If there is one thing I do know, I will always screw up when it comes to changing my clocks. I just about always forget and I do think that is why we do this on the weekend not during the week. This morning the alarm rang as it does every Sunday morning at 8 AM. I go upstairs wake up Jess to go to church, she asks for ten more minutes, I leave the phone next to her head, walk back downstairs, crawl back into my warm bed and cuddle up to Len for a few more minutes of sleep. The alarm rings, again, I reach over, call Jess on the intercom and she begs for more sleep, after doing this one more time at another ten minute interval, she says, no, she will stay home today. I don't push it, I don't go to the church and it is her option at almost 11 years old whether she wants to or not. So, I call the neighbour, her Sunday School teacher at about 8:25 AM and tell her Jess is not going. I then roll over, to try to grab a few more minutes of sleep, I like to stay in bed until 9 AM on Sunday. Of course then Jess does get up and crawls into bed with me to cuddle since Len has now left with the alarm ringing three times and me up and down to wake the girl up. After about ten minutes my back is sore and I decide, I may as well just get up. (Do you want to know why my back was sore? Please, continue to read!)
My morning routine consists of a walk into the kitchen, turn on the old laptop to check out what is happening in the world since I went to bed 7 hours ago, turn on the coffee, head to the bathroom, back to the kitchen, hit the next button to finish loading the laptop, get my coffee, add milk, place my cup next to my arm chair by the wood stove, get the laptop from the table, sit on my bum, click the Facebook icon, sip my coffee and see, first status update "Don't forget to turn your clocks back an hour!" I then look at the clock on the stove which says 8:50 AM and glance to the right hand corner of my computer screen 7:50 AM and laugh. Yes, did it again! Never fails! Of course since I tend to run on the late side of life, sliding into places as they have just started, to be running an hour ahead for a change is a novelty!
Of course by now Jess is up, on the other laptop, loading up music to practice singing the song she wants to learn for the talent show and I call to her to let her know my faux pas! "Jess, guess what?" I say. "What Mom?" she responds. "Are you still interested in going to church today?" I ask. Her, "Yes, but now it's too late, Louise would have left." Me, "Well, here's the funny thing, I forgot to change the clock! Poor Louise, I woke her up extra early on Sunday, I am sure she is VERY impressed with me right now! It is actually only 7:50 AM NOT 8:50 AM and if you want to go, you can...." I laugh a little self consciously... Jess, now that she is awake, does want to go... so for once, messing up on the "turn back time" was in our favour! Dear Louise, I AM SO SORRY to wake you up early!
Since today's blog seems to be about my misadventures, I must share the fun I had on Halloween day. Yes the spirits were lined up against me and mocking me, although my friend says it was just because Mars was in retrograde, but I figure the combination made for a discouraging disastrous day for me.
|Daytime Blue Bunny?|
|Night time - gangsta!|
So the theory behind the starter mix is you get one bag, you mush it daily for 5 days, on day 6 you add more ingredients to promote further "growth", you then mush again daily until day 10 when you add even MORE ingredients, then you divide it up into another 4 bags, keep one to bake that day and give the rest away. Something like that... Anyway, two days before the mixture was due to be baked up, I woke up in the morning to find a bag had exploded on my side table and seeped under my fridge. Yes, a nice bag of mixture growing on my floor under the fridge, you can imagine how fun that was to clean up! ICK!
As if that was not enough the day that I was to mix it all up (yes, enter Halloween!) The first bag spilled on the floor, clean up, not so bad... Then bag two, well, I have a container of sugar and a container of gluten free bread flours , yes the containers match, no I didn't look first, just scooped it in .... yuck, waste of expensive flour and wrecked my batter, but then I thought there is still hope for this... until, yes, you guessed it, I look and notice the bag has slipped sideways and the yucky gluten free mix of starter was seeping down my counter and cupboards... bag number two for the compost!
Two bags left... now what to do? Well, I am now almost out of milk and oil so that doesn't help... I only have one box of the famous Amish vanilla pudding and not sure what to do... so... I combined things, added, mixed, mashed and came out with a double batch of bread and yes, four new starter bags... So far so good, the loaves were a success, finally, and I had starter for next time.
Since things are improving and I am now on a roll, maybe I should make my first ever attempt at donuts? Wouldn't the kids enjoy hot, steaming, sugary donuts when they got off the bus? MMM! I know I would. Of course we are now at 3:30 PM so I better start coffee for Rachel and I and get those donuts going and ...zap! Apparently the deep fryer and coffee pot on the same circuit = no power! Donuts are off!
OK let's try to make sense of the rest of my day and get it right. Move coffee pot to another circuit, then have a quick shower before the kids come home. We have been invited for drinks after Halloween'ing at a friends and I may as well clean up. So, I shower, get dressed decently to leave the house and start to prep dinner. The kids get home and I sent Jess out to get Len because we are going to have dinner early, mmm home made lasagne, that's a good food base before junk from All Hallow's Eve!
Well, Jess and Len start to visit, so it appears that I have to go get him. I walk outside into my porch, put on my rooster boots, tuck my pant legs in and then go outside, first I place my right hand on the door knob, twist, then my left foot lands on the front step and as my right foot follows, I slip, slide, crash, head bangs onto the small deck, bounces off the ground, right arm slides underneath me as I push the planter pots away and the decorative pallet with Halloween surprises lands on my head. Just writing this I can feel it again, my right knee slid, road rash, arm twisted and face on the pavement, my eyes centimetres away from a wet pile of chicken crap, my teeth scraping each other and grinding in my mouth. I tried to call out for help, everyone was busy, too far away and I was hurting and couldn't call out loudly. I whimpered, yes, it's true, I tried to cry but it took too much energy and as I lay there, looking at shit, literally, I had to wonder what spirit did I piss off today?
I managed to twist, turn and pull myself up, not happy or in good cheer and limp out to Len's new building, afraid to walk on his wet deck and fall again I yelled into the building and Jess opened the door, I winged and whined, told them what happened and then carried my now bruised and battered body away, knowing I was sure to look like a giant piece of candy corn the next day. Happy Halloween?
I was glad to see November enter my life! (NB: I did not get bruises, but did get some swollen and sore back muscles that are just now starting to go away...)