Archive for the ‘Lofty Goals’ Category

Resolutions that are easy peezy lemon squeezy (she hopes)

In 2008 I resolve to:

  1. Turn 36,
  2. keep breathing,
  3. and live to see 2009.

I’ll let you know how that works out.  2008 is shaping up to be an interesting year already in some not so good ways, but we’ll see.  I promise you though, that I will continue to drive to the ends of BC for soccer games and practices, I will drink my weight plus yours in Starbucks coffee and I will continue to love and laugh with the people closest to me.

I wish you all a happy and prosperous 2008 and I will raise my glass (vodka slimes) to you tonight.


Letters to Mahself

Dear Lazy McSlotherson:

You can too find time to exercise. You get home at 4:30 every day and are done supper by 6:30. That leaves 3-4 hours free to get your butt walking up that hill, shaking your hiney to your favourite tunes on your FakePod (except for those damned High School Musical songs that the kids put on there months ago and you haven’t removed….and AAAK! Chicago is still there too. It’s hard for me to say I’m sorry). You really DON’T need to spend every evening watching reruns of The Office on the DVR. Michael’s cooked foot will be there forever and you already know which bear is the best bear.

Exercise! Your fat ass will thank you for it.

Naggy McNaggerson


Dear Scaredy McFraiderson:

Quit thinking negatively about your upcoming schooling. Don’t you see that questioning your willpower and work ethic is only going to end in failure? So it’s going to take 5-7 years of hard work to get this done. Don’t you see that the lost sleep and lack of personal time is going to pay off big time?

Think of the fantastic career you’re going to have. A career that you chose! You’ll only be in your early forties when you’re done. Imagine, you’ll have all those years to work your way up. To challenge yourself. And don’t say this outloud to anyone, but think of the MONEY! Maybe you could buy a pair of designer shoes (that you’d have to hide the real cost from Cheap Bastard your loving husband, but you’ll be an accountant. You can massage the numbers). Maybe your kids won’t have to worry about university. Maybe you can retire at 55!

You CAN find the time to study. You WILL succeed. Designer shoes!

Peppy McRahRahson


Dear Bloggy McBlogerson:

Step away from the keyboard and get yee ass to the bathroom. You have to pee.

Bladdery McFullerson

Far and Away

Hello, I’m not here.

Instead, I am here.

Come visit me over at Karen’s place where you will learn all about the sort of stupid, but sort of great new life adventure I am about to embark on. And no, I am not pregnant. But that may have been easier.

Just to recap. Not here. Here.

(Hey you! The slow guy in the back. Iiiiiii’mmmmm. Noooooooooottttt. Heeeeeee….Aw, just forget it. You’d get lost on the journey anyways.)

On Growing Up

Tomorrow, we sign the papers at the lawyer’s office to become first time homeowners. We have been married for almost 16 years and our oldest child is 15. Although we have been planting roots on this property for the past seven years, we finally get to declare it OURS. We have a small slice of the real estate pie.

Next week, we will make the final payment on Richard’s student loan and be free of that burden once and for all. Richard went to college shortly after Andie’s birth, at the age of 25. He was sick of working dead-end, minimum wage jobs and wanted a better future for our family. His schooling led to a job offer in Vancouver, which led to a major move here. Nine years later he still has the same job, but now he’s management.

Next month, we will be taking our family on our first “real” vacation. Real meaning a vacation that involves a plane-ride and a hotel. Real meaning a vacation that doesn’t involve staying at a relative’s home or bunking in a tent. We are still in the planning stages and haven’t decided on whether we’re going to Disneyland or whether we’ll go all out and fly all the way to Orlando and Disneyworld (any advice or first hand experience would be appreciated).

Richard turned 35 on Saturday and I’m next to celebrate three and a half decades at the end of the month. I’m feeling really good about how things are coming together for us and I have a question. Is this what it feels like to become a Grown-Up?

…I guess I thought it would come with more benefits or upgrades. You know, full dental coverage or use of the company jet or at least a coupon for ten percent off.

We. Homeowners.

When I was twelve I got my hair cut into some really funky style. I was so excited to show it to my best friend that I told her on the phone that I had a surprise for her when she picked me up to walk to school. I remember being scolded by my Mom for getting BF’s hopes up about really nothing at all. Sure, I was excited about the change in my appearance, but how much would it affect her? What if she was headed over to the house expecting some sort of gift? Wouldn’t she be let down by the fact that the surprise I’d promised her was just a haircut?

All this to say that our “Sousing Hituation” has changed…but it hasn’t. And no, my head isn’t so inflated that I think you’ve been sitting on the edge of your seat waiting for the news.

(but that signbot thingy was really cool and I needed an excuse to use it. I’ll probably find other excuses for it in the coming months: *LUNCHTIME!* *LOOK AT ME!* *OVER HERE!* *I HEART ME!* *I JUST STAPLED SOMETHING!* *WORLD’S BEST MOM!*)

So we got a mortgage. On a house. Half a house actually. As a matter of fact it’s the house we already live in. We got a mortgage on half of the house we already live in…the other party on the other half being my Mom and Dad.

“But Vicky,” you may say, “doesn’t living with your parents cause you to lock yourself in the laundry room on the weekends, crying over odd socks and drinking Tide (Now With Advanced Cleaning Agents!)?

Why yes, yes it does. That is why we have all agreed to RENOVATE FOR THE PURPOSE OF MAKING LIFE BETTER.

In the coming months we will slowly be moving our stuff upstairs into the bigger part of the house and my parents will be moving down. They’ll start with a small kitchen that they can use for breakfasts and lunches and we’ll continue to all eat dinners together in the main kitchen. Eventually we’ll renovate the basement into their own apartment with full working kitchen, so that we can all live separately.

While this is by no means the perfect sitation (perfect being buying a move-in-ready mansion on the mountain overlooking our current location), this is a really good compromise for me. We will not be living in a van down by the river and we won’t be putting money into someone else’s pocket by renting. We will now have a front door with which to greet our guests without the view of my parents lounging in their Lazyboys and we’ll have a decent space with which to invite said guests into our home. You know, for tea parties and orgies and such. I have already noticed a shift in my emotional state (from Tide-drinking loonie back to regular crazy person) as I haven’t cried once in two whole weeks.

(except that one night when Richard wouldn’t give me the remote and he was flicking and flicking and flicking and I wanted to watch that show! You idiot from hell! But that was more hormones than anything else)

The real fun starts now and in the coming months as we begin to move people around like a 6000 piece puzzle whilst painting and finishing bathrooms and painting and installing cabinets and painting. And maybe putting up an impassable brick wall between my place and my Mom’s.


(and not)

Watch this space for new scrolling signs hinting at the renovation fun!






So far…

So far this year, I have managed to record everything I have eaten in my Weight Watchers journal (except for those 12 chocolate truffles and three handfuls of barbeque Crispers that were sitting on my desk and practically begging me eat them while I was just trying to quietly play a little Pokerstars last night. And OMG! Will you stop looking at me like that, with your cute little chocolate face and your adorable little chocolate truffle shape?! Okay, okay, I’ll eat you already. Are you happy now?).

So far this year, I have not read a single book even though I bought four very interesting looking books during the Christmas break with my Chapters giftcard. They all look so interesting that I am scared to crack one in case I offend the other three. Also, I am such an intense reader that I ignore my family, my work and any other responsibilities for the entire time it takes me to get from page one to the end of the book. Like Richard could say any of the following:

“Vick, you know how I’ve always had that mad crush on Jewel? Well, she just called and invited me to move into her mondo-mansion where she will make mad passionate love to me every day and fuel my passion for XBox with a sizeable weekly allowance, so I’m leaving you and the kids.”

“We just won the lottery! I can’t believe it! 5 million dollars!”


…and if I heard him at all, I may answer with an unimpressed “uh-huh” and dive back into fantasyland. When I am reading, I’m a junkie and my drug of choice is words. Words taken one after the other after the other, with no breaks until I have experienced the entire story. Books are my crack and I’ve been too scared to venture down that path yet this year.

So far this year, I haven’t managed to teach myself one iota of Photoshop. Hope you like the green blob blog, cause it’s not changing soon.

So far this year, I am the only one who’s had to leave the house to go to work. Richard has this week off with the kids (the bastard had last week off too. Two weeks!! Hate him) and each day when I go home I find at least one of my family still in their pajamas. On Tuesday I found all four of them lazing about in their nightware at 4:20 in the afternoon. I was feeling quite murderous until I peeled off my work clothes (including horrible nylon knee highs) and slid on some pj’s of my own. Ahhhhhhhhhh! Later I fired up my electric socks that I got for Christmas for the first time. OH MY GOD they were warm! I have been begging for electric socks for years, so when Richard found these slippers that have microwavable beenbags that you slip into the soles that in turn heat your feet, he whipped out his money and bought them fast. So they’re not technically electric socks, but I call them that anyways. Just like I call our DVR a Tivo. You can’t actually get a brand name Tivo here in Canada, but I named our DVR Tivo, so I would sound cool like the Joneses American bloggers.

So far this year, I have been positively DOGGING IT at work. I get here at 8:00 and work like a headless chicken for about 45 minutes and then my steam runs out. I have, however, been catching up on the archives of a few of my favourite big name bloggers. Please don’t tell my boss. I don’t think that particular task is in my job description.

So far this year, I got SEVEN COMMENTS on one post Holy Mary Mother of All That is Holy!! All because I insisted on it. This morning when I woke up, I sat down at my computer and read the final two. Then I might have done a little Rocky-esque victory dance up and down the stairs in my house….Duh Na Na, Duh Na Na. I said MIGHT HAVE!

…that gave me an idea for a CONTEST! Tune in tomorrow for all the juicy details.


(I demand at least four comments on this post! Go!)