Hooliganting: Christmassy

Hooliganting: Christmassy: "Tis the season to be Christmassy. Now I know that really isn't a word but it does represent the thoughts that are within the quiet spaces of..."

Christmassy

Tis the season to be Christmassy. Now I know that really isn't a word but it does represent the thoughts that are within the quiet spaces of my mind. Currently, I am watching the Grinch Who Stole Christmas and this was preceeded by A Christmas Carol. I taught sunday school this morning and made Smores and penguins with the 5 year olds. So, what have I learned today? What is the purpose of Christmas? Here are my thoughts at random.

1) I believe that Christ is the centre of Christ - mass. This means that I celebrate Christmas as a birthday. I love the festivities of birthdays with cake, presents and crafts and it is this celebratory event that I taught in Sunday School. Jesus was the intial gift who saves from sin - and since I have many - I appreciate this gift. I can celebrate this gift with joy and singing and fun too. I don't have the serious bone often.

2) Children are a gift. Each one is uniquely wrapped with treasures inside. I am surrounded by gifts that when unwrapped have creative minds, loving hearts, wonder and curiosity, voices that sing, legs that dance and laughter. Even those moments that drive me crazy are a gift as they are teaching me patience, kindness, respect for individuality and thinking that is not always inside the box.

3) Commitment to stand for what I believe in. I can do my best and that is good enough. If Jesus were lowly enough to be born in a stable then I have enough - I am enough as the gift that I am to be where I am, exactly as I am and someone will appreciate the gifts that I have to give. I can dance in a show and make mistakes but those mistakes still have value as those eyes in the audience can see that you don't have to be slim to dance, you don't have to be young to dance, you don't have to be perfect to dance. You just have to dance to dance. (Feel free to substitute your passion for the word dance). Be committed to do what you say when you say you are going to do it. In fact, that just might be my resolution for the coming year.

4) Take time to spend with people. You are the gift that they need. They don't need the stuff as much as they need you. A phone call, a coffee delivered, a helping hand. Why not be the "coupon book" that will offer to have a new mom have shower, deliver a coffee to someone that can't get out much, do dishes for someone, help clean a house, drive someone somewhere, and don't ask for your money back. I can be a friend in many ways and I will always be there if you need me. I don't care if my feelings are hurt, or if I feel neglected, or if I am too busy . . I will always have time for you. I challenge you to be the same.

5) I made smore snowmen with the children because at Christmas you always need s'more. Some more love,peace, kindness and healing, compassion and passion, dreams and wonder, and the GIFT,

I challenge you to learn as I have. To dream as I do. And to be a gift. Most importantly, be a GIFT. Be Christmassy.

Merry Christmas!

Hooliganting: OMG - I just lived up to my reputation . . AGAIN

Hooliganting: OMG - I just lived up to my reputation . . AGAIN: "I am still not sure whether I should laugh, cry, sheepishly wave, giggle, joke, stare off nonchalently at nothingness, pretend it didn't hap..."

OMG - I just lived up to my reputation . . AGAIN

I am still not sure whether I should laugh, cry, sheepishly wave, giggle, joke, stare off nonchalently at nothingness, pretend it didn't happen (when I know full well it did) and well - there were those horrible things called witnesses. . .  I probably shouldn't even blog about it but there is that humorous element to the whole situation too.

Here I am telling the story. It was a dark and stormy night. The best stories always seem to start this way and in this case it was true. The snow was blowing and the roads were sheet ice. I arrived at work exactly on time and headed it to be met by the coat rack. Frantic footsteps morphed into the body of my delightful boss who asked me to be the welcome mat for the event. However, that job was a bit slow so I was transferred to the kitchen.

I am the first to admit that I am surrounded by a host of talented, well palletted cooks. Some are even chefs. In the kitchen, we were slicing bread and prepping appetizers for an evening social gathering. The food was running a bit late and the guests were getting restless. Finally, it was all ready and the plates began leaving the kitchen. And then, my culinary talents came to the forefront. I reached into the oven with the tea towel that was subbing as a pair of actual oven mitts. I turned to put the platter on the stove and began turning the appies with the spatula to even the browning. My other hand was holding the tea towel. Apparently, I even waved the tea towel while working at it.

The towel
was
on

FIRE!

The staff are alternately stomping on the tea towel that had been struck from my hand. I looked a bit dazed and so did the rest. I have no idea HOW I did it. All I know is that once again I have managed to inadvertantly catch a kitchen object on fire. Thank goodness my insurance company doesn't know about it. I have mentioned that I am not a natural in the kitchen and this isn't the first time I have managed to catch something on fire that I was cooking. There is a reason that I was doomed to dishes as a child and then as a roomie. A) Everyone else was a better cook. B) How much trouble can you get into with water? On second thoughts, don't answer that.

End result: I am once again banished from helping in kitchens of any kind and any size. Hopefully, this banishment doesn't include my own or I will have some very hungry children in the house. . . but it might take a couple of days for people to forget about this wee adventure. It is definately going to take longer to get over the embarrassment.

On the other hand - if you had seen their faces. ... heard the shocked gasps and bewildered faces and the resignation of my coworkers . . .

As of this moment - I remain Queen of the Campstove, which is actually meant to have flames! This is my kitchen . . .(so what if they had a campfire ban.. . )

Seriously? Why did no one tell me that?

Seriously? Sometimes life is designed to make you feel that you are completely foolish. This moment is definately one of those moments. You see, one of the joys in life that I have is really deliciously made London Fog. I happen to be rather particular about the qualities of my London Fog. My London Fog is made with one shot of vanilla flavor, skim milk and one Earl Grey tea bag. Sounds simple, but it really isn't.

I love the one that I get from Coco Jo's downtown. One of my luxuries is to go downtown to get a London Fog and relax for a bit. Meanwhile the girls like to get a hot chocolate. The difficult part is that the drive takes 20 minutes through mad chaotic traffic and that is just one way. This means that you have to have a reason to be downtown in the first place. To be honest, I will not drive downtown for just the London Fog.

The only other place in town that I knew that made a London Fog was Starbucks. Trust me, what they make cannot be classified as a London Fog in my opinion. It just doesn't suit my tastebuds. When I couldn't get to the real London Fog, I sometimes settled for a Tim Horton's Steeped Tea. Now, that appeals to me on some levels, but it really cannot be considered to be up to the standards of a true luxurous beverage.

So, now imagine my surprise and disgust when I discover via a friend that SUBWAY has a drive through and sells coffees. I looked at her with mild disbelief and just thought to myself that it was like the regular coffee shops in town. She insists that it is a "real" coffee place that is run in conjunction with SUBWAY. I was willing to indulge her and went for a drive through the drive-thru. To my great astonishment, they sold a London Fog. So, I ordered one. It was even better than Coco Jo's. I was completely floored.

But to tell the truth, the worst part of the whole situation was that this place is two blocks from my house. I am so completely disgusted that this place has been there for over a year, and because I don't eat at SUBWAY, I never found it. Still shaking my head over the whole scenario.

Hooliganting: The Full Monty

Hooliganting: The Full Monty: "The first thing that comes to mind is? . . .Ok not that but yes, that movie is up for debate. You see, today I had one of those days that pu..."

The Full Monty

The first thing that comes to mind is? . . .Ok not that but yes, that movie is up for debate. You see, today I had one of those days that puzzles me. The time warp continuem crossed with my insane desire to do all things and be all things to everyone has jumped up and bitten me, and so I found myself almost thinking. I would suggest that I might have been thinking if I had time to think about anything at all. Are you confused yet? Good. Welcome to my world.

The door of my world opened up today to getting children up and dressed, ready in time to school when they are too tired and cranky to function thanks to Christmas Concert hooliganting last night. The snow was thick on the drive and the roads had sheens of ice as the van rock and rolled its way to school. Thanks to a heads up on bussing delays, I drove home to shovel the drive before rocking and rolling to the other school to drop off child two. Then my morning hit a lull as I scrapped with two friends. Cutting and pasting and recrafting images, and then ranting over the to do lists. By the way...this was not on my list.

So then it was time to get things moving again. I collected the first child and brought her home for lunch. I addressed cards and processed the list of who had moved and who needed cards and still working on who I have missed. If that is you, you need to tell me so I can fix it. Then, I had a couple of project related things to do. So I started by going to the grocery store to stand in line for an hour to get what I needed. One hour in, I had to leave to get the Grade 2 kids from school. The shopping was left in the store as the line was too long.

So, I have my children, but there is still much to do. I drop off one to the childcare as I have to go downtown. I line up at Tim Hortons for the coffee that needs delivery, and then drive to deliver it. The long line of traffic is the next line to navigate and finally the dance studio is in sight. That child goes to dance lessons while I park and go into the post office. You guessed it, I had to line up for another hour just to buy stamps and stop my post from coming during the holidays. I am not the best at getting to the mail box so it is simpler to not have delivery. This is still not my last line . .

I gathered Ailish up and hustled her to the gymnastics line, where we joined other long suffering parents who also line up every 3 months so that their children have the chance to be the next Nadia. Thankfully, Ailish was rescued and I continued to wait. I finished my evening with lining up at Extra Foods (to get stuff) and Walmart (to get stuff) and now the children are in bed and I am still sympathizing with those characters in the Full Monty's EI line.

At Walmart tonight, I finally got the stuff and I think I might nearly be done Christmas shopping. I could answer that in the definitive if I decided to think about it but it is definately too late to think about it. While in line, I caught myself shuffling my feet and tap dancing. People were swaying in the lines. Slipping their feet back and forth in time to Christmas music, people were trying to be patient as they waited for those cashiers to meet their needs. I couldn't help it. By this time, I was so tired and groggy, forgetful and really not with it, so the best thing my tired self could do was dance. What does that say about me? Do I even need an answer. So instead of resting, I am blogging.

At this moment, I am going to sleep. Good night and sweet dreams. Might I refer you to the Full Monty?

Oh dear . . .do you think she knows?

Have you ever signed up for something? That something that you thought you were really good at? Maybe even had a spark of talent for? Every now and then, I take time out to do things that make me feel good and accomplished. The problem is . . . I don't always know what those things are. Then there are those things that you sign up to do so that you can spend quality time with your friends and family. Spa appointments, dance classes, birthday parties, and gym memberships fall into that category. Finally, there are those volunteer commitments and have to sign up for or the good things don't happen sort of things. Those are things like the bake sales, cutting out weird shapes for scrapbooks, gluing progress reports and so on.

Tonight was one of those nights that makes you question the wisdom of your decisions. I went to my evening dance class and participated in all the routines. The more I practised, the worse I got. I was thinking about the previous mistakes while continuing to make more. The dark cloud of the performance looms in about three weeks. There are all those nuances to remember like where your hands go, left and right feet, bent knees, jumping low to the ground (sounds strange but is true), and what moves go with which music. My brain hurts. My body is cold and stiff. The worst part is that I really wanted to do well. Sigh. This is a moment where you know you have bitten off more than you can chew.

So, to console myself, I trundled off to Walmart to hooligant through the nothingness of the aisles and chat with friends. Politely, they shopped and did not refer to the previous episode. Three Christmas presents later and with feet that really were not made for walking, I finally decided that I was too tired. I had been walking into people, or falling into people. I had managed to forget to bring in shopping bags so had to remember to only purchase what I could carry in my hands. The joys of bagfree shopping in our communtiy.

Now, I am tired and sleepy. But due to the complete analysis of the mayhem that I have caused so far tonight, sleep itself seems to be a bit elusive. Let me see....

One two three four, step, open, close, open, guns turn slide, wiggle wiggle, shimmy shimmy shimmy and step sing...(and you wonder why I am so confused). Showtime in three weeks. . .I will have to keep you posted on that one and in the meantime . . .practise. Off I go

Hooliganting: The Heart of Hooliganting

Hooliganting: The Heart of Hooliganting: "The snow is crunching under the tires, spitting the remnants of salt and sand at the windshield of the car behind. By car, I am referring to..."

The Heart of Hooliganting

The snow is crunching under the tires, spitting the remnants of salt and sand at the windshield of the car behind. By car, I am referring to the buggy whipped trucks, slithering cars and any other passenger toting vehicle that happens to be in the trucks rearview. It is very satisfying to drive the streets and watch the Christmas lights shimmer against the cold and the snow. This is hooliganting.

The first stop is the line up at Tim Hortons. Comparably short for this time of night, we are through just in time for shift change. This means that we have time to scrounge through all those change pockets and figure out how many pennies we can get rid of to lighten the load. Two steeped teas and ginger cookies later, the truck is magically transported to the land of memories and stories. This is the northern version of the fairy tale. There is ranting and venting, laughing and snorting, commentary and opinionating and underneath it all, it is that quiet that transends the moment to the experience of driving. Just driving.

The trees are lit. Snowmobiles are careening around the Syne. The teas are sipped. Movie listings are purused and mulled over. Still the truck drives on, humming on the words both spoken and not. Plans are made and rearranged and made again. The truck skims the ice and keeps going. There are deer nosing the ice and more lights dangling from balconies.

That was definately an hour or so well spent. There is that moment of hooliganting at its most elemental and basic. Time spent with a friend doing something that is simple, that matters. How often have you taken the time to just drive? What could you see? What have you missed?

Hooliganting: That's More Like It

Hooliganting: That's More Like It: "You see, together we have this thing. You know, the thing that we all do once a week, whether we have had a good day or bad day. Whether the..."

That's More Like It

You see, together we have this thing. You know, the thing that we all do once a week, whether we have had a good day or bad day. Whether the weather is wonderful or completely dismal and hole up hibernation mode cold. There is that thing that we have been doing for years . . .. The terrible thing is that our regulars have been missing in action for a few weeks due to trips, work and other hiccups that have meant that the thing was abandoned for a bit.

However, today was the day that the stars aligned and circumstances worked that we were all together for the first time in weeks. All four of us, plus a newbie. For the first time in weeks, the kitchen table was plastered with scraps of paper, scissors, photographs in various stages of cut, glue and mounts. The tea cups were sloshed along with the wine and conversation flowed. I hadn't realized how much I had missed this.

While we get the sense that we are being productive by creating the art that is our scrapbooks, this time is so much more than the scrapbooks. It is the memories that are shared as we travel back in time. The stories are part of our selective and collective history. Having been friends for years now, we have those stories from our past and we have the stories from our shared moments.

On the cold wintery nights like tonight, there is a sense that we can relax and chat. We can vent over the trials of the day. We can celebrate fabulous achievements. There is the support of a friend whether it is needed or not. This is the thread of community that centres us and keeps us returning week after week. Sometimes, it is nice to slow down and appreciate the subleties of friendship.

I am blessed....and I know it. So to those of you in my community . . .thank you! I blow you a kiss!

Hooliganting: The Las Vegas Experience Part Two

Hooliganting: The Las Vegas Experience Part Two: "The suitcases are bulging at the seams. The garments are crushed amid souvenirs and price tags. The shoes, oh those gloriously glittery heel..."

The Las Vegas Experience Part Two

The suitcases are bulging at the seams. The garments are crushed amid souvenirs and price tags. The shoes, oh those gloriously glittery heels and sexy flats. Silks and satins are silent awaiting Christmas wrapping paper. Showers and steam rooms, slots jingling and show tickets spilling out of my purse. Vegas has been an experience and now is just a memory. I have had fun, but I have to admit that I am still not sure what the fascination is for the repeat visitation.

This is the city of mile high heels to match the mile high buildings. The dresses are as short as your memory of that last losing streak. Fashionistas brush shoulders with those that are trying to be.

Tonight had magic as I watched the Cirque show: Love. There was music and singing, dancing and aerialists. The larger than life extravaganza had energy. Paired with this was a gondola ride with the charming singer who crooned happy birthday in Italian to Ruth. The Venetian was truly a magical representation of Venice.

Earlier in the day, we were soothed by the patter of rain drops as we strolled through the outlet malls. The clanging of the cash register did nothing to restore our senses as we cheerfully handed over money for things that were not necessary but were very fun. I have the dress to eclipse every other dress I have ever had. The fit is that other side of magic - the made for you kind.

So, tomorrow I fly out in the wee hours of the morning and begin that trek for home. Here's bidding farewell to Sin City...the lights, the magic and the very tired me. Was it worth it? ABSOLUTELY. Happy Birthday Ruth.

Las Vegas on Dwellable

The Las Vegas Experience Part One

From the north you run the gauntlet of flights to get to Vegas. Fingers, toes and bones of all shapes and sizes are crossed as you brave the swirling dervish of snow that blankets the tarmac while you sit in a plane . . .hoping that you take off, wishing that you would make your connections and praying that if the first two happen, the people waiting for you aren't entirely ticked.

I got here in the end and began the experience in style. The handsome young chaufeur handed each of us a rose, and we popped the champagne into glasses as we limoed to the Mirage. The hooliganting experience has been somewhat mild mannered for Vegas, so I thought here I would touch on some of the highlights and lowlights.

Highlights:

1) Horseback riding in the hills. The calm serenity of the hills as we trekked up the cactus and yucca filled terrain on horses named Pistol and Jewel was unique. The wranglers fulfilled the crusty cowboy image and gave lots of regional information as well as feeding us a rather delightful breakfast.
2) Spa treatments on a whim. I loved the fact that we walked in and there was availability and that we could access the spa all day afterwards.
3) The lights of the city. This city lives up to its reputation of being bright and bold.
4) Walking through the Paris. This really reminds me of Paris and I really enjoyed the ambience.
5) "Seeing" O at the Bellagio. This performance had some definate moments that took your breath away.

Lowlights
1) It would have been nice to check into the hotel and have the service as expected. Computers crashed and people used it as an excuse for all sorts of hiccups.
2) Losing at the slots
3) Freezing cold hot tub on the pool deck.
4) Travelling with folk that you can't find. She is finally found but only just. . .lol.
5) Airlines airlines airlines.

So far, I am tired. It is 4 am and I am still awake. There is so much to do and no time (or people in agreement to do it all.) Off to bed...night all.

Las Vegas on Dwellable

Diversions

There I was, behind the wheel again. The tires slithered and slurped their way through the murky slush. Traffic has crawled to a standstill. My brain cells twig and tweet to each other and have me thinking . . .can I get there in time.

There would be back up the hill from downtown to deliver children to various residences before I have to be back downtown for another appointment. I had spent the afternoon delivering posters, forms, messages and children to various locations as it was and then it happened. The traffic snarled and snorted and chuckled to a thumb twiddling standstill. I sat there and listened to the great debate in the back seats. The most common theme being that the natives were "starving."

The phone rang and since nothing was on the go, I answered it. Traffic was definately growling at the other direction too. This was quite obviously a no win situation. So, I decide that dinner out it is. I call to arrange the children's transfer to be at the illustrious Boston Pizza as they have Pasta Tuesdays. The tutor that I had forgotten about decided that he wasn't feeling well and cancelled. And I turn around and suddenly remembered that I had someone else's child too. That means calling the parents to let them know that I am definately not moving, and will feed their child, and will have said child returned once it is possible to navigate the road.

I have to say that dinner was great. The children were almost delightful. I made it to the appointment on time and now I have peace and quiet. There were no additional shennanigans at all. I wonder if I can go out for dinner every Tuesday. . .

No that is not practical or affordable. But sometimes, the weather provides a diversion and I for one am very pleased with the result! Now, about that laundry . . .

And then there was calm

There is a funny sensation when the snow flies and the air freezes wee icicles to the tip of your nose. There is the fun of blowing breath rings into random aerial shapes. You can lick your fingers and draw ice pictures on the glass. Might I mention that you also have to clean said glass once you are finished. There is time to waste watching fire flies climb the logs and setting themselves free. Yes, this is the calm.

I have to say that hooliganting can be tiring. There are the rehearsals and children's activities that are brain wearing. There were brain cells there at the beginning of things....I am convinced although others might disagree. There was the visit from the cooking Nana, the cleaning Nana, the pool rustling Nana, and the coffee pot managing Nana, and the party Nana. All those Nana's are one and the same. We have short bread cookies, lemon merangue pie, casseroles, fruit salad and chicken. My kitchen is sparkly as Nana  has a permanent allergic reaction to dishwashers.

Add to that the delights of birthday parties. Children and company celebrated by ramaging the pool, play pit and sound studio. The rooms echoed to the point that when the party continued at our house, the adults soon found the antidote with whine. And wine of course. . .the favorite being "Dirty Laundry". Adult jello was supplied and Advil followed a few hours later. I have often wondered how a party just happens by accident, but I can't say I mind much.

Oh, but we weren't done yet. My brother decided to go to Vegas for the weekend and is having issues getting home after being bumped off his flight. I wonder how many more times he is going to get burned by giving up his well being for the damsel in distress. I am sure that it is highly overrated. It has cost him $$$ so far and he may or may not get home tomorrow. Aargh. The amusing part was juggling phone calls while figuring out flights and limos for my own trip. How is it that airlines take no responsibility for screwing you over? No, I am not going to think about it. Exploding hotels,delayed flights and fog . . .not going to think about it.

However, after all the business, I am loving the fact that I don't have to be anywhere. There is no where I have to drive. So . . .I wonder . . .who is up for hooliganting tonight?

Manic Monday

I realize that some of you have crazy Monday's too; the kind that make you wish you had that steaming cup of coffee, a satisfying book and time to just breathe. I know that you think you have experienced the worst kind of Monday that there is. Ever had cranky partner or child tell you to get stuffed? Been late? Been hopelessly stuck in traffic? I thought so. I am not trying to cap your bad day, but I am going to share mine in order to vent.

That alarm clock actually managed to show up for work today, so I was alert when the phone rang. The first call was to inform me that it had snowed. Seeing as it is only the second snowfall of the year, traffic was doing it's usual " Holy Crap - How do you drive in this stuff again?" Somehow, the fact that it is winter for 5 - 6 months of the year gets forgotten every fall. I understood and began the flurry of hunting out mitts, scarves and hats, warming up the van so that the ice melts and generally getting us all ready.

Then the second call came. My friend was clever enough to be listening to the radio, which had the news bulletin. The school has no power, but it should be fixed shortly. Ok. So, I race around and get out the door. I slithered my way slowly to the first drop point and was assured that yes it was dark, but yes, the power will be on shortly. So, I proceeded to the bus stop for Child #2. We waited. Waited. Still waiting. Meanwhile, the babysitter and I are in discussion as to what is really happening. She has called the bus company, who were clueless so they called the school, who decided that everything was OK.

Hmmmm, that funny feeling kicked in when the TL7 bus stopped just in front of us. That is the bus for the first child's school and she is refusing to pick up children. Now, I know that the buses are late but that bus was 40 minutes late. So, I round up all the children I can and decide to drive them to school. At least they will be warm and dry, plus on time. The route takes me back by my daughter's school. Instinct kicks in so I stop and sure enough, all the kids are being sent home. The cell bill mounts higher as I coordinate with Lish over which children are going where. She has my eldest so I carry on with the rest. They get to school in time but I am explaining that the buses are late and why to the staff, and get sent to the office. Sigh. One more child to deliver and now I am late for work.

Of course, once she was delivered to her school (the third of the day) and again I have explained why the buses are late and why I am driving the child, I managed to get a whole block before the traffic snarl hit. You see, from my abode there are two hills that lead to downtown and a bridge. Invariably during the first snow, people crash in all of those locations so you can't go anywhere. What is really aggravating is that you can't see the jam until you are past the point that you cannot turn around. That means a call to work to say that they will see me when they see me.

I finally got to work and then discovered that they were in a bit of a high state of excitment as a real life famous person had decided to come to the park to get pictures taken. Working at a historical village, you sometimes get the unexpected. I have to wonder why celebrities seem to want snowy pictures when it is cold outside. Expecially those from the South? Anyone? He was the second one since I have been working there anyway. So, I spend my day dealing with trying to figure out someone elses paperwork and wound up staying late. That meant being caught in traffic again because the same series of accidents happens on the way home too.

I had exactly an hour to get supper and get back downtown to the dance studio. I hadn't intended on taking the youngest but of course, traffic presented the option of no childcare so I had to drag her down too. That makes both children cranky. So, after three hours there, I am home. I am tired, cranky . . .and really want a shower. Did I mention I missed boot cam? I never miss that class. Yes, I am disgusted with this crazy day.

Could someone, anyone, fix it for tomorrow?

The Mystery of the Missing Charms

It was a quiet evening with supper baking and simmering. Since I didn't know how many I was cooking for I opted for the Swedish Meatballs with pasta sauce and noodles, a crowd favorite with all the picky eaters. The guests arrive and soon a question is posed. Have you seen the charm bracelet? Everyone responds: "Not I."

Ahhh - time to change the hats from chef to sleuth. What is the time line from where the bracelet was last seen? Who had it? Who has seen it? Who can describe it? Better yet, who can tell the same story more than once and get the details the same every time? Now, while all the little bandits are questioned individually the sleuth becomes more confused.

Was it lost at the playground? Why did you give it away? Do you understand that if you give it away, you can't accuse the other party of theft? How did it get to the house? Whose room was it last seen in?

After about two hours (and yes, this is completely insane when you consider that supper is cooking on the stove and that the adults have actually put it to the back burner to solve the mystery), we have a time line.

Bracelet was worn to school.
It was taken off and given to other child in playground.
That child took brought it to the van and into house and put it on her bookshelf.
Lost track of bracelet.
Some one else moved it but two banditos remember it being in the other room.

Very involved in the impersonation of Sherlock Holmes at this point, with a sliver of both NCIS and CSI, the adults abandon cooking and turn off the stove. Dinner is done, but instead of serving the children, the hunt continues. We search the storage bins in the bedrooms. Twice. Three times. We look in drawers, under beds, under pillows, in beds, in laundry baskets, in coat sleeves, pockets and purses. We look high and we look low. By this time, we know it is not where it was last seen. No bracelet.

Giving up in complete disgust over the lack of a stable story, lack of information, and complete failure as sleuths (which is the part that stings really), dinner is served. Movie is watched, ice cream is eaten, banditos are put to bed not necessarily in that order. Finally, the sleepy guests head for home.

A bit tired myself, I start the list of things to do for tomorrow. I need an invitation for the party next week still. I remembered one being in the bedroom upstairs. Once again, I am looking for something that was not easy to find. In the balcony of the dollhouse, there is the invitation card I was after and beside it? Yes, the bracelet is sitting there in plain view.

I am not sure that bracelet has the right charms on it. Maybe it needs a St. Anthony on it. However, it is found and maybe my credentials as a sleuth may not be revoked just yet.

What Happened Next?

What a hooliganting day! I am so sleepy, but since it is definately too early to go to sleep, I thought I would share a bit of the results of the sneak attack. But as all stories should, I must start at the beginning of my day.

As far as days go, this one did not have an auspicious start. The alarm only just managed to penetrate my skull, and thus the children only "just" managed to get to school on time. Once I had received the kisses being blown from the front seat of the yellow bus, I pulled out that trusty cell and made first contact. My partner in crime was up and suggested that tea would be a good start. Definately still groggy, I opted to perch on her stools and drink tea to try and wake up, knowing full well that if I were to go home I would just crawl back under the covers and call it good.

Just after 9:30, we managed to stir from the door and drove to Safeway. Starbucks had no line so the drinks and ammunition for the sneak attack were acquired. Then, off we went. We arrived and the lovely victim was puzzled enough to mistake our identity. However, she was home and we had a fabulous visit over rowdy wee ones and temper tantrums and fish talk. It was great, I just love a house that can be warm, welcoming and chaotic all at the same time. However, groceries called and I had to go on.

Hooliganting develops a taste for the unexpected. The trusty cell phone rang and the voice at the other end suggested play date for the youngest child. That developed into lunch, haircut and of course random acts of driving like a mad woman over our city chauffeuring children. The sad part is that to do list I had never even got touched. Yes, I love my life!

The to do list can always wait, but people are the treasures that need polishing. There is a philosophy I live by.

Plotting the Sneak Attack

The tea is steeping thickly in the pot. The lid is screwed on tightly and the steam oozes over the mug lip as it pours from the thermos. Breathe in the aroma of Tetley's Earl Grey. Yummy. Now where was I? Oh yes, the plot and scheme portion of my day.


You see, I could actually be doing something productive right now like work, or phonecalls. However, the idea is niggling in the back of my mind. Ambush. Yes, ambush. There is a call to wander to Starbucks in the early hours of the morning after dropping the children off at school. There is a need to stand in the infamously slow and long line to watch the baristas manipulate the syrups and coffee grounds into those delectable delights of the London Fog, Caramel Macchiato or just plain coffee. Once you get over the excitement of it actually being your turn, it seems to be such a waste to purchase one drink. So why not make it two? And then why not share the wealth of having two drinks? Ah yes, the sneak attack is being formulated.

From there, it is not too much effort to meander back to the van, plunk down the coffee cups in the drink holders and go a couple of blocks. She has lots of children herself so the odds are that she will be home. Yes. I think it is a plan. Any good plan needs a partner in crime, but a quick chat to a fellow hooliganter should take care of that.

Yes, the sneak attack is coming. Unless, of course, you are smart enough to have subscribed to this and then you have the advantage of considering this your warning. It is the only one there will be! Lol.

Halloween

Spooky. Creepy. Decorative. Fun. Candy.

Oh yes, did I mention the candy? I had the distinct pleasure of dancing the afternoon away with the regular crew dressed up in a flower power costume. This meant that I had absolutely no say in the hooliganting antics of the children. That is the topic open for today in this little gem.

What is the appropriate tone to set for Halloween? I know that when I was a wee thing in fairy wings and a pumpkin pail, I was permitted to Trick or Treat until the pumpkin was full. It was a wee little pumpkin and it took blocks to fill. After an hour, we would walk to the school field for hot chocolate, bonfire delights and the thrill of fireworks.

Flash forward to now. I have two enormous shopping bags full of chips, chocolate and candy. Loot bags with pencils, erasers and stickers. Hard candy and soft candy - and the inevitable stolen wrappers that delight the souls of children that think that they got away with something. Our street has houses with cobwebs, pumpkins that light up the night, blow up skeletons and phantoms, coffins and vampires and so much more. Each house seems to be more elaborate than the last. While these houses are funfilled and musically accompanied, I also know that these house are distributing a heap of candy. I have enough in the house to last a year. Now add to that complication the fact that I am not able to send it as part of their lunches.

Now, the next question that follows is that I gave out a chocolate bar to each child. Just one. Does that make me cheap? We had loads of children coming to the door and I was afraid of running out. I am so puzzled by this phenomenan as it grows larger and grander each year. How do the new immigrants cope with it? So, I have no answer. I think that the children had fun and a good time was had by all. I guess that it is the important thing. However . . . what we will do next year?

Shhhh - The Invasion is at Hand

Sometimes, there are those Fridays where there are so many shifting shapes and shadows that you feel as though you should be one with them. The people are shifting merrily on their way in those trucks, vans, cars and vehicles that could be known as rust buckets. Today was such a day.

There were those things that I had to do. Exercise class, little people to school, playdates. . . and there were those things that I added because I felt like it. . . . I had the priviledge of baking cookies with two verified shadows. The two assisted in the baking before melting into the background of toys and mayhem. The shadows only emerged to slip cookies into their bags before disappearing again. There was the rescue misson that evolved once it was understood that those pumpkins were indeed heading for the garbage. Who could resist those scowling faces? Art has to be viewed to be appreciated.

The best part of the day was hooliganting. Not one episode but two. First, I invited myself and my crew over to a delightful friends house for lunch. Most people would panic but not this lass. Instead, we are resplendant in our tomato sauced fingers as we are treated to homemade pizzas fresh from the oven, percolating coffee and RIP cupcakes. The lass can cook and makes us hang our heads in shame. The visit was short though due to dance classes that were commitments.

However, dance classes do not last forever, contrary to popular opinion polls that suggest that ab workouts stretch the continuity of time to such as degree as they feel like forever. Who wants to head home on a Friday night? Not I says me. Not I says the partner in crime. The hooliganters are awake and ready to go for round two. First, you have to drive to the Tim Horton's drive thru and pick up provisions in the form of Steeped Teas double double. Then, you have to drive around and listen to weird music while trying to get lost in a small town that it is impossible to not be found in. Once driving and conversation is done you head for home but detours are also welcome.

Impulse strikes often and should occasionally have warning labels. When you have friends that open the doors with welcoming smiles at 10 in the evening, you know you are in the right place. The tea was made, the movie discussed, chosen and watched. And now, the hooliganters are home and not quite in bed. This is the kind of evening that makes you appreciate the people that you can spend time with and know that you are in exactly the right place.