Wing Night at the Bowling Alley

So it is almost midnight and I have just arrived home (to my sister's house) after my first wing night at the Bowling Alley. The Bowling Alley is not actually a bowling alley, but a bar. And they have great chicken wings. On Wednesday night, they don't serve anything but $.25 chicken wings and $1.00 draught (any typing mistakes can be blamed on the beer). My whole family went. My Mom drank beer. And ate chicken wings. I don't recall ever seeing my Mom eat chicken wings. Or drink beer. It was great. Everyone in Turner Valley met me and my whole family and we met all of Turner Valley. I am pretty sure that they love us. Well, me anyway.

We all picked on Andy (my sister's boyfriend) because he has not yet married my sister. Which may yet be in the works, but after tonight, he may be rethinking the whole deal. The Farmers, en masse, are a lot to take, and he hasn't even been to PEI to meet the rest of the relatives. We also found out that Alex (my sister-in-law) stabbed her brother Roy once, sending him to the hospital for stitches. My mother is currently suing for custody of her grandsons. My brother is confident that she won't stab him. I am not so sure.

I have to get up early tomorrow to drive to Banff with my parents. I am making my sister come too, since I shouldn't have to endure that by myself. I am hoping that I get to drive, because you can drive really fast here. I love Alberta highways, all the multiple lanes and 110km speed limits. Plus they have a Lush store in Banff. Have I mentioned that the shopping in Alberta is so much better that at home? Jen and I went shopping in Holt Renfrew (fancy smancy) today. And spent a ton of money. And they have Ikea here too. I will be coming back from Calgary considerably poorer than when I arrived.

Oh, my lost luggage (those Air Canada bastards) arrived on Christmas Eve, so I didn't have to go buy new presents for everyone. Which just meant more shopping for me.

57cm of snow in Charlottetown? That is just terrible. It has been just beautiful here in the west. Too bad for you guys.

Air Chaos

So I have arrived in Turner Valley after many, many trials and tribulations. The flight left Charlottetown on time and with no difficulty, which is a minor miracle in itself, and I had hopes that this would be the one time that a member of my family would fly between Charlottetown and Calgary with no problems. Not likely. The Farmers are just not meant to fly this route, which is unfortunate, since someone is flying this way every second month or so. We landed in Montreal slightly behind schedule and I was told that I had a very tight connection and should go fast to the other gate, but that the staff knew I was coming and there should be no problem. There wasn't a problem because the flight I was catching had not even arrived yet, so I had lots of time. I had to wait about an hour, not a problem, but then, once we boarded the plane, we sat on the plane at the gate for another two hours. Then, when we finally took off, strong headwinds delayed us even longer. My poor family had been waiting in the airport for about 3.5 hours when I finally arrived. Then we had to wait ANOTHER HOUR for the luggage.

Now I left home with 2 suitcases and a carry-on full of presents. One suitcase was filled with my presents and my clothes and toiletries. The other suitcase was filled with stuff that my mother couldn't fit into her luggage, along with my sneakers and slippers and my gympants. Guess which suitcase they lost. That's right, the one with all my stuff. As of 6:00 on today (Thursday), no suitcase. So, not only was the plane really late, but they lost my stuff. I hate Air Canada. They are out to get me.

When I fly, I am not very social at all. I have 2 or 3 books (depending on the lenght of the flight) and my walkman, and I tend to just ignore the people I am sitting with and read my book. This time, I was sitting next to a really interesting guy, Lawrence, and we talked the entire flight, plus the 4 hour delay. I now know all about his fiance, her horrible mother, how to make polenta, how he flys every 2 weeks between Calgary and Bathurst, his golf game and his views on voting. He knows all about my family, how Air Canada hates me, and my friend Liane's advice on dating (only date men with dead mothers), the fact that I can't cook, and my views on voting. So, thank you Lawrence. You made the very long flight much more bearable. And he even offered to share his dessert with me. Nice guy.

Hopefully, the next time I post, I will have my luggage and I won't be wearing my sister's clothes, and I will have christmas presents to give to my family. Or else that Air Confusion has given me lots of money to buy new stuff.

Wierd Christmas

I am leaving right now to go to Calgary for Christmas. My brother, his wife, their 2 kids, my sister and her boyfriend live there, and my parents are already there, so we are all going to spend our first christmas all together. Its going to be strange not being in PEI with all my friends and relatives, but it will be so much fun with my nephews. They are ages 2 1/2 and 1, so watching them will be wonderful.

I hope you all have a great christmas wherever you are and that you are with the people that love you.

My ears, my ears!

Can I tell you a secret? Well, if you know me, it's not really a secret, but I'll tell you anyway. I hate christmas music. I really, really hate it. And I really, really hate that you can't go to the mall without each and every store playing a different rock/pop/rap/country/crap artist's version of a christmas song. Just because you are a singer does not mean you have to put out a christmas album. Really, it doesn't. The world does not need another christmas album. Everyone in the world has a christmas album. I bet if I looked hard enough, I could find a tape recorded version of myself singing christmas songs, but you don't hear me inflicting it on the public.

I don't want to hear the rap version of O Holy Night. I don't want to hear the country version of Up on a Rooftop. I don't want to hear Rita MacNeil sing anything, christmas or not. And if I hear that crazy-ass Mariah screech her way through one more christmas song, I will lose my mind.

Please don't eat the baby, Desoto

My cousin and her three week old daughter moved in to my parents house yesterday. She is going to be staying there to babysit the house and the dog and the cat. I was a little nervous about the dog - not that he is mean or anything, he isn't, he is the sweetest dog, but the baby is so small and the dog is so big. The baby is not quite as big as Desoto's head! And Desoto has never been around a baby before, and he has to smell everything, so I had visions of him trying to smell the baby and drowning her in a big puddle of drool.

After a big "woof" at Suzanne when she walked in the door, scaring everyone, he settled right down and didn't really take a lot of interest in the baby. He looks at her when she cries with the funniest look , as if to say "What's up with all the noise," but other than that, he hasn't drooled on her too much or eaten her or anything. Good dog.

Can this count?

Can this post count as my christmas card to anyone who is reading this? I have an inablility to send out christmas cards. Every year I buy them, really pretty ones with angels and snowmen and every year they go back in the box of christmas supplies, unopened and unsent. For some reason, I cannot send out christmas cards. I think about it, sometimes I even buy stamps, but I never send them out to anyone. Occasionally, I will remember to put a couple with presents, but not very often. So everyone, Merry Christmas.

Exciting news - I left my house over the weekend. I went out to celebrate my friend Andrea's 40th birthday. It was a surprise party and she was totally surprised, mostly thanks to Scott's excellent lying ability. I, however, didn't get to actually see her surprise as I was standing in line at Shoppers for 25 minutes. Apparently it was train the idiot night there and the idiots were having a hard time grasping such difficult concepts as how to work a cash register, debit machine, lotto maching and how to count money and give correct change. I was restrained though, confining myself to heavy sighs and eye-rolling and not yelling, unlike the poor man in front of me who got the wrong lotto tickets three times and then got overcharged. He kind of yelled.

Once I got to the surprise party, it was great fun. We ate lots of munchies and drank lots of drinks and had the best server, April. Then we went to a bar. I am too old to go to bars, evidenced by the fact that I turned into my mother while looking at some of the clothing choices made by the girls at the bar.

"Oh, my god! That is the shortest skirt I have ever seen."

"I don't understand, is her shirt supposed to look like that?"

"Ok, a bra would be good, dear. Really. Please."

I love seeing the clothing choices that people make, but I really have to wonder - do some of these people not own mirrors? Do they not have friends that love them? Because how they can leave their house dressed like that? Don't they know how bad they look? Don't they care? Don't their friends care? Beer goggles are wonderous things, I guess.

Anyway, the bar was (sort of) fun. There was drinking and dancing but no grilled cheese sandwich at the chinese food place.

Therapist

It seems like forever since I have posted. Between the sick and the work and the possessed computer I haven't had either the time or the energy to post. But I am back and moderately healthy now.

Desoto had his first day at work this week. That's right, I have put him to work. He is a therapy dog at a hospital here that deals mostly with mental patients, with physical or emotional problems (I have to stop calling them the crazy people at the looney bin, since my mom used to work there, this offends her and since I stand a good chance of being there myself some days, I guess it's not so funny).

Desoto goes around to the different wards and interacts with the patients. By interacts with, I mean he smells them and gets drool on their legs while they pat him, then he lies on the floor. He has a bandana and a volunteer name tag with his name on it. Some of the patients that we saw were very nervous because he is kind of scary looking, but others had no fear at all and wanted to pat and hug him. He was a little overwhelmed since this was his first day, and he got a little nervous when lots of people crowded around him but he did very well and he was a big hit with the patients and staff, except for one man who was convinced that Desoto was going to eat him and one woman who was scared that he would chase her (invisible)kitty. So we will be going to the hospital once or twice a week so the patients can play with him. The other therapy dog is a little Shiz Tzu who can sit on people's laps, so there is quite a contrast.

Desoto has a new game now where he tries to be very fierce and growls and bares his teeth and pretends to bite me, then at the last second, licks me instead that I am really hoping he doesn't try to play at the hospital. That might just send someone right over the edge.