New Blog

I know, I know, I have been away for a very long time. Years even. I don't care. One of the main reasons that I haven't revisited this blog in a while is because I have actually started a new blog. Now that I have some time, I am playing with the idea of having two blogs. Maybe. I don't know how this happened but in the matter of five years I have acquired 3 Facebook accounts, 3 email accounts, a Facebook page, 2 Twitter accounts, a Pinterest account, 2 blogs, a website and 2 Google accounts. Whew! How did this happen? Well for one, I wrote a book. Actually I wrote three books, I am in the middle of writing my fourth book now. That's where all the crazy in my life came from and that is what has kept me from this blog. Also, I have been having a lot of fun posting on my other blog. You can find it at fakingitmostly.com I actually prefer the blog platform that I am using over there as opposed to this blog's platform. That's why that blog has pictures and links and this blog doesn't. I am sure that I could take the time to find out how to link using this blog and how to add more pictures but frankly, I am just plain lazy. Between juggling all of my social media accounts and a seven year old as well as writing books, well it just isn't on my top priority list. That said, I have still been contemplating having two blogs. The biggest reason is because my other blog is simply a crafting/project blog. I get to do all sorts of wonderful crafty nonsense now that I don't work at a "real job" anymore and you can read all about it over there. However, it is not a blog where I can vent, philosophize or even just talk about my day. That's where this blog comes in. Although, I haven't been feeling very philosophical lately, possibly because I am too busy on social media and it has made a mulch of my brain, but I do have some important stuff left to say. Maybe. In general, I am just not ready to part with this blog yet. So here's to new beginnings...

I Used to Be Political

Ok, so I promised that I would write more often and I am going to try to keep that promise despite the fact that it is very difficult to find the time. I am going to look at it as a challenge, to write more often, to post witty and important things for all you people to read or for no one to read and that's ok too. I might even include some photographs one day. Wouldn't that be nice? I was thinking about that the other day, how I used to be so witty and political. Now I barely have time to think about what to eat for breakfast never mind what is going on elsewhere in the world. All I get is what people say on Facebook and even that little special piece of social media gets highly neglected for the most part. To all of my facebook pals who, let's face it, I barely know and who I am least likely to comment on their photos of their kids shenanigans and most likely to neglect to post a happy birthday for, such is life. If I spend more of my time on Facebook then I will ultimately spend less time actually living my life, which includes washing my hair and that just won't do. For now I can accept that I don't need to know every last detail. Simply and practically it doesn't matter what is going on with the world right now. I just want to be able to drink tea and sit quietly (sitting quietly is a rare commodity, reserved only for really late nights). I just want to sleep in late and have a twenty minute shower where I can wash, rinse and even repeat if I want to. And it's odd to me because here I am and I don't care one iota what the politicians are doing and in fact, I can't be sure but I might not even know who most of them are. They could all be running parliament into the muck and I wouldn't know a thing about it. Oh the travesty! I am bewildered at how befuddled I have become. I have been defeated and if not by age then I can be sure that it is the work of one very clever preschooler. Of course, it's not really the preschooler who is the challenge. No sir, they are actually quite easily entertained. No it is instead all of the packaging that goes along with them. Oodles and oodles of bits and bobs and it all begins with shoes. Piles of them!! They stack up on the shoe racks, overflow from the organizers, boxes and bags of them everywhere! Inside shoes, outside shoes, church shoes, winter boots, dressy boots, fancy shoes, dancing shoes how many shoes does one kid need??? That is the question indeed! Then there are the hats. There are hats to keep the sun off, then there are hats to keep them warm and you must have a hat otherwise you are neglectful indeed. But there are fancy hats and baseball caps, bucket hats and newsboy caps, all sorts of hats and most to match, not to mention scarves and mittens too and when you are through with the hats it's on to the hair pretties, thousands of bobbles and bows, hairbands and rows of fancy jewel spangled sparkly things. And if that's not enough, consider what it takes just to get them out the door with all of these bits. Potty and hair brushing, hand washing and shoe tying, teeth brushing and sunscreening, and of course make sure they have a lunch and maybe a coat. It's definitely tasking, a run for anyone's money and that's why, it doesn't matter what the president is doing. I don't care. I just have to be sure that my kid is wearing pants. Oh how my priorities have changed. LOL.

A Solution for Paper Dolls

I don't know if anyone really even cares about this at all or if it is only something that someone like me would be interested in but I thought that I should post on it anyway. For anyone who has ever wanted to kill themselves trying to get those cute little paper clothes with the tabs on them to actually stay on the paper dolls, this one is for you. I, in all my modest brilliance, have found the perfect solution. Sticky tack!! Ok, ok. How does this work? I know that's what you are asking. I know that you are not just wanting to navigate away from this page as fast as your little google toolbar can redirect you. Here's how you do it: The first thing you need to do is ensure that the clothing is laminated as well as the doll. If you are cutting them out yourself then it is easy. Just get them laminated before you cut them out. If they are already cut, then it is a bit trickier. You can wrap them in packing tape, it laminates paper well and then just cut around the tape or you can just get some peel and stick laminating paper. Just be sure that you laminate the doll as well. The two shiny surfaces will adhere to the sticky tack and they are completely reusable. Voila! A paper doll that you don't need to fight with those stupid little tabs! Oh, one thing. This is not meant for children under 3 years old. I am not sure but it's probably not a good idea to ingest sticky tack. I hope this helps someone out there. There are so many adorable paper dolls online to print out and this will make them last a lot longer too. Have fun everyone!! :)

What I Have Learned From Being a Mom

I have decided that I can't exactly promise that I will blog all the time but I will be trying to blog more often now that my child is getting older and I have some more time. HA HA. What am I saying, I never have any time however, I will try. Here is a list of what I have learned now that I am a mom. 1. Writing regularly is almost impossible. Trying to regularly update a blog is a pipe dream. haha. 2. How to fake stunningly gorgeous in ten minutes or less. 3. How to go without washing or even brushing my hair. (You think I'm joking). 4. The importance of brushing/flossing above all else in the hygiene department. 5. The importance of adult conversations. 6. How to multi-task and the importance of such. 7. That you can't wear a dress while carrying an infant carseat or any large child's item or even your child for that matter on a windy day. 8. How to adjust a recipe to fit whatever I have on hand at the time. 9. The importance of making large meals to portion out and freeze. 10. How to get out even the toughest chocolate stains. 11. The importance of a hot glue gun. 12. The importance of mending absolutely everything. 13. How to decorate my home on a tight budget. 14. The importance of not cooking everything from scratch. 15. The importance of making some things from scratch. 16. How to DIY practically anything. 17. That no matter how hard you try it's almost impossible to get to bed early. 18. That no matter how hard you try it's almost impossible to sleep late. 19. That it doesn't matter one bit if you are right if it's not right for your child. 20. How to fold underwear, sheets and all other strange pieces of laundry. 21. The absolute necessity of wipes. 22. How to post pone bathroom breaks. 23. That a magic eraser will take anything off of your wall, even the paint. 24. The importance of fruits and vegetables. 25. The necessity of breakfast. 26. How to self tan. 27. How to make hair bows and themed birthday cakes. 28. How to garden, sew, cook and paint. 29. How to carry groceries, a child's backpack, a purse, field trip forms, coats, lunch boxes etc. in one hand so that you can open the door with the other hand. 30. How to manipulate a child to go to the potty even though she doesn't want to, eat food she doesn't like, put on clothing that she refuses to wear and put on shoes that aren't princessy enough. 31. That no one will do it like you do so don't expect them to. 32. How to admit that I am not an expert parent and that I need help. Just the same as if I were sick, I would go to the doctor. 33. How to put off grocery shopping and how to make a healthy meal out of practically nothing. 34. The importance of shopping online as well as thrift stores. 35. The importance of savings.

Momiji Dolls

Quote for today: Do not go gentle into this good night. Rage rage against the dying of the light. -Dylan Thomas
Holy crap. I am back. It's been so long but I have finally decided to return to blogville. One of the main reasons is because I have finished writing my first novel and am working on my second. I have yet to publish but that is one of my goals. The second reason is because I have become quite crafty lately and I have decided that I should share it all with you. Whoever you might be. Probably no one at all. I don't care.

I LOVE Momiji!! I don't love how much they cost however so for the past few days I have been perfecting ways to make Momiji dolls from scratch. If you don't know what a Momiji doll is then look it up. That's what the internet is for. Google it. I would be nice and add a convenient link here but I am too lazy. Anyway, back to my love of Momiji and everything crafty. I started with a bunch of those bottles of shampoo that you get from hotels. For some reason, hubby has about a billion of these things stashed away under my bathroom sink. This still confuses me. It's as though, in case of a nuclear holocaust, at least we will have clean hair. Fantastic. That's a relief. So I dug them all out and chose the ones that would work the best to make the Momiji bodies. Then I proceeded to dump them all out (there goes all of our clean hair dreams) and cut the tops off with an exacto knife. Perfect little Momiji bodies!! It took me a while to find something suitable to make their heads with but by about 2am I had dug out a Christmas ornament tree. It had all of these shiny baubles hanging from it, similar to mini Christmas ball ornaments and they worked perfectly. You could also use ping pong balls or something similar but I had to improvise which I am relatively good at doing I suppose. Anyhow, after painting on clothes and faces (bright colors are best) and hot gluing all day long, as well as giving a good coat of varnish, we now have a neat little collection of five cute Momiji dollies. We even named them. Happy Happy Happy, Sunshiny Rain Day, Silly Billy, Top Banana Sister Love and Doodle Buggy Mushroom Head. We LOVE our new Momiji dolls!!

I would post a picture but hubby dropped the camera on the floor over Christmas break and it is broken. I will definitely try to post a pic once we get a new camera. I am so lost without it but at least I have a brand new video camera.

Well, I better head to bed. I know, I haven't really updated much but I will definitely do so soon. I will try not to vacate the premises for such a long time again. :) Ciao for now!!

Your Human is Showing

Quote for today: Life is what happens while we are busy making other plans.

Ok, so here is some of it anyway.

I am writing in a haste today with a book upon my knee because I have so many thoughts and ideas that I need to pin down to this page. To catch and stick down like insects on a styrofoam board. They buzz 'round my ears incessantly.

On coming into my own:
I have more and more each day been forgiving myself and accepting the imperfection that is being human. I am making an honest effort to allow myself that at least. Of an arm gesture here and a fumble there, what does anyone make of it anyway? To constantly remind myself that yes, I am human, that dastardly form. I have two arms/legs, two eyes, things that come in twos, for what reason I don't know, perhaps balance? And then to exclaim to myself in the corners of my mind, "Do not be so fixated on these things!! Surely at some other point in time, another human has had this same posture, this same stance, committed this same fumbling!" And as we are all but human, that is precisely what we are meant to do. So that when I, in all my self conscious frenzy, am showing great concern about what others will think, how others might view me and what tragic accident or folly will befall me if they all discover that I am truly as human as they, I can finally then remove the blindfold, give my head a shake a little and realize to my own surprise and chagrin that truly, I have not been noticed at all, which could be an even greater tragedy considering my whole hearted belief in my central location in this universe. So notwithstanding my own world revolving ideals and ambitions, I have been and continue to go unrecognized. And in this charming state of anonymity, I still exist, and I can behold myself in all of my private thoughts and begin to dedicate myself to becoming a model that is not necessarily perfect but human, of which I can put on display. A model or motivation which uncovers my secret inner being and allows me secrecy no longer. To come into my own. To become human and at the exact same moment display that humanity as it ought to be, as it is and not as a form of some other illusion. All of my illusions have been betrayed! In this positive glow of becoming, I now see clearly what it means to be different. Oh to be different! To absolutely revel in it! I have never quite understood it. How two people can get along, where others can not. That being a casualty of my perfect chameleon skin. Not once having a problem with other humans, concentrating all of my energy mainly to ensure with accuracy and skill every time that they would fail to find a flaw within me. Becoming that which is adored for a short while, but pull away come midnight for fear the pumpkins would reveal themselves and her dress in tattered rags. And so as my magical charade comes to a close and my fleeting fancies dissuade me, I must exit the masquerade and allow this world to uncover me. This sort of behind the scenes look at who I can really become, besides just a puppet on a string. The curtain is coming down for me and it is time to pack up the glitter, go home and put on the flannels and come into my own. Welcome to my beautiful alive. This is a bright, excited alive. One can't help but notice especially when one encounters an idealist such as myself who is completely thrilled in regards to where exactly the focus of all things ought naturally to be and could not possibly be mistaken.

The nutty bourgeois in me: I have decided that I am an elitist but not in the way everyone expects. For the most part, I am just giddy with disillusionment. It used to be different, I had such high hopes. Back in university, we had a promise. Everyday it seemed I was constantly drowning in that promise that I was one of the elite few, the treasured, the golden children of a generation, the educated and career bound, one of a unique group of mind challengers/brain users. And I took bites of all of this and swallowed it down, content with this ever important knowledge and proud to spend thousands of the government's dollars, wading up to my neck in debt with this smugness that it was worth every penny to be a broke starving student for five years of my pittance of a life. Yada yada. Just to be a member of this secret, elite club. To remind myself that even if all of my dreams didn't come true, it would be really, truly, genuinely, down to the bottom of my heart worth every drop of blood. I have been like a prisoner, so grateful to serve the time knowing that he finally belongs somewhere. I hope you sense my bitter sarcasm. I have only just recently realized that all of this is a big sham, but it worked. It really did. I am still here in this pot aren't I? This money pit. An advertising ploy each and every one of my professors was paid to employ in order to ensure that we as drones feel a sense of elite belonging and will yearn to return time and again to have our pockets emptied. 'You are the elite few that can make a difference in this world. You are the educated. You will rule the world!! Bwahahahahaha!!'
So then, why is it that now that I have finished my magical tour, when I have, according to the institution, become rehabilitated from rude peasant to professor of that same stiffness about the collar, and fulfilled every requirement of a specific education so much so that they will all now consider me over-qualified, as though there is nothing left to teach me in this life, why now do I feel so unprepared, incapable and even betrayed? To pull the wool off of my eyes for the first time and discover that my collar really isn't that stiff after all and that the magic, mind altering, attractive, genius enhancing potion that they have been feeding me; dumping down my throat in fact and drowning me in for all these years has nought but the strange and suspicious likeness to that of cherry wine with no magical properties whatever and all of the bitterness about it. And yet, I still uphold an elitist's confidence which I recognize to be as thin a veil as air but at the same time which I grasp onto with such a violent fervour for fear of life and death. We shall see how time passes in this life.

That's all there is to say. I can always tell when I am done writing. My brain just shuts down and no more thoughts will come. There I will be, writing furiously with such an adrenaline that it surprises me sometimes that the callouses on my fingers remain uncracked, half expecting them to split open and run down to the keys where my words land like sparks ready to ignite only to be quenched by the flow. My cursor skipping across the lines as a flint, awaiting the charged blow. And then it all stops, it falls silent. Then I can tell that I am done. Houselights go on, the magician steps out from his hiding place, the vanishing act revealed. No more to ponder. Nevertheless, it is all to be replaced, next show. I have completely run out of fuel. Imagine, to write until you have nothing else to say or think. Isn't it the brain's major function to think? To shut down this main feature of the body's most vital organ is quite impressive indeed. I am not thinking clearly at all anymore.

Writer's Block

Quote for today: Can you possibly imagine how it feels to fall in love with a mermaid?

The sidewalks are smoking. So are the rooftops. Like one giant WestSide Story poster and the jitterbug in my heart is screaming like it must be spring. But the weather is still refusing to break. Can't shake this feeling.

I am not making any sense today. I keep trying to write something. Writer's block. Blocked in, locked in, cooped up. Frustration! That is the main thing about writer's block. I could pour out meticulously all of these bright, masterpiece style ideas and they will still read simple and dull to my mind in the grip of writer's block. I could rival the works of Amis and Tennyson and still come off sounding more like Dr. Seuss. Maybe this isn't so bad. I will remain colloquial and satisfied.

I wonder if animals have a sense of freedom. For example, do animals that have been born in confinement still have that natural instinct? Can they sense that they are trapped or are they just accustomed to it? Does freedom mean little when they are provided with the main elements of survival? What about animals that have been captured from the wild? Do they just view their confines with acceptance seeing that they are provided for or do they long for the places they were born? Many scientists explain that because animals are always on the move searching for new sources of food that it is easy for them to adapt to an environment that provides all of their basic needs. It is almost like relief to them because life in the wild is quite precarious. Captivity being a safe haven where they are guaranteed protection from predators and three square meals. Also, animals generally don't stray too far from a habitat that meets their needs anyway. They don't tend to head off on great expeditions or have sudden urges to vacay in the Bahamas. Perhaps there I have come to my conclusion. This is how I feel today. I do want the all expense paid trip to the Bahamas.

I live in an animated world. I am not making any sense today. :) I am back at my novel but it endlessly pisses me off because it won't fly no matter what. I might just have to start smoking again. I was far more creative when I could just drink a bottle of cheap whatever and smoke until the ashtray overflowed and the sun came up. Voila! My manifesto piled on the table, a tribute to my impoverished lungs.

I have decided to accept the conspiracy. Stockholm Syndrome. Sometimes I write things that make sense to me in my head at the time. I wish I had no boundaries. That is the major difference between writing a journal and writing on here. I wish I had a sparkly clever topic to discuss. But my insides are so dazzled right now that I couldn't write it down even if I took a month of Sundays. Not to do any of it justice that is. What is wrong with me, I need an obscenely large cup of coffee or maybe a jolt cola. Something to wipe this damn grin off my face. Geezus. This is when I regret quitting smoking the most. When I am fidgety and nervous, about nothing. This is also my most vulnerable time of the year and I recognize that. My flighty, agitated state proves it. Spring fever. It's like something in me is fighting me tooth and nail to escape, a giant tiger cat pacing, a ball of liquid fire.

Can't shake this feeling. Damn it, writer's block.

Oprah once said that we should make a list of all of the things that we wanted to experience in this life while we are still alive. I was thinking about this the other day because I have realized that I don't want to leave this world the way that I am right now. I feel unfinished. I feel like you are only given one life, one chance at bat. So here is my list:

1. Take a hot air balloon ride
2. Go snow shoeing
3. Learn how to sail
4. Go snorkeling
5. Visit the tidepools and swim with dolphins
6. Skydive again
7. Make snow angels
8. See the castles of Britain/Scotland
9. Swim in an ocean with white sand
10. Go whale watching in Alaska
11. Learn to tango
12. Go to a luau on the beach in Hawaii
13. See the rainforest
14. Go to Mardi Gras
15. Touch an iceberg
16. Ride a camel
17. Explore a pyramid
18. Paddle the Amazon River (is this possible? I have always wondered.)
19. See the Coliseum and the Parthenon in Greece
20. Visit my friends overseas
21. Go to the Tomato Festival in Spain and watch a bull fight
22. Meet each of my rock star status authors
23. See the Taj Mahal
24. Visit Stonehenge
25. Write a monthly column for a popular magazine/paper.

I don't know how many are supposed to be on the list but these are my top 25 at the moment.

So there you have it. Even with writer's block I can still manage to take up all of the space in the blogroom.
And no, I won't go and undo two years of hard work by starting up with smoking again. This better be worth it though. I had better live at least forever.


There are so many little things that go forgotten but become cherished when a slight reminder suddenly gives the mind a hearty nudge. I love it when you can't tell just what is about to happen next. That is my favorite part of life.

Socks and Baseballs

Quote for today: I want the frosting left off the spoon that iced the Cake of the World.

So we have moved and survived. Life continues and now I can sit on my couch and eat bon bons all day long. Like Marie Antoinette, I mean if I had a couch that is. I thought this quote was appropriate because it explains what I feel right now. I am definitely excited, sort of like a champagne that has yet to pop. That is how I feel. I know, I am weirdly insane or at least on the brink. It is the kind of feeling you get when you are in anticipation of something. I just don't know what it is exactly that I am waiting for. Maybe I am just excited to buy new furniture. I don't know, but my gears are spinning again and that is what inevitably builds up the bubbly in me. I really live in this silly, odd, little world. I am not really composed of the stuff it takes to be serious or worrisome. I have to express myself differently and a lot of the time this comes across as plain silliness, eccentricity and maybe a bit loony bins. I promise though that I am not losing my mind. I am more like the duck that believes in her own rare sanity amidst a world of quacks. And I just can't be serious in this life, please don't ask me to be! Especially in the grip of such a light, giddiness that I can't quite understand. Like the winter that seems to never want to let us go. How is that funny? It's almost like a quirky epic poem. Oh neverending winter!!! The satire is nearly complete. Yet without love, we will never be free of such a turbulent storm!! ha ha! Can't you just see me here? In this tower, sort of like Rapunzel except I cut my hair off and then realized that layers are just not my style because they make my face look really fat. Not really a mad scientist. Although the effect could very well be the same. At least I brushed my hair. Life to me is really just a farcical charade, a play that I did not memorize my lines for and so I deliver them in that same doubled over fashion as though this were the first time around and I were laughing as much as the stagehand. I wish I could be the stagehand, maybe I would have more composure and find my own way in the world. Maybe I could then set the stage for what is meant to be and perhaps then I wouldn't keep tripping over the curtain.

I did make it though, I have moved. And now I live on Planet Suburbia where everyone has matching hot tubs and playcenters in their backyards and the MomBrigade hangs out in the cul de sac watching each other and sipping their coffee like substances. It is as though I have moved right into Wisteria Lane. At least as far as I can tell so far. I am going to try not to judge although I did notice a bit of the Stepford Wife coming on in me before I quashed it directly and succinctly. I love the house though and I am loving the extra room since my baby girl was starting to take over every inch of breathing space available in the other house.

Also, my sister is getting married in October. So now it is my duty as the maid of honor to put on the wedding shower. If this doesn't keep me busy enough then certainly her Bridal Bootcamp will. Apparently we bridesmaids are now all enlisted and we get to sit through torturous hours of scrapbooking, sewing and who knows what all else as she supervises. I have dubbed her BrideKong and this to me is the funniest thing in the world and I actually can't type for a few minutes because I am rolling on the floor laughing so hard at myself. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! I didn't realize this before but bridesmaid has the word maid in it and this does not sit well with me. Especially since I get to be the Maid of honour. Does this sound a bit fishy to you? I guess it is better than being called the brideslaves. I don't really know how I would feel about that although after she shouts, "Again!!!" and "No soup for you!" I think that is exactly what we are going to begin to feel like anyway. Now isn't it ironic that this is the second wedding that I have ever been in and I am wearing yet another black dress.

My daughter is now reminding me that Planet Earth is a good place to come back to and that the real world is waiting impatiently for me to get on with it. In other words, it's lunchtime and that waits for no man. I should think that I would want to live life like she does. All she has been playing with all morning is a pair of her socks and a baseball that she randomly found. I think life should be that simple. Adieu! Adieu all!

Red Hearts Day

So here we are at Valentine's Day again. I hate Valentine's Day. I don't know about you but this is the worst holiday ever invented. I guess if all you have gotten for Valentine's Day was diamonds, rubies and more diamonds then you might feel differently but after a lifetime of disappointing and borderline ridiculous Valentine's experiences, I have a completely opposite opinion. I feel that this is the most awkward display used to celebrate love imaginable and has no bearing on the reality of relationships whatsoever. Just another false commercial Hallmark moment for the consumer in all of us. Meant to delight and amaze but generally achieving a lot less. Perhaps this is not the case but nevertheless I remain just as bitter and cynically abused by this stupid holiday every year. How does it go? Either, I give him his gift and he gives me a look of complete horror, makes up some kind of lame excuse and rushes out the door, appearing later with an over the top gift, a giant stuffed apology. Or he says that my gift is in the mail and hasn't arrived yet. Or how about this one, "So what do you want to do today?" I have learned that it is really not that exciting and that if he does plan something, it usually ends up as disaster. I remember our very first Valentine's Day. We were dating at the time and he didn't call me the entire day. He didn't make any plans at all with me and so when one of my other friend's called me and asked if I would have dinner with him that evening, I agreed. At dinner time, I was all dressed up and nearly out the door when he calls and asks me what I want to do that evening. I told him that I already had plans to go out for dinner with someone else because I wasn't going to wait around all night for him. Then I went to dinner. And so it goes.

And who can forget standing in the card aisle choosing the perfect heartfelt card for your guy and then you get their card and on the front is a picture of an old, fat, unshaven cupid in a diaper with some cheesy line. So I stand by my sentiment and would love to shout it from the rooftops. I hate Valentine's Day!!!

I was listening to the radio today and discovered to my own amazement that a lot of those radio love songs out there don't affect me anymore like they used to. I now realize that all of this teenage love bebop is really not about love at all. Instead, it is about some weird infatuation that gets mixed up with a passion for swoony croony melodies that perhaps would have made my heart skip a few beats when I was young and naive. I now know what all of this is about; it is a love of the music. However, this gets confusing for a lot of people, especially the young and impressionable. I adamantly believe that this is where a lot of teenage pregnancy begins. Simple, foolish love songs on the radio combined with cheap wine and ending in a moment of weakness. Just had to put that out there. Maybe it is subliminal, a bunch of sappy crappy love gibberish written by boys to help boys get some. And we fall for it, us girls. Hoping beyond hope that our guy would utter the same nancy lines.

Now here's another topic:

Is it just me or are the men of our generation highly lacking when it comes to maturity/responsibility? It is as though now that the women have their own careers these guys don't feel a sense of importance anymore so they are just resorting back to acting like whiny teenagers. Maybe they don't feel like they need to be responsible because we girls do everything anyway so they don't need to do anything any more. Like now that even the financial responsibility has been taken over by the women, they don't have anything else to do, so they just play Xbox all day. I know because mine has absolutely no hobbies and really no other existence besides work. I think that if they aren't the sole financial providers anymore then men don't know what to do with themselves. They become irrelevant.

I just thought that I would post this because it seems to be a major issue. I am really having difficulty understanding why the men of this generation seem so lazy/boring/immature. Where are the brazen heroes of times past who would ride off so debonair to war, the Bravehearts and the Lancelots? Have the men of our generation lost their place? It used to be that the man went out and provided for his family, hunted and gathered, the main breadwinner, where the woman stayed home with the children and never the two would mix. Now the women are working and the men are expected to help out in the home, it is as though his main instincts are being insulted when he has to change a diaper or wash the dishes, so in a way, he is laying seige to this new order in his own semi rebellion, refusing to get up off the couch and insisting on becoming the biggest slob in the universe.

To me, I just think that they have nothing to fight for anymore. I think men are born to rescue and they are in their element when they have to work hard and fight for their beliefs and families. I think that now that the struggle has gone out of it, their fight for life has been disabled and their motivation along with it. So in stark contrast to life in the middle of the dirty thirties and the Great Depression, where men were desperately slaving themselves to the bone in the work camps just to keep their families alive, we now end up with these men who don't really have a sense of themselves as strong, capable and heroic because the women can do all of that for themselves now. Rather than times where the woman wasn't able to find work that would sustain herself and her family, now we insist on doing it all and the man begins to feel not only intimidated but also kind of useless, thereby becoming exactly that. I know that I always see a substantial change in my husband whenever he goes off up north to work in the sub zero temperatures, as though it makes him feel like more of a man. A man off to do whatever it takes to provide for his family while I am here watching the homestead. He would actually prefer it if I didn't go back to work. Of course he would also prefer the double income. :) Who wouldn't right about now.

In the Event of Losing a Question Mark.

Quote for Today: I completely understand why, after mating, the black widow spider kills and eats her mate.

So I haven't fallen off the face of the planet. I am however in the thick of it, buying a new house, becoming a landlord, baby turned one etc. I have been super busy to say the least. A bit neglectful I know but everything gets crazy that way during Christmas and New Year`s anyway. I am back now and I promise not to stray for such extended periods. Alas, what else to talk about. All I can think about lately is furniture shopping for the new house. I am very excited. I think I am the only girl in the world who goes out and buys a house without telling her husband. What can I say, when he goes out of town, I go shopping. This time I just happened to buy a house. Good thing he likes it. We are set to move in on February 27th. I am not looking forward to the move. I don`t think this crap ever gets any easier as I have moved about 25 times in my lifetime and it never ceases to be the biggest pain in the ass imaginable.

I had a great Christmas and New Year`s. I didn`t make any sordid resolutions though. I think it is because I already know that I am perfect and don`t need any adjustment. You gotta love that. It`s like all of the conceit is intended. :)

I haven`t been keeping up with the political sphere lately which is unfortunate. I have been more concerned with the baby learning to walk. If she would only take those first steps then I would be forever grateful. It would save my spine immensely. She has been 30lbs since she was six months old. Lugging her around everywhere is the equivalent of being in some cruel, neverending, three-legged race with a small kangaroo. To say the least, it is not conducive to my glamorous life and I am beginning to think that this is what a labour of love looks like. Of course it could also mean the 24 gruelling hours of actual labour. Either way, 24 hours of anything, even running around with a small joey tied to your kneecap, is not my idea of fun, practical or even remotely related to love. Say what again nowÉ Ok, that last sentence was supposed to be punctuated with a question mark but apparently this computer isn`t registering that function. Instead of a question mark, I get this (É). What the hell do I need that for anywayÉ I don`t care to figure out why it is doing this at this time though. This will just have to be statement driven. I neither have the time nor the energy to seek out proper punctuation. I will instead believe that I would definitely use a question mark if I could. I will also pretend that you understand that I am highly educated and know the difference between a statement and a question. RightÉ That`s awesome.

Ok, I better be off to bed now. :)

Theory vs. Reality

I find myself missing school these days. I know, isn't that ironic. Seventeen years in and over twenty grand in debt and yet we all end up here anyway, just begging to go back to it, dying to sink more of our time and money into these faceless yet bold institutions. I always feel like my brain is wasting away because I haven't done anything theory in a long time. Besides pregnancy and childbirth, and in theory this is all coming up roses which is absolutely nothing like the real thing. I have come to the conclusion that all of those childbirth books that I read could not possibly have been about childbirth. I don't even think that the people who wrote them have kids of their own. I just remember thinking beforehand that it would all be okay because I had read all of the books. That was before the horror show screaming and massive amounts of spurting blood akin to Prom Night: The Massacre. Then afterwards I thought,

"WTF!!!"

In reality, those books were about as helpful in regards to childbirth as a plumber's manual. In fact, I should have been reading a plumber's manual, it would probably have been more useful. But back to my original point. Theory always makes anything look so smart and logical, organized into patterns and lists in little boxes etc. but in practice, in the real world, it's all screaming and chaos, sink or swim and that's when most of that theory goes out the window and you just do whatever it takes to survive. But theory sure makes you feel smart and put together at the time. I think that's what I miss, reading all those big fat textbooks that had everything color coded and sported bold faced type for important definitions etc. Ok, not really reading them, let's be honest, just highlighting everything in sight with brand new fluorescent yellow. It's like In case of Emergency: Please refer to the bold faced highlighted line on page 45 (unless you are presently being eaten by a mongoose). I don't even know what a mongoose is or what one looks like or even if it has the capacity to consume a human. Go figure. This is what happens when you are up too late at night.

Indulging in Chocolates and Staying up Late

Quote for today: Fall down seven times, get up eight. -Japanese Proverb

This is me, indulging in chocolates and staying up too late again. I feel like a pre-teen at a slumber party because staying up late for me now is 11:00pm. This is the time that I used to leave to go out to the party. My dad reminded me of this the other day. He would be going to bed and I would be heading out the door. My night just beginning and his day was done. Not anymore I'm afraid, but at the very least, I can sit on the couch and eat bon bons all day. This is something that I have always aspired to do. That is the sarcasm of course. At least I have come to a conclusion of sorts. I have decided that this is the time for it, I just can't put it off any longer, so I am going to begin writing my book. It isn't going to be a lengthy, epic marvel of heroism or a fantastic piece of punditry. Instead I have decided to do something a bit different. I knew that it would come to this sooner or later so it might as well be now. Anyhow, it all started in its original form as a blog study of the nature of human beings and their tendencies but I thought about it for a long time and I even started to post it. It ended up being shelved in complete horror a couple of weeks ago. It was supposed to be aptly named, "Your Human is Showing" or some such tomfoolery. Now I have decided that the issues that need to be addressed are far too lengthy for this blog so it must just be written out in masterpiece style instead. I had a dream about it, this page turner of an idea, how it would all play out if it were a made for TV movie. It isn't a dramatic tale, in fact it isn't a tale at all. More or less just a rambling bit of nonsense that pretty much came to me while I slept, for all that it's worth. Of course, you will all nonetheless, rush out to buy it when and if it comes out and then I will take your money. Huzzah!!

But do not fret, I will still continue my blogging on a regular basis. :)

Die Telemarketers Die!!!

(Or at the very least get some mild to moderate food poisoning, please.)

Quote for today: 'Information is pretty thin stuff unless mixed with experience.'
Clarence Day

I understand that some people are just trying to make a living like everyone else but there is a point where you have to look at your life and realize that you are part of a group of people that nearly everyone on the face of the planet would like to murder. I am talking about telemarketers. Did anyone else get five calls this morning all before 9am? I think this must be what hell is like or at least close. For me, as easygoing as I am, I am about to go postal on someone. As luck would have it, they have now come out with something called the National Do Not Call List. If you register your number to this list then telemarketers can not call you or else they will get a fine. You are automatically taken off everyone's list and the companies have to abide by this list. Is this not ingenious? I will see how well it works. The whole point is to ensure that you don't get harassed on a daily basis but it is also so that telemarketers don't get so many death threats. I don't know about you but I don't know one person who wouldn't appreciate being on the Do Not Call List. I honestly can't see how the telemarketers could stay in business after this. I mean, seriously, is there anyone out there who WANTS these people to call them? I guess if you are old and alone then maybe. Yet for some reason, somehow or another, they are still at it. They are still calling and therefore someone out there must be buying it. I am not that someone. But I could have been, many times. I am probably the most gullible person in the world. I put such faith in people in general and then I have a very near coronary when I discover that they are liars and cheats. In fact, I could very well have lost the farm many times over to these kinds of people if it weren't for my best secret weapon. RipOffReport.com This has repeatedly come to my rescue and is now and forever my knight in shining weblog. This site, if you have ever seen it, is a place for consumers to bitch about how someone sold them a piece of crap in a box or took their money, basically this is a site where people let you know what not to do/buy because they did and found out that is a scam/a piece of crap in a box. This site works wonders too, all of those scams out there have to spend money to change their name and send the site all kinds of death threats. As soon as your company name comes up on the ripoffreport you are doomed. They stand to lose big money and business because people like me who have naivete and vulnerability up the wazoo, religiously check this site before making any sudden wallet movements. My #1 rule being never give out my credit card number over the phone. I am like a child, I need to have strict rules otherwise some sparkly, shiny bits might catch my attention and then all of a sudden I can't tell where the bottom of my basket went. I would probably wake up on the floor of my kitchen in a puddle of drool with my credit card in one hand and the phone dangling from the other. There is only one exception to this rule and that is if I contact the company myself and have proof that it is a reputable company (ie: phone book, internet site, known address). Seriously though, what semi-intelligent human being would ever give their credit card number out to some random stranger who just contacted them out of the blue?? There was this one lady who phoned me and wanted my credit card number to book a 'great Florida vacation' and I could hear her kids yelling in the background. I mean really, who in their right mind falls for this shit??!! Like I said before, someone must because they are still calling. Don't do it!! It's like late night TV shopping, not a good idea people! Nothing on late night TV is as shiny and fantastic in reality. It merely looks that way because it is 3am and you are sitting in a dark room with only the TV flickering in the background. My suggestion, go to bed. This is not the peak time for shopping. I honestly can't fathom how these guys sleep at night. I would want to kill myself approximately every day.

'The years teach much which the days never knew.' -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Why My Bathroom Smells Like Marijuana

Quote for today: The art of living is more like wrestling than dancing. Marcus Aurelius

There was a funky smell coming from my bathroom this morning. I looked high and low and couldn't for the life of me figure it out until now. First, let me get this completely straight. I do not smoke marijuana nor do I do any other drug for that matter but I am a teacher and so my nose is attuned to these things. Also, who hasn't been to those college parties where the fumes from the smoke were so thick that you couldn't see two inches in front of your face. It's a reality and I know that I have to face facts that my own daughter is probably going to be at those parties too. And, let's be honest here, there was a short moment, back in my prime, when I did dabble with the MJ here and there until I realized that for the most part it just made for a wacky but very sleepy party that crashed nearly immediately afterward, which was of no use to a night owl like myself at the time. Marijuana, the gateway to a life of crime and diabolicalism, if you can get up off of the couch. Anyway, back to my dilemma. As I explained, I do not smoke pot, I am currently nearly two years cigarette free and I do not dabble in narcotics of any kind. So it is quite understandable why, upon entering my bathroom this morning, I would be surprised and even alarmed to be confronted with the slick, pungent odour of the aforementioned green demon. I was stumped. I thought that perhaps something was leaking or that something had been spilled. I set about and cleaned and scrubbed until the bathroom was a radiant display of sparkly goodness. Surely there were no more nasty uglies in there, I was certain that nothing could possibly outlast my vigorous effort. I took a big sniff but sure enough, underneath all of the fumes from the numerous cleaning agents, that ranky, skunky smell pervailed. I was at a loss. 'Think think think', I told myself as I racked my brain for clues that might let me in on what could possibly be going on. What had I done differently in the last 24 hours, what if I had a leak that I would have to pay to repair. Suddenly, it hit me. The bathmat!!! We had just purchased it yesterday at the Walmart. I checked the mat. Yes, that was it alright. I now have a bathmat that makes my bathroom smell like a grow op. The absurdities of my life never fail to amaze me.

Top 2 Influential Women

Quote for today: Never wear anything that panics the cat. -PJ O'Rourke

I know, usually it is a top ten and I might update it over time. For now it is only two.

What Would Jackie Do?

Jacqueline Onassis Kennedy to me is the epitome of style, grace and beauty. I have been told that I resemble her, to my own blushing dismay and humble gratitude. Being first lady to one of the most famous presidents definitely makes a lasting impression and I even have a book called 'What would Jackie do?', that I might very well go ahead and use to start my own religion.

Mad about Audrey.

I am crazy about Audrey Hepburn. I mean, here is a woman who was not only gorgeous, talented and famous but spent her life humbly believing that she was average and then went on to help other people through some major work with Unicef. And to top it all, her movies are a blast. Who wouldn't want to hang out with this woman? I am now and forever obsessed with everything Audrey.

These are my two top influential women for this life as I know it.
I don't want to be these women, I don't think that I have what it takes really but what wouldn't I give to go back in time and peek through their closets. I was going to add Ariel from Disney's The Little Mermaid, but technically she is a fish.

Give a girl the right shoes and she'll conquer the world. -Bette Midler

US elections

Quote for today: Success isn't about the end result; it's about what you learn along the way. -Vera Wang

Way to go Barack Obama! (I wonder if his friends just call him Barack.)
First black US president and a democrat, I am looking forward to the future. Even though he has a big mess to clean up, at least he can't possibly eff it up as bad as George and his frat boys did. I feel a whole lot more secure with the US being Canada's neighbour now. Hopefully things start looking up. Now let's be sure he doesn't get assassinated. Can you imagine, there are seriously still people out there that are that gung ho about this whole white supremacy bullshit (and they are all in Texas with their rifles right now pissing in their pants to get just one crack at him). I mean ever since Will Smith got Jiggy with it, I thought that we could all get over ourselves and learn what it really is to be uniquely different. Ever since these so called 'wiggaz' (the potential Ivy Leaguer turned white gangsta who suddenly has the urge to show off his underpants to everyone by wearing his pants so low that he needs to walk with his legs shoulder width apart so they don't fall down, which wouldn't matter anyway because everything they are meant to cover is on display) started sporting all their bling and driving their souped up, pimped out rides around the ghetto like the Big old Mac Daddies of the hood that we all believe them to be, ever since that, I thought that we were all cool now, black was a groovy state of mind and all that jazz. Just another big beautiful black woman crooning on the radio. In reality, they are all really still out there somehow. Somewhere these KKK nutty bastards are lurking going, "Damn this Obama!! Damn him all to hell!!!" They are almost like comic book characters in fact, I mean who really goes around with a big, white, sheet going boo anymore? Ill education. In spite of what people think education really does shine through in everyday life and 'white trash' really does look like some dude wearing socks with his sandals and a big, white, garbage bag over his head with two eyeholes poked out so he doesn't bump into his own ego. Just let 'em try to knock us down!! I say, "Long live Obama!!" Let freedom ring!!

Getting Distracted

It's been a while since I have posted so I will make this short and sweet. I am still here and still working on this blog. I have been so caught up lately in everything else that is going on in my life that I haven't had a chance to sit down with this and really sort through it all. I promise I will make some time this weekend and really get to the bottom of what I am supposed to be writing about. Especially about the US elections. Life has been pretty hectic lately but I am not supposed to let that boggle my mind and my blog. For now I bid you goodnight but I will write again soon.

Dream On

Quote for today:

"A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep." Disney's Cinderella

Do you remember your dreams? I have a very hard time forgetting mine. I have discovered that I am quite different from other people. My dreams are very vivid and lively. They usually include some wild, crazy and out of this world escapade that simply makes absolutely no sense or connection whatsoever to my existence here on Planet Earth. I dream about sailing on pirate ships and travelling through great underground caverns. I dream about vampires, giant octopus, witches and other varying monsters. I dream of swimming with purple haired mermaids in apple cider factories, down deep to an Atlantis of sorts at the bottom of the pool where the king mermaid throws an elaborate banquet in my honor. I had a dream once that I spent a summer drinking lemonade on a tropical island and hanging out with all of the island locals. We had bonfires, ate seaweed and danced in the moonlight. We told stories, sang songs, built sand castles and slept on the beach. When I awoke I had a sinking feeling, I missed them all. I wanted to go back but of course it had never happened and all of those crazy kids, even the green-eyed boy who I had been crushing on all summer, did not exist. Even now though, I will fall asleep and be minding my own dream business on a swamp safari somewhere or in an exotic junglescape and one of them will show up. Then we will laugh and reminisce about the great times we all had that one summer in a dream I once had. Sometimes, there will be a photo album and there we will all be, me in my sunflower flip flops and big sunglasses with Green Eyes sipping cold drinks on the deck of the beach cabin. The others making seaweed wreaths and trying to splash each other as the sun began to sink down behind the horizon. All there, like it had really happened, as though there really was this place somewhere out there where it was all so easy, so laid back, this far away and dreaming. I know I will find my island one day, I am sure of it.

I also dream about four houses. I have never been inside these places for real, they don't exist, but in my dreams these are the houses that I live in. I know these homes as though I have lived there all my life. In dreamland you can have as many houses as you want. I have four and I know every nook and cranny of each. I even know the olive colours of the jacquard walls, the mahogany brocade curtains and I have found all of the secret passages. One of my houses, the burnished orange one, has a bell tower room. I have been up the spiral staircase to it many times. Another one of my houses, the one with the ebony and ivory accents and the grand piano also has a smoky, old pot belly stove with a stove pipe that runs the entire wall of the kitchen right up to the roof. The kitchen walls are white with black lace patterns running all over them. There are two black doors and the ceiling is very high, like that of a great room. I am not going to describe it all to you in detail but I believe I have a very active imagination, even at night while I am asleep.

I look forward to sleep, for that is when I have my greatest adventures. :)

BrainStorms

Quote for today: 'Simple minds gossip about people and average minds talk about things, but great minds discuss ideas.'

My brain storms. It thunders and it flashes with lightning. I mean it, it is perpetually cloudy and raining up there in this great, big head of mine. (Ego pun intended). Not just April showers either but those impressive, clapping thunderstorms with crackling displays of light. Honestly, and my brain doesn't shut down or off like other people. It is an ongoing process and I sometimes need a distraction to buzz away all of the fluttery thoughts, especially when I am trying to sleep. If I just let my brain go and do it's thing then that is when I end up writing until the sun comes up. I believe I have too much to say for my own good. I have all of these half finished posts because I get these great brain waves that turn into unique ideas to write about but then I write half of it and decide to add on to it a little later. I end up with all of this riff raff of half posts and ideas just sloppily scattered across pages and pages of the blog edit room. I keep promising myself that I will finish at least one of these mind scraps before starting a new one, but my thoughts are so tangled and complicated that it is difficult to keep them all organized and lined up single file long enough to finish what I was writing in the first place. I will be halfway through one post and I will get a bright idea that I just have to jot down quickly before it disappears completely and of course there isn't a scrap of paper in my house, not even one, having checked. I also get writer's block easily so I will put one idea on hold and move on to the next one. I find that I want to add a bit more to my posts but I have to do some research first or I want to write in a certain way so I have to take the time to proof it. I then end up with a backlog of half posts that either need research or editing in order to go to press. So be it. See, now this post will also go into the draft pile because I don't really know what else to put in it and until I can figure that out, it goes into unfinished business. I need to add quotes, a bit about the news etc. I don't want to just post a bunch of bits and pieces. I am brighter and stormier than that. :) Maybe I need to find a way to combine some of these into real column works. I will have to see but for now, here is the draft box and in you go. I know, I know, I have to make some choices because I have to publish some of this eventually.

Did you ever notice that people don't concern themselves with days? I mean, days of the week. For example, what day of the week did you get married? We always know the specific date. Believe me, spouses make sure we know that, but what about the day? My baby girl was born on a Saturday but I didn't actually take the time to check that until someone asked me. What day of the week were you born on? Your kids? If you aren't married or don't have children then what about this, what day of the week did you graduate? Your senior prom? How about your birthday this year? People don't take these things into consideration and I am pretty sure that no one ever thought about this until now except me anyway. Think about it, one day there will be no more days of the week. One day, you just run out of days. There will be no more Tuesdays, no more Saturday nights. I know this is a no brainer but I was thinking about this at midnight yesterday, which was actually technically this morning, when my digital watch rolled over to read Monday instead of Sunday. I thought to myself, 'when my life is done, my watch will still keep on changing the days'. That is if my watch lasts that long which is doubtful so I am, of course, referring to a hypothetical watch that I might own somewhere down the line in the future. Interesting, no? I thought so. I do think too much. :) I've really gotta get some sleep for sure or else I am just going to keep on continuously posting things that make no sense and will inevitably send the guys in the white coats over here to double check my sanity.

Song Lyrics

Have you ever gotten the lyrics of a popular song all wrong? Usually this is corrected only when you get drunk one night and start to sing it wildly. You insert your kooky mistaken lyric by habit and your friend's have a hysterical laugh at your expense for the rest of the night. Yet something about your brain just doesn't register properly and for the rest of all time, every time you hear that song, you still sing it differently. This has happened to me on numerous occasions. I have different lyric combinations for all sorts of different songs and I can't shake them no matter how many times I remind myself that the lyrics are wrong. For example, for the longest time, I had always thought that "More human than human." was actually, "For you've been the best that you've been." Now whenever I hear that song, even though I now know what the singer is saying, I still hear my version. We all know that "Excuse me while I kiss the sky" can easily be mistaken for "Excuse me while I kiss this guy" and many people still sing it that way. Sometimes lyrics are just added randomly from out of nowhere. For example, where, in the entire lyric list for "Mony Mony" by Billy Idol, is that inappropriate line that I know you all have heard but I won't repeat here. It must have just been added along the line somewhere. Was probably just some drunk frat boy at a party, I'm sure.

A friend of mine went to a wedding and the father of the groom was quite intoxicated. He went up to the DJ and demanded that he play "Slow Motion Walter". The DJ was thoroughly confused and said that he had never heard of the song. The groom's father insisted that it was a popular song and that the DJ must have it. Again the DJ assured him that he had never heard of the song but maybe if the man were to sing a little bit of it then he might recognize it. The shiny nosed, fairly robust man cleared his throat and belted out to the tune of Smoke on the Water: "Slow motion Walter! The fire engine guy!" That makes a DJ's day, I am sure of it.

Now that I have a child, I find that I am also mistaking the lyrics to some of her favourite TV shows and sometimes I have to listen more carefully because some of these songs, harmless as they are for children, cause us adults, with our brains rolling around in the filthy gutter, to do a stern double take. And who can forget Dora and Diego. I can't even get the English lyrics right and now cartoons are expecting me to sing along in Spanish as well. I don't have a hope.

Did you know that the tune of twinkle, twinkle little star is also used for the alphabet song? After having worked with many children I have noticed that they don't realize this. They truly believe that they are singing a completely different tune because there are different lyrics. Even if you sing both songs back to back. Also, I can sing all sorts of different tunes to my baby and she will just keep playing and not really notice but as soon as I sing anything to the tune of 'Come Josephine, In My Flying Machine', she immediately takes interest and stares at me in wonder. She absolutely loves that song and it is the only way to get her attention sometimes.

Come Josephine, In My Flying Machine

Oh, say! Let us fly, dear
Where, kid?
To the sky dear
Oh, you flying machine!
Jump in Miss Josephine
Ship Ahoy!
Oh, joy! What a feeling
Feels cold, thru the ceiling. Ho, high!
Hoopla, we fly! To the sky so high

Chorus:
Come Josephine, in my flying machine
Going up, she goes! Up she goes!
Balance yourself like a bird on a beam
In the air she goes; there she goes!
Up, up, a little bit higher.
Oh, my! The moon is on fire.
Come, Josephine in my flying machine
Going up, all on, "Goodbye"

(Repeat Chorus)

One, two, now we're off, dear.
Oh, you, pretty soft, dear.
Whoa! Say! Don't hit the moon.
Oh, no, not yet but soon. You for me,
Oh, gee! You're a fly kid.
Not me, I'm a sky kid.
Gee! I'm up in the air about you for fair

(Repeat Chorus)

If you want to hear the tune then go to this link