Feedly Is A Hostage

Look, there's something wrong with the blog feeder I'm using. They are working to "mitigate" the issue, they tell me. Oh joy. Does this mean, dare I hope, that it will be easier, not to mention faster, to scroll through all my blogs after this? Because, Dear Feedly, I think you're being hacked because you're so darn ponderous to get through. You've created Annoyed Customers who can't forget Bloglines and all they did to make reading blogs fun and easy. The only silver lining to come of this event is that I get to see actual blogs again, as opposed to reading them on a feeder. Some of my favourite blogs have changed their visuals beyond all recognition! How did I not notice that? (umm, because you never click through to the blog ever?) I wish my new blog reader would incorporate this quirk, so I could see new changes to everyone's blog.

My blog, I should mention, has not changed a jot. I think I've lost interest in fiddling with colours and post dimensions, not to mention plain old posting. Clicking around to my favourite blogs shows me that I'm not alone in this.

Not much new going on here, although we did see X-Men: Eve of Destruction the other day. Oops, a little Googling shows me that I'm messing up the title - it's called X-Men: Days of Future Past. I think someone needs to make a movie titled The Rise of the Colon, but even saying this makes me wonder if anyone in Hollywood would get the joke.

Now, back to the important stuff, like the start of the World Cup.

Head Shots

I don't normally take photographs in malls, but I made an exception for this particular display. I think shots like these need to be spread far and wide for all to see.

Now where do I get myself one of those headdresses?

Or do I have to make it myself?

Things That Would Make Me Buy The Book

Or contribute to the Radio Fund Drive.

Or feel benevolent about all the mailers I receive from the online lecture company we patronize. 

(you know who you are)


First of all, don't ever describe your product as "squee worthy" or I will be compelled to put it back on the shelf / break our internet relationship / turn you off right then and there. I don't think I need to go into my reasons for disliking a word like "squee" but let's just say that hearing it does for me what hearing fingernails on a chalkboard might do for you. And it's not good.

Next, if you want me to contribute to your Fund Drive, instead of offering me bags and totes and coffee cups or forcing me to listen to endless offerings from A Prairie Home Companion, offer me some underwear or socks with catchy sayings from Wait! Wait! Don't Tell Me! or Says You! on them. Heck, I spent eons (not to mention many dollars) buying my kids underwear with Thomas the Tank Engine, Bob the Builder, My Little Pony, and Hello Kitty on them; a pair of undies with some witty remarks by Peter Sagal or Tony Kahn on them would thrill me completely (not to mention spark more than a few weird conversations at Richard's next department party). I might even wear my Says You! socks with sandals all summer - just to show them off - and let me tell you, I'm one of those people who hates it when people wear socks with their summer sandals. Ask Richard, aka The Man Who Likes To Wear Socks With His Summer Sandals.

Finally, just because I periodically purchase items from your (excellent but pricey) online Teaching Lecture Series catalogue does not mean that I want to find a constant barrage  - and I mean a constant barrage - of glossy pictorial flyers in my mailbox each and every week, not to mention the torrent of email you cheerily send my way. Methinks you might be able to lower your product costs somewhat by lowering the amount of mail you hurl into the universe. Have you run this radical idea by your costs supervisor at any point? Why not try, and get back to me on that. I'd appreciate it. I might even be able to afford more product.

Now, that IS a shocking idea.

Weekend Redux

Last night, before the Canucks kicked themselves out of the play-offs, Dominic gave me a demonstration of an almost-goal, using chopped green onions. He did not find this odd in any way. Schneider was a large chunk of white, his goal? Green bits.

I spent two afternoons weeding in the Former Butterfly Garden, removing 5 wheelbarrow loads of couch grass, dandelions, daisies, and bishop's weed. FIVE LOADS. What's eye-rolling about this is that I'm not finished weeding...

The twins entered a 4-H event - a demonstration event - for the first time ever, doing a demonstration on why we should compost. And they won. They were quite shocked, I think. In all the photos I took afterwards, of the entire group of demonstrators, FDPG is studying the comment cards carefully, while Dominic is staring at his gold medal.

The celeriac is FINALLY up. So are the cactus seeds. It only took two weeks and a plastic bag over the entire pot.

Newspaper is a really excellent weed smotherer. I no longer feel irritated by the fact that Max's paper route company gives him far more papers than he needs, because I will use them in my never-ending Battle of the Dratted Periwinkle. A battle that I am winning, with all these newspapers. Ha, take that, you scurvy Periwinkle, you.

What We Did On The Weekend

— watched bits of the Junos (specifically the performance by Max's fave Deadmau5). It was hard not to wonder aloud what it must be like inside that mouse head of his, all that flashing and light-popping. Wondered also how Michael Buble's Christmas album won over Drake's (not Christmas) album. Yet another peculiar judging experience we've witnessed in the past month (and yes, we DID all comment on this).

— went to the beach and noticed, amid the sun and waves and wind, that dogs were distressingly ubiquitous on the landscape. I was unable to get a single dogfree photo. And all those curious doggie names: Oliver, Christopher, Jason, Angela, Olivia, Penelope, Jane.

Two words: baby substitute.

— finally cleared the brush from the front garden. Seven wheelbarrow loads of clippings, trimmings, dead stalks, and weeds. S-E-V-E-N L-O-A-D-S. Now reposing damply at the end of the yard.

— noted with dismay that someone in the LEGO contest won with 413 votes. I do not have that many friends on Facebook so my children, despite their delightfully creative designs, did not win. Mostly because I only 'friend' people I actually know. It's a quirk I have.

— watched Sherlock AND Titanic in the same evening. Titanic isn't quite as good as I'd hoped it would be, but it still has some good moments. Sherlock, while completely implausible (Irene Adler naked? Methinks this stretcheth the conceit rather bizarrely) is fun. Benedict Cumberbatch is evidently having a good time in this role.

California Redux

It's rather gloomy outside right now, coldish and wettish, and even though the nectarine trees are covered in beautiful pink blossoms I'm feeling rather sluggish about starting the day.

So instead I'll show you some of the curious yet amusing things I saw when we were in California.

First of all: street sign abbreviations. When Richard and I first moved to California, I thought CYN was pronounced SIN (Richard the Uncurious didn't wonder at all, sadly, leaving me to wonder on my own about this strange and wondrously weird new word). I wondered regularly why the Americans would have such an odd designation. It also struck me as rather appropriate, just like other oddball Americanisms I'd encountered.

It took me about, ooh, maybe 4 months to discover that CYN was actually the abbreviation for Canyon.

The kids and I were all in convulsions about this store: America's Tire.

Methinks someone visited Canada once upon a time, passing a Canadian Tire along the way, and thought "Hey now, there's a darn good idea for a store name. I'm gonna get me home and start a store just like that one there!"

Doesn't have quite the same ring to it, somehow. But it was highly amusing to the kids every time we drove past it. "America's Tire!" they'd all shriek, "that is SO funny!"

Finally, look at the sunny day in that photo below. Just look at that clear blue sky. That landscape. That heat. I want to be there right now.

But I digress.

That tile work was in front of a Lowe's (a DIY store). I loved it so much that we finally parked in the lot and I walked around it, clicking away madly while the cars raced by me, people occasionally peering out at me, wondering no doubt what I was doing out in the hot sunshine, taking pictures of a row of monoliths perched on the edge of a freeway.
Note to self: never put that stupid time/date stamp function in action again. Do. Not. Like.

Let's Hope It's Just A Temporary Glitch

Were you watching Saturday Night Live this past weekend? I was, but only because Daniel Radcliffe was hosting. I like him - he's equal parts humble and self-consciously witty. You don't see that often in an actor.

Here's a skit that encapsulates what I find unsettling in some of the twenty somethings I know: certain relatives I have, kids we run into, my clueless neighbours. They have this cheery obliviousness to anything that doesn't involve either themselves or their electronic gadgets. They spend hours posting tweets about what they just ate, where they just spent some money (usually obtained from indulgent parents), or what they're thinking about doing that evening. It's all so weirdly shallow coming from an age group that shouldn't be — still — so weirdly shallow.

Plus, it's a funny skit.

(check out this Extras cameo to see more Daniel Radcliffe)

Bedtime Stories

There I was, lying in bed, intently watching another gripping episode of Monarchy on my iPod. What better way to unwind at night than to watch someone at least 30 years older than you work like a dog? Even better, work like a dog while dripping with jewels and surrounded by glorious room decor? I find it strangely relaxing.

I was deeply absorbed in a particularly complex explanation of Black Rod when Richard came into the room, brushing his teeth noisily. He peered over and a wave of spearmint fumes hit me. He stared at the screen solicitously. I had earplugs (oops, sorry technologically superior teen child - earbuds) on, so he couldn't hear the commentary, but Prince Charles was shaking hands with someone and grimacing in the way only Prince Charles can. Without concern for any future Black Rod knowledge I may or may not have been stashing away for later (Jeopardy battles being rife around these parts), he launched into his usual nightly behaviour. This generally involves bouncing into bed noisily and interrupting me cheerily while he decides which book to read from the tottering pile at his bedside. Sometimes he brandishes the cover of each book so I can be privy to his inner deliberations (I tell him to pick the nice yellow book). Sometimes the pile falls over (clouds of dust ensue). Sometimes he yanks the covers about if he thinks I'm hogging the duvet (we wrangle pleasantly about who has more blanket). Sometimes he launches into a discussion about the complexities of the tile cutting saw he saw in the Canadian Tire catalogue (I remind him he already has a tile cutting saw). Every now and then he madly leaps up and races around the house, remembering doors to lock or bread to remove from freezers (I remind him that the kids are - or WERE - asleep). Once he's chosen his book and his page he clicks off. Abruptly.

After this evening's performance was over, I returned to my Monarchy viewing. We read and watch for a while. I am just getting into a particularly tense scene involving an irritated Queen and a number of sheepish looking Corgis when Richard blurts out of nowhere:

"Think he'll ever be King?"

"Huh? Who?"

"Prince Charles. Think the Queen will outlive him? Throne pass to Wills?"

"What? Are you kidding? She won't outlive him! Poor Charles."

"It's happened before. It's not unthinkable. There IS precedent."

"What? When has it happened before?" (the Corgis are forgotten)

"The Black Prince. His father outlived him. Throne passed on to Richard II."

"Who? The Black Prince? What? When was this? Recently?" (in spite of myself I am starting to screech a bit)

"Fourteenth century."

I burst out laughing.

"Oh my GAWD! That's only 700 years ago. Practically yesterday! I'm sure it's something that weighs heavily on Charles' mind. The Black Prince. You are INSANE." (I roll about in the pillows, feeling quite hysterical at this point)

Richard smiles smugly. "Don't laugh. It IS a precedent. I'm sure the Queen knows about it."

For some reason this strikes me as both wildly improbably AND hysterically funny. Richard goes back to his book, with a rather knowing look on his face. I return to my iPod. The Queen is traipsing up a very long staircase in a white evening gown, looking barely out of breath. Camera shifts to Prince Charles, looking red faced and rather less robust than his mother. I peer at his face on the tiny screen, wondering.

I glance over at Richard. He smirks.

Mountain View Mystery

Come in, Mountain View, CA. Who are you? I have to say, at this point I am curious.

Do All Farmers Sing Like This?

Angry Bird Tomato

There he was, just sitting in the garden, no doubt plotting revenge on all the little green tomatoes pigs around him.

Tweets & Twitters

Why do your fingers wrinkle when they get wet? Here's a fascinating theory.

Consider sorbet. Even better: consider my lemon verbena sorbet. It's worth having to buy a lemon verbena plant every year.

We are going through a Japanese phase in the house right now. Pickled daikon tastes good but gosh it STINKS.

And finally, the incomparable Anthony Lane reviews the latest dreck out of Hollywood. "Why reach for the subtle...when the crunchingly obvious lies close to hand?" Why indeed?

Monday Bits & Pieces

Canucks vs. Boston. I will comment no further. Ridiculous game. Blah. And to think I call myself a Canuck. (I realize that a lot of people think 'Canuck' is a pejorative term but let me just say that I am not one of those people)

For some reason this made me sad. I read it aloud to the kids at breakfast, and at supper tonight, while the boys were watching Boston whup the Canucks' collective bottoms, FDPG and I watched this. And felt our hearts fly at the end, when Darcy walked through the emerging dawn light, dew dripping from the hem of his billowing coat, and held hands with Elizabeth Bennet. Lovely lovely lovely.

Nothing like lying in deep green grass, is there?

More garden pictures on the way. Am reading Eliot Coleman's Winter Harvest Handbook (trying to get ideas for a new greenhouse but REALLY wishing I had one of these), using a lot of straw for mulching to save on watering, thinking about making some hypertufa butterfly watering bowls, planting pepperoncini (set in the cold frame), and watching the first artichokes pop through their mass of leaves. Also repotting the millions of tomato plants I have left over before they succumb to total neglect (drop by for a freebie!), wondering where to put the cucumbers and pumpkins we have sprouting, and watching the first of the lemons ripen.

And it's finally HOT. Hurrah. Dried 5 loads of laundry out on the deck today. Jane Austen heroines, indeed.

Random Notes

— am enduring Hockey Playoffs. Need I say more?

— took a basic First Aid course with a number of Desperately Cool teenagers. Watched the highly animated instructor leap around and make funny jokes in front of a very tough audience (see note about D.C. teenagers). Eventually everyone warmed up and laughed instead of staring blankly (which, I am informed by reliable sources, is not intended to look blank - it's intended to look casual and hip and super cool). There was one tricky moment when he used me as a Fork Stabbing Model and wrapped my hand so tight it went purple, but that was just a minor blip on an otherwise charming afternoon.

— Woke FDPG up at 2:45 am on the morning of the Royal Wedding and sat through a couple of hours of wildly pleasant royal bonding time. Everything was so beautiful, so exciting, so sweet, so charming, and so very delightful that we both went back to bed around 5am, feeling as though our strenuous efforts to stay awake had been entirely worth it.

— watched the Neil Gaiman-penned episode of Doctor Who. Suranne Jones is very compelling, we all agreed. It was not wildly thrilling. It lacked something.

— watched the Survivor Finale. It was, thankfully, a foregone conclusion that ended as it should have done. Sometimes the Resentful Jury gets a little caught up in jealous subjectivism and votes for the Coattail Hanger-on instead of the Diabolical Mastermind, but this time no one could dispute the perfection of the game Boston Rob played. Well, that and the fact that the only other choices were Phillip, a nut-job of a man if there ever were one, and Natalie, a naive 19 year old "dancer" who clung to Rob like grim death in lieu of actually doing anything of her own volition. By the way, what's a "dancer"? What kind of dancing are we talking about: "dancing" or dancing? And where are we doing it? I remain mystified. The fact that Rob was exceedingly charismatic, tanned, and slim from weeks eating next to nothing added to the thrill of the game, giving FDPG and I the perfect end to the day. "Luckily I'm no ordinary man" is my new favourite phrase.

— previewed an Eminem CD for the teenager and decided that it was best on MY iPod and not his. "Explicit lyrics" is an understatement. One song did not make the cut. Eminem, I like you but that song was just plain gross. Irony my foot.

— watching Jekyll. Oh. My. Goodness. James Nesbitt. Lovely.

— bought a gorgeous new kind of lavender: Otto Quast.

— am gearing up for a Gardening Extravaganza Weekend. Can you spell H-O-L-I-D-A-Y?

I can!

Must Have Been A Full Moon

First, I wore my shirt inside out all through the Chinese grocery today. I only discovered it when I went to replicate the trick the man in front of me at the checkout did for FDPG, to show Dominic (who had been busy looking for coins under all the tills and as such wasn't involved in the checkout antics but managed to find $2.74 in change). The joke, which was weird and inventive, involved sleeves and wrists and when I went to pull my sleeve down, to demonstrate, I discovered that the hem was unusually, well, hemmed. I've had this shirt for a while and I'd never seen the hem look quite like that, so I followed the hem up to the shoulder seam and noticed that the seam was outside the sleeve - a place it normally isn't. I glanced briefly at the front placard and it was only then - yes, call me slow - but it WAS only then that I realized that my nice white peasant top was INSIDE OUT.

I felt extremely idiotic. Even more than usual. I was still laughing rather immoderately when Max hopped into the car, after having put the cart away.

"What's so funny?" he demanded, in his demanding teenagerish way.

"MY TOP IS INSIDE OUT!" I shrieked, in between much hysteria. The twins were in the back, Dominic still wondering what was so funny about wearing a top inside out and FDPG, wondering WHEN I was going to get to that funny joke because she had SUCH a starring role in it.

"Why did you have to tell me that?" he said, much put out. "That is just so embarrassing, MAAWWM." This is his new way of referring to me: MAAWWM. I have no idea what the significance of his American pronunciation habit is but it's highly annoying so actually that might BE the only significance...my usual ripost is to call him MIX, pretending that I am in fact from New Zealand, which highly annoys him. Mature of us, I know.

Then, after dinner, I was walking around with my mug of tea, looking for something. I'd tell you what I was looking for but it would only make me look even MORE idiotic so I won't, but I will tell you that at one point I LOST my mug of tea. I spent another 10 minutes looking for it, then went and whined to Richard, who told me that I'd left it in the hallway cupboard. I went to the hallway cupboard, highly (and vocally) critical that I would leave a mug of tea in a cupboard, and gosh, but there it was. Sitting on the shelf amongst the tins.

"How did you know I'd left it there?" I asked Richard, my mind swimming with spy cams.

"I know your thought processes," he said, not taking his eyes off the newspaper.

So I decided to regale him with my Inside Out Top story. "Guess what I did at the Chinese grocery store today?"I asked him.

"You wore your top inside out," he said, still not taking his eyes off the newspaper.

He swears no one told him.

Last Words On Seattle

Some FDPG-isms from our trip down south:

*While listening to her mother driving on the I-5, she said:

"This family's middle name is swear!"

*When asked to think of a theme for her brother's new Mad Scientist mini-fig, she said:

"Even though I look like Terminator, I've got feelings." (we recently finished a highly academic exploration of Arnold Schwarzenegger movies)

*When we first crossed the border and got some gas:

"Our car has American gas in it now. It sounds so different."

*When she found me locked in the change room at the hotel pool (you need a key card to get OUT of the room, something I discovered a little too late, lol), she said:

"Don't worry, Mum, I can remember all this stuff for you. By the way, isn't it amazing to have endless hot water like this?" After which she forgot her shoes and her bathing suit in that very same change room. And we almost got locked in again.

*When first peeking into the closet of the posh conference hotel we were staying in:

"Look! There's an ironer!" (to which her brother replied "What's that for?")

*And finally, when watching a commercial of dubious decency (the Shake Weight), one which I finally turned off whenever it came on because it seemed cringingly pornographic, she said:

"Ha ha! There's Mum's favourite commercial!" And was convulsed with her own hilariousness, particularly when we chanced to see the Shake Weight at one of those As Seen On TV stores. Oh my.

Things To Do With LEGO

FDPG and Dominic, once they knew we'd be going to a LEGO store Seattle, saved all the money they could wheedle out of their family - for an entire year (wheedle, I mean, not save).

Just kidding. They did both.

And, once we got to the LEGO store, they promptly blew it on a couple of sets. In about, ooh, maybe 12 minutes?

Those LEGO people, they sure know how to market their overpriced stuff (dare I say this out loud? will the LEGO gods be angry? shoot bolts of curiously shaped LEGO lightning at me?). My kids were thrilled at the prospect of dropping $150 on a small shop. Thrilled.

But when all is said and done, it's breath-taking in its cuteness. Look at that city block - even Sheila the LEGO Cheapskate would like to live there. This block comprises the Greengrocer, the Fire Brigade, and the Grand Emporium. The house at the end is a creation of our very own Mr LEGO (aka Dominic).





This is what Mr LEGO looks like.

"Ha ha ha! My evil plan to wheedle all the money out of my mum's bank account worked! Ha ha ha! Take that, Mortgage! And that, Grocery Bill! Mwa-ha ha!"

Ha ha ha, indeed.













"Goodness me, that joke is in very poor taste. What are you teaching your son when you joke about him spending mortgage money on LEGO? You're being fiscally irresponsible. I wave my fan at you in disapproval."












"Oh come ON. Lighten up Geisha Girl. Without all that money WE wouldn't be here either! Think of all the trouble that LEGO store employee had to go to to find us - would you want that wasted? Not to mention all the fun that stupid cat has with us at night when all the humans are asleep."
"We are the Borg Collective. We have come to absorb more money from your mother to fund our trips across the universe. What with gas being so expensive we have taken to stooping very low indeed. Mr LEGO, get your mother for us, resistance is futile. She WILL be assimilated. Well, her bank account. We don't know if we want her and her silly humour in here with us. She might give us ideas."

Things To Do In Seattle

Lobby shot. Yes, those are actual trees in the lobby. I think there was at least a city block's worth of space in it. Every time we walked through it we did a LOT of staring, whether at the trees, the people lounging around them, or the architecture. There were four elevator units in this area alone. Yes, we probably did look like total yokels, pointing and gaping and chattering exitedly. Fortunately I was the only one in the family who came anywhere near to realizing this, but I'm okay with that.

It was also weirdly clean. We all noticed how clean it was, casting no aspersions on my housekeeping skills, of course. While I like a tidy house, I don't particularly like being the person keeping it tidy. Ask my family - they will all agree with me.

Look at the top of this shot. Can you see the beginnings of a curved roof?

Here's what was perched on top of that curved ceiling.

Don't ask me how I got this shot because I will then have to confess that I lay down on the floor right there in the lobby, and even then I couldn't get the entire window in the frame.

And no, not ALL my children were embarrassed by the sight of their mother laying on the floor of a fancy hotel. Only one of them was, but the next day I caught him doing the same thing, trying to get the same shot. Besides, it was really early in the morning (and the floor was weirdly clean).





This glass sculpture was hanging in another part of the hotel. It was 3 parts wildly beautiful and 1 part creepy looking. At one point we were all standing underneath, taking photos, and we must have all had the same idea - WHAT IF IT FALLS? - because we all ran to the wall at the same time, then laughed immoderately at the symmetry of our paranoia.

A floating bridge. Do I sound like a total hick when I say that we were all absolutely AGOG at the concept of driving on a floating bridge? It went on for so long that we all became quite blasé, except for those of us who wondered whether we could see Bill Gates' house or not.






A water tower. You can walk to the top of this structure and walk around it, whilst reading instructional panels about the area (Capitol Hill). The whole time we were doing this there was a bike race going on, so we were accompanied by a) an AM radio DJ narrating the race, and b) FDPG and Dominic dashing from side to side narrating their view of the racers.

Nothing like two 9 year olds, absolutely thrilled with themselves, shrieking and thumping around on a wooden floor, competing with an AM DJ. While their mother struggles with her acrophobia.

We managed to empty the tower of sightseers in about, oooh, maybe 4 minutes?




After wandering around Capitol Hill, wishing we had a monster house (and pretending we didn't notice the miniature yards and serious algae issues), we drove over to this place. I've only ever seen their products over the internet, so it was a thrill to be able to see it all in person. Instead of shrieking with laughter at silly things on the computer screen, we could all shriek with laughter while HOLDING the thing. Perfect.

The teenager was ever so slightly mortified. The idea of his mother buying a can of Uh-Oh Underpants while laughing really loudly was too much, I guess. But he did have a peek at the 5¢ Glow In The Dark Marvel ("An Attraction Without Parallel"). And I got myself a fortune from the Talking Sailor Fortune Booth (love these things). According to old Salty:

"You are a strong believer in fate. You feel you have no control over your destiny. Fortunately you are destined to be very happy indeed. You are somewhat irresponsible and this has caused you some hardships. You have a neat and tidy nature and can't tolerate slovenliness around you. Since you demand this of yourself and other you will always live in a tidy atmosphere."

Gosh. I don't think I could have written a more apt fortune for myself. It covers ALL the bases, don't you think? It's true: I can't tolerate slovenliness.

And here is another weird thing we noticed: all the kids sat around with Toonies in their eyes. We later learned that it was Wear A Loonie Day.

(this may or may not be my child)







Next installment: a serious tour of a perfectly respectable conservatory, with no one acting silly at all. Well, not very silly, anyhow. Or maybe I won't show those photos. Who cares if we all pretended we were Livingstone in the jungle? No plants were injured in the making of this post.

Off The Island

We left the island for a few days, and followed our Fearless Leader south, where he attended an academic conference. I'm including a photo of a photo from the ferry, showing our route to the mainland along with some typical coastal imagery: bald eagles, herons, killer whales, and starfish (please don't ask me to say "sea star").

The enfants and I didn't attend any conferences, we went to blow all our money at the LEGO store shop and sight-see, although we did stay in the hotel where the conference was held, so on our way to the pool we got to see a lot of strange signs that said things like "Diet & Identity in Shakespeare's England," "Jests in Early Modern Culture," and even "Teaching Our Other Shakespeare" (a title that intrigued me a bit, mostly because I didn't realize that there WAS another Shakespeare). We even got to crowd in elevators with academic types on our way to the pool. There we were in our Crocs and shorts and wet heads and there they were in their nice academic suits. Everyone, I can safely say, was completely bemused.

And while the kids were busy being utterly overwhelmed by the reality of staying at an Expensive Hotel, I was busy capturing images of all the weird things one can see in the US, because it is, there's no doubt about it, so very different from what generally goes on in little old Canada.

First, an artistic sculpture at the border. According to the pair who created it, they hope that it will "create a bit of awareness to the signage landscape" around the border. It's called Non-Sign II.

And there was me thinking it was supposed to evoke a crowd of angry bees around a window. If it were up to me I'd call it Hive Mind. Maybe Angry Hive Mind. Or even Totally Pissed Off Hive Mind II. I can even see a Loony Toons movie in there somewhere, with some furious honky tonk piano music. I guess my signage landscape awareness is lacking somewhat. In fact, up until I googled that sign I wasn't aware that there WAS a signage landscape at the border.

Here are a couple of American children playing Memory Match.

Look closely at their Memory Match cards...paint chips.

Oh, those wacky wacky Americans.

(these may or may not be my children)












A giant green tree amidst the gray cityscape. I looked at this tree every morning, on our way along the Sky Bridges to the mall (there were Sky Bridges from the hotel to the mall, just in case one was too posh to walk amongst the hoi polloi on the street), and every time I looked at it I thought "That tree looks out of place."

Deep thoughts in the morning - c'est moi.









The latest fashions would indicate that we women need to have pink limbs. And batwings. I guess I'm destined to be unfashionable AGAIN this year, because I'm not okay with either, to be honest. Pink is so not my colour and batwings, well, they don't suit anyone.

Except a bat.











Yes, that person IS carrying a sign that says GUNS AND AMMO. He was even standing in front of a GUNS AND AMMO store.





And this is what B-list celebrities do when they move down a tier: throw Birthday Soirées at sports bars. Poor Carmen Electra: going from being married to Dennis Rodman to this. I wondered if this was how she was planning to dress for her Soirée, but then decided that she'd probably wear batwings or something more trendy.

After I took this photo (my kids deserted me in complete embarrassment even though they are too young to know these Former B-List Celebrities) I saw a movie poster with Vin Diesel on it. It looked like a rerun of Too Fast Too Furious...and what do you know but it was. Perhaps he'll attend Carmen's Birthday Soirée too.

Can you see this sign? It says BUS ONLY THIS EXIT. I feel very stupid admitting this, because I pondered it for a very long time, but I never did understand what it meant.

Perhaps it too was a Non-Sign: Non-Bus Stop II.

All this art stuff is way over my head.











And look, American Kleenex talks!

It's going to be there when I'm sad. Isn't that charming? It even signed its name:

Love, tissue.












And finally, for the person who has everything: a chocolate pillow. I can only speculate on what your hair will look like in the morning, but if I had to express an opinion I'd say this can't be a good look. Plus, they are way too small to be a decent pillow.

Tasty, but weird.

Dear Worried Reader

Here's an insightful retort to those of you who criticize Susan Wise Bauer for including stories from the Bible in her Story of the World series.

Read parts 2, 4, and 5, especially. Then try to reflect objectively before you send your next blast to the WTM boards. If only for my sake.

Alternatively, you could write your own history program for kids in 4 books or less, and see how it stands up to random, anonymous criticism from random, anonymous agenda-packing adults.