She made her entrance 20 yrs ago

My daughter turns 20 today. I'm happy for her on one hand yet I look for my baby on the other. I wrote this poem this morning.
How does a child turn 20 before you know it? And why didn't anyone warn me this day would come?
Sheesh.



She made her entrance
twenty years ago.
I thought time was mine
how wrong I was to think it so.

Gone the day of story and rhyme
But dreams come on restless nights
And in them I tuck her in, that baby of mine.

She is beautiful this woman I see today
walking her path, a mother of her own
But I miss that child I had of yesterday.

Today we celebrate 20 years gone by
a glass of wine to toast the passage of time
If I get quiet and let slip a sigh
it's my heart letting go of the baby I had
twenty years ago to this very day.

And the 'Canatrash' award goes to.

Welcome to the second edition of the Canatrash Awards. The first one you can find here.

Definition of 'Canatrash'. Canada's peoples who are ignorant, lazy, mean and/or lacking any form of grace, style, class or intelligence. Please step up and accept your award.

The award goes to:

The Canadian who uses his backyard as a trash storage site for his garbage he's to lazy to bring to the dump stuff. Geezus, find some pride in ownership will ya. Here's your award.

The guy who installed that spiffy loud muffler on his truck he needs a step ladder to climb into. You're 5'3 and a prayer. Ya look like an idiot and you're obviously compensating for lack thereof. Here's your award.

The stranger who read over my shoulder. Be it the crackberry or the newspaper. I can feel you and it's creepy. Find some basic etiquette. Here's your award.

The person who didn't have the common courtesy to let the elderly lady in line first. Ya, your 30 something legs will give out before hers,I'm sure. Take your award and sit on it.

The parents of the two teenage hoes girls who allow them to sit outside all night with  wannabe 18 year old wankers men who in turn do incredibly stupid things. Like drink all night, smash beer bottles on the road and easily give away their level of intelligence.  Here's your award. Take it quick before I"ll knock some sense into those two bitches daughters of yours. 

The Animal Control idiot who whined she couldn't get the Labrador dog away from the medium on the highway so she just left. It's called backup or tranquilizer gun, you moron. HOW  did you get hired on??  Here's your award. I hope that dog remembers you if you come across it again.

Know of a few who deserve a Canatrash? Feel free to hand out your own or add a few here.  :-)

July's It's Okay!

...to have allergies. I'm allergic to bullshit. I know, right? There's no meds strong enough.


...if my hubby calls the dryer his 5th drawer. At least he knows where to find it, sheesh what's the problem?

...to want keep your candles but when it's reached the point where you have to dust them then the idea of it is moot.

... to get a lump in my throat after talking to my parents. They live 2 thousand miles away and I miss them at times. 

...to ask for help, really, it is. But I don't. Past experience has shown me 90% demand a pound of flesh for it afterward. The price is too steep for me.


...to double dip when hubby's not looking. Bahahaha

...to be all 'Pollyanna'ish' but honey, tone it down somewhat k? You're trying too hard and it's hurting my teeth. 

...to have pear shaped cops, I guess. I always associate cops and firefighters with 'manly men' bodies. I know, I know.. colour me bad.

...or that's what I keep telling myself. Changes are coming and adjustments will have to be made. That's life, right?


...to not hear from your daughter much but can't she even text just to say, 'Hi, all's well. Love you. Bye'. Children, eh. Sigh. 

...to go around in circles, but Jamie, find a direction and go with it already. Shitpissfrig.

What are you Okay with?

Sunday's Picture Blog

Apologies to the farmer who probably doesn't know I trespassed on his land to take a picture of his pretty red barn.

A cowboy's life is a lonely one at times.

I've never see wood stacked this way.

We're in to July. Time to put those away? Then again maybe it's just easier to keep them up. Only six more months to go!

Nestled in a hidey hole of a huge weeping willow tree.

Peaceful place, under that tree or on the dock.

This picture makes my stomach lurch. Reminds me of a carnival ride.

Ahh, I remember hanging out my clothes to dry. (  no choice, no dryer at the time ) For some reason it's not done so much anymore. Nothing better than clothes fresh off the line, in my humble opinion.

July's Open Letters

Dear Pasty faced Copper,
Our backyards face each other. You smack your dog one more time and I'll gather my dog's poo and deposit it a bag in your mailbox. Jerk.
Signed,
Disgusted.

Dear Trades people,
I realize it's hot work framing, bulldozing and hammering, I do. But could you please take those beer bottles and do something other than leaving them on the mailbox or tucked away in not so hidden places?
Signed,
Time and Place for a cold one.

Dear Trades people, ( again )
Give it a rest on Sundays will ya? Sheesh
Signed,
Sleeping in would be nice.

Dear Dog,
I would appreciate if you practiced some restraint in regards to your bodily functions when sitting on my lap. Cutting the cheese is no problem for you, I see. But it deeply affects my nasal passages. In fact it burns them beyond functionality.Thank you for your consideration in the future.
Signed,
Your Human Owner

Dear Drag Queen,
Bite me , Bitch.
Signed,
Not even in the same ball park. Arg!

Dear Carbs
Piss off, mmmkay? We don't have to like each other so much, do we?
Signed,
Carbaholic Craver

Dear Jimmy Buffet

Your Margaritaville song gives me wanderlust. I want a beach, sun, sand and a place where time crawls. I want my biggest dilemma to be what bathing suit to cover up wear today.  And strangely I'm craving salt.
Signed,
Northern Canadian Chick, eh.