sick arrived yesterday at 5 pm. Only not in a boy. In my jacket-wearing, gloves-sporting self! Ooooh, the injustice of it all. So here I am all, all snivelly and feverish. Didn't get much sleep last night, and kept Mike up in the process. Who still had to single-handedly get our supremely healthy boys ready for school this morning, as I crawled back into bed complaining of all kinds of woes. Yep, he is lucky to have me, that one.

Don't get me wrong. I don't wish for my children to get sick. I am just saying this is not how it's supposed to work! They're supposed to bring home the sick from their germ-infested class mates. Anyone with grade school kids knows this to be a Universal Truth.

And yesterday started out as such a nice day, too. I had a leisurely lunch with my mother in town, followed by a stop at the photographer's studio to pick out our favourites from what was a surprisingly good set of pictures of the clan. We made plans to exercise that night. All was well in Norwayland. Until 5 pm, when BAM, it hit me!

- Sign Number Two That The Universe Is Not In Order -

It is an undeniable fact that a cold is preceded by a sore and scratchy throat. A built-in warning for mothers that it is time to get the shopping and Mt. Laundry reviewed and at least partially tackled. All in preparations for a couple of days of feeling under the weather. But this time around, there was no warning. Nothing. Nada. Nil.

So, consider this your warning!

- Sign Number Three That The Universe Is Not In Order -

....'kay, so I only have Two Irrefutable Signs. But since things always come in threes, I've probably just missed one in my fever-induced haze. I'll be sure to post an update, once I've figured this one out.

Until then, for your amusement, some Benjamin words of wisdom:

*****************************************************

He had already turned his light off when I walked into his room to say goodnight. I bent down and kissed his forehead.

"Good night, Mamma," he giggled.

"How did you know it was me?" I asked.

"Because you are tall and not so hairy."

******************************************************

Stay well and have a great weekend!