With this ring, I (would) thee wed ...

Marilyn Monroe-Joe DiMaggio wedding ring to hit auction block

Pretty freakin' far!

Just another manic Monday ...

1.  Do some organizing? Check!
2.  Have bananas ripe enough to bake with tomorrow? Check!
3.  Learn that Julia scored a 93% on a psych test? Check!
4.  Have my ex show up on my doorstep and he actually says hi AND bye to me? Check!
5.  Make an EIGHT POUND lasagna? Check!
6.  Discover some new music? Check!
7.  Smack my foot into the coffee table? Check!

So, time for me to attempt some math. Culinary math, so it seems less, umm, icky. Here goes (bear with me!) ...

8 lbs = 3 628.738 96 gms
Most frozen lasagna servings run less than 300 gms and will cost you at least $2.50. (I'll be generous and round up to 300 gms.)
3 628 gms/300 gms = 12 servings
12 servings x $2.50 = $30
(Hmmm ... maybe I'll start charging the kids per serving!)

Oh, by the way ... MY lasagna is four layers high, has 3 types of cheese and a chunky rockin' sauce that my kids eat out of the pot on bread. Suck on that, Stouffer's!

Things I've learned (so far) today ...

1.  It IS possible to hit your own self with a shopping cart. And then to ram your forearm into the shopping cart later. Twice. With the same arm.

(1a.  The biggest threat to me ... is ME!)

2.  It would seem that the posted 30 kms/hr in a school zone applies to everyone but the police. The one I was following whizzed through it doing over 50 kms/hr. (Yeah, so I paced him for a lil while!)

3.  The postman doesn't always ring once (much less twice!) before leaving you a notice of a parcel on your front doorknob. I know this because when I went to pick up the item at the post office, the Canada Post employee there told me that they don't. Nice.

4.  I've also learned that Jack is a canine rock star judging from the attention he gathers wherever we go. I take him on almost all my errands. It's a muggy day today so I have the back windows cranked open all the way. Coming out of the post office, I find him flirting with a two older ladies, who immediately start gushing at what a handsome dog he is, the whole while stroking him under the chin and behind the ears. One even bends down and goes nose to nose with my dog! I accept the compliments on his behalf and start talking to him in English. Both ladies immediately express amazement that he can understand English! *eyeroll* I tell you, if I could train him to sign autographs, I could retire on the profits!

And the day's not over yet ...

My Robbie ♥

Ahhh, Robbie. Recently, I described Robbie to a friend of mine. I told him that Robbie is my 'go to' person - the one I can call at all hours of the night or day, the one who will help me dispose of the bodies without asking any questions, the one I can always go to for advice, knowing it will be blunt and raw and lacking in all candy coating whatsoever. He is my rock and sounding board but he is also my mirror, who instead of reflecting back what I might want to see, reflects back what truly is. Robbie is the place I call when I need a shoulder; I've spent 6 hours driving there, talked his ear off for 4 hours and then driven another 6 hours to come home. He is 'Uncle Robbie' to my children and he has graciously shared his 'Ma' with me - I walk amid his family where I easily feel like one of them.

Ma & Robbie - 31/08/2011

Robbie was in town in late August, giving us a chance to celebrate our birthdays, albeit belatedly. After picking him up at his mom's, where we had an impromptu photo session, we headed to Old Montreal. We roamed the cobbled streets, then explored the Old Port until it was dark before finally settling in at Les 3 Brasseurs for a drink. (I took the advice of our server, Sebastien and had a raspberry beer. Interesting!) We sat and talked and people watched and laughed uproariously (as we usually do) until they started packing up the tables and chairs on the terrace.

Robbie & me - Old Montreal, 31/08/2011

As is always the case when I'm with Robbie, the time flew by way too quickly. I drove him home (he'll maintain that I sped him home but what does he know!) and we may have woken a neighbor or two as we laughed our way through our g'nites. Thankfully, I get to do it all again next month when we wreak havoc on Toronto!

I love you, Robbie!

A day in the life of my 18 year old . . .

My children are pretty self-sufficient. If I were to drop dead today, I know they wouldn't starve, they would continue to have clean clothing and could drive themselves around. But every now and then, they still seem to need me.

Julia is now a full time day student at CEGEP. Her morning routine is back to a flurry of getting ready before I drive her to the express bus for her ride into the city. Typically, I throw her together a lunch of sorts (depending on her schedule and mood), making sure to hang it over the front door's handle, so it's not missed during her exit. This morning, Julia had to make a stop at the ATM. As she's getting back into the car, I look down and ask, 'Where's your lunch?' Julia makes her typical 'oops-sorry-don't-be-mad-you-know-you-love-me-because-I'm-cute' face (which usually works on me) and I start to head back for home. Julia tells me not to bother because she can't be late for this class - she has an important assignment to hand in and the teacher deducts marks off your grade for the assignment if you come in late. We have the time, so we go back and she gets her lunch. After dropping her at the express bus stop, I head to the supermarket to pick up a couple of things. Parking the car, I look down and see the neon orange Koodo bag full of Julia's lunch. I sigh and text her to tell her what an ASS she is. 'Oops', she texts back, complete with a :)  I continue with my shopping and just as I get to the cashier, my phone rings. It's Julia and she forgot her assignment in the car. I offer to drive it to her at the metro and she happily agrees, apologizing profusely. 'But hurry, Mom - I can't be late for this guy's class!' Down the 40 I race, make it to the metro and we do the hand off right there on Sherbrooke Street. I drive away with her 'Thanks, Mom!' ringing in my ears.

Getting back home, I'm making coffee when I get another text. It's from Julia saying the power went out in the metro and she's going to be late despite our best efforts to get her assignment in on time. I suggest she explain it to the teacher and hope for the best. She continues to grumble about him and his rules.

Eventually, another text - 'he said I won't get 10 (marks) off'. Another day, another crisis averted. And this is only the first day of September ... *sigh* ...

Polishing up my Canadian/US relations . . .

(Caution: extended reading required!)

Earlier this month, after a much anticipated evening with some great friends (Sandy, Terri and Gary), I left to board a flight for TO. After lugging my bags through the public transport system of the MUC, I learned a valuable and interesting lesson - the better dressed the business man, the lesser chance you have of them offering to help you with a cumbersome piece of luggage. Give me a guy in jeans and a t-shirt any day, those are the gallant ones!

After arriving in TO, we spent a quiet evening watching Hell's Kitchen and had dinner at The Lion and Firkin. The next day was pretty gloomy and drizzly but that mattered not because I was lunching with my Robbie! I drove into town that morning and after parking in some lot, headed to Indigo. Bought a couple of books (on sale, yay me!) and then went to pick up Robbie. He looked smashing (as usual!) and I had a great time (as usual!) but time went by too quickly (as usual!) and he eventually had to head back to work. I headed back to the underground parking garage, which I easily found. Finding the car? Not so easy. In my excitement to see Robbie, I dashed off and forgot exactly where I had parked my friend's car in the garage! (Of course, it didn't help that for the first 10 minutes or so, my befuddled mind was searching for my raggedy ass ol' silver Civic instead of the snazzy new red Mazda 6 rental!) I found them after about 15 minutes and headed back out of town. That night, I was taken to see 'Midnight in Paris', my very first Woody Allen film. (It was hilarious!) Later, we supped at Koganei - if you're looking for sushi in TO, look no further than this place. The next day was a quiet one - running errands and an evening in with a pizza, bottle of wine and what I believe to be a marked deck of cards, which resulted in me losing yet another Rummy 500 match. (This now concludes the Canadian portion of my summary. Please take a large step to your right straight over the border to continue ... )

Friday, we headed for the airport. I was curious to see how this flight would play out; after all, the last man I flew with was a bit of a tight ass slightly neurotic a tad anal wound really tightly not a lot of fun to fly with. This time around proved completely different. We had the very last seats in the back - I mention the location only because it meant that the flight attendant was buckled in right beside my friend for both take off and landing. She immediately started flirting outrageously chatting him up, despite him offering only short responses to her barrage of questions. She continued to try to engage him in conversation throughout the flight and only spoke to me when she passed with the beverage cart. I was nice; I even complimented her on her earrings but I might as well have been decked out in invisible clothing because her attention was focused solely on my traveling companion. We landed in NYC, where my luggage arrived while his did not. (Personally, I think the flight attendant snuck off with it!) After being promised delivery to our hotel in the next couple of hours, we hopped a cab to the Marriott Marquis, right smack in Times Square.

Click here to see a daytime view of Times Square

Click here to see a nighttime view of Times Square

After dropping off our stuff in the room (33rd floor overlooking Times Square!), we headed out for dinner at Dock's. It was a great meal, topped off with a stupendous Key Lime Pie. We headed back to the hotel, meandering through Times Square. For those of you who have never been, walking through Times Square is like walking on Ste-Catherine Street ... except Ste-Catherine Street is on steroids ... and you've taken a mega hit of LSD ... and so has everyone you come across. Add a healthy dose of neon everywhere and you have Times Square. And because it is Times Square, you inevitably run into the Naked Cowboy. (We saw the newer, younger version; apparently, you can apply for a franchise!) We also came across the *shudder* Naked Cowgirl. A word of advice: pasties, applied to body parts dangling at waist level, are NOT sexy. I'm just saying. (On a related note, we saw the newer, younger version of the Naked Cowgirl the following day - she grinned at my friend but totally ignored me. Serves me right for wearing my invisible clothes again, I guess!)

Day 2 - The errant luggage finally showed up shortly before noon. Lunch at Chipotle, shopping at Macy's, and a stop at Starbucks where I was schooled on how to email my kids from an iPhone. On the way back to the hotel, we passed a huge billboard for the Pompeii exhibition. I mentioned my childhood obsession with Pompeii to my friend and five minutes later, we are standing in line and waiting to buy tickets! What an awesome exhibition! So much to see and no one to rush you through either! A great day ended with a great meal in Little Italy at Pellegrino's, whose wait staff has to be among the most attentive and respectful in the whole city.

Day 3 - Crappy weather, so I didn't venture very far or do very much. But then evening came and we were off to see STOMP! I have wanted longed dreamed of seeing Stomp every since catching a performance on TV back in the 90's. IT ... WAS ... AMAZING! A truly mesmerizing blend of cacophony. Never has an hour and a half passed so quickly! I'm really thankful that the weather spared me a migraine! After the show, we dashed through the drizzle a few buildings over and ducked into the Ukrainian East Village Restaurant (suggested by my friend, Terri). The décor is very reminiscent of every Ukie hall I have ever been in. The food was great and made me wonder if they had some Ukie baba stashed away in their kitchen. Our server was a handsome young Ukie boy, who did a great job. That's the good news. The bad? Watching them haul a pile of full Hefty garbage bags on a dolly from the kitchen right through the dining room, past the diners. Wanting to make a pit stop before heading back to the hotel, we found we had to be buzzed into the stairway leading to the washrooms. Yeah, buzzed in! Exiting the washroom, I invited my friend to come back in with me so he could help to identify the wildlife I had found there. It seems I had met my first live cockroach. In a Ukie restaurant, of all places! *hanging my head in shame*

Day 4 - I explored Manhattan a bit, ending up in Little Korea at one point. It's fascinating to walk around Manhattan but you need to be alert. Yellow cabs are abundant (you can't spit in any direction without hitting at least 2-3 of them!) and their drivers are ruthless in their pursuit of a destination. Pedestrians might have the right of way but someone forgot to tell the cabbies that! You've been warned!

Click here to see the plethora of yellow cabs in NYC!

Headed back to the hotel to get ready for our 'dress up date', a recent tradition. Morimoto is nothing short of phenomenal. The decor is slick and chic. The bathroom alone is well worth a visit. It was so beautiful in there, I could have eaten my meal in there! At the risk of being crass, they heat their toilet seats! (I thought that was really nifty until I related the fact to Julia, who promptly pointed out how gross that would be considering she couldn't be sure if the seat had been heated by the restaurant's system ... or the previous user!) I discovered a new drink - Snapdragon - and I want to be pickled in it after I leave this world. My friend ordered the Omakase, an 8-course tasting menu meant to highlight the chef's cuisine. Whoa! In a nutshell: toro tartare, accompanied by a seasoned soy sauce and five dipping options (wasabi, sour cream, kelp paste, avocado paste and Japanese crackers) ... a lightly seared sashimi of skip jack tuna, served with shimeji mushrooms and micro greens ... assortment of vegetables and tempura liver accompanied by a miso paste served in a warmer ... an oyster and foie gras with teriyaki jus (a warm bite of heaven, in my opinion!) ... a plate of assorted nigiri (Outstanding! My fave was the squid) ... homemade ginger ale (meant to be a palate cleanser, but if they had been selling the stuff by the case, I would have been buying!) ... waguyu beef (kobe beef - it keeps following me around!), set atop potato sticks (fancy french fries) and a lobster tail with garam masala ... tofu cheesecake (not ever having had tofu before, this struck me more as a tofu custard but it was deelish!) I'm certain royalty does not dine better than we did that evening.

Day 5 Our last evening in the Big Apple. Dinner that night was at Frankie and Johnnie's, a no nonsense steakhouse who, judging by the autographed head shots on the wall, sees their share of stars. That night, we saw 1/2 a star. After dinner, we went for a walk and came upon a crowd outside the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre, where the Broadway musical production of The Addams Family was playing. We stopped and waited along with everyone else until Brooke Shields and Roger Rees came out. And no snobby star airs either - both stopped to sign autographs, pose for pics and talk with their fans.

Click here to see Brooke Shields

Click here to see Roger Rees

We then stopped in Times Square and sat at the top of the bleachers for a while, taking in the sights and sounds. Another fantastic evening ...

Click here to see a view of Times Square from down below

The next day, we made our way to the airport. After waiting in an enormous line to check my bag, I get to the agent behind the counter and made the mistake of asking the gentleman how he was doing. As though he had been waiting all day for that very question, he launched into a tirade lasting several minutes, leaning on the counter and just complaining about how badly things are run (very badly!), how much longer he had until retirement (ten excruciatingly long months!), how deeply his boss' head was lodged up his ass (pretty deeply!) and the whole while, I can feel dozens of pairs of eyes burning holes in my back while everyone waits in line. Hey, what can I say? People just seem to like to unload to me! I head off to board the plane and lo and behold, there's the very same flirty flight attendant, who looks right through me, even though she had positively drooled all over my traveling companion a mere five days earlier. Later, during the beverage service, I smiled and complimented her on her earrings ... again. *grin*

My Julia ♥

Julia Kristine Sawchuk Brodeur - 2 1/2 yrs old

I never wanted to know the sex of any of the babies I carried yet I was certain Julia was a girl long before her birth. Everything about my last pregnancy was different - my cravings, my weight gain - I was about to have some competition in my house full of men! I knew I was in for a interesting journey with this kid from the very ride to the hospital; she was intent on bursting into the world while her father seemed determined to observe every red light and speed limit as though they had been handed to him on two stone tablets up on Mount Sinai! At the hospital, Dr B barely had time to snap on his second glove and lean forward before Julia plopped herself into his hands. I didn't realize it then, but her unconventional arrival was to be a trailer for the movie of her life ...

Julia and Dad (March 2 1997)

After poor Jordan's history-making bout with colic, Julia was an almost maintenance-free newborn. She quickly learned to sleep through the pandemonium that underlined Kevin and Jordan's every waking moment. I'm almost ashamed to admit that her father and I went off to bed one night, only to realize that we had left her sleeping in the swing in the middle of the pitch black living room, but she was just that easy a baby ... well, until she started walking, that is! It wasn't enough for Julia to learn to pull herself up by holding on a piece of furniture; no, Julia then had to climb that piece of furniture. Coffee tables, wall units, bookcases - if it had a foothold, Julia was determined to scale the thing. More times than I can remember, I would turn my back on her sitting in her high chair, only to look over my shoulder and see her straddling the tray, impish grin on her face and hands on her teeny hips, looking so proud of herself. A mere week or so after learning to walk, she decided she was tired of that activity and started imitating her brothers as they ran throughout the house. Julia hated being strapped into a stroller, preferring to walk on her own. And I do mean 'on her own', since having her hand held was yet another restraint she did not accept. She was a fearless child - heights, distance, stairs - you name it, she mastered control over it. Julia was not a great rule follower, instead she made them (or broke them). Nothing illustrated this better than one of Julia's favorite stories: In Switzerland one morning, Julia and I walked to her pre-school, a little less than ten minutes away. Once there, she refused my request for a hug or a kiss and skipped off instead to greet her friends. I pretend to pout, waved g'bye and left the schoolyard for home. About a half hour later, I hear a knock at the front door; opening it, I look out, my eyes being pulled downward by the 4 year old standing there. Looking around and not seeing anyone, I incredulously inquire what she was doing home. 'You looked so sad when you left that I came home to give you a kiss and a hug,' she stated simply, ready to return to school on her own. I grabbed for my keys and we returned to l'École Rose, much to the amazement of the teachers there, who told me that no one had ever pulled off a coup like Julia had that day.

Julia and Mom (March 26 1998)

Things have not been sweetness and light every day of Julia's life. She has inherited a very healthy dose of hardheadedness from both her parents, which on the positive side means she is able to easily assert herself but on the negative side, makes for some heated exchanges between parent and daughter. (Julia piercing her own eyebrow at age 14 without parental consent immediately springs to mind ... ) The adorable baby evolved into a beautiful child who has grown into a stunning young woman. Yet somehow, this fact seems lost on my Julia, who goes on about her life completely unassumingly. She is doing well in school, is healthy and happy. As a parent, you cannot ask for much more.


For the record, Julia's father and I were never 'trying for a girl'. The plan all along was to have three children; Fate just happened to make the last one a girl. While I maintained throughout my pregnancy with Julia that a third son would be a welcomed addition to the two we were already raising, I've come to understand the magic in the bond between a mother and daughter. There's an old Irish saying that goes, 'A son is a son until he takes him a wife, a daughter is a daughter all of her life. The older Julia becomes, the more truth I find there to be in that adage.

Julia (Summer 2010)

I'll take what's in the box, Monty . . .

Take something beautiful. A glowing woman swollen with life ... 

 ... the subsequent miracle of birth ... 

... culminating in the arrival of a beautiful newborn.

Now, taint it all with the ever so quaint, recently made popular expression, 'push present'. Just brings a tear to your eye, don't it? A push present, for those of you with inquiring minds (and who haven't already figured this one out for yourselves), is a prezzie that one parent gives the other for birthing the new addition to their family. So, that would be you husbands, boyfriends and significant others of either gender. Now, me being a tad on the dédaigneuse side, I find the expression cringe-worthy. Frankly, I prefer the alternate expression, 'baby bauble'. Besides feeding into my love of alliterations, it clearly spells out what the non-baby-pushing-out parent should be shopping for (which, after popping out three people myself, is the LEAST you should receive by way of thanks, if you ask me!).

There are sites dedicated to the browsing and purchasing of these gifts - Gifts.com have a large assortment and even the parental bible, Parents.com are part of the revolution, offering the baubles no woman would turn down but also smashing ideas like spa treatments and trips! It's almost enough to make me want another baby ... I said ALMOST!

So, welcome to the world of  'push presents', where actress Jessica Alba has requested a $54,000 gold and diamond Frank Muller watch for the  upcoming birth of her second child, stylist Rachel Zoe received a 10-carat (10!) diamond ring and  Marc-Anthony gifted J-Lo with a pair of $2.5 million earrings. (Sure, you're saying, but she had twins! Well, you'd be wrong because he also gave her a $300,000 canary diamond ring! Yowsah!)

What did I get? *snicker* Let's see ... that would be nothing for the births of Kevin and Jordan. When Julia came along, I turned to her father and demanded flowers. I reminded him that this was my third (and last) ride on the delivery table merry-go-round. I reminded him that he had always wanted a daughter and now had one. I reminded him that every other woman on the floor had flowers and by gawd, I was not leaving the hospital until I had MY freakin' bouquet. He came through and in the 14 years we were together, that marked the second (and last) time he ever brought me flowers. But that's a whole other posting for a whole other day! So ... what did YOU get?

Missing pets . . .

I solved the mystery!!!