From Here to There

Because Half-Assed Only Works For So Long


The Freudian Typo

I’ve complained often about the number of friends my youngest has over. Lately we’ve managed to trim the number down, but once his crowd hit legal drinking age, making sure they’re safe takes precedence over my need for peace and quiet. The other difference is girls have started to join the group. None of them have earned a long-term place in my son’s inner circle yet, they enter his orbit for a weekend or two and then I never see them again. Last night, when two new ones showed up I sent my son a text. I wanted to know if they had transportation home before pouring myself a drink.

Texting Fail - Hoe are they getting home

It is not my fault the e is right next to the w on a keyboard.

Weekly Wrap-up.

On Sunday I learned that my dog is capable of holding it when I forget to bring a poop bag along on a walk.

Monday was blog housekeeping. Starting with my oldest posts – the ones transferred from My Half Assed Life – I’ve repaired or deleted links and added graphics to the ones that don’t have any photos. There are still a discouraging number of posts to go through.

Tuesday was a double-header. An inaugural post for a new weekly series I’ve started called Tuesday Tips. I feel as if I’m being egotistical offering advice when I know so little, but I remember all of my beginner frustrations and how hard it was to fit the pieces together. With so many mistakes along the way, maybe I can save someone else the trouble of making the same ones.

I also wrote of how excited I am about resuming ladies game night with my girlfriends for Two Shoes Tuesday, a new Link Up for me. While Yeah Write will always be my favorite, something different is nice too.

And I created a Pinterest account which you can find here.

Wednesday I ranted about Telephone Scammers. Then as the day unfolded, Canada mourned for a fallen soldier along with our loss of innocence. Those events will be in everyone’s thoughts for some time to come.

Thursday I wrote of my developing fascination with Steampunk after purchasing a new purse.

Friday I finally got my hair cut. Since it was actually styled instead of my usual wash and wear, I spent a half hour taking selfies while praying I wouldn’t get caught at it by my son and his buddies. I updated my profile with the best of the bunch, which inspired me to use canva and create consistent headers for all of my social media accounts. I don’t have any followers yet, but I’m ready when they come.

Then I wrote about how much more normal I feel now that I have a new bag for the Moonshine Grid which you should really check out.

Today I woke up early to meet my son at work so I could babysit my four-legged grandson. I even got paid for babysitting when Asshat #1 cut my lawn for the fourth time in his entire life. I don’t even care that he did it because he wanted to borrow the mower, I’m too happy that it’s done. With the lawn out of the way, I can spend some time drooling over other people’s gardens on Pinterest.


Confidence – It’s in the Bag

Confidence - it's in the bagWomen and their purses. We laugh about all the junk in them. I even know a women who has won contests for having the heaviest purse – she carries her bible in it. We lust after new ones that are pretty and useless or ones that are pretty and will fit all of our possessions perfectly. Leather, suede, or the best imitation of it we can afford, buckles, zippers, grommets, metal studs or tassels, we want it all – along with exactly the right number of perfectly sized pockets.

Our wallets rarely contain anything you wouldn’t find in a mans wallet. Identification, bank cards and our drivers license, maybe some pictures of our loved ones, but the purse? The purse is a different story. Tampons and other feminine products. Safety pins, tweezers and band-aids for the impossibly organized. Baggies of cereal and a spare soother for the moms. Hand lotion, cosmetics and a hairbrush for the well-groomed, maybe a spare pair of pantyhose too. Business cards, notebooks and pens, along with coupons and store loyalty cards. If we can fit it, it’s in there, along with those mysterious purse crumbs and the odd smell that always invades a well used hand-bag.

When the worst happens, when someone reaches into your unlocked car and takes your bag? That’s when you realize that purse doesn’t just contain your ID and bank cards. It holds your confidence too. The confidence that lets us go out into the world knowing we are prepared for whatever comes our way. Need to jot down an idea or a note? You’re covered with that old receipt and a pencil stub. Baby throws her Binky down a sewer grate? No worries, you’ve got a spare. Dry chapped lips burning away? Dig in your bag for some lip balm, lip gloss or even a bit of hand lotion. A friend or co-worker gets a surprise visit from Aunt Flo? It’s okay – you’ve got her back.

Last Saturday, when I realized someone had stolen my purse I had new bank cards and a temporary drivers license within two hours. But walking around with them loose in my jacket pocket was not enough to give me back what that thief stole from me. It wasn’t enough to make me feel confident and professional meeting with customers. It wasn’t enough to make me feel savvy and thrifty in the grocery store while pushing my cart through the aisles and plucking bargains from the shelves. I still felt flustered, disorganized and vulnerable. It showed every time I patted my pocket, making sure the pieces of my identity I had were still in my pocket.

Yesterday, I finally bought a new purse. Instead of leather with suede accents, it’s the best imitation of leather I could afford. The buckles and clasps don’t carry the same weight of quality as the one I had and I can no longer boast that my bag is not only pretty it’s “Made In Canada” too. There are no purse crumbs and there is no mysterious old-purse funk. The new wallet is still slim instead of fat with bank cards, credit cards, ID, old receipts and Canadian Tire money. I haven’t loaded it with pens and a checkbook and it’s still waiting for business cards and a notepad. It’s smaller than the one that has probably been dumped in a ditch somewhere, I doubt my iPad for work will even fit. But it’s carrying my confidence quite nicely.

That and a haircut has me feeling like a new woman.

Hanging out with the Yeah Write crowd again for the weekend. It’s the coolest weekend party on the internet and you’re invited too.


Curiously Intrigued by the Curiousity of Steampunk

Fascinated by SteampunkI haven’t been able to bear the discomfort of tight pants since the birth of my first child nearly 23 years ago - not 22 years ago like I thought until recently. I can’t even stand to wear control-top pantyhose.Thirty minutes of that torture leaves me so bloated with gas I look and feel like I’m about 6 months pregnant, which is unfortunate when you consider that if you are wearing the damn things you are also most likely someplace where farting unacceptable.

So how can I be intrigued by a sub-culture that seems to feature so many corsets? I first heard about steampunk when I read a long forgotten book that centered on the characters infiltrating the steampunk scene. Since then I’ve read more books based on the steampunk genre. Shelley Adina and Heather Blackwood come to mind. Think Amanda Quick with no sex, and replace the occult with steam-powered automatons.

And then I set up a Pinterest account and one of the first categories suggested was Steampunk so I picked it, along with food and home decor and of course gardening. I may have the ugliest yard in the neighborhood but hello – I make a living selling plants. I suppose in a way, it is inevitable that I would find Steampunk so captivating. It’s industrial-strength beauty featuring heavy durable leather along with brass, copper and other shiny metals in the form of gears and springs. It might be based in fantasy, but the craftmanship of the clothing, jewellery and home decor is still very fine.

I have now lost two evenings to the time suck that is Pinterest. I’ve pinned recipes. I’ve created boards, I’ve followed other Pinners. I’ve pinned organization tips. I’ve pinned plants and gardens and garden decor. I’ve even pinned a DIY sculpture of a dressmaking dummy made of chicken wire, because every garden needs some vertical elements. And I’ve thoroughly enjoyed wasting time looking at all the pretty stuff.

So while you will never see me in a leather corset, perhaps you’ll see me on Pinterest.




We Lost Something Precious Today

Every Canadian Lost Something Precious TodayWe did not lose any of our landmarks or monuments. There were no physical symbols of Canada destroyed this week.

We’ve lost lives this week. Nowhere near the lives that have been lost in other countries, but that offers no comfort for the ones who are left to mourn.

What we lost today is a part of our identity as Canadians. Today we lost our innocence and we lost our faith that as Canadians we are safe.

Today I watched video of shots being fired in our Parliamentary Buildings struggling to stay composed while I wondered how this could happen here.

Not all the facts are in, and I have no interest in speculation. I can only hope that we don’t lose any more of our identity as Canadians when we learn more about what happened in Ottawa today.


Telephone Scammers Deserve A Special Place In Hell

telephone scammers - DIRTY ROTTEN BASTARDSTelemarketers. We all love to hate them. They call just as we’re sitting down to dinner, or they catch us as we’re relaxing in front of the TV. It’s aggravating, but at the end of the day telemarketers are just people trying to earn a wage. When they catch me, I get off the phone quickly but I am polite. Sure it’s a shitty job but work is hard to find and politely saying no thank you before hitting the end button costs me nothing.

Working from home, it’s harder to avoid the telemarketers. I can’t just ignore the phone because I don’t recognize the number, it could be a customer. Yesterday at lunch I answered a call from an 866 number I didn’t recognize.

Caller: Ma’am I’m calling about a computer in your house.

My Brain: Are you seriously going to try pulling this scam on me you little rodent?

Me: Oh reeaaally?

The caller missed the sarcasm.

Caller: Yes, I’m calling from Windows Technical Services…

I interrupted before he could say any more.

Me: Do you seriously think I’m going to fall for this BS?

And I did say BS instead of bullshit.

Caller: Fuck you.

Me: You’re kidding right?

I hung up.

That should have been the end of it.

Today the phone rang from a private caller. Calls from the OPP say private caller so hoping it was someone calling to say my purse had been found, I answered.

Caller: Ma’am, I’m calling from Windows Technical Services…

I shit you not – it was the same guy from the day before.

Me: Are you kidding me? You called yesterday and when I didn’t fall for your bullshit you told me to fuck off. You’re calling me again today – do I sound like a little old lady ready to fall for your scam? Don’t call this number again.

Hitting the end button on a call will never offer the same level of satisfaction slamming down a handset does, but I’ll live. I’m still shocked he had the nerve to call back after swearing at me the day before.

What seriously frosts my knickers though, is that this scumbag was looking to scam the naïve. While I’m positive there are lots of little old ladies who would never fall for crap like this, I know people who would. People who are exceptional, the ones who can work and live alone but aren’t sophisticated enough to see through liars. Then there are the older people. The ones who weren’t around computers growing up, but are trying to learn so they can see pictures of their families on Facebook. People who only hear the helpful voice and not the malice behind it.

Calling a list of numbers to try selling a product or service isn’t nice, but at least something is offered in exchange for money. Calling a list of numbers so you can prey on people who just don’t know enough to see through your lies and steal from them is pure evil.

I hope there is a special place in hell for telephone scammers.