The Mole is away for two days on a caving adventure with his friend Doug. They are off to map out several caves that have been itching their brains these last 12 months or so, but were out of reach due to the weather. Now that it is nice all the time, they bugger off every weekend on either the Saturday or Sunday, depending on which day it is I have to work.

I, on the other hand, must work.....So, I felt I'd tell my sad tale in hopes of loads of sympathy and blogging commraderie.

The photo of the semi-nude Mole is quite shocking, I do admit, but I'm always happy when the Mole allows himself some freedom of expression. He is usually too damn conservative. This was when he came out of a cave many hundreds of meters from where he entered, discarded the wet suit and realized he had no pants to put on unless he fought off the black flies all the way back to the cave entrance where he left them.

I'm guessing that Doug found the photo-op too irresistable to pass up, knowing the Mole to be the stuffy one that he is.

Nothing like getting caught with your pants down, huh?

Somethings about me that you don't know and may not want to know;

1) I sit cross legged, with one leg propped up on the table when I blog.
2) I despise reading directions ON ANYTHING and therefore never get all the information and usually bug people to help me.
3) I've always been ADHD but when I was a kid it was considered "enthusiastic and lacking concentration", (according to all my teachers).
4) I smoke.
5) I drink.
6) I swear.
7) If something requires more time in the planning than in the execution ---NOT!
8) I watch a certain soap opera ( I even tape it when I'm at work), FOR SHAME!!!
9) I don't read the newspaper and don't watch the news, lifes' depressing enough.
10) I think bloggers should have a convention where they get to meet each other, drink copious amount of booze and run around swapping ideas for two days, somewhere where there is an ocean and sunshine and cute waiters!

More info than you wanted?

I think it must be stated to all those who repeatedly, randomly or by chance, read my blog, that I am usually a half-in-the-bag blogger! I blog at around 7 or 8pm, after work and after 2 glasses of wine. This, of course means that my fingers are unco-operative and clumsy and although, intellectually, I know what I want to say, my fingers are less than accurate! BB, my WEB MASTER, finds my typos highly offensive and lets me know what a sloppy blogger I am and I AM dammit! But see, this is the beauty of the art. You don't know me, you don't know where I live, you don't work for me, are not related to me and my embarrassing moments will not cloak me in shame for all eternity....right? RIGHT? RIGHT?

Sorry BB. I have been horribly remiss, and I know it. Does that make it worse?
I can think of only one thing that would SHAPE ME UP and that is if you were to come to my house and yell at me!!!! How about next weekend?

Evidence of the Mars/Venus debate is the description of Puppy's bath day. I called it "The Puppy Pampering Spa" and The Mole called it "The Canine Cleansing Facility". Either way, we feel it has improved the quality of our lives immeasurably (especially that barn-like aroma that used to permeate the house). As you can see by the photo, Puppy isn't too impressed, but at least he tolerates our incessant "clean" fetish.

The two BATH BAYS can be used simultaneously but upon arriving at the spa, we encountered a really nasty beast who wanted to eat my puppies leg before bathing. I felt it best to let the savage hound have the entire facility to himself. His owner not only bathed him judiciously, but then after the time had run out, decided to allow us to wait a further 15 minutes in the scorching hot sun while she groomed her miserable hound from head to toe. The Mole had to be gagged as his angry comments were getting louder and louder and I was affraid he'd get to meet the nasty hound, FACE TO FACE, if he continued.

One bathing choice on the dial was Skunk De-Scent, and I'll let you guess whether or not we used it....

Being a loner has some draw backs. After a time people stop seeking you out because they expect that you would rather NOT go to the trouble of being social. Its true, I enjoy time alone, ALOT!!! In fact, if too much of my time is imposed upon, I turn into a UBER BITCH!.

I think I inherited the "loner gene" from my Dad. He loved to do things by himself. Oh, you could tag along as long as you were quiet and made an attempt to appreciate whatever it was that he was doing at the time..and I did! I loved making miniature trains and railroad stuff (N-Gauge), I loved doing the crossword puzzle from the news paper, I loved sketching designs, cartoons and graphics with him. But we were mostly silent whilst doing so. There just didn't seem a need to clutter up the environment with idle chitchat. I learned to value quiet reflection and my own company and I still do. My kids tease me all the time because I am not like the Mums of all their friends who are "joiners" and are involved in all kinds of girlie stuff. I don't have a membership at the gym or belong to Weight Watchers and I WILL NOT GO TO BABY SHOWERS, BRIDAL SHOWERS or TUPPERWARE PARTIES!!!! This is so well know now that I have developed a bit of a reputation.

But I still enjoy the people I like and will go out of my way to seek them out and spend time with them. My family are the first people on my list as they really know me and forgive all my foibles and still (who knows why) want me around. I especially enjoy my brother and his partner, my sister-in-law and her son and my little sister, all of whom share my sense of humour and my ideas of what is good and right and comfortable.

THATS IT!! I like my comfort zone! I have also come to love the things I share with my blogging friends and look forward to reading what they have to say on their own blogs and what they say on mine. Keep it coming folks. I may be unsociable, but I'M YOURS!

So...who is cuter? This is THE BOYFRIEND!!! No...not my boyfriend! This is Jay and kitty, Tadpole(the name I gave him). Seems they are quite the pair. Tadpole spends the odd day at our house stinking it up with his litter box and terrorizing the dog with his sideways attacks. The minute Shaka moves it runs like hell and hides behind the couch. Fortunately, Shaka isn't too impressed by the weenie feline and ignores its bizarre antics, raising an eyebrow every so often in disdain.

Just so you know, the Mole doesn't do much in the garden. He digs holes when I request it but otherwise, he sits around in my housecoat admiring "HIS" garden and drinks tea in the morning and beer on the weekends.

 
I'm finding it difficult to make time to blog these days. I spend an hour or so in my garden before work and a couple hours afterwards. I spend every day off collecting plants, weeding, moving plants and just sitting and staring at my garden! Even the dog is getting annoyed with me as I'd rather garden than walk him. The house is a mess at all times, the laundry doesn't get done and my friends are getting tired of trying to reach me. Think I'm obsessed? Yeah!

Guess I'd better get a move on as I have to go to work and I'm covered in soil. A quick scrub in the bath, a quick run around the block with the mutt and a not-so-quick day at the shop, and I'll be back to do some more gardening.

Was inspired by a friends blog post recently about The Game he and his better half play. There are so many damn games we play, are there not? But here's the trick guys; you can't win these games. It really doesn't matter what the rules are (they are subject to change) or what the goal is (subject to change) as the female player is stacked to win. See, you can't fully comprehend the game as you are missing the vital gene that enables full understanding of the rules. Its kind of like the tortoise and the hare. The outcome is assured and you can only make a feeble yet valiant, attempt at success, and for that you definetely get kudos, but truth be told, you lose before you even start.
Such is the GAME...Just thought I'd give you a heads up!
(A concerned WINNER)

The clouds have parted and the sun has shone through. All is fabulous in my tiny world today as I have found a "Mothers Little Helper" that really helps!

For the last two years I have had to bathe poor Puppy in the back yard in a Little Tykes plastic pool, in freezing cold water (winter, Spring, Summer and Fall). This is no easy feat, I can tell you as weighing in at 127lbs, he hardly fit in the first place. But Puppy had to be bathed frequently as he stunk like dead fish ALL THE TIME. This is a symptom of his hypo-thyroid condition and not his fault, but nevertheless, was the cause of many a nasty comment regarding my hapless hounds cologne.

The process has been a painful but nessessary one and one I have undertaken with the patience of a saint, but also, one neither of us looked forward to. There was always the fear that soap was left in his fur, that he wouldn't dry properly, thus causing further stench throughout the house and surrounding neighborhood and worst of all, the limits placed on visits to places where the human folk have an aversion to DOGGY STENCH!(and there are plenty, I can tell you).

So it was a truly happy day when, during our routine morning walk at The Pit, a lovely Scottish gentleman stopped to talk with me (he too had a large Golden Retreiver) and happened to mention a place he took "Harley" after he had rolled in a dead skunk! My ears pricked and I stopped him, asking him to please repeat what he had just said, and to my utter and complete joy, I learned of The Doggy Spa!!!! A car wash bay, converted into a wonderful walk in doggy bathing area. This fantastic idea HAD to be invented by a dog owner who suffered as I have with a stinking hound.

OH....wonder of wonders! For the next three Saturdays, Snuffy is taking a trip to the car wash with me. We might turn this thing into an every weekend excursion as it cost a measley $5 and the benefits are a sweet smelling puppy and a house that no longer smells like a barn.

Doggy Spas' in every city, I say!!!

WARNING!!!This post is not for the faint at heart. If you are a modest individual, provincial, anal or otherwise disturbed by nudity, navigate away from this page immediately.

I am not a modest person and therefore raised two kids who saw their Mum run around half naked, bath with the door open, carry on conversations from the toilet and generally ignore the general "privacy" issues that so many are married to.

I, however, do enjoy a good soak in the tub as a "quiet getaway" after a long and difficult day and it is at times like these, I do close the door and try to release all the tension of my otherwise stress-filled life.

The problem is this; once you've established that all household discussions can and do take place from the tub or the thrown, it is difficult to impress upon those you live with that there are times that they should not impose themselves upon you, naked or otherwise!

Then there is the Mole, who shuts and triple locks the bathroom door to brush his teeth! Yup, "MR. I Don't Care If I Am Entombed", is affraid someone might accidentally notice that he is human and does all the same things everyone else does to remain hygenic. DUH!

We live in this weird twilight zone. Me, I'm irreverent, sarcastic, rude and I play rough and hard with everyday stuff but get weird about the adventurous things and then theres the Mole, who is terrified someone might hear him fart or see him apply deoderant, but will risk life and limb inplaces most rational human beings would never go.

So, I tried to bath last night. Lit candles, had the Ghetto blaster playing softly, poured loads of epsom salts into the water to soak out all that poison ivy, and was just about knocking on heavens door when.........................

BAM BAM BAM "Mum, pull the curtain, I gotta go", the Baby Mole says.
BAM BAM BAM "Mum, I need the blow dryer" Princess MustHaveA says.
BAM BAM BAM "I got 180 hits Sweetpea, come and see", sayeth the Mole.

I know you are all thinking that I deserve it but jeez, this is too much!

I think that the next time I bathe Snuffy in the back yard in his Little Tykes Pool, I'll jump in with him. It would be more relaxing.

Read previous post for the beginning of my sad tale and then for more horror, come back here;

After trying desperately to ignore all the various ailments by drinking copious amounts of wine and watching TV, I jumped on the Mole as he walked through the door,

"Take me to a pharmacy. I can't see to drive so YOU HAVE TO TAKE ME".
"What the hell happened to you eye?", he says.

Now I haven't looked in a mirror all day so I wasn't aware that I was beginning to resemble Quasimoto, so I rushed over to a mirror and let out a scream.

"Now, let's go now", (the wine buzz was probably why I was fuzzy on the whole changing appearance thing).

We arrive at the drug store and I run to the back and tackle the pharmacist.

"Help me, please".

He takes one look at me and asks a few ridiculous questions, by which time I'm scratching myself obscenely, and then says;

"But I think you ought to go to Emergency and have a Doctor look at you".

There wasn't a single seat left in the wating room at the ER, which would mean, roughly, a 6 hour wait. LIKE I'M GOING TO SIT WITH ABUNCH OF STRANGERS AND LET THEM WATCH ME SCRATCH MY NETHER REGIONS!!!! Besides, the drug store would be closed then and I'd have to go all night without any relief.

Back to the drug store.

Benedryl by mouth (makes you sleepy), cortisone cream for immediate topical relief and eye drops so that I keep my grubby fingers away from my now bulbous eyeball.

I drop into bed, want to cry but can't cuz the tears will spead the infection and sting like hell. Can't read with one eye, can't watch TV with one eye and can't sleep cuz I want to loofa myself with sandpaper intil I bleed.

So, this morning, after 3 hours of real sleep, the zit on my chin looks like a boil, I have the start of a canker on my lip, my eye is about swollen shut and I look like I've been wrestling with a porcupine all night.

Off to work I go....

Just so you know what a truly dedicated blogger I am , let me give you an inventory of my ailments.

1...Poison Oak rash all over my back
2...Strange buggy thing under my right eye lid, requiring 1 eyed blogging
3...Itchy bites from tromp through the underbrush with the Mole in search of willow
4...Blisters on both my ankles from new sandals (but they are so cool)
5...Large Mount Saint Helens zit on chin
6...Acid reflux
7...Dull headache remains from this mornings hangover
8...Throbbing hip and right shoulder (bursitis)
9...Ingrown hair on my ....

I would have included a picture but the Mole refuse to take one of me naked, wearing a patch over one eye. He's weird like that!

Is it any wonder that The Mole is a disaster around the house. Really, how can one expect a creature such as this to feel the need for "the comforts of home" when he is most happy in a place such as this!

After he showed me a set of these pictures, I requested that, in future, he keep all photos such as these away from my poor fragile eyes. Intellectually, I know what he does every weekend, but -really, do I need to be reminded with photos of said event? I feel my heart rate speed up and sweat break out on my forehead when I think of a place like that. Aside from the fact that breathing would be a tad difficult, just think of the creepy bug possibilities!!!

Then theres the "getting stuck" thing...which I just can't fathom without nightmares. So, I try not to be smacked in the face with this stuff. However, when he gets home, he's like some kind of kid with ADHD, thats been fed six pounds of oreo cookies washed down with quarts of chocolate milk. There is NO DENYING HIM!

After a hectic slithering afternoon they all treated themselves to burgers and onions rings at O'Neill's in Kenilworth. The Mole and his friend had the "Pugger Burgers" - Famous 1 LB. burger with bacon, cheese on a kaiser and your choice of garnishes, includes onion rings........$6.99

Good thing they didn't stop at O'Neill's first, huh?

 
I've been a very bad blogger recently. I keep telling myself that nobody is inside these days and therefore, nobody is reading my blog. Then I got a blast from BB who is my Blog-conscience, telling me that I have a responsibility to those who read my blather and must not disappoint. But really, take a look at my paradise and tell me you wouldn't rather be lolling around in a hammock, smelling the Bee Balm?

Tonight I am inside as it turned cold and I'm so tired after our latest foray that, while sitting quietly at work today, I found myself nodding off. If it weren't for the nasty poison oak rash itching me like crazy, I would have been snoring and drooling when the next customer came in to buy beads. Thats a pretty picture, huh?

All outings and holidays with the Mole include some form of nasty reminder. There are the blisters from walking miles and miles in boots in a mud bog, thereby resulting in blisters; there are the many thousands of bug bites like Deer Fly, Horse Fly, Black Fly and Mosquito to be scratched into infection and later treated with whatever antibiotic is handy. There are the many cuts and bruises acquired by sraping against the inside of nasty cave walls covered in God knows what fungus. There is the sunburn, the windburn and the many many sore muscles to be calmed with warm baths and A535.

Tonight, I soak in a hot bath of baking soda in hopes of a nights sleep without scratching myself bloody by morning. I'm taking the calamine lotion up with me too and if I have to I'll pour it over myself - and to hell with the sheets.

I will say that there have been no dull moments in my marriage to this crazy wild man. Never one to exert myself, I am continually finding myself in these situations where I must prove that I'm not the BIG BABY he thinks I am.

Having fantasies about an All Inclusive trip to a resort where I get up at 11am from my comfy Queen sized bed, order room service, lay by the pool until 5pm, go out for dinner, have a nap, go to a R&B bar for music and cocktials and finally drop back into bed around midnight.

Anyone want to take me? 

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All your previous comments are saved. They just don't come up with the new system.

I had no idea that I was so damned photogenic but after 2 days in Tobermoray, the Mole had taken over 250 picture and I was in a t least 200 of them. I had my own private (and extremely irritating) papparazzi.

"Just stand a little to your right, yeah there"
"Now, tilt your head a bit this way, no..not like that, you look stupid"
"Okay, now hang onto that branch and hang out over the water with your foot on that ledge"
"What the hell is that thing on your head? Get it off, it looks ridiculous"
"Pretend your smelling those flowers, sweetpea. NO, of course its not poison oak"
"Can you look a least a little happy"
"You want me to have stuff for my blog, don't you?"

This picture shows me stomping away from the lunatic...
"Get a new model, will you. I'm going to scratch my rash"

YUP... waisted again. I wasn't planning on it this time, it just happened. Got back from the most beautiful place in Ontario, put our shit away, dealt with the ever present "parent" stuff, and WHOOPEE!, found a frozen bottle of vodka in the freezer and .....

Here's the weird thing. When we left for our trip I was so fucked up. I worried about the dog, I worried about the kids, I worried about our parents, I just plain worried so much that my ulcer was playing hell with me and I had a headache that could blind a bat.

18 hours into our trip I said to the Mole "My stomache is good and I don't have a headache anymore'.....WHAT DOES THIS TELL YOU.

On the way home, I desperately hung on to the feeling that we could freeze frame this feeling when, we hit the outskirts of our home city and the Mole said, "Gotta go get the dog from Mum and Dads" and NOT A WORD OF A LIE, the sky clouded over and it promised a big old storm.

A storm is exactly what we got. From my side of the family tree and from the Mole's side too. I will never say that I would be better off without family, but there are times when I feel that the best interests of my marriage are NOT their foremost concern, and it really pisses me off because we are available at all times for anyone who needs us and we try SOOO FUCKING HARD TO BE THERE FOR EVERYONE that it would be really nice if....


ah, fuck it.

How do you spend your time off? Mine is always with wine and as much sunshine and solitude as I can possibly find and "did we find it" in Tobermoray. The entire peninsula is a haven of wildlife, peace and stress-free living. I have no question why people seek this glorious place to unwind, clear their minds and kick back.

I, of course, couldn't even begin to fathom it without a trip to the liqour store first and after polishing off half a bottle of red, had a rather difficult time navigating the rocks that make up the beach. (Thank goodness the Mole wasn't watching or there would be several entries on his blog on the "Exploits of Maggie". He called me "Wobbly" after pushing me for a good 24 hours up and over rocky terrain, (this after cortisone shots in both my hips - the man has no empathy). I persevered for almost the entire time until he asked me to drop about 50 meters through a crevice, at which point I said "this is where I stop" and trundled my way up the trail instead.

All in all, I was not too embarrassing to take along. I kept up and am now icing my hips. Oh - to be married to a Mole.