Yeah, Alright, Okay.

I could put it off no longer. Signing up for Facebook, that is.

I’m naturally suspicious of anything that allows my personal information to be shared with the world. Yeah, I know I share personal information every time I write a blog entry, but I don’t give out too much that could allow some nutter to come kidnap my child or some crook to steal my identity (Hey, having worked in politics and banking makes you very paranoid wary. The crazies I’ve encountered…I can’t even begin to tell you.)

However, through feeling completely out of the loop and being assured that I could “hide” my Facebook information so only friends could see it, I’ve relented.

I already see the how this becomes addictive for people. And, so far, the security of Facebook has proven itself adequate, if not humorous.

For example, when I went to add my husband (an avid Facebooker) under the “spouse” category, I got the message that he would have to confirm that we were in a relationship before his name would appear next to “spouse” on my profile. Damn rights, he’d better confirm it!

And of course he did but when it happened Facebook sent me a message telling me that he had “approved your relationship request.” Umm, technically, (as well as legally and religiously) he kinda “approved” that almost three years ago when we said our marriage vows. Anyhow, whatever. I wanted security, after all.

But on the flip side, things are already starting to annoy me. Less than 12 hours after I signed up, I got a request to be a “Facebook friend” with some dude that I don’t even know. “Good luck, buddy,” I thought before I hit the “Ignore” button.

We have mutual friends so I’m pretty sure he means no harm, but I have no interest in enabling him as he builds his vast Facebook Empire of hundreds of his so-called friends. (This makes me think there is a blog post in the offing to do with the insecure people who need to look popular on their profile by amassing scads of contacts.) Not that I even know hundreds of people, but even if I did, the vast majority of them need not read about my latest comings and goings (again, with the paranoia…)

I suspect that despite the small annoyances that will creep up, I will grow to love Facebook. I’ll let you know.

Apparently We’ve Somehow Pissed Off The Tire Gods

So, yeah, we had all the drama last week with the flat tires.

Yesterday, we discovered this in another tire.

What. The. Hell????

(Oh, and in case anyone was wondering…no, you cannot find a single car/tire repair centre open in the city of Ottawa on Canada Day.)

So whatever we did to piss off the tire gods, we’re sorry. Stop messin’ with us – PLEASE!

It Really Is All In The Timing

Anything to do with the mechanics of cars stresses me out beyond belief. I can put together IKEA furniture in my sleep (I’ve had so much practice), wield a screwdriver or hammer like it is nobody’s business, and am not the least bit intimidated walking into Home Depot. But besides driving them, which I love to do, cars are an unknown area that can really freak me out.

I think it all started when I was a teenager and my grandfather had given my mom his 1969 Plymouth Valiant. Lest anyone think I’m older than I am, the car was almost 20 years old by the time my mom got it, and I started driving it.

I’ll never forget it stalling at one of Calgary’s busiest intersections during one of the busiest times of day. I was by myself and figured I’d be stranded forever in that piece of shit vintage vehicle but I finally got it going again. However, that wouldn’t be the last time something like that would happen. I’d hold my breath every time I got into that car.

So my heart started to race when I was out shopping with The Wee Man today and saw that I had a flat tire.

“Don’t worry. Call CAA,” Hubby the Great reassured me when I called him in distress.

CAA showed up quickly, changed the flat, and had me on my way. I still had other errands to run but felt I needed to come home, shut the blinds, and crawl under the duvet after my “harrowing” experience.

By late this afternoon I’d mostly “recovered” from it all until Hubby the Great returned from work. He walked past the Jeep on the driveway and noticed that the replacement tire was now flat.

Aaaarrghhh!!!!!

We’ll now need CAA to tow our vehicle to the dealership to get this fixed.

Aaaarrghhh!!!!!

Oddly enough, the CAA membership renewal arrived in the mail yesterday.

Needless to say, I’ll be doing that immediately. I wonder if they have a lifetime membership.

I Heart The Internetz

What is it with me and hairdressers in this city? Finding (and more importantly keeping) a good stylist here has been nothing short of epic.

It certainly doesn’t help that it has been months since my last cut. But when you’re a stay-at-home-mom, you can always think of a million child and household-related things to spend that single income on. Unfortunately, that means personal maintenance and upkeep comes in somewhere after buying diapers and fixing the roof.

However, as infrequent as my trips are to the salon, it doesn’t mean I will settle for just anyone cutting my hair. I won’t bore anyone with the tales of woe involving my hair but when I can find someone to make it cooperate, and actually look decent, I want to hang on to them.

So needless to say, I was nothing short of mortified when I went to make an appointment with my works-wonders-stylist to find that she no longer works at the salon I was going to.

Knowing full well the salon would not give me her new contact information, I decided to use her unique first name and try to hunt her down on Google.

It was then that I discovered this blog. The author of the blog, Wendy, wrote a couple of posts about our mutual hairdresser so I decided to do what any woman in desperate need of a haircut would do: I emailed her asking for contact information for our stylist.

So a big “thank you” goes out to Wendy who got back to me very quickly with the all-important contact information. After my appointment next Saturday, I will look decidedly less yeti-like.

Happy Father’s Day To Hubby the Great

The Wee Man is gaga for his father. At the moment, it is all daddy ("dah-DEEE!"), all the time.

But who can blame him – Hubby the Great isn’t just a great husband he is an amazing father (sorry, "dah-DEEE!").

I am so lucky to have such a selfless and loving husband and The Wee Man couldn’t have a better role model, buddy, and chief storybook reader.

So while it is Father’s Day on Sunday, you should know that in our son’s eyes, everyday is Father’s Day. There is no better man, no better father. We love you so much.

How About This – Keep The Theme Song, Dump The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation

This is one post where I proudly wear my national colours (see, I even spell it with a “u”!) and talk about the most sacred of Canadian pastimes - hockey.

In particular, I’m talking about the iconic theme song that has been used for Hockey Night in Canada broadcasts since 1968 and how the boobs at CBC are thinking of discontinuing its use.

Canadians, whether they like hockey or not, know this tune and it is probably only second to our national anthem in terms of recognizability. In a country so vast, where our regions are so diverse that not much is common to all areas, it unites us as the hockey-crazed nation that we are.

When I was teaching in Japan, one of my students wanted a suggestion for a “Canadian” song to play on the piano for a group of fellow Canadians being hosted at the Rotary Club in Tokyo. I was set to launch into an explanation that we don’t really have any traditional Canadiana songs common to the whole country when it dawned on me that she should play the theme from Hockey Night in Canada. Every one in that delegation, whether they were from British Columbia, Yukon, or Nova Scotia, would know it.

Not surprisingly, since this story broke, there has been an uproar from the public at large. But, hey, CBC has plans to placate us. They have plans to hold A CONTEST to find a new theme song.

Well – YIPPEE – that makes it so much better. Thanks CBC!

I’ll get right to work composing a replacement for something that is irreplaceable.

Nicole, Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda

So I loved the Sex and the City movie. I loved spending 20 minutes picking out which shoes to wear with my outfit (I can’t even remember the last time THAT happened), I loved pre-show dinner and drinks with my girlfriends (ditto on not remembering the last time that happened – welcome to motherhood), and I loved the movie (with the exception of one - albeit major - plot line. Umm, Carrie, isn’t it clear that you really can’t trust Big? But will I go see a sequel? Hell ya!).

It was a little depressing too. The plot itself wasn’t sad but I was halfway through the film when I realized that when it ended I’d be going into SATC withdrawal again.

It is just a movie though, right? Yeah, but, it also is the ultimate in escapism and every once in a while a mommy needs a big dose of that.