Guest Blog: KT in India

Happy Friday and welcome to a fun new game called "Guest Blog!" Pretty straight forward. Essentially, I will be stealing writing from my friends and posting it as my own. Fun, right?! 

Today's guest blogger is my dear and (not-so-near) friend Katie, who is currently traveling in India. Here is an email regarding her day trip yesterday to Chandi Chowk, which is one of the oldest and busiest markets in old Dehli...

This is why we are friends,
she can pour two drinks WITHOUT looking! mad skills.

I, leading the group, turn the corner from the main road, we’re on a hunt for the biggest mosque in India, but we get much more than we could have ever imagined. Slumdog Millionaire had come to life before our eyes – the India we had all expected to see was right in front of us.

There were buildings all connected, with power lines taking them over, stray dogs wandering everywhere you look, goats eating whatever lay around and sleeping on cars. I’d turn to see a cart full of fruit, then glance down to see a woman rolling on a board – no legs to stand on. I’d turn back often to make sure everyone was together. Through all this poverty, all the eyes looking toward the white tourists, we had a sea of smiles. It was incredible to me. The blind man shaking his cup of coins, the man with a hand cut off, the young girl with no hands, all smiling at us. They looked at us in awe and enjoyment.

There was a jumble of twenty or so motorcycles, half pulled apart, parts scattered along the road and a dozen or so men leaning down trying to sort it all out. As we passed, one head rose, followed by the rest – smiles on every face.

Through the distinct smell of urine, there were kids walking and chatting excitedly. They were so excited to say ‘Hello!’ and put their hand out to shake a white hand.

Motorcycles holding entire families were whizzing in and out between the bicycles towing loads of ladders and propane tanks, as we walked down the street getting honked at to move over further in the single lane that was infringed by street venders and people napping on a blanket behind a bike or two.
It was nothing any of us had ever seen before. You’d think one would leave such a place feeling depressed and sad, but we all walked out of Chandi Chowk wondering where all the smiles came from. It just shows that there are people all around the world that are much happier than us, with so very much less. Lesson received India.

I hope everyone can take something from this. We are very lucky to live the lives we do. Enjoy it. xo Michelle.

Cinnamon Buns

Ever have a block of cream cheese burning a hole in your refrigerator? Wait a minute...I think "burning a hole" wasn't an apt phrase for the topic. Re-write.

Ever have a block of cream cheese screaming at you from the fridge USE ME! USE ME!? Last week I sure did! I pretty much only use cream cheese for one thing: frosting. It is the gravy of the baked goods realm. You can smother cream cheese frosting on anything and it will be delicious. Guarencheesed.

Cream cheese doesn't usually last long in my fridge before I scheme up an idea to use it. My latest baking adventure: cinnamon buns.

I really can't believe I've made it 25.5 years without attempting these. Its crossed my mind a million or so times, but I was always leery as I am super set against using yeast in baking. Too tricky for this girl.

But guess what! Cinnamon buns do not need to be made with yeast in order to be effectively delicious. A quick google search brought forth a great recipe off a foodie blog called IowaGirlEats. No yeast, basic ingredients and straight-forward, non fussy directions.

I doubled the batch with unusually great forethought and boy am I glad I did. The smell in my condo was unparalleled. They looked incredible. It took all my willpower to wait 2 whole days to eat one as they were made especially for our long weekend trip to Osoyoos. They were well received by the group.

Pretty sure these would give Cinnabon a run for their money. Also pretty sure I will get diabetes in short order if I keep making (and over eating) sugar laden treats like this.

Feast your eyes: 

 

Interrobang?!

Interrobang... Sounds kind of dirty, right? Or maybe that didn't even cross your mind and my mind just dwells in the gutter.

The interrobang is celebrating it's 50th birthday this year, which I learned from my boss's birthday card -a delightful little handbook detailing out all the fun things that happened way back in 1962! Of course the only useful thing I gleaned out of that card was a fun fact about punctuation. Pretty sure that makes me a dork. I think the reason this struck a chord with me is because I often speak in interrobangs- it seems all my questions end excitedly (aka squeekily high pitched). Anyhow, here's your learning for the day (courtesy of Yours Truly & Wikipedia, of course):

The interrobang (often represented by ?! or !?), is a nonstandard punctuation mark used in various written languages and intended to combine the functions of the question mark and the exclamation mark or exclamation point (known in printers’ jargon as the “bang”).

American Martin K. Speckter conceptualized the interrobang in 1962. As the head of an advertising agency, Speckter believed that advertisements would look better if copywriters conveyed surprised rhetorical questions using a single mark.

Here she is, the interrobang. Feast your eyes:

The interrobang failed to amount to much more than a fad, however. It has not become a standard punctuation mark. Although most fonts do not include the interrobang, it has not disappeared: Microsoft provides several versions of the interrobang character as part of the Wingdings 2 character set.

End of learning.

Early to Rise

Benjamin Franklin is quoted to have said: "Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise."

Anyone that's ever had a sleepover with me probably harbors some resentment towards me about the hour in which I woke up in the morning. I don't really care to apologize, it's not my fault you are a light sleeper. I grew up in a family of (mostly - cough Lisa cough-) early risers. My dad and I were making plans for Saturday morning and I asked what time he would be picking me up and he said 8. My immediate reaction was to scoff and then barter. How about 9? Normally, I am awake, breakfasted, facebooked and at the gym by 8am on Saturday morning, BUT I don't HAVE to do any of that if I choose not to (like when I'm hungover). In return, he scoffed at 9AM. Not only did he scoff, but he said something about wasting the whole day away. I didn't bother arguing. Really, I feel the same way. I agreed he could pick me up at 8 for our errands. I didn't tell him this, but I am making him 1. stop at Starbucks or 2. take me for and buy me breakfast.

My usual route would be to wikipedia this but I had my doubts there would be a reference. Boy, was I wrong! Per Wikipedia:

Waking up early is a productivity method of rising early and consistently so as to be able to accomplish more during the day. This method has been recommended since antiquity and is presently recommended by a number of personal development gurus. The philosopher Aristotle said, "It is well to be up before daybreak, for such habits contribute to health, wealth, and wisdom."

Within the context of religious observances, spiritual writers have called this practice "the heroic minute," referring to the sacrifice which this entails.

Personal development writers have noted that waking up early can be developed through practice and correct preparation.

That is pretty much all it had to say, but man did I love every word of it. So now what I would like to do is help you all, all you sleeper-inners. I found a 13 step process called How to Wake Up Early, but that's a lot of steps, and I don't have the patience for that. SO how about 5 steps (with editorial comments in brackets).

1. Get a good nights sleep. (DUH, go to bed early and sleep soundly, keep your bedroom an oasis for sleeping).
2. Never press the snooze button.
3. Gradually go to sleep and wake up ten minutes earlier each day until you reach your goal time (goal time- crack of dawn).
4. Have someone else wake you up (this makes you not responsible for waking up early, so then if you sleep in you can blame the waker upper).
5. Cut the caffeine. No coffee or soda before bed. (I don't necessarily agree with this one, but hey if you suck at being up early you are the one who needs to make some changes).

OK, now go practice.
xo

Lone Dimple

"Hey, you only have one dimple," someone pointed out to me the other day. "Oh yeah!" I responded cleverly, in a super squeaky high pitched voice, face full of surprise. It wasn't even a fake mocking face of surprise either... it was an honestly shocked face. It's really not something that I've ever though too hard about.

I haven't always had this loner dimple- I think it grew in when I was a teenager. Now it's just kind of part of my face. Okay well not just kind of... it IS a part of my face. Ugh why do I use so many non-words? sigh. One day I'll get educated, I plomise.

Anyways, the reason this person pointed it out is they too had just one dimple. I think they thought this somehow provided us with an innate kinship. I disagreed. It did, however, provide me with a whole set of questions that I needed answered.

First off. Why just the one? I tried smiling super hard to see if I could make a matching one appear on my other cheek. No matter how hard I tried my left cheek refused to dimple. I examined my smile to see if perhaps it was a bit lopsided and maybe years of smiling crookedly inhibited a left dimple from forming... The only thing that proved was that I had food in my teeth.

I then checked pictures of Manda's face to see if perhaps she got the other one, but she did not- dimpleless that girl is.

So where has it gone, or perhaps more accurately, why does it cease to be? Why am I a one-dimpled-wonder? Lucky for you this is not a rhetorical question. I have answers! Their legitimacy may be arguable, but at least it'll help me sleep at night.

OK. Firstly, as per usual, Wikipedia.

Dimples may appear and disappear over an extended period.[2] Dimples may play a role in sexual selection.[3] Some cultures, for example Asian and Indo-ethnic sub-groups, prefer dimples as a sign of attractiveness and veracity.[4] Dimples may be genetically inherited and have been called a simple dominant trait.

Next, I decided to see what WiseGeek.com had to say on the subject. I tried StupidIdiot.com, but they didn't have anything to say on the topic.

The genetics of dimples is actually rather interesting. Dimples are a dominant trait, which means that it only takes one gene to inherit dimples. If neither of your parents has dimples, you shouldn't have them either, unless you experience a spontaneous mutation. If one of your parents has dimples, you have a 25-50% chance of inheriting the gene, since it means that parent inherited the gene from one or both parents. If both of your parents have dimples, you have a 50-100% chance of inheriting the gene, depending on how they inherited their dimple genes.

In most cases, facial dimples appear on the cheeks, although they can also pop up on the chin, and they are typically not visible until someone smiles. The changes in the face caused by a smile will bring out the dimple. However, some people only have a dimple on one side; this physical trait can actually be rather endearing.

Did you read that? RATHER ENDEARING! I am officially storing my dimple for special occasions now, or when I need to pull out the big guns to charm someone. Beware world!

After reading that dimples are inherited I polled the family to see who else has an affected face. You'd think I'd just know off the top of my head. You'd be wrong. Lisa says she kind of does. Amanda doesn't have bbm any more so is no longer reachable- but I am 80 percent certain her face is free of dents. I assume Mommadukes and Daddykins have or had them when they were young and fresh. If I had to take a guess, I would go with Glenn....

BREAKING NEWS> Carol just text me back. She has two dimples apparently. Interesting. Unfortunately, she's working so I can't get more than an affirmation from her at this time. Glenn's dimple status is still yet to be determined. But really, I feel my work here is done. We all can leave here a little bit more educated on something super non-consequential. You're welcome.

xo shelly.

JubeJube Monster

I'm pretty embarrassed by how many Jube Jubes I've consumed this week. On Monday I bought a good sized bag as they were on sale and thought they would be a fun treat for the office. I put a bowl out on the edge of my desk, but only a couple of people perused the multi-coloured bowl of fun. I, on the other hand, pretty much didn't take said hand out of said bowl for any prolonged periods of time. I tried to coerce my co-workers into eating them but apparently they are only fiends when it comes to baked goods.

I'm sure I've put my teeth through irreparable damage this week. I swear I can feel cavities forming. I flossed twice yesterday and brushed extra hard to try to make up for the sugary damage I have likely caused. I have probably put myself on the fast track for diabetes as well. I checked the nutritional content and it's about 130 calories for 5 jubes. I've ate about 300, so that's 7,800 calories, which amounts to about 4 days worth. I am planning on starving myself this weekend to make up for it.

After I massacred an entire bowl of them on Tuesday, I moved the bowl over to Wendy's desk, which is approximately 10 feet from me. All this resulted in was me getting up ten times more often to grab a handful of chewy deliciousness. Yesterday I found a mutant jube jube in the bowl. I spent 15 minutes deciding whether or not to eat it. I asked Work Mom Wendy if she wanted it, she said no, so I played with it for a while and then, when my curiosity won out, I ate it. It tasted like a dehydrated staleish jube, a little less stick to your teeth.

Every time I look in the mirror I find a colored gelatin bit in one of my snaggle teeth. I just finished the second bowl. There are more in my desk drawer though. I feel sick to my stomach, although maybe it's the two week past expired yogurt I just ate, or maybe it's just a feeling of longing for more jube jubes.

scabs

This weekend, the day before my sister's wedding, I tripped and fell when I was out for a run. Of course I was wearing shorts so there was no barrier between me and the sidewalk, resulting in a rather scraped up knee. I tried to tuck & roll, so as not to hit my face or land on have to break my fall with my arms (which would surely end up broken as per usual) and was only partially successful. Although the roll added an elbow cut, a hip bruise and a shoulder scrape to my list of injuries. I am considering putting a complaint in to City of Langley regarding their faulty sidewalk as I am SURE it is the same place I tripped and fell two years ago. I haven't been back to investigate, but I'm pretty sure there's a monster living in the sidewalk who trips unsuspecting runners. Luckily I had Jessica with me, so she immediately pulled me up with hardly a laugh. After a few blocks we continued our run to the closest Starbucks where I proceeded to drown my embarrassment in a Venti Americano. Please note that I was a very Big Girl about the whole thing and didn't even cry. I posted the bloody knee picture to facebook and within 15 minutes Amanda had called to tell me that I wasn't allowed in wedding pictures anymore.

There were mostly two response types to my owie, neither which was heartfelt concern, but instead I was asked:

1. Why the heck were you running the day before your sister's wedding? and/or;
2. How do you fall running?

The answer to both questions is essentially because I suck at life. OK, maybe that's a little harsh. It's simple though, I like running, but am a clumsy girl. Really, I'm more surprised that I don't fall more often.

"So how is my knee?" you ask kindly. Well, it's scabbing up nicely, thank you. I had applied liquid bandage to my wound this weekend in hopes that I could maybe put some makeup over top, but it was too disgusting so I just left it out for all to see. PS, liquid bandage totally looks, smells and burns like nail polish and I'm pretty sure it's not really a good idea to put it on fresh cuts. Anyways, I spent most of the day trying to peel off the reminents of liquid bandage, which was kind of fun. I was hoping the scab would be a bit more pickable, but it needs a bit of time. Instead I picked off my entire manicure. Yes, all ten nails. After doing that, it kind of hit me that I think I have a picking problem. I quickly googled "picking scabs" to try to scare myself into not picking them any more. I came across this rather intriguing website called www.skinpick.com and this is what it has to say:

Picking scabs is a remarkably self-perpetuating way to act out obsessive-compulsive tendencies that often signal an underlying, often as-yet-undiagnosed mood or anxiety disorder. Patients often describe the experience as comforting even though painful. And very unsightly. 

Psychological symptoms that are often associated with picking scabs are depression, low self-esteem, addiction, eating disorders, and anxiety. A history of trauma or some sort of abuse is almost always involved.

Quite often the habit gets started as a way to relieve the pent-up frustrations or fears when other ways of dealing with conflict are not effective. Feeling that verbal communications are ineffective leave the scab picker feeling there is no other way to express the emotional turmoil going on inside.

Most people will pick a scab from time to time with no significant harm done. It’s when the act of picking the scab brings on emotional relief, desired pain, or pleasure that medical intervention is advised.

Wow. Insert :s face here. I'm pretty sure I just like a good de-scabbing and that I'm not bat sh*t crazy. Although, just to be sure I'm going to buy The Complete Guide to Compusive Skin Picking Disorders (CSP) skinpick.com for the low price of $29.95.

Gross, right? But I bet you totally wanna pick it too!

MOH Speech

My sister is officially a married woman, I now have a brother-in-law! I also officially have the worst hangover ever (totally worth it though).

The wedding was a beautiful, amazing, fun and touching event. The entire weekend was great- starting with a rehearsal dinner BBQ on Friday, followed by a spa day in North Van with the girls and a dinner with the crew on Saturday. The Big Day was Sunday which started at the crack of dawn with a run to Starbucks, followed by hair and makeup, snacks and champagne and then it was time for the ceremony. Amanda was absolutely beautiful in her dress and the bridal party as a group was stunning. The reception was so much fun and, as maid of honor, I was required to do a speech, which I have been fretting over for the last 8 months. When it was time for me to speak, I had made my peace with my nerves (for the most part) and pulled it off nicely (if I do say so myself). Here's the rough outline of what I spoke about:

Hi. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Michelle- I’m the Maid of Honour. Amanda is my twin sister and my best friend; I’ve known her my whole life.

I was one of the last people to know that Manda and Jason had gotten engaged. The weekend Jason proposed, I was off camping in the middle of nowhere, of course with no cell service. When I got back to town I had 56 thousand messages and 100 missed calls. I honestly thought someone had died. When I finally found out the good news, I immediately wrote a blog about why I should be her Maid of Honour. In the blog I totally slandered my friends and fellow bridesmaids which probably makes me a bad person. It must have been pretty convincing because here I am, doing my maid of honor speech.

Amanda gave me a laundry list of things I wasn’t allowed to talk about in my speech, so I am NOT going to say anything about her favorite stuffed animal, Mr. Corn Head, who is essentially an ear of corn with a face-which is super creepy. There are a few other things that I am absolutely not going to mention...(looked over to Manda to share a conspiratory glance- received a death stare in return)

So since I can't talk about any of that fun stuff, instead I’d like to tell you why I love my sister. I’ve managed to wheedle the list down to 5 things, so here they are, in no particular order.

1. She is the best person to go on car rides with, for a few reasons: she’s a great car dancer; she knows all the words to every Sugarland song; she’s really good at air guitar, air drums and sometimes even the air fiddle; and best of all she’s usually doing all this WHILE driving, which is kind of scary, but mostly impressive.

2. She is always up to share a diet coke or diet root beer, no matter what. Yes, this is a very important best friend quality in my books.

3. She is the dollar store queen and is almost always able to tell me which dollar store I need to go to find a certain thing. For those of you who don't know, Amanda actually planned and decorated the entire venue which I think we can all agree looks absolutely beautiful, so let's give her a round of applause for that. Some of this beautiful decor has come from the dollar store...but I won't tell you which parts!

4. Other than my dad, she has the best tanning technique out of anyone I know.Arms up, arms down, flip over, etc- it is quite the process! They should have their own YouTube video and a million people would probably watch it and they would be famous.

5. And lastly, she lets me hold her hand when we are walking, even though I know she sometimes doesn’t want to. I started off with swinging my hand 'accidently' into hers and then clasping her hand. At first it didn't go over so well, but she's warmed up to it and will now pretty much hold my hand any time which is quite lovely.
OK so that’s it for my list. I don’t think those are necessarily the same reasons why Jason loves Amanda, as I know he doesn’t drink diet coke-which is weird- and rarely hits the dollar store - also weird- but I have seen him car dance, although it's not a pretty sight (insert awkward fist pumping action).
I guess the last thing I want to say is that I’m so happy for you guys and love you both and wish you many years of happiness. I’m super stoked to finally have a brother and I think my sister made a pretty great choice in you Jay. If everyone could please raise their glasses in a toast to Manda and Jay.

-Insert wild applause and cheering here-

Aunty Shelly

Big News Bears presents:

A BABY ON THE WAY!

Don't panic, it's not mine (the world is still safe from my demon spawn).

I am soon to be an Aunt. Aunty Shelly, I will be. My big sister Lisa is with child and is due in early fall. We are ecstatic. I have taken up singing baby songs like Row Row Row Your Boat and even eating baby food in preparation. Mashed peas and carrots?MMM yes please. OK OK, I'm lying. I don't sing Row your boat, that song is only good in harmony.

Now, I've never been an aunt before, but I think that matters not. I have been (and still am) a niece to many Aunts (and Uncles, of course). I know all about being a niece. I especially know what nieces look for in Aunts!

I am fairly confident that I will be able to slide seamlessly into the role of an Aunt.. With a little practice I think I will inherit the title of Best Aunt Ever. She is going to love me so hard! Ok Ok, I don't know for sure that La Bebe will be a girl, and if she is a he, that is fine with me. It will be refreshing to have a boy around who adores me and perhaps even drools over me (although ON me might be a more apt description).

Here's what I know about Aunts: I know that Aunts should be fun. They should be a mix between an older sister, a second mom and a best friend. Old and wise, but still young and fun. They kidnap their niece for a day of fun and adventure and bring her back late at night, tired and sticky and sad to be leaving the company of their favourite person ever. They buy the best Christmas and Birthday presents. Aunts babysit, without qualms or questions, when Moms need time off Mom duty.

Aunty Shelly. Sounds right, doesn't it? I can't wait to take La Bebe to the park and the zoo and teach her how to count and how to bat her eyelashes for maximum effect. I will buy her adorable outfits and hopefully coax her first word out of her. She will be my little sidekick and I won't even mind if she crys a lot, becasue I listen to my music so loud.

I will, however, pass her to her other aunts when it's time for a diaper change. La Bebe will be the luckiest girl around as she will have lots of "Aunts", the kind who aren't quite related by blood, but love you super hard regardless. They are your mom's friends and you get to spend a lot of time with them, because they don't have kids of their own yet.

 I'd like to take this line to say Thanks and Love you to all my real and fake aunts who made and make my life so wonderful. Sappy, but it was just one line, so get over it.

Baby Countdown: 20.5 Weeks



I one day aspire to be half as good an aunt as Aunt Jemima is a syrup.



U is for Uh-Oh, the U-Turn Story

Yesterday, I'm leaving the gym and have made it out of the parking lot and am safely in the left hand turn lane, stopped at a red light. The light turns green, but I see a SUV which looks like it will be turning right, which would put him in the lane I plan to U-turn into. This u-turn is a crucial part to getting me home quickly with minimal hassle. Post work, post gym, I am a sweaty, hungry monster and like to be home ASAP. The SUV doesn't have a turn signal on so I look intently at the car to see if I can gauge what his plan is. He slowly pulls out, clearly about to run right, so I wait for him to go.

I am part way through successfully navigating my Uy when the suspicion hits me that the guy in the SUV had that I'm-a-cop-wearing-a-lot-of-important-bulky-gear look to him. [Insert swear word here] At this point I am driving behind him and he has slowed down ominously. I debate turning into a driveway in hopes I can hide from him, but my less idiotic self immediately realizes that's a terrible idea. He slows down more and then pulls overs- dammit. What can I do? I pass him on the left and he turns his sneaky, undercover cop car lights on. I pull over and try to find my brave, big girl face.

He comes up to the window and informs me in a scary voice: You've been pulled over for an illegal U-turn at an intersection. He then asks for my license and registration, which I have ready for him. He gives me a bit of flak about the address being illegible -I have the paper address correction thing glued on the back and half of it is ripped and the other half is faded. I nod and smile amicably and he leaves back to his car to play solitaire, or whatever it is cops do when they go back to their vehicles for what always seems like Forever.

He comes back and I smile my biggest smile. I scoped out his hands in my side mirror as he was walking up and it didn't look like he had his ticket book! He says, "OK we're going to play a little game."

I am both horrified and delighted at the thought of playing a game with The Officer. My mind is going a mile a minute, I'm thinking we are going to be Rock-Paper-Scissor'ing for my ticket! In response I squeak out an Uhhh ohhhh!  He laughs and tells me we are going to play a role reversal. He says, "Pretend you are me and have just pulled you over for an illegal u-turn. What would YOU do?" I can feel this is a trap, but refuse to lose this game. I quickly respond in my super serious voice, "I would admonish me sternly for breaking the law and give me a warning, make me promise never to do it again and then send me on my way!" He laughs heartily. I am feeling good about this.

He then goes on to say, "You looked right at me before pulling that u-turn, like you were taunting me! It was like a slap in the face." -insert hand over eyes face- I told him I'm not really THAT stupid, I just couldn't tell that he was in an unmarked car. I then complimented his ride and he says, "Darn, you were my last chance to give out a ticket today and you're just too nice so I can't!"

I ask what his name is and he tells me. We chit chat about where I was coming from (kickboxing) and about his upcoming time off at work.  Thai food somehow entered the conversation and I mention this great Thai food place really close by. All of the sudden it strikes me that he might be flirting with me AND THEN I feel like he might be thinking of asking me out- I can literally see the thoughts crossing his mind (OK, maybe not literally...). The conversation trails off and I promise not to do a u-turn there anymore. I get a case of verbal diarrhea and confessed that I do a u-turn there every day. WOW! What? Am I stupid or something? Apparently so. He looks at me, then turns to leave and comes back and hands me his card, wishes me a good night and walks away.

I, of course, do the speed limit the WHOLE way home. All eight blocks! Totally learned my lesson- don't get caught u-turning! Today, I was successful in u-turning without repercussions.