Sir Monkeypants is running another half marathon in Toronto on Sunday, and we’ve spontaneously decided to join him.

Welcome to our all-day packing party!

We’ll be gone until late Monday, so don’t panic if I’m quiet here. I’ll be back just in time for the Dance! Show! Finale!

Sigh. Canadian dance show just isn’t the same without Cat Deeley to say “fin-AWL-ee.”

Just a drive by dance show commentary — thank you to all Canadians who did not vote for Emanuel, I was starting to have panic attacks thinking he would win. Although I would like to see TJ or Everett take the crown, I’m now calling Vincent for the win, based on the screaming of young girls with nubile dialing fingers in the crowd.

See you Tuesday!

First let me assure you all that FameThrowa is NOT pregnant. It’s my youngest sister, LittleSis, who is expecting next month. I’m the second oldest of four girls, so I have two younger sisters.

And now, let us address the issue of the turkey. First of all, it wasn’t an actual turkey, but rather, a turkey roll, which is a weird processed food-like item where they take raw turkey meat, white and dark, and debone it and form it into a football-shaped object encased in skin and strings that hold it all together.

Then, you’re supposed to put it in the oven for a much smaller amount of time, cooking from frozen, and slice it like a meatloaf for serving. Easy breezy!

So my older sister, SocialButterfly, says that the problem was that I had two of them, and I put them both in the same giant pan, instead of cooking them in their own smaller pans. I followed the directions on the package (for one) but at the assigned end time — when all my other side dishes were nicely finishing, as I had timed everything perfectly — the turkey was still raw in the middle.

So we wound up cutting it up anyway, and then putting the slices in the microwave to finish cooking, which I’m sure you can imagine was SUPER yummy. Actually, it was still fairly edible after the nuking, it was just hard to enjoy with the lingering thoughts of SALMONELLA in everyone’s mind.

Also, while dealing with the uncooked turkey I said, “FUCK!” in front of my mother, which may actually make her forget about that time she popped over for a surprise visit only to find us all out and our front door ajar. Now we can replace that story with the time Lynn messed up Thanksgiving dinner and said the F-word!

Really, though, I am focusing on the positives. Really!

Thanksgiving weekend was super busy around here, but good. I kind of went crazy in the kitchen on Sunday when the turkey DID NOT COOK (still having heart palpitations) but I’m trying to focus on the positives here, which were:

my kids were awesome (despite Gal Smiley being so sick with croup that we took YET ANOTHER trip to the emergency ward at CHEO, like, they will soon start greeting us by a loud cheer of our first name just like NORM!);

it was so nice to see my mom and my older sister, who drove for a really long time to eat crappy turkey but really good desserts;

my younger sister dropped by and she is super duper pregnant and that is just SO cute;

the LEGO exhibit at the Science Museum is awesome;

leftovers are gooooood.

In sadder news, however, I learned from my mom this weekend that the Chapman’s Ice Cream manufacturing plant in Toronto burned down a few weeks ago. We are absolutely a Chapman’s family, because most of their products are peanut and nut-free. They make the only brand of sorbet on the market that is completely milk-free (most other brands add milk for richness, which seems STUPID, don’t you think?), so it is the treat of choice for the Captain; they also make the only brand of nut and milk-free popsicles available for sale locally. We absolutely rely on their popsicles to get us through all coughing-related illnesses, all year long.

So this morning I dashed to the Superstore and snatched up all the Chapman’s products I could; I scored some popsicles but unfortunately they were already sold out of the sorbet.

They say they’ll rebuild and I’m thinking of actually going down there to help. I can haul lumber! I can pour cement! What do you need? I’m there!

Anyway, hope y’all had a happy Thanksgiving.

I’ve been reading Beth’s blog I Should Be Folding Laundry for a long time now. A while back she started a photo challenge called You Capture, in which she gives us all a theme and we try to take shots on that theme. I’ve really been interested in participating but every time I try to take a so-called “artistic” shot, I think it sucks and is just embarrassing and I can’t bring myself to post them here. There is just so much great photography out there that I’m ashamed to display my own feeble efforts in public.

Plus, it is SO embarrassing to have to explain to Sir Monkeypants and the kids why I’m suddenly taking weird slanted shots of toys and flowers and other stuff around the house. I feel like a total douche.

Still. I have a nice camera, and I’m interested in taking better pictures. I’m also interested in learning more about post-processing and how it can improve photos. And I keep telling the kids you get better by practicing. I think it’s time I followed my own rules.

So this week, I bring you my first ever official participation in You Capture.

This week’s theme was the colour red. I found a ton of inspiration on the walk to my kids’ school.

My God, did you know that Google Maps has this thing called street view? And while on street view, you can, you know, see a view of your street? A highly detailed picture of your own house and yard and everything, available on anyone’s computer?

It’s kind of freaking me out.

Also, I have now watched this video on YouTube approximately one million times:

The kids and I are addicted. I now have “I’ve Got A Feeling” so engrained in my head that I will be humming it to my grave. It’s more than just a song stuck in my mind — my brain has literally been REWIRED to play the Black Eyed Peas on a continuous loop. The Captain has taken to randomly exclaiming, “Mazel Tov!” around the house. I can sing any snippet of lyrics, anywhere, anytime, and the kids will pick it up and continue the song.

WE NEED AN INTERVENTION.

In other YouTube adventures, after watching Glee a couple of weeks ago I checked out this new song by Beyonce called Single Ladies — perhaps you have heard of it? It was only a massive international hit several months ago, and recently the subject of some sort of Kanye West jackass-ness. Anyway, clearly I have been watching too much wholesome television these past few years, like Dora and The Wiggles, because all of a sudden I find myself with eyebrows raised at Beyonce’s video:

[Link to video — embedding has been disabled.]

Hips thrusting all over the place! Hair flying! Seductive looks! It was all so shocking.

I feel like those parents who were HORRIFIED to see Elvis shaking his pelvis on television all those years ago. Prudism! It’s back in style!

I need to get out more.

I went to pick up the Captain this afternoon at the usual time, with Gal Smiley and Little Miss Sunshine in tow.

I stood at the usual spot at the edge of the school grounds, chatting with the other moms and watching the girls stomp in a puddle.

Then I noticed a red jacket lying at the side of the playground that looked a lot like that of a boy who lives in my house. Accompanied by surprisingly familiar mitts and a hat.

Coincidence? I THINK NOT.

So I scooped up the jacket and hat and mitts just as the bell rang. Out comes the Captain, who casually says to me, “Sorry Mom, I couldn’t find my jacket so I just came outside in my shirt.”

I expect to have, what, 15 or so more years of this? No wonder I have white hairs.

Of course, the Captain now has a whole lifetime of, “Don’t leave your jacket on the playground!” every day when he goes to school.

Revenge is SWEET.

One thing I am learning about myself as I get older is that I really need to have a big project going on at all times, otherwise I get twitchy. I have a real tendency to overcommit myself to events and happenings around town because, I suppose, I’m afraid of being bored. Or maybe just looking for something adult-ish to challenge me. Or maybe I need to feel like I’m useful to more than just three little people who like it when I laugh at their jokes about butts.

Last year I joined the PTA, and went way, way into overachiever mode. I was supposed to do this one specific job — run their art program. I did much more work than was required in the role — I rewrote all the materials and created a library and added new prints and burned CDs of art and blah blah blah. Then, once the program was up and running, I filled the lull in work by taking on THREE MORE JOBS on the PTA — I ran a fundraiser, I designed their website from scratch and got it up and running, and I rewrote the PTA’s Constitution.

Because I guess I’m just not BUSY ENOUGH.

When summer vacation came around, I actually wrote a sad little post that never saw the light of day about how I was going to miss the PTA work and how I doing that work was exciting and engaging for me — apparently I need to be making spreadsheets or writing documents or creating schedules to feel complete. Maybe I should become an event planner when I get around to going back to work. I seem to have enough interest and enthusiasm for the job to make up for my lack of experience.

Anyway, this year I’m back on the PTA. And of course, I’m already spread pretty thin.

This year I’m porting the website to a new platform, introducing a password-protected area for private stuff, and continuing to update the text on the site almost every day.

But that wasn’t enough for me, oh no!

I’m also running our school’s annual craft fair in November, an event that is comprised of no less than six different fundraising components, plus advertising, volunteer recruitment, and a crazy amount of scheduling. I’ve basically thought of nothing else for the past four weeks — every morning and every evening is almost entirely devoted to craft show. I’ll be pretty happy when November is over, let me tell you.

And I’m still running that other fundraiser. And I’m going to apply for a grant from the Board to set up a resource library.

AND, this year’s art program coordinator’s daughter had to have surgery, so I’m doing the initial stuff to set up the program for her, including giving a little presentation to the staff at the school at 7:30 a.m. tomorrow.

GACK.

It’s not really about learning to say no, though. It’s more like I need to learn not to go overboard with everything I do. What is this compulsion I have to do everything all the time to the absolute maximum?

Anyway, between the craft fair and the art program and the fundraiser and the website, I’ve been busy.

So it’s hardly surprising that I woke up on the weekend, shocked, ASTONISHED, that Thanksgiving is only one week away.

My mother and older sister and her kids are coming for dinner this year, which is actually really nice and I’m looking forward to seeing them. Also, we very rarely host parties at our house, so I like being able to haul out all the serving dishes and pull out my favourite fancy recipes and wear a nice apron. And oh, wine! Yay!

But still. It’s one more thing on the plate, so to speak.

I may be a wee bit quiet on the blogging front this week.

Today I’m taking part in a photo challenge hosted by Andrea at a peek inside the fishbowl. The idea is to take one photo every hour — just snap a shot of whatever you happen to be looking at in that minute when the hour turns.

I’ll be updating this post throughout the day with my hourly pictures (although I’ll probably post the pics in bunches every couple of hours — poopy diapers cannot wait for blogging!).

Here we are at 6:45ish. This is my kitchen window — the first thing I do in the morning is come down to the kitchen to do the dishes from last night (my mother would be horrified) and make lunches. The kitchen window ledge is right over the sink and is the place where I collect broken toys (notice the ring and mixmaster pieces have returned to the toy hospital after their visit there just last week), rocks, acorns, and hair clips for Little Miss Sunshine.

7:45. Coats, shoes, and backpacks waiting for the Captain and Gal Smiley to fill them and go to school. We were super late this morning — usually by this time I would be waving goodbye to them as they go out the front door.

8:45ish. Toooootally forgot to put out the garbage for 7 a.m. this morning. Luckily the truck hasn’t come yet. It’s a foggy day today, grey and cold. The reason there are no cars or bikes in this picture is because I had to wait for traffic to clear — I was too embarrassed to have my neighbours see me taking a photo of my garbage!

9:44. I was actually doing puzzles with Little Miss Sunshine in the playroom. But when I reached for the camera to take her picture, she got very, very angry with me. Luckily the timer went on the banana mini-muffins and I had to go take them out of the oven, saving the Little Miss from having her SOUL STOLEN BY THE CAMERA.

10:45. We were home from picking up Gal Smiley at school and having a quick swing in the backyard. When Gal Smiley saw me with the camera, she ran and got hers, too.

11:45. The remnants of lunch. Gal Smiley likes to have her milk in this mug, which features a picture of her at 9 months old.

12:45. Just spent the last 45 minutes playing Polly Pocket Pool Party with Gal Smiley. Somewhere, my university professors are crying.

1:45. Little Miss Sunshine was just up from her nap and in a happy mood. She asked to be read this library book before we had to run out to pick up the Captain from school.

2:45. Walking home from school. The Captain is on the left in the red jacket, carrying a small stone which is a “grenade.” His friend Indiana Jones, who lives on our street, is on the right, carrying a large stick which is a “rifle.” Welcome to the world of six-year-old boys.

3:45. Polly pockets revisited, this time with Barbie in the role of Polly Pocket Mommy. I played with the Little Miss while the Captain played video games upstairs with Indiana Jones and Gal Smiley played in the backyard with Princess Charming.

4:45. Making alphabet soup for dinner.

5:45. Just wrapping up dinner. Anyone want those last two biscuits?

6:45. Reading Gal Smiley a bedtime story.

7:45. We just put the Captain down and are now kid-free — whoo hoo! I’m catching up on blogs and eating jellybeans (brought by Sir Monkeypants…he’s so sweet).

8:45. Catching up on this week’s Glee (Kristen Chenoweth was a guest star — LOVE the Chenoweth).

9:38. Time for bed. Whew, we made it!

What’s your blog about?

Lately I’ve been in a bit of a blogging funk because I feel like my blog isn’t about anything. It isn’t a blog with a cause to promote. It isn’t a blog that focuses on cooking or politics or interesting news tidbits from around the world. It isn’t about entertainment, or books, or technology, or activities around Ottawa.

It’s not about losing weight, getting fit, travelling around the world, depression, widowhood, or any other kind of journey of self-discovery. It’s not about getting married or having babies or starting a new job. It isn’t about any life changes at all, really — it’s all about maintaining the status quo around here.

I wouldn’t even really say it’s about parenting, as a skill, nor is it really about my kids and family, as there are too many taboo topics to really get a clear picture of our home life.

If I’m not careful, this is going to turn into a blog about Dance Show exclusively. Maybe I should consider a name change to So You Think You Can Blog.

My twelfth grade history teacher was a very nice man named Mr. Shultz. Or not. It doesn’t sound quite right. Anyway, we spent half the year doing a major unit on the Second World War, and Mr. NotShultz made it clear every week that our goal was to find an answer to the question, “What was the nature of the war?” None of us ever understood what the heck he wanted. Did he mean, what was it like to be a soldier? Yes, but more than that. Did he mean, what were the major strategies, and what were the lasting effects on world politics? Yes, but more than that.

I still don’t know what the nature of WWII was.

But I think what I’m after these days is figuring out what the nature is of this blog.

I feel like I’ve found my voice, I have a platform. Now, what is it I want to say? What do I want to contribute to the global opinion? I’m stepping up to the mike with nothing in the bag except idle chit chat. No one cares what I had for lunch.

It’s not that I’m considering giving up blogging or deleting all my old posts or anything remotely drastic. It’s just that lately I’ve self-censored several entries, not posting them because they seemed so frivolous and silly. And that’s coming from a girl who actually does post about Dance Show at least once a week. Sometimes twice.

I feel like I should actually say something. At least some of the time. I feel like my blog should be about something.

Recently I read similar sentiments over at A Common Grey Spider and Please Pick Up Your Socks. Both times I assured them that their blogs were interesting to me, that I’d be back to read them even if they wrote about what they had for lunch. “Your blog is you,” I said. That’s what it’s about.

My blog is me. That should be enough.

I guess I’m feeling melancholy with the bitter cold weather outside.

But just who am I, anyway?