Carrots are a Girl’s Best Friend

It must have been a slow day at the jewellery store because the girl behind the counter encouraged me to try on some aspirational rings.

My top pick: a 3 carat beauty going for only (wait for it!) $35,999.

(Does anyone really spend that much on a ring? Come on–fess up!)

I must admit it looked pretty darn good on my hand.

I snapped a picture to show my sailor.

“What do you think?” I asked after sharing the specs and the price. “It is Valentine’s Day.”

“Let’s go to Save On Foods. I’ll get you three carrots there.”

I did say no chocolates, so three bright crunchy carrots isn’t such a bad idea.


Do you Pineapple in Bed with your Sweetie?

True confession:

I have difficult hair.

On a good day it falls into charming curls and waves, rippling over my shoulders like a lady pirate’s mane.

Okay–it never really looks like that. It’s actually an unruly mess of frizz that looks like it belongs in an exhibit at the Museum of Natural History.

Since my hair is an ongoing concern, I was quite excited when I learned how to pineapple online. (Yes, you read that right–we’ve entered a brave new world where pineapple can be used a verb! How cool is that?)

Pineappling involves gathering one’s curly hair atop one’s head in order to wrap it securely in a silky scarf. This is done at bedtime to protect one’s delicate curls through the night.

If I pineappled regularly, the internet promised, I would awake each morning with bouncy, well-defined curls bursting with volume and loveliness.

What curly-haired woman in her right mind could resist claims like this?

Sadly, when combined with my plush onesie, the only pineappling effect I noticed was that any chance of romance with my sailor was no longer an option.

Pineappling: 0
Frizz: 1

Safety First!

Travelling to Powell River for the Family Day weekend, we arrived at the ferry terminal at twilight. Even the wet, yucky weather couldn’t diminish the beautiful scene of water, sky and clouds (lots, of damn rain-producing clouds!)

Once we were on the ferry, my sailor and I went upstairs for coffee and snacks. Our boy and Chihuahua remained in the truck. He was in the back seat (hidden from view by the tinted windows) watching a movie. She hopped onto the driver’s seat the moment my sailor’s bottom vacated it so she could glare at everyone passing in the manner of small dogs who think they should rule the world.

Well into the voyage, the loud-speaker crackled to life with an important announcement:

“Attention! Would the driver of a silver Ford truck with a Chihuahua return to the car deck. Your Chihuahua has turned on your lights.”

My sailor and I looked at each other. Odds are this was our truck/Chihuahua combination.

The beauty of cell phones is that neither of us had to do the walk of shame through the crowded cafeteria to direct our Chihuahua to stop playing with the lights. I texted our boy to ask him to turn them off and please keep a better eye on the Chihuahua of power.

Whew!–mini Marititme crisis averted.

Wandering through the ferry afterwards, I was impressed by some of the signage.

Clearly, safety is a priority on these vessels.

Oh dear! I think I performed this manoeuver (twice) at a reading conference in Victoria last fall. Where were warning signs like this when I needed them?

My favourite BC Ferries warning sing of all time. This powerful image speaks for itself.

The Hog

My sailor rides a motorcycle.

I’m not motorcycle chick material. I’ve never ridden on the back of his motorcycle. I don’t even like to watch him ride. It seems so dangerous. Cruising along with nothing but a helmet between his brain and the pavement–there’s such scope for disaster. I can’t even think about it too much.

So he was surprised (in a good way) when I approached him with a grin.

“I’ve found the perfect bike for myself! We can finally go for long rides on lonely highways together!”

“You’ve seen a motorcycle you like?”

I nodded, waving my phone in his face so he could see the photo.

“You took a picture of a motorcycle?” Now I had his attention.

“Isn’t it cute?”

“It’s more runs to the mall than cross county rides.”

“Perfect! It meets both our needs! We can finally share my love of shopping!”

To My Mom…

Today’s the anniversary of my mom’s death. She died of cancer. She was a bright, vibrant woman who died far too young at fifty-nine.

It’s not as raw as it was, but I still miss her and think of her most days. When something wonderful (or not so good) happens, I want to pick up the phone to share the news with her.

Even as an adult, there’s a sad feeling of being motherless that doesn’t fade.

I’m often told I look like her, which I consider a great complement.

I like to think we share some character traits, too.

She was friendly, empathetic and funny (boy was she funny!) She was also intelligent, determined, devoted to her family and unfailingly positive. (Okay, I’m not exactly positive, but six out of seven isn’t bad.)

Today, I’ll think of my mom, but I’ll also take some time to show kindness and appreciation to my loved ones who are still around.

Full, Happy Tummies

Passing an old drive-in in a dodgy part of town, my sailor and I noticed the parking lot was full…really full.

Craning our necks to see what was up, we saw a packed dining room through the large windows.

Later, a Facebook friend posted a picture of food in take-out containers along with a glowing recommendation of the new Indian restaurant in town.

Relying on the combination of a Facebook review and the crowds we’d seen, we decided to give it a try.

The decor was meh, the dining room tiny and (horrors!) the strongest drink available was Chai Tea. With so many strikes against it, one would think the Tandoori Junction would be an epic fail.

But it wasn’t! With an extensive menu, heavy on chicken and vegetarian dishes, there was plenty for a picky eater like me to choose from.

We shared Chicken Curry, Aloo Gobi (caulilower and potatoes in onion, tomato and garlic gravy) and Pea Pulao (Basmati rice and aromatic Indian spices, cooked with green peas and onions). We ordered medium spicy, and it was perfect–just enough heat to be really flavourful without a burn.

Sadly, I didn’t notice the dessert selections until we were ready to leave so I missed out on Kheer (Indian style rice pudding). Since rice pudding is one of my favourite things in the world, this was especially disappointing, but all is not lost! I’m certain we’ll go again and I’ll be prepared to save room for dessert.

The best part of dinner: leftovers for the next night (or late night snacking)!


Oh Dear!

After all the headaches, grumpiness and general negativity of the past week, it’s time for some happiness and nature.

This gorgeous guy turned up in our yard one morning. Since we’re too lazy to bother gardening, we were thrilled to watch him munch his way through our weeds.

When it was time for a siesta, he cuddled up under the back porch.

He looked as interested in us as we were in him when he caught us peaking at him through the basement window.

Water Water Everywhere!

Last spring we had a flooded basement. It was traumatic and dramatic, but it made for interesting dinner party stories.

This winter we had a slow seeping in the opposite corner of the basement. Not nearly as exciting as the flood, but just as stressful in its own drippy way.

After conferring with numerous plumbers and tradesmen, we learned the problem was the perimetre drains. They weren’t installed properly. Combine bad drains with torrential rains and, voila…carpet stains!

Work started this week. Our poor old house looks obscene flashing its naked foundation to the world.




The weekend was a write-off.

I spent Saturday curled in a fetal position–when I wasn’t sprinting to the bathroom to throw up. Sunday was much better, except I felt fragile. Like it could all go bad again very fast.

It’s still too close to even write about it in any detail.

“It” is a violent, take no prisoners kind of headache.

I can’t call it a migraine as I’ve never been diagnosed. (They don’t happen frequently enough for me to bother seeing the doctor about them.) I cope by carrying Advil in my purse and drugging myself at the first twinge of anything not quite right in my head. Most of the time, it works, but sometimes . . . wham! . . . I’m down for the count and it’s headache 1, Sailor’s Woman 0.

After this latest experience, it’s time to talk to the doctor. A full-blown headache like this is just too terrible an experience to risk again. My hope is that he gives me something more powerful than my over the counter drug that knocks that headache right out of my head.

Of course, once I’m the epicentre of misery, I can’t keep anything down, even a sip of water sends me running to the bathroom, so I’d have to take it early enough. But I don’t want to start popping prescription pills unnecessarily so I’d probably wait…

I’m calling to make an appointment today…or maybe tomorrow. Today’s looking pretty busy.