Sucky Sucky Blah

Death sucks.

Plain and simple, it does.

As much as someone may be suffering and in pain..it still just sucks.

Today I'm going to a wake of a man, in his late eighties who had lived a good life. I didn't know him well by any means...I can remember his face from church when I was a little girl, from the markets as he and his wife supported our growing business and our families were old friends. My aunt babysat their kids 50 odd years ago, my grandparents use to go to church functions with them, their kids grew up with my grandparents kids. He was a sweet old man whose presence will be missed.

So I wanted to go to the wake - but I hate wakes. I hate funerals..it's just not how I grieve. I understand that some people need the closure and that time..but I would rather pretend that it never happened in the first place and just pretend that I haven't seen __(fill in the blank)__ for a while. It's my coping mechanism, and probably a terrible one, but so far it works for me.

But I will still go - even though these kinds of things don't suit me. I get far too emotional, stressed out and upset....but I suppose everyone does. Regardless, I will go and hug his wife, who has always been so nice to me and my family. I will go and wish them well, to tell them I'm sorry that they've lost a husband, a father and a grandfather. So even though I hate these kinds of things. I will put my big girl boots on and I will go for them - not for me - because that's what these things are all about afterall. People who love you, respect you and are important in your life coming together to comfort everyone who is left behind to put the pieces of the puzzle of life back together in some sort of sembelance.

When did growing up become so..yucky?

Yawn

I hate mornings. I really do. They're disgusting, and gross and stupid.

Well - at least they are when I don't get enough sleep. Like last night.

Why couldn't I get enough sleep?

Oh you know, I was in bed at a decent (ish) hour. Enough to get me my 8 hours of sleep.

Then as I was drifting off to sleep my body realized that my leg had poked out of the covers. My subconscioius weirdo who freaks out if my legs and feet are not covered by blankets when attempting to sleep jerked me awake and I started the 'falling asleep' process all over again.

Cue me evidentally being restless and this entire scenario happening about 27 million more times.

Then when my alarm went off at 7 so that I could be up at get a start to my day...I totally just pressed snooze until the alarm clock was like 'you obviously don't wanna get up right now, I'm just gonna shut myself off for everyones sake'

Cue me waking up not so long again.

Great start to the day Erin. Great start.

Oh weirdo tendencies that prevent sweet slumber...why must you plauge me so?

Artistic Differences

When I was a child my brother and I sometimes grumbled and complained when we were in the car with my mom. It wasn't the car, a long day or the fact that we hadn't snack that was the issue though. No, the issue was the radio station. Which I get is a common problem with kids. Last year when I was in the car with three kids...I learned how much of an issue it can be. This person doesn't like this song, but it's that persons favourite, but this person NEEDS to listen to their song on a cd and IT CANNOT WAIT OR ELSE THE WORLD WILL END.

Oh how I learned.

But my brother and I didn't fight with each other much about the radio. We were too busy fighting over other things. I joke. Okay, I don't...but we didn't usually fight too much over the radio. This was for a couple of different reasons...but probably because we lived in the boonies and only had reception for like, three radio stations.

There was one station for Country, one for Rock & Roll and the CBC.

In my mom's car though, 99% of the time, it was CBC time. Which meant that my childhood memories of car rides are filled with A LOT of talk radio. And a lot of fighting about talk radio. Because it's booooring. And stoooooopid. And BOOOOOOOOORING.

This usually either resulted in my mother turning up the radio to tune out our whining or turning off the radio so that NO ONE got to listen to ANYTHING.

Her favourite argument though? The infamous "you can listen to what you want when YOU'RE the driver".

Oh and how I memorized that statement and burned it into my brain when it came for me to have my learning permit. The minute she reached for the dial it was "I'M THE DRIVER AND I GET TO CHOOSE WHAT WE LISTEN TO." Which was quickly ammended to "you get to choose WHEN YOU HAVE YOUR OWN CAR".

I didn't drive much before I could drive on my own.

Artistic differences. Literally.

Take That, Murphy

Last Thursday was the first day that I went to a new farmers market in the area.

It was cold.

It was windy.

It was darn cold and darn windy.

I had about 17 layers on. And a skirt.

Luckily, I threw on leggings right before I ran out the door.

That's not really pertinant to this story, but whatever.

The fact that it was windy and cold and cloudy and gross however, that IS pertinant to this particular story.

SO. I was all setting up my booth at the farmers market. My tents, tables and goods that I was selling...no biggie...same sort of thing I've done a couple of times a week since I was a wee lass.

But this was a new market. And Murphy showed up.

You know, Murphy...the sneaky little jerk that comes around when you least expect him to. When you want to see anyones face but his ugly old one.

The one who likes to play a little game called 'would you rather'.

Thursdays game surrounded the question: 'Would you rather have the wind rip through your tents like a maniac or be rained upon?!?!' And instead of just ASKING the question like a normal person...he decided to play chicken with me.

I know, I told you he has a jerk.

So here we were...brand new opening of the market...where Murphy was hoping we'd be like...holy cow it's mighty windy...setting up your tents is dangerous - don't do it!

And most people fell for it - and didn't set up their tents.

I however, being of a particular brand of genius that's just well, plain old awesome...saw through him. And right up to the black clouds that loomed overhead.

So I held my ground...and was one of the few to try to put up my tent. And one of the even fewer who kept their tent up.

Infact, by the time the market was half done...I was the only one stupid crazy awesome enough to still have my tent up.

Becuase you see, I've heard of this Murhpy fella before. Him and his "laws". I knew that if we all took down our tents, it would pour down rain all over me. And all of the new labels I'd put on jams and maple syrup.

Not so cool Murphy. Not so cool at all.

So I held my ground, and despite the whipping wind...I didn't cave.

I added more ropes and tightened them with all of my might and hoped that I, along with my tents, stayed put...because I knew that trickster Murphy - and I knew that if I succombed to taking down my tent...he'd be like...HA! SUCKA! and make those big black threatening clouds rain down on me. And my labels. No one likes rain on labels - so I stuck my tongue out at Murphy and hopped that I didn't follow in Dorthy's footsteps and blow off to Kansas.

You'll be happy to learn that thanks to me holding my ground..it didn't rain. On me, or anyone. I took one for the team (who were all exposed to the elements) and hid under my desperately wanting to fly away but not quite able to fly away canopy.

Erin: 1, Murphy: 0

But it's Thursday again..and if I know Murphy like I think I do...he's bound to be mad as a hatter that he didn't get me last week. ..and you can bet he'll be up to his old tricks again this week...

What particular trick that IS...I'm not sure. But I'm sure by the end of tonight I'll have a better idea....and we'll see where the score lies after round two.

Bring it on Murphy...I'm not scared of you.

La De Da

I had a lovely little chit with my brothers fiance Jenny the other day.

This warrants a few points.

First point? I knoooooow. How the HECK is my LITTLE brother old enough to have a FIANCE? Yeah. I have no idea either.

Second point? I love her. SO MUCH.

A friendly goodmorning turned into my lunch break as we chit chatted the last minutes of the morning away. Chit chatting about the future, the world, friends, life, and everything inbetween.

It just made me so happy to know that my brother has snagged such a lovely gal. Someone who I can chat with, who loves my family, who loves my brother so much and is such an important part of his life...because everyone should have but...but of course the older protective sister in me always wants to believe that her baby brother deserves the best of the best.

It's just nice to have someone who shares similar values and ideas. Who can laugh and talk about something so ridiculous and insignificant and then can just turn around and flip and have a serious conversation with you about this, that or the other thing. Who will play boardgames with you, who will listen to your stories (even if she's heard them 17 times before), and makes REALLY good cookies. Because cookies are awesome. Especially when Jenny makes them.

I love that we can tease each other, we work (and work well) together, that she gets what I'm saying before I've ever said it and always seems to have this happy and cheerful disposition, even when I'm sure she could be anything but. I love that she came with us to South Africa, that she's a part of our family business and that she's not afraid to tease my mom when she does something silly...just like the rest of us.

I'm so excited for them to buy a house, to get married and let me pretend I have a sister (it counts - right?). To have babies that I can spoil (and give back!) who will love me bunches because I'm their crazy fun aunt. Emphasis on the crazy.

They're perfect for each other - and she fits perfectly in our family...and I'm so happy to have her in my life.

Now all I need to work on is finding me a nice boy who fits into our family too.

Yeah. Erm. Ha. Well. 'Bout that...

Have you NOTICED the quality and calibre of guys around here? Makes me kind of nervous just thinking about it. Kind of makes me want to stick to being the crazy aunt. Gimme a few (more) cats, a sister in law and a rocking chair and I'm good.

You know, in the crazy way.

Letter To The Editor

Dear Mother Nature,

I know you're a little touchy about people criticizing you..but...uhh..what. the. heck.

I wrote a little diddy about you in this little corner of the internet a little while ago. Wherein I talked about you mixing up your months. And the possibility of you doing drugs. And other fun things like that.

I know you're getting old - and don't mean to be disrespectful...but I think that it's time that you seek help - because based purely on the fact that I was wearing flip flops in March...well..there are issues. Not that I don't LOVE wearing flip flops in ANY month. But still.

SERIOUSLY though...It's COLD. Crops are freezing to death. Literally. And I'm just a little fed up because, well, I stuck up for you. I was all 'Mother nature doesn't do drugs! That's crazy talk!'...but I'm starting to wondering if maybe you DO have a problem..because holy cow batman...it's freezing again. And it's MAY. MAY!

So really - you have two options. From the way I see it...you either need to go into rehab (but perhaps turn on some heat first?) or get some help at an adult learning centre to help with your reading problems. March has five letters and is generally cold --> warm. May on the other hand has THREE letters and goes from warm --> warmer.

Not negative temperatures.

And no snow. I don't know if you're aware - but it's not supposed to snow in May...like it did this past weekend.

So just a little heads up - Literacy is your friend. Doing drugs that make me freeze when I'm supposed to be warm and make me warm when I'm supposed to be cold is not.

Love Always,

The girl freezing under 363947293 blankets.

Fail

I've been a big old bowl of blogging fail lately.

Yeah. A WHOLE BOWL.

That's a lot. It's like...a bowl.

But to be fair - I've been a whole bowl of fail in regards to a whole bunch of other things too...soooo....it's not you...it's..me?

I don't really have any excuses.

Yeah, I just tried to come up with some...and still..nothing.

Yeah. So on that note.

MONKEYS!

My plan is definitely not to distract you with random words in hopes you forget about my big bunch of life and/or blogging fail. Nope.