But wait...

It's the line, I always wait to hear....you know it's coming, the final ploy to get you to buy something on an infomercial. I guess it terms of hook, line and sinker...it would be the sinker.

The hook of course, is the product. Be it the sham-wow (made by the Germans don't cha know), or the knife that you can cut a pop can with or maybe some of those stylin' blue blocker sunglasses or my new favourite, mighty putty.

The line, is having those incredibly dynamic aka mentally unstable folks that hawk the stuff. They tell you of all the benefits of the product and why you need them to make your life better. They are usually men, who have to shout the benefits of the products to you despite the fact that they are usually hooked up with some head mic that makes them look like there may be a chance, at any given moment they may break into song ala Britney...well song-ish.
I guess the shouting shows you how enthused they are about the product and they just want to make sure that you hear the benefits of their goods.
I can't count the number of times that I've had to cut a pop can in half, just before I need to cut some tomato slices for a sandwich... so handy to be able to do that with one knife, instead of the days when I used to bring my hacksaw indoors...a big time saver for sure!!
And by the time I take my next sun filled vacation I will make sure that I am donning a pair of blue blockers...I guess if I headed to Florida, they may even have other styles available there...the Del Boca Vista series maybe or perhaps the Golden Girls line...sounds sexy non??
The fact that they are big enough to cover half of my face is a real bonus, it means that I'll be saving money hand over fist on sunscreen...now I only need to do my chin and the top inch of my forehead...AWESOME!!!
I know for a fact Tony is leaning heavily towards the sham-wow...he has been using a similar product...let's call it the sham-PNE for years and swears by it.
For me though, I'm putting my money on the mighty putty. I think this will become a very useful thing to have around the home. I'm thinking if you can use it to install a shelf that will hold 350 lbs of weight, then it will be a good parenting tool as well. When I tell the kids to go in their room for a time out, no longer will I have to worry about them coming out every few minutes with the usual...'can I come out now?'...no siree, I plan on using my mighty putty to mount the kids to the wall...that way I can ensure that they won't come out until I'm good and ready to let them out!! Not sure how easy it is to remove though....hmmm, may have to read the fine print on that one!
This product really gives great value for the money, household uses, a parenting tool and the means to start up a new business!!
As Mr. Billy Mays aka GI Joe demonstrates, mighty putty can pull an 80,000 lb tractor trailer, so having that information combined with my natural entrepreneurial spirit, I figure that I may soon be entering the towing business.
All I'll need is a trailer hitch and my trusty putty....very low start up cost indeed!
I plan on concentrating on the big rig market, no more need to use those mega tow trucks, nah-uh...just Mel, my Corolla and my putty! This winter I'm going to head up and down the interior of BC looking for truckers in need, I will become like a guardian angel to these burly, lumber hauling, plaid shirt wearing, greasy spoon eating, peeing on the side of the road, dudes who made wearing a trucker hat fashionable. I may even, if the budget allows, fashion myself a halo made from pipe cleaners...kind of set me apart from the other tow truck operators.
I can hear their gruff voices calling me now....'breaker, breaker....Mel Angel we need you good buddy, do you copy?'
I will reply via my vintage cb radio, 'this is Mel Angel I read you my burly one and I will be there in a jiffy, 10-4'.
Oh, I can almost hear the sweet sounds of my bank account growing as I write this!
Note to my friends....as all new business have their hiccups, I think it would be wise for me to advise you NOT to drive behind me when I'm towing....just in case!
See, sometimes infomercials can be very useful.

But wait, if you comment on this blog in the next 4 minutes, I'm going to double the amount of time I'll be your friend....and that's not all....if you say nice things in your comment, I will keep all of the 'stuff' that I know about you to myself. Yes, you heard correctly....I will remain silent about the details of 'that' Friday night.
If you are not completely satisfied with my blog, just keep your memories of me and send me $19.95 to cover the handling costs.

Could this be
the Canadian cousin of Seinfeld's
'Assman'?? Hmmmm....

Nothing Needs to Happen

Nothing needs to happen
no expectations
nothing is going to change
same old life, it will remain

It's what you feel
that makes it real
everyday life will stay the same
it's only you that knows my name

Let the words
escape from your lips just once
speak the truth
even if no one will ever hear you

Send it to the skies above
tell them, of who you love

you tell me the same truth that you tell yourself
while the real truth sits on a shelf

From the poetry vault.

Open Your Eyes and See

A small space of light gradually grows large,
and soon after, the darkness covers it up.

Try to see the light while there is still time to,
and while there's still something to see.

Truth in Advertising??

Well this is one of those cases where if there really is any truth in advertising...I know which home I'd rather live in.

Each week, while leaving my White Rock store, I pass an area that is full of new townhouse developments. Of course, as they are only in the building stages, they have to depend on their billboards to convey to you the good life you'll be living if you choose their development.
We've all seen these signs before, usually comprised of images like: a lady walking in a field of wild flowers, or a couple on their patio having a cup of full froth coffee...one person usually has their head tilted back in laughter, obviously amused at the hilarious joke that their partner has just told them and let's not forget the shot of families, all holding hands, kids wearing matching sweaters that of course colour compliment those of their parents (not that I take issue with that) and of course everyone is smiling and not a tantrum in sight. Good times, good times indeed.

That is the vision that the developers are selling to you....the good life. Oh what fun you'll have once you move in here.
Don't get me wrong, I love advertising and I can fully appreciate the selling of a lifestyle....even though we all know these moments are few and far between.

So if that's all that I have to go on, to chose which one of the two complexes that I would choose to live in, then I know exactly which one I'd pick.
As you can see from the photos, we have one place that will house pet owners with nice calm "lassie like" dogs, taking a break at the beach (probably just had a nice game of fetch)....or we can share a place where our new neighbours clearly like to take their rabid dogs out for walks on the beach.
Hmmm....lassie or mad dog lunging at me...what to do??!!!

Mind you looking at the photos again, I can see in the rabid dog one another picture of a person who appears to be attempting to take a dive off the end of a boat that is on land....ok, it's crystal clear now...one place is for nut jobs...of human and animal variety, while the other is for the sane.

Now, how am I going to choose!!! ;-)

Stop the Insanity!!

Okay, it's well documented that I am indeed fussy, my mum has called me a fuss-ass for as long as I can remember. I don't have a problem with the title though, nope not at all, because if I didn't hold this title...which unfortunately doesn't come with a sash or crown...well then there'd be the chance that I would become one of those 'other' people.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm sure some of those other people are lovely, even if they have been driving me to the brink of insanity lately!
I'm talking about those people, who for some reason have no problem leaving their homes to be viewed by the public at large, in clothes that I would have thought best belonged in the 'to be used as rags' pile....MEOW!!

I do my best to block them out, but like a moth to a flame, I can't help myself. I have a hard time taking my eyes off of them....even though I tell myself...look away from the horror lest you'll be scarred for life!
Now I know that people aren't going to don their finest when they are just picking up their kids from school, but would it be too much to expect that maybe we could do a little better than sweat pants.
Lately it seems that the vast majority of people waiting for their kids have come straight from an audition of What Not To Wear....I know, MEOW again!!

In the past few weeks I have witnessed, ill fitted pants o'plenty, including many that are way too short, and no they weren't Capri's.
The bold mixing of patterns that has resulted in the same effect, that being spun in a dryer after a large meal would have...not good!
People wearing more colours than any rainbow I've ever seen.
Clothes that have had food stains on, clearly a lot of misjudging of where the mouth is has been going on.
Note to all, it's the opening below the nose.
And as I've mentioned enough sweat pants to, when tied leg to leg, would stretch from here to St. Johns. RAAAHHH!!
I'm not talking even 'nice' sweatpants...I'm talking the kind that have obviously been lived in for a very long time, air conditioned at the knee, elastic at the ankles...need I say more?

It just seems that so many Canadians have decided that sloppy is ok...well, my fellow citizens I'm hear to scream...IT'S NOT!!
We are better than that people, let's not turn into our neighbours to the south where for some people, sweat pants paired with a matching sweat shirt is considered 'formal wear'!

It's not about having money, it's about style and more importantly pride.
In fact, having a lot of money to spend on clothes often has it's downside, as people are lured into the false sense of security that if they paid a lot of money for a piece of clothing than it must be good and they must be lookin' fine in it.
This can be a deadly assumption...why do you think that airports the world over are filled with rich ladies sporting white suits with gold lame' accents, tops covered with gold appliqued animals on and hideous bejewelled sandals that they jam their fat feet in!! Think about it...you've seen them too.
Head held high due to the fact that they assume they look good owing to the $1500.00 they plunked down to look that way.

So I beg of you, please treat yourself better.
Learn what looks good on your body type, know your size (your real size, if you're a large...don't buy a medium - nobody is going to look at your tag when you're out), don't wear more colours at one time than are in Joseph's technicolour dream coat, and less pattern than grandmas quilt is always a good rule to follow.
Well fitted basics in good quality fabrics is virtually fool proof.

And if you have to wear sweat pants, please do me a favour...for public viewing, let's shoot for no elastic at the ankles, no holes, a colour other than grey and let's really push the boat out and look for something with maybe a little embroidery.
All the above were suggestions of the 'if you have to' scenario...let it be known that the wearing of sweat pants has not been endorsed by me.

Changing sloppy people into fuss-asses one person at a time.

Bloomin' Lovely!

I love flowers. Well, I'm sure you're thinking, don't most women? I'm guessing the answer to that question is probably, yes.
I came to realize the other day, just how closely my life is associated with flowers.
My mother was a florist, as was her mother, and her grandmother....yep, Mel broke the tradition that had been going for the previous three generations. Nice one!
My father was also an avid gardener and his father was a professional gardener.
In a couple of my previous jobs, I have dabbled in the world of 'smellies'...so I do believe some slack should be cut.

When I think of my life being connected with flowers though, I mean it seems that every time I harken back to my childhood, flowers, and trees too, play a big part of those memories.

Although I was never blown away with the tulip as a child...given the fact that like most gardens of that time, we had the usual yellow and red flowers planted here and there...not to any great effect really. I did always think that there was something quite magical about the way they looked inside, once those petals would start to open in the morning, it was like you were treated to a secret surprise they had been keeping all night. Then I visited Keukenhof Gardens in the Netherlands and was absolutely gobsmacked at seeing these flowers en masse...now that's something to google sometime....Kuekenhof Garden-images...wow!!!
It looks like mother nature kicked off the top of a paint box to reveal the most stunning colours and then she painted them into the most amazing patterns. Must return there...soon.


As a little girl I always loved the look of the sweet pea flowers in our garden, I loved their beautiful colours and how delicate they looked. There is just something, well, sweet about them. They look innocent and have this intoxicating fragrance, and the way their tendrils would wrap around things always fascinated me, like a long skinny finger reaching out to be held.
Near to where the sweet peas grew, I had my own little garden which basically consisted on mint, which of course was added to potatoes being cooked by either my mother or grandmother. We had a big vegetable garden and lots of fruit trees too, and an array of flowers that wrapped around the house in flower beds, as well as various other trees throughout the property. A rose garden complete with tiny signs that my father painted indicating each variety of rose, the rose garden really smelled lovely.

Many of my summer days, I would sit alone of my front steps and admire the magnificent and complex flowers on our massive peony bush. The huge flowers were a beautiful magenta colour and I always thought how cool they looked, from before they bloomed, and were in this tight ball shaped bud to when they were fully opened to reveal layer after layer of petals, rather spectacular.
Then I would turn my attention to the lovely little strawberries dangling from the wild strawberry plant that was in a container on the corner of the steps. Pick and eat the ripe ones and calculate how many days until the next few would be ready.
I then wander around to the money plant and pull off a few 'silver dollars', I would try to pull them apart to have a closer look at the seeds inside.

Often when my grandparents visited, my nan would ask me and my brother to go and fetch some conkers from the ground so she could show us how to play one of her favourite childhood games. This is the same nan, that would also pay my brother and I a quarter to pick a bucket full of dandelion flowers, so she could make wine with it...thanks for introducing us to the world of alcohol!! ;-)
They had a big field next to their house and that's where you could find us....making 'two-bit's per bucket...I'd say we were slightly underpaid!!!
Should've started a union!!

Every fall I would highly anticipate....as I still do to this day...the changing colour of the leaves. This has always been my favourite time of the year, maybe in part...(and I'm just thinking of this as I type)...because the colour is so bold and in your face, and unlike the bright summer flowers, where the colour is usually close to the ground, trees have the height advantage to really show off their stuff.
There is something quite cozy and cocooning about being surrounded by those colours, it just makes me feel warm and good.

Winter would roll around and the big holly tree that we had was visible through our front living room window and when it was covered in snow, with it's red berry accents poking through, well it was a sight to behold.
There would be great excitement when the first snow drop showed itself and we always had tiny vases in the house filled with snowdrops and bluebells as a preview of what colour would soon be heading our way.

My mum would also will spring on by cutting a few branches of any of our blossoming trees as soon as there was a sign of a bud on them. Just the bare branches in a vase was a lovely visual, but the blossoms would show up soon and remind us, that indeed warmer weather was coming.

I would also spend alot of my time sitting up high in one of our three horse- chestnut trees, sometimes I would write poetry, sometimes I would escape from my father when he was in a 'mood' and sometimes I would just sit up there and think. No one knew I was there so it was my secret little hideaway.

So it does seem that there are few childhood memories that don't include some kind of association with flowers and trees....I guess I really could say that my childhood was, well, bloomin lovely!

Citizens of Capilano

We waited, and we waited, and waited, and waited.....

Keepin' your cool.

Ok, one thing that I've always been sure of...I was planning on keeping my cool once I became a parent.

No siree, I was not going to get a 'mum' hair-do, nor would I be sporting elastic waist jeans and I'd just say 'no' to practical shoes.

I had no intention of carrying around a pastel colour diaper bag with a cute teddy bear on the side either. Nope, I found myself a very cool black messenger style bag, that to look at, you'd never guess was crammed with wipes, diapers, extra baby clothes, Cheerios, bottles, soothers, toys, and all the other necessities needed to take out a human (weighing less than 10 lbs) for an hour of shopping.

And nix-ay on the kiddie tunes as well...only the Wiggles managed to slide under the radar on this one. On the whole though, both my kids thought that John Mayer, Maroon 5 and Jamie Cullum was 'their' music, and I was being very nice to let them listen to 'their' music all the time. I say you have to train them young to insure that they have good taste in music. That's what my parents did, so really I'm just keeping up with tradition....time to say, 'aaaaah'.

I have also tried to instill a sense of style upon them as well. Being that I have a background in fashion, I couldn't stand the thought of them cruising around, wearing sweat pants and gum boots, one pant leg tucked in, one out, paired with a non-coordinated shirt....perish the thought!!! Just typing that visual makes me go all light headed.

All in all, I'd say I've done a pretty good job at keeping my cool since becoming a mum. I'm a non-mum hair, zipper jean wearing, black boot sportin' mama, with stylin' kids in tow. But as all of you who are parents will already know and all of you parents of the future will find out....sometimes, you have no control over your cool....DAMN!!!

I'm referring to the precious moments where your kids need to speak their minds, and they need to speak it LOUD.

A couple of months back, after Gavyn's soccer game, I was heading to the parking lot and having a chat with the coach. To set the scene for you a little better, coach Ross is about...I'd say 23, if that, and a bit of a 'dude' if ya know what I mean.
He's a volunteer firefighter, and a bartender at a local restaurant.
This was his first year coaching, and as we were walking I was asking him if he'd be coaching next year, as Gavyn said he'd sign up next season if he could be on coach Ross's team again.
So we're talking about that, and then he's telling me that we should come to the restaurant where he works, good Italian food, etc.
Tony and the boys have gone ahead towards the cars. So we are fully in one of those 'long lost' adult conversations....he's giving me tips about what to order at the restaurant, talking about the fresh authentic ingredients that they use, etc.

When we get up to the cars, Owen is crying and poor Tony is frustrated, and Gavyn is as impatient as ever....
I'm trying to finish listening to Ross when Owen comes up beside me....'mum'....'mum'....muuuum....'MUM'!!! I do my best to ignore him for the moment but he's not going anywhere.
I don't want to be rude and cut coach off mid-sentence, but Owen is persistent.
I apologize and look at Owen...."what do you want O??'. I'm annoyed because like most kids his age, mum is the first person that they go to, even if dad is standing right there.

He replies...'I NEED TO POO!!!!'

Yup, there you have it...the moments where you no longer have any control over your 'cool' factor. Lucky for me, as this is kid number 2, I've already had lots of these moments, so they don't phase me so much anymore.
Ross just laughed and I said, 'sorry, it looks like duty calls, I guess I'm heading home now'.

Before I left, I felt like warning him ....ooh, coach Ross, your time will come....and when it does, not even that eyebrow piercing is gonna help save your cool!!

And the songbird keeps singing....

I am a song bird.

Not necessarily one of those birds that you'd enjoy listening to, but one who sings never the less. The good bit is, I have no illusions, as some of those ' I pity the fool' people on Idol do, that I sing well. The bad bit is, I don't really care how I sound....I'm going to sing anyways. Don't get me wrong, I'm not terrible, I have spent a few years in my youth in choir. Did productions of Tom Sawyer....'scat, scat, scat...darn that cat, drat that cat' and of course the epic 9 page song that we did from Joseph and his super d-duper colourful coat....'way, way back many centuries ago'... etc. I can also remember the vocal exercises, moo, moe, ma, may ,me...what the hell the point of that was is beyond me. Regardless of true talent, I sing because I love to and I do it often, as in daily.
Aah, but not to worry, where I lack in real vocal talent, I more than make up for in creative song choice and the way I re-tool a song.
Let's just say, I take a song and 'make it my own', thank you Paula for having one sentence that makes sense.

The latest ditty that I have been singing is the lovely tune, 'Dude Looks Like a Lady', by Aerosmith. But, in my version I's kickin' it Ella style. Complete with a whole round of scatting thrown in for good measure. I think I sang this about 20 times the other morning, each time changing it up a bit...gotta keep it fresh.
I also do a rather wicked version of 'Rock and Roll All Night', by Kiss, in the style of, hmmm, let's see, I'd say, picture Nana Mouskouri singing around a campfire...that's how I'd call it. I can really bring down the house with this one.

And because I truly am a creative soul, when I'm not working my own versions of the 'classics', I make up my own tunes. Sometimes sung to the tune of a popular song and sometimes purely my own composition. Quite often these little gems are sung with a 1940's vibe....as I really do believe in my previous life I was one of those songbirds sent to entertain the troops...(no, not in that way!)...ya know, like I was the lost Andrew sister. I know what you're thinking...you're 'lost' alright sista!!

I also sing back answers to the kids....'no we don't have any cookies, so stop asking me before you drive me insane'...all sung in a pleasant manner of course.
Sometimes Owen will say, "STOP SINGING"! I know he's just kidding though, he loves it, not fooling me Mr. Brown Eyes. Oooh that reminds me, 'don't it make my brown eyes blue....'

Yep, I do break into song on a regular basis. Good thing for you to note though, unless you're living with me, you may never have to suffer the sweet sounds of my singing. Did I say 'suffer??' I meant, you may never get to enjoy the sweet sounds of my singing.

At least, I think they said I sounded sweet....couldn't hear them over my singing.

Fashion Math

Black underwear + white linen trousers = WRONG!!!

Only in California....

Yep, you read it right. The brand is, 'Bimbo'. Although, I didn't have any of this cake, I can only imagine that it was extra 'dense'. ;-)

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

Ok, so I'm back from my family trip to Disneyland now and it's time to put down my thoughts on the trip....time to share.
First let's set the scene, we went for a one week trip, and had 6 consecutive days of theme parks. I should mention off the bat, that I'm not much of a theme park girl.
Don't get me wrong, as a kid travelling in the UK on family holidays, there was nothing that thrilled me more than spotting a seaside 'fun fair' in the distance. It was even better when my dad would decide to stop at one here and there, instead of my brother and I continually having our faces pressed up against the window of our mini van like 2 dogs waiting for their master to return home. So when we sometimes got to go for a 'walk', it was exciting! Of course, we're talking low-key parks in comparison to the mega empire that Disney be....ya know, throw a dart...pop a balloon, the arcade with all it's lights and sounds, ye olde big slide, rock candy o'plenty and sometimes even a coaster for the daring ones...count me out on that though....the big slide was about as wild as I got.
So as we embark on this week long holiday, I know full well that it will be a challenge to my sanity, I remind myself, that many times I will need to find my inner Costanza and repeat the phase, 'serenity now, serenity now'...

The Good...
-the nicely groomed palm trees that are in the few blocks surrounding Disney and hotel central.
-the flowers native to California, that probably wouldn't have a chance in hell at surviving here in the 'wet coast'
-the almond poppy muffin that I had for breakfast everyday...lubbly!!
-having an air-conditioned room to head back to
-little soaps and hair products...c'mon, who doesn't like cute little toiletries??
-the fact that the in-laws paid for the whole sha-bang...mind you them joining us was part of the deal too....note to self...always read the fine print!! ;-)
-the kids first plane ride went well, no melt downs..hallelujah!!!
-both kids loved going on rides, and surprisingly, Gavyn went on many that I wouldn't go on...mind you, I am a baby la-la.
-Tony and I got to go on one ride alone. My first time on the Indiana Jones ride...oooh, how I laughed like a school girl...all you could see was my hair whipping around...good times!
-the fact that the airport dude in Vancouver said, 'welcome home'
-watching my mother in-law (who doesn't drive), be a back seat driver even in a bumper car...that was classic...the Italian in-laws fighting over how to get their car to move, the hand gestures were awesome...too funny!!
-sitting in front of my mother in-law in the canoe and hitting her oar about every third stroke, because she wasn't putting the oar deep enough in the water...she was more giving the water a light 'stir' as if she was making sauce....Nina...there are no Roma tomatoes in here...it was highly amusing!

The Bad...
-the eighty billion super-sized Americans that we had to fight our way through daily....for the love of God....cut back on those portion sizes people!!!
-that fact that 7-eleven...known for it's higher prices, charged .99 cents for the 'red triangle chips' aka Doritos that Owen seemed to need like crack (pick your battles...you're on holidays)...while Disneyland charged $2.75 for the same thing!!!
Shame on you, you fat cat of gross proportions,...bleeding families dry....serenity now....
-the stinkin' humid weather and having to pay stupidly high prices for a bottle of water...$3.50 at Knott's...that's 3 flippin' 50!!! Fine if you only needed one, but when you need to buy several a day to avoid passing out....c'mon, that runs like $30-$40 for 6 of us...dude, we're going to be peeing it out 5 minutes later!!
-the fact that LAX stinks like socks....big time, wud up wid dat?? Oh yes, welcome to the glamorous world of LA.
-the fact that of the gazillions of people that we saw, I only heard one parent ask their child to 'keep out of the way'...that was the only example of 'parenting' that I heard....I tells ya, I must sound like a right ol'nag to people as I'm constantly reminding the kids about manners.

The Ugly...
-the mass amounts of hideous tattoos that I saw...now don't get me wrong...I like a good tattoo, but who in the H-E-double hockey sticks gets a big snowman tattooed on their arm...saw this beauty on a lady no less, and I use that term loosely.
Actually most of the ugly tattoos that I spotted were on women, often in weird places too...like up their shin...that must look good when you're wearing a nice dress.
-the black haired woman who sat across from me on the bus to Universal who had super hairy legs and pits....eeeewwwww, sorry to all you lovers of the extra fuzz...but I'm not a fan....Mel likes it smooooth!!
-the man who stood in plain sight of everyone and picked his nose...and then checked to see if he dug out any treasures ala Pirates of the Caribbean....eeeeewwwww again!! We were in line for food...cancel my order for the spinach torte, I seem to have lost my appetite.
-the un-groomed palm trees outside of the Disneyland area, you know the ones outside of the well kept up hotel central...they look more like Snuffleupagus then a tree.
-the amount of nasty bra straps that I had to see...ok, I know my background is in fashion, so maybe I'm extra picky, but, helloooo people, if you wear a halter neck top, you don't wear a regular bra with it...DUH!!! Same goes for a racer back top, or a strapless....Rahhhh!! I'm sorry, I can't let this fashion faux pas go...there's nothing more distracting to me than to see a woman with a halter neck top and then her regular grotty old bra straps going across her shoulders...that doesn't follow the design line of the garment you im-be-cillllle!!!!
Serenity now, serenity now....
Ok, clearly I remember my days in fashion school where we actually got docked points in a 'fashion crimes' game if we committed a fashion sin...ie: VPL or visible panty lines...that was a no-no. So I'm pretty sure that if we were to try to show up for school with the whole 'grotty bra straps showing thing'....well, I think it would be safe to say that we would've got ourselves with a one way ticket to Guantanamo!!!

So kids that's the overview on my trip. I did say 'serenity now' many times over the week, yet failed to find any. What I did do though, was take over 300 pictures...ya know, that 2 second smile after the 20 minute cry fest, or the 'look I'm on a ride' after waiting 45 minutes to get on. I have learned that this is really the best way to look back fondly on a family vacation, as time will soon blur the facts and all you'll have left is the visual reminders that we call photos.
Before you know it, time will have removed all that bad bits and I'll be looking into the next family adventure with the wide eyed optimism of someone just leaving on their very first family vacation.
Serenity now, serenity now....

He had a spring in his step!

Jimmy likes a spring in his step, Jimmy likes to bounce.
Jimmy looked like a fool!!
While sitting at a table in California Adventure Park, I noticed a man walk past me....he seemed to have a certain bounce to his walk....indeed, he really did have a spring in his step...really!! Seemingly straight out of the 'Jimmy episode' of Seinfeld. I couldn't take my eyes off 'Jimmy' and I managed to snap this pic of his shoe in my 'oh-so spy worthy' manner. These shoes, they did cracketh me up...BIG time.
Unfortunately, Jimmy was wearing dark glasses, so I couldn't tell where he was looking, so I wasn't able to alert Tony to my Jimmy spotting....I had to enjoy this one solo. I actually even forgot to tell him, until we were back home last night and watching Seinfeld....and oh yes, boys and girls....it was the Jimmy episode!!! I said, 'Oh, I forgot to tell you about my own Jimmy...!!!'
When I first spotted him, I just assumed that he had some kind of medical deal, but nope, it appears that I too can get my hand on a pair of 'Jimmy's. I noticed on the shoe that in had the word, ZCoil and through my friend Mr. Google, I was hooked up with my own selection of Jimmy's via the Zcoil site!! Check em' out...they are fab-o-dab-ulous!!! I love the ones the lady is wearing on the home page, tres sec-a-see!!! I think she's wearing the 'birth control' model. http://www.zcoil.com/index.html

It's My Fault

My biggest personal flaw has to be, procrastinating. I'll tell you more about that another time. ;-)

Rage Against the Machine

As today was a beautiful sunny Canada Day, it seemed like the perfect time to wash the cars. I know, I know, I should've been enjoying a 'dog and bevy' at one of the many local celebrations but the car thing needed doing...badly.

We did have the radio on and the kids did get to play with their water guns, so who are you to tell them it's not a celebration?? If I tell the kids it's a par-tay...it is!! I did partake in the watching of some CBC Canada Day coverage, so I do believe I did my part on the 'woop-woop go Canada' front.

Right, back to the car washing. So Tony is responsible for the cleaning of the outside of the cars and I take care of the inside. Let me tell you, the inside takes a lot longer than the outside does! Well at least if I'm doing them that is.
As I am, albeit a former, perfectionist (dropped that title quick like after having kids), I like to do things a certain way. My mum of course always refers to this as me being a 'fuss ass'....well, mother isn't that good parenting!! Name calling, nice. ;-)

I can't really dispute this title and actually don't find anything wrong with liking things a certain way...so there.
When I do a job, I like to do it well and I expect the same from others. When I say 'others' I'm even referring to the tools that help me get the job done.
So I find it highly disappointing when my vacuum doesn't pull his weight. We have had 'the talk' before and he has been warned that poor performance will lead to his dismissal if I don't see any improvement. We've even taken him quite recently for a tune-up just to prove that indeed we are a team, and there is no 'I' in team as they say. At the end of the day though, he is a vacuum and really all I ask of him is to suck up the dirt and debris that is a part of our everyday lives. Shouldn't be a biggie. If I was asking him to amuse me with a little tap dancing and he couldn't provide me that...I'd understand. Clearly he is lacking in the leg department so I would never be that unreasonable.
His job is simple...just suck!! So can I tell you that it brings me great distress when working with him, that he will sometimes suck up small pebbles with the greatest of ease, yet turn his nose up at the seemingly lightest piece of fluff.
Now, I'm not sure if he does this just to annoy me, perhaps he finds it amusing to watch me try and pick up the same piece of fluff, over and over again....maybe it's a character flaw on his part to enjoy seeing the anguish in my face.

Don't get me wrong though, as I truly am a good person, I don't want to see him fail.
I will reposition that same piece of fluff over and over giving it a new location each time, just so my vacuum has another chance to prove himself. I want him to feel good about his performance, I don't want him filled with self doubt.
Of course it would be easier if, when I picked up that piece of fluff the first time to just put it up to his sweet little suctiony lips and let it go....but nope, I'll take my time to untangle those bits of fluff from that lovely industrial strength carpet that they put in all cars. You know the ones, where everything becomes completely embedded in them. For some reason, I just can't seem to block out that one lone speck of white fluff that won't budge.

So as attempt after attempt fails, and me muttering under my breath, "no, YOU suck!",
also seems to have no effect on him picking up that fluff, I give in. I pick up the fluff and put it straight to the tube...yep, you heard me 'the tube'. No more sweet lips for you mister.

Don't think he's won though, I can assure you that when review time rolls around, Mr. Panasonic Quick Draw, (yeah right!) won't be getting a raise, nor any additional holidays. And as for that corner office he's had his eye on....you can forget it buster!!! Oh and Mr.PQD, I do believe that strictly 'no-name' bags are in your future!!
That will teach him to mess with me.
Word to the wise Ms. Broom...I'm watching you...I'm watching.

You've got me feeling hella good...

The Power of words (ode to Katina and all of my lovely peeps)

Well, here's the scoop. I'm having a bit of an off day...feeling a little blue to be honest wid ya. Normally I'm a big ray o' sunshine....yes I am, damn it!! :-)
No, I really am quite an optimistic person by nature and when I do get down I usually can rely on my humour to give me that kick in the arse that I need to snap out of it. See, being born Canadian and having British parents, humour is my birth right...these are two places just brimming over with the ha-ha's. Anywho, I digress...as I was saying, I normally get myself out of feeling blue pretty quick.
Today I guess I just didn't have time to crack myself up with my kooky antics...the other day, due to an even greater than normal lack of sleep, I tells ya, I was down right punchy all day long....where was that version o'Mel today?? Too busy in the 'world of mum', I guess.
Anyways to my surprise I received a lovely message from Katina today, telling me how my 'blog' words had cheered 'her' up, and in turn that really cheered me up.
I guess that's why we call it a 'circle of friends', we just keep passing the baton of kindness round and round, each time adding more good vibes for the next recipient.
It doesn't have to be a big thing, just a few kind words really do go a long way in making someone feel better and in turn that makes us feel good too.
My Mum always says, 'Don't buy me flowers when I die. If you want to show me you care for me buy them for me while I'm alive and can enjoy them.'
She makes an excellent point, we should try to remember to tell people that they matter while we have the opportunity. Now I'm not talking a grand speech ala Hallmark, just a few words here and there to say, 'hey pal...you ROCK!!!'
I hope my friends will always feel like they are the flowers that I choose to have in my garden, and I must say y'all sure smell sweet!!

Love S.A.M.
XX

P.S. A shout out to Marcello who also sent me some kind words earlier today.
(those 'old man' pants sound cool ;-) )

Written Thoughts

Fallen Bird

You flew so far
from where I was

You soared so high
that I lost sight of you

You sang so loud
but by then I had left

Fallen bird
you remain unheard
fallen bird

Polite Canadians

Even our wildlife give you fair warning....ya can't ask for more than that.

My Cousin Vinny (actually he's no relation)

Watching a program on tv tonight about Vincent Van Gogh reminded me of a couple things that all of us as creative humans should remember.
One, is to always be open to outside influences and seek to use them in a way that feels right to us. Not to be afraid or leary to try what is new and unfamiliar, for by doing this, we often surprise ourselves with some astounding results.
Van Gogh found, in the colour chrome yellow, the intensity that he needed to represent the brigthness of the sunflowers, to best convey what his eye was seeing. This particular colour had not always been available, and achieving a yellow so intense and bright just wasn't seen in earlier periods of art. This colour seems to give life to many of his paintings. Although many paintings before this famous work were either very dark or done in quite soft pastels pallets there is something quite special about the boldness of his colour choices during this period of his paintings. It was new and done with no apologies, or concern of acceptance.
Also in this same painting Van Gogh paints the background in the same hues as his main subject, going against what would have been expected. In theory, it was thought that the best way to show off the intensity of the yellow flowers would be to have a blue background, which in turn would really make the colours pop.
For Van Gogh to go tone on tone is really quite an unusual choice, but again, it's how 'he' chose to paint it, and for whatever reason, it somehow makes the whole scene in more intriguing. His 'own' choices have resulted in one of the most famous paintings in the world.
So as I watched this show tonight it stood as a good reminder that we should always be open to what the world has to offer us, but to also stand by our conviction that how we see or interpret these influences is what makes us each unique. There shouldn't be a wrong or a right way, just our own way.
We may all look at the same vase of flowers but hopefully we all will view it slightly different. After all, isn't that what makes the world interesting?

When Does It Happen?

This is the thought that has been in my brain for the past few days. It entered my head as I was standing in line at the pharmacy waiting to pick up some pills for my mum. The lady in front of me was probably in her mid-seventies, and had one of those 'old lady' perms. I don't say that to be mean, that's just the best way I can describe her 'do'. We've all seen them before and perhaps our own Nan's had them.
They are the perms that are really tight and close to the head. It just made me wonder....when does it happen? At what age do we decide, it's time.
I personally never envision myself sportin' that look, but maybe that part of our destiny we have zero control over? If we did, why would so many ladies be wearing that look?
Is that what the future holds? Tight perms, plastic rain hats, and hard candy in the bottom of our purses that get caught up in tissues that are so old, that they actually start to disintegrate when they're pulled out of the purse...ya know, they have that cloud of lint that bursts from them.
On the hard candy front, I definitely think that the target demographic for Werthers is the 70-80 year olds, these hard toffees are like crack for seniors.
I seriously hope that this phase of our lives does indeed come with some sort of warning.
Maybe on our first OAP cheque, they could slip in a little reminder...you are about to enter a new phase of your life, you will become obsessed with bingo and lottery tickets, you will only buy shoes that are beige and you can say goodbye to zippers, it's elastic waists from now on baby!!
If we were to receive this heads up, at least we could try to resist some of these changes.
I see myself as a cool hip granny in the future. I have no plans on wearing those faux denim slacks, or having a tight perm. No sir-ee, I plan on remaining the ultra cool chick (work with me) that you see today...only older.
I think I'll go for the long flowing white hair, ala Dumbledore...minus the beard of course. Saying that, I'm sure by then I'll be growing a few whiskers from my chinny, chin, chin....oh GAWD...maybe our fate is sealed!!!
Okay at minimum, I'm ordering up my tight perm with the stylin' mauve rinse....once cool, always cool!! ;-)

More lines from the vault.

Lost

Despair crackles like a fire burning,
fans the flames of all my yearning.

Trickles down over my weak hands.
Can't grasp it now.
Can't understand.

-Melanie

Opening my poetry vault.

The Nature of Invention

The spider spins his web of lies
but he's no master of disguise
waiting for you to stop and stare
he's surrounded by beauty but unaware

You've had your chance
to join his dance

The black bird sings his simple song
he waits for you to sing along
he flies deep, into the night
just to prove that he's alright

He's tricked you into believing
everything that you are seeing

Though I'd like to be the answer
to your biggest question
I won't make you choose
that's not my intention

The bird still sings his song of hope
while I sit and wait, and try to cope.

-Melanie

38 Special

Just a few fashion to-do's to help make the world a more stylin' place.

-please check that there are no size labels on your clothing before you leave the house...I know this one is on the back of his shorts, so he's not aware of how silly he looks. But please just make a habit of looking for, and removing all tags, stickers and of course pins from your new garments. The fashion world thanks you.

-when you buy a new suit, please remove the fabric tag that is sometimes attached to the outside of the sleeve. It's great to be proud that your jacket is 95% wool and 5% cashmere, but the tag isn't meant as a public announcement of the fibre content. It's strictly to give you the 411.

-also sticking with the suit jacket, and, this sometimes applies to trousers and skirts as well, the pockets are sewn shut....but they are meant to be opened. If you want to keep the shape of the garment as is, fine, leave them shut. But, if you're looking for a home for your wallet or lippie...that's what a pocket is for.
Best to remove the stitches with a small pair of scissors or a stitch ripper if one is handy. There are those cases, when you may have a faux pocket, they are strictly flaps with no pocket underneath to reveal, but most often you will find a lonely pocket underneath those flaps wondering what their purpose in life is. Won't you please help the pockets to feel wanted?

-and the key chain attached to your purse, in that 'cow-hide' shape...you know the one, it's says, 'genuine leather'...not to be confused with 'genuine pleather'...anyways, it goes too. Once again, it's info to help you make your purchase. So please, lose it!!
Besides, what if you found yourself in a field of cows one day, (could happen) would you really want to advertise that their good ol'Aunt Betsy is slung over your shoulder...I think not. Angry cows make for a very ugly scene!!
You've been warned!

Random Thought

Sometimes we say more, by the things we don't say.

Extra, extra!

The reviews are in! After having my blog checked out by a small number of specially selected people from around the globe, the feedback is in...and it's good!

Tony of the Langley Express raves, "You're the bestest blogger I know!"

Sande, the well known reporter from the Winnipeg Post says,
"I think where you SHINE is in your quips, your responses, your one-offs, you are smokingly clever!"

Katina from The New Zealand Times exclaims,
"LOVE it, LOVE it ,love IT!!!!!!!!"
"Share the wisdom - find a way - and you HAVE yay!"

Kelly of the Maple Ridge Herald says,
You should write a book,
you'd make at least one million you know,
I'd buy it!!!!"

Vancouver Herald reporter Shelley says,
"I think it's awesome Mel..full of spunk....I look forward to peeking in on the secret agent files often to see what life is throwing at you."

Susan from Surrey Today reports,
"well, I knew you were a poet but a writer too." "That's great Melanie, I look forward to reading more of your clever stories."

Tracy of the Guildford Mail gives an enthusiastic, "Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! I loved every entry." "I patiently wait for your next entry!
Your fan, T

Before I write anymore words, I just wanted to share your words, as your words give me the encouragement to continue.
I would like to send each and every one of you mucho love. Thanks for taking the time to read my blog and for giving me such positive feedback.
I shall continue to write and hopefully you will continue to read.

Love S.A.M.
XOXO

Hell's Angels

Had to share....check out this sign that I saw en route to White Rock. We passed a church and I said to Tony, "hey, I'm sure that sign said, 'Biker's Church'?!
He laughed and said, "are you sure"? Granted, at times I do tend to see things that others don't...not in a UFO sorta way, but more of in a Mr. Magoo way. Ya know, not quite how they 'really' are. I said, "yes, I'm sure...I saw wings".
He replied, "well it is a church...um angels". "No", I said..."like biker wings with Harley colours". I know it doesn't make sense, but I'm sure that's what I saw.
I know I had a Bellini earlier, but that had long worn off. So on the way home I made him go back the same way and pull in the drive way...yep, it's a biker church...well on Wednesday's anyways, not the holiest of days, but hey it's a start!
I bet that would be an awesome service....seriously thinking of breaking out the leathers and swingin' by to check it out sometime.
I did own 2 scooters, so I do believe that I qualify as a 'biker'.
Note to self...buy a skull ring this week.

I Yam What I Yam, and I Ain't No Will's Baby.

Here's the deal....I am a writer. I think I always have been, well since I was old enough to write that is. I even started writing a book on 'buying horses' when I was about 9 years old...of course I wasn't really qualified on the subject, but it didn't matter to me. I have always been a keen observant, which in turn is what qualifies me as writer. I loved horses as a girl and hung out with many horse owners, I figured I'd picked up enough info from them and through my own readings that I really felt like I had enough to offer a reader to guide them through the initial stages of their Gigi purchase.

So, it does strike me a bit odd that at 41, I have to remind myself that I can write.
At nine years old, I'm ready to write a book, and now I have to convince myself just to set up this blog, which really is just meant for my own pleasure and the eyes of a select few friends.

So what's the big hang up you may ask?? Well as many of you already know, I much prefer life behind the curtain as opposed to being centre stage. So first off, just letting people know I write is something I don't often do. In reality I have written probably hundreds of poems since I was 12 years old...the age that I 'got' poetry. I've never really done much in the line of stories as the poetry is what, in the past, has flowed like water for me, so if it's easy we tend to stick with it.
I should point out that the words have flowed easily with poetry as the poems were quite often my outlet for anger and frustration at family situations or words about relationships, these extreme emotions are great for getting the words to flow.

I suppose though that the main reason that I constantly deny my writing ability is because most of the time I tell myself that I have no 'ability'. By that I mean, my father was a writer of poems and short stories, and spent most of his life correcting us when we used the wrong word, or our sentences made no logical sense.
This was just who he had become, and he was very good at making you feel stupid.
Due to difficulties with my home life, my high school years were quite a struggle.
No one ever really knew the extent of the issues that I was having at home but let's just say it was extremely challenging to maintain a normal school routine with all that I was dealing with. So it turn, I missed a lot of school and really just didn't take in a lot of what was being taught to me. This has also added to my feeling inadequate as a writer, as I've never felt educated enough to call myself such a thing. I have now removed Curious George from my back, so no more excuses.

The fact of the matter is...I ain't no Will's. I never will be, but does that really matter?? Who uses the word 'doth' anyways?? In all honesty I really have no interest in writing like anyone else. What makes me, 'me', is the fact that my regular speech is so far from correct that it's not even funny....well actually it often is funny.
I would be much more at home in the movie Juno then I ever would be in some 'properly spoken' movie. 'Juno speak' I get. My sentences have always been formed from a collection of British slang, in combination with a whole bevy of odd references and a slew of words that I have made up over the years - I have so many of these, that I can no longer tell you which ones I've made up and which ones already existed. That is quintessential Mel. Correct or not, I don't give a rats A$$, that's me. I've read plenty o'correctly written stories in the past and frankly, many of them are boooring!! They often greatly lack flavah, and honey, what's life without flavah?!

So as I continue to add to this blog and form a collection of stories made up of ill-formed sentences, I remind myself that it no longer matters about being 'correct'.
If I am able to convey to you in my odd, wack-a-lacka manner what I'm feeling, or seeing, or thinking, then indeed there is no way that I could get it more 'right'.
In closing I say to you, "go and tell Lucy she can close her booth for today, I'm keeping my nickel...problem sorted"!

Can you give me a hand?! :-/

Can you give me a hand?
This is a phrase that I have had to use numerous times. Despite being a fairly well travelled individual, and really knowing better than to load myself down with heavy luggage, I still committed this sin on my recent trip to the UK. Although in my defense, I didn't think it would be as difficult as it was due to the fact that I greatly misunderstood a few key 'luggage' points in regards to my train journey to visit friends Chris and Erica in Chesterfield.

First point where I was way off the mark, the luggage check at the St. Pancras station in London, is for people who are heading to other parts of Europe, not for chicks like myself who are staying within the borders of jolly ol' England. So I am left to drag around 75 lbs of clothes, 40 lbs of which, are really 'just in case' clothes. Just in case I go out for a 'fancy' dinner, or it's really hot or really cold, or in case I decide to enter myself in the cheese rolling competition in Gloucestershire (damn, that's a bit later in the month...I'll miss it again), anyways, you get the idea. So during the 2 1/2 hours that I had to kill at the station, I had the pleasure of dragging around all of my luggage with me. Although my biggest case had wheels and my smaller case was bound to that case in some bizarre tying method that I can only blame on my two years being a Brownie, it was still a massive struggle. I managed to take out a few tables and chairs at various cafe's while searching for a bite to eat, nearly wounded a few people-I say nearly as no blood was drawn and I also had the pleasure of getting the stinkeye from various people when I headed into the handicap washroom...."hey, people, check me out, I'm 5 flippin' feet tall and carrying around over half of my body weight in terribly wrinkled clothes...if that's not a handicap, tell me what is!!!

The second point that I grossly misunderstood was when I asked Chris, where do you put your luggage when you're on the train? See, I really was thinking ahead.
His reply was, "there's a place at the end where the luggage goes".
Great!! I love the luxury part of travel. My thoughts went straight to, a lovely smart dressed porter type of dude, wearing white gloves of course, quickly taking my luggage from me as soon as I was spotted heading in his direction.
"Ms. Melanie, lets me take that for you's". "We can'ts have you's strugglin'". Now, don't ask me why although I'm in London, I envision this porter dude to be straight out of 'Driving Miss Daisy', but never the less, I knew once my porter dude aka my knight in shining armour spotted me, I would be freed of this burden called luggage.
So when approaching the train, I fail to make eye contact with my 'knight', I asked some random 'info' lady, wud up? Where do I put my luggage?? She reply's, "there is a spot at the end of each carriage where you put it". Ex-squeeze me?? Where 'I' put it?!! 'I'? Gone are my grand illusions that I'm boarding the Orient Express and back to the reality that I'm only heading on a 2 hour journey within England. Damn, way to burst my bubble!

So now that I know the real deal, I know I will have to continue to spend the rest of my journey 'helper' spotting.
Looking for just the right person to ask, usually a male, the beefier the better, as I needed to make sure they'd be able to pick up my case, someone who looks friendly and I would try to ask someone who was at least getting off at the same stop as me.
I had become fairly good at this, as I had already taken, one car journey, one train journey and one taxi journey just to get to St. Pancras.

First step, look friendly....smile. Second step, make sure your cute 'Canada' luggage tags are clearly visible...how can anyone say no to a Canadian? Third step, ask nicely and if necessary, beg.
"Excuse me, do you think that you could give me a hand with my bags"? It was strictly the getting them on and off of the train that was hard, so I wasn't really asking for too much, and I'm happy to report everyone I asked, happily helped me. I think one or two may have strained a muscle, but so did I, so it's not like I didn't understand their pain.

Having a good time in Chesterfield for 5 days, the struggle with my luggage is almost a distant memory, aside from the fact that I was popping pills a few times a day as I really did pull a muscle in my neck, but never mind. I know the journey from there to Wales will go much more smoothly, Chris is going to help me on the train there, which means one less time I need to do my pity plea. One less person that I need to harass with my usual, "can you give me a hand please".

My train journey from Chesterfield comes with only 1 change at the Bristol station and then just a short journey from there to Newport, Wales. I now board my last train in Bristol and I'm almost home free. Soon there will be no more begging the public for mercy, I really am, at this point starting to feel a bit like Oliver Twist...."please Sir, more...can you give me more help with my bags"?
Getting quite a 'loser tourist' complex but even that is starting to lift as I'm prepared to enter into my much more familiar 'cool chick travelling solo mode'...work with me on this one would you?! So as I was saying, almost ready to reclaim my old title of mysterious cool chick, travelling solo....yes I have embellished it a little, I feel after all of my hard work I deserve a bit more to my title. Anyways, as I was saying, last train, time to spot me a helper.

As soon as I board the train, I hear the very familiar Welsh accent everywhere and on the opposite side of the train, to my left one row up from me, I spot 2 gals about 20 years old and I hear them say, "when we get off in Newport....". That's it, they will be the chosen ones, they are young and there is two of them, and they are getting off in Newport. Well spotted Mel!! I've always been know for my keen eye, now I have my help picked out I shall just enjoy the rest of this journey, albeit only a short one.
Listening away to my iPod, clearly in cool mode now, I glance up at my new 'friends', yep the two gals who in about 10 minutes will become my new helpers.
Hmmm?? That's odd, the bigger girl in the aisle seat has pulled her arm out of her sweater sleeve? Weird. I guess she's cold? Ya know, I've done that before, taken my arms out of my sleeves and wrapped them around my body for warmth...I get it. No biggie, no need to panic, I know how to pick good helpers. I have a proven track record. Then I look up to see my other helper girl open a bag of chips and turn to her friend and offer her some. See, I am so smart...these are nice girls, sharing chips, good choice Mel.
The next thing I see is so unbelievable, that I don't know whether to laugh or cry....
the bigger girl...the one who's strength I was really banking on, reaches over to grab a chip from the bag with her left hand. That would be the left hand that is attached to about 6 inches of an arm!!!! Yes, well spotted Mel. The person that I have chosen to help me has no arm on her right side (I guess she's not cold after all) and a 'mini arm' with a hand on her left side.
Egad!!! What are the chances that out of all the people that I could choose, I pick a one-handed girl!! Yes, Mel, that would've been great, I was only minutes from asking this girl, "can you give me a hand"? And yes I know, in theory, she still did have 'a' hand to give, but with that little arm she would've been no help at all.

So now we are fast approaching the station and I decide to go and stand near my bags and see if there is anyone back there to nab. Just my luck, there is one guy back there, staring at my bags. He's holding a dog with a tye-dyed bandana on, which I barely noticed through his dreads. He looks up at me and smiles, revealing about 7 teeth, and says to me, "I wonder who's bloody great bag this is, I hope they get off here, it's on top of all my stuff". 'Stuff', being what looks like a load of old tents and rucksacks made from Mexican blankets. This dude is the most extreme blend of hippie, gypsy, pirate, and vagabond that I've ever seen. So I turn to the new age Jack Sparrow and say, "that bloody great bag is mine.....can you give me a hand"?

So that's how my great train adventure ended, me, Jack Sparrow, his wife (who had even less teeth), and his two purple haired kids,(not sure if they were boys or girls) all struggling together to get my bags of the train for the last time.
Good times, good times!

Testing, testing 123. Check, check.
All systems go. Ok, right...this is my new home to house my thoughts, observations, ideas and all other forms of emptying of my head.