'Tis the season...

To have the snot freeze right in your nostrils.

I'm full of glamour, aren't I, kids? I sure am.

Nothing much to say, really. It's not that I don't have anything to write about, it's just that everything's such a whirlwind of sound and noise and shopping. Beautiful shopping.

I do love me a good bout of shopping. Especially with my dearly beloved Naughty Toddy. But first, a breakdown of last week for me.

Last week, I spent Tuesday night at Chapters. For those of you who don't know, Chapters is like a mecca for me. Okay, not really, not since Indigo took them over, but it's still one of my happy places. Me, I love books. Books are my favourite things. See, people win out hands down over things, but as far as things go, books are the greatest. So I went to Chapters and spent $120 in two hours. Yes, I can spend both that much time and that much money in a book store at one go. Sadly, only one of those books was for me. Well, not sadly, really. I mean, I got a good chunk of my Christmas shopping done right then, but still. No books for Wanda.

Wednesday I got paid, so St Teresa, Dancing Eric and I went shopping. Again. Got another good chunk of my shopping done there. Of course, by Thursday I was hurting. Badly. I mean, intensively.

Which is good news, because that was the night of my Christmas party. First I headed down to Queen St. to - You got it - Shop some more.

Then the party. Picture this: Six Quebecoises and me at a table. Drinking wine. The thing about Quebecoise women, one of the main reasons I took my new job, is that they're the most honest, and loudest women on the planet. I dig honesty. I also really like loudness. But picture the kind of table where I'm the quietest one there. Yeah, it really was like that. And it didn't really help that I was the only Anglo at the table. Oh, I can understand a bunch of drunken Canadiennes, but can I speak to them? Hells no.

Friday I came home and passed out. I mean, really, I was in bed by 8:30. It was wonderful.

Saturday, more shopping. Naughty Toddy and I decided to "steal" Cosmo's car and take it downtown. The only catch: Naughty Toddy has his license but hasn't driven in years. I drive regularly, but I'm not technically allowed to. It was fun.

We drove down to Bathurst, walked along Queen to Spadina and back. Me in heels. Finally, when I thought my ankles might finally give out, we headed back.

So, after Toddy nearly killed a bunch of innocent bystanders, I decided to take over the wheel. That's when the pickup truck decided that the front end of Cosmo's car was a good place to turn. But, Naughty Toddy, Dante the car and I all made it back to Scarberia safe and sound.

Sunday, which was supposed to be my day to sleep in and do laundry (One day I'll master the doing of laundry without having to get out of bed) dawned with my back and legs hurting and Mother Nature wreaking her own particular brand of havoc: -40 weather. For those of you who don't know, -40 is the only temperature where the Celcius and Farenheit grades actually meet. Nice, eh?

Of course, my parents decided that that was the perfect day to get to the New Age bookstore. And, I'm sorry, if my parents ask me to go somewhere with them, 9 times out of 10, I go. I can't help myself. Although the temperature yesterday certainly gave me pause.

And then today, back to work. Tomorrow, last ditch shopping. I still have Melanie, my boss, Heather, my co-worker, and an added something for my little cousin Alex. That's it.

And then comes wrapping. Yay!

Thus ends my third most pointless post to date. Feel free to search the archives for the first and second.

Love and holiday joy!!

xox...

An early morning yeugh...

Hello, it's me again!

Okay, I know I've been really remiss in my posting lately, but let me just say this: I'm tired. I mean, really, crazy, wicked tired. I mean, more tired than I can ever remember being, and it's lasted two, maybe three weeks straight. That's not an excuse, that's a reason.

So finally something shook me out of my turpor. And so here comes the following story.

This morning, when I put on my left boot, I noticed that my sock felt weird. Kind of like it had twisted under my foot. Since I was already running late, I figured, what the hell, I'll fix it when I get to work. Out I go to the car.

Sitting in the car, my sock starts to feel like it's pulling tight over my toes, as though it's ripping. Now, granted, with Cosmo out of town, I've been letting a few things go (Mostly laundry), but not to the degree that my toenails would rip through socks, or anything. So I decide to fix my sock on the way to work.

I pull off my boot, and my sock is fine. But my boot feels weird, so I shake it. And, no word of a lie - This would be where the early morning yeugh comes in - A mouse comes tumbling out of the boot and runs across the floor of the car.

I open the door and jump out, hopping on one high-heeled foot, holding my boot and screaming like a small child. A small child who just walked around for ten minutes with a mouse in her boot. All very glamourous, this.

My mother, laughing, reaches down, grabs the mouse and tosses him out of the car. Laughing. My mother's a piece of work. Of course, she's mostly trying to keep me from jumping to my instincts: A raucous bout of tears, followed closely by a riotous bout of vomiting. Thankfully, my mother's smarter than me and cooler heads prevailed, but most of the day I felt like something was crawling around in my left boot, and then I felt a little nauseous.

All this makes me wonder: How does a fairy who can put on a boot with a mouse cross the street without getting hit by cars, busses, mice, whatever. My only excuse is that... Well, I don't have an excuse.

As for the mouse, I'm pretty sure I scared it to death, and for that I feel beyond terrible. I'm the kind of person who, rather than kill it, will happily take a spider outside and let it free. Mice are much cuter than spiders.

I've learned, though. Like people who live in dangerous hot countries, I'm going to shake everything out before I put it on or get into it. It's already started, this evening when I returned home, my Eeyore slippers got fiercly flipped, turned and banged on the floor. Joyfully they were safe.

Little mouse, wherever you are, I hope you've made it back into your hole. Please stay away from my smelly boots. A gurl's stinky feet are her very own business...