Honey, I Shrunk My Pyjamas

I hate clothes. One in twenty outfits actually fit my 5' 3/4" curvy frame, and within those are the ones that shrink, fade, unravel or pill. Most of my pants are rolled once or twice (I am either a poor seamstress or very lazy - Okay, both) because they are too long.

And the dog chewed my favourite shoes.

Of course I still wear them - if you look closely, you'll see a large bite mark out of the leather on my right heel.

Who remembers trying to shrink their jeans in hot water? Or pinning the bottoms to look like skinny jeans? Now I want them loose, flared to the extreme, and in some magic material that does not change it's colour or shape.

I rue the day I need elastic band waists (gasp).

So this morning at 11:30am, as I scarfed a DELICIOUS blueberry fritter in the Tim Horton's parking lot, I secretly apologized to my 3:30am self who'd lain awake, frustrated at the pyjama bottoms that had shrunk, yet again, in the wash.

Darn dryer.

A Little Taste of the Irish

While on our holiday in NYC, our hotel was actually in New Brunswick, New Jersey. So one night after a long day of walking, we decided to find some "night life" near our hotel.

I write "night life" because real night life and I do not mix well. I have never felt comfortable in the bar/night club scene, and would walk around like a deer in headlights the whole night despite the caped Mr. Man (an experienced night-lifer) on my arm.

Nevertheless, we were on an adventure! Out doing something different! I am out of character! Bold! Crazy! Spontaneous! We are in a different country for pete's sake!

We head down the main street and can hear the music coming out of a nearby bar. There is a huge, shaven guy standing out in front holding the typical bouncer stance.

We keep walking.

We head down main street and can hear music coming out of a nearby bar. There are stairs going down into the dark basement of a dilapidated building leading to the entrance.

We keep walking.

We head down main street and don't hear anything. At this point my spontaneity is fizzling. As a last ditch effort, Mr. asks the giant bouncer from the first bar if there is any quieter pubs around. He tells us, not in the grunt I was expecting, but in a normal, I'm-really-a-college-student voice, to head further down main street to find what we're looking for.

We keep walking.

But we seriously can't find it. So we turn around again, and head back. But in order to avoid the helpful bouncer (I don't want to hurt his feelings) we cross the street and take the long way back. Lo and behold, we come across this dark wooden door with a sign hanging overhead. It says, "Tumulty's". It was very quiet, but you couldn't see inside from the street (and it was above ground) so I sent Mr. in to see what it was like.

He goes inside, and then comes out, saying, "I think you're going to like this." We go in and are greeted by a friendly barman. There are people at the bar, laughing it up, but no loud music or scary dancing. There were old wooden beams throughout the ceilings and walls, and even the booths themselves had the worn, wooden, rustic look. They had little candles on the tables, and I felt like I was in The Carrag, from the movie, Leap Year. (FaVouRiTe!!) The TV had the sports channel on, and the smell of the fryer and pitchers of beer were in the air. I was just waiting for someone with a thick Irish accent to come around the corner.

We chose a booth, and a young guy (minus the accent) waited on us. I had my light beer and Mr. had his ale. I was cosy in my dream movie world, and Mr. smiled at me, imagining himself patting me on the head. "That's my girl," he is saying, "Live it up."

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I should tell you that Tumulty's is a real place, and they do have live music and dancing on Friday and Saturday nights. So there are lots of opportunities for everyone to live it up :)

What's in Your Nightstand?

Last night when I went to bed, I found myself on the floor, looking in, underneath, and around my night stand for a pen. I couldn't find the sudoku puzzle book (that I complete from back to front, by the way), or a pen. These are the things I found instead:

- several unfinished Bible studies (gasp!),

- workout shorts I thought I'd lost (and never look for),

- novels my mother gave me (and I said I'd read),

- hair elastics, lip balm, candle snuffer (but no candles),

- Polysporin, buttons, bookmarks, and Fisherman's Friends,

- and one large flashlight to use all of this in the dark.

Missing: one sudoku puzzle book, pens, and the electric fireplace remote.

Someone once told me you can tell a lot from someone's junk drawer. But what about a night stand/side table?

For me it is a special place, often forgotten, which greets me during the night when I can't sleep. It supplies little cures for bad hair days, small cuts on Little Miss, and a hiding place for the unfinished. At times, it holds Mother's Day cards, candies, and other treasures from my children. Other times; a dirty sock, snotty kleenexes, and strong cold medicine.

So let's confess: where is your place to stash things? What is hidden in your night stand?

Tips for a Good Sleep

Summer holidays have started!! The wedding crunch has momentarily paused for family trips and outings, and a few wonderful sleep-filled nights.

Looking back on the past few weeks, I have noticed a few things that helped me sleep better:

1. Hire an assistant. She comes in when I need her, preps decorations, tortes cakes, and ices cookies. She also seems to wash the dishes when I'm not looking so my tools are always clean and ready. She helps me find missing items, which I am always misplacing (i.e. measuring tape, veining tool, scotch tape, my brain...) and most of all, she lets me talk through cake designs, time planning, and puts my mind at ease so I can sleep that night.

2. Have a beer and hug a teddy. Unfortunately I can't find a teddy big enough to hug me back, but I found one stuffed dog that seems to do the trick. I tried to crawl in bed with my daughter once but she kicked me out.

3. To block out night noises, turn the fan on high. But don't point it at you, it makes your joints hurt. (I don't know if that is actually true. My grandpa told me that years ago, so it could just be in my head. But my joints sure hurt after a night of fanning - even my teeth ache).

4. Plug the nose of the snorer beside you. Or move around a lot so they wake up, grumble, and go sleep somewhere else. "Don't bother trying our daughter's room - she doesn't like visitors!"

5. Finally, read a really boring book. Major Pettigrew's Last Stand, by Helen Simonson was a real yawner. Sorry, Helen. Not my speed. You'll be asleep in no time. And if you happen to wake during the night like I do, pull out your trusty flashlight (which you've hidden from the kids) and reread the page you were just on. Knocked out!

Happy sleeping! Feel free to post any of your sleeping potions :)

Erin

Awake on Purpose

[I am watching Jimmy Fallon tonight, and I don't think I have ever watched a whole show before. They are shaking gloves off to disco music...ANYWAY.]

I can think of two reasons in my life that I WANTED to stay awake all night: one, Christmas Eve at my aunt and uncle's house; and two, the 30Hour Famine in high school. Actually, I think I did stay up once all night with friends at a youth retreat once, but that had to do with a boy...

Christmas at my aunt and uncle's house happened once in a while. By the time the 24th came around, my sister and I had raided all of mom's closets, found almost all of our presents, and couldn't wait to get them in our hands. But being at my cousin's overnight was a slumber party!! Unfortunately, my cousin was never on board, tired of us easily, and escaped partway through the night to sleep in her mom and dad's room.

The 30 Hour famine, I believe, is still going on, and was not originally meant to keep kids up all night, but more to fast (except for water and special drinks) and raise money for world hunger. But get 15-20 teenagers in a church or school together for that amount of time, and you are bound to have a slumber party!! The thing about staying up all night and not eating is that eventually your brain goes wonky, and the space around you tends to bend a bit, causing mild dementia. But maybe that's just me. Headaches are common, hallucinations not so much.

So tonight I am again staying up all night on purpose, this time to measure my "wonkiness" in hospital, and determine if indeed the space around me is bending, or that I just need less stress (and more sleep).

[Okay, now they're playing beer pong.]

So what am I in for tonight? Mr. Man's made a list, which I am ignoring. Something about changing lightbulbs maybe :) So far, I have pulled things out from under the couch, unpacked my son's backpack and now here I am. I have plans, don't you worry, but you can bet your bottom dollar I'm not baking.

Moving furniture, cleaning house, exercise, art project...but right now, it's watching Jimmy Fallon.

Sleepless in Stirling

Did I mention that I don't sleep? 2:18 am and I am up again. Friday nights of W.S. (wedding season) are the worst. I close my eyes and settle in, only to envision piping going through the sky, large rocks falling on cakes, or animals ravaging my kitchen. Tonight it was my husband changing lightbulbs dangling over the cakes - only it wasn't a dream. 11:45pm and he is changing lightbulbs.

So I went down, scowled at him, and went back to work, piping those dreams onto an actual cake.

When I was a teacher, it was Sunday nights that kept me awake. I'd procrastinate all weekend, and then at about 4pm on Sunday, the panic would set in and I'd have to do lesson planning, marking, reports, whatever, until the wee hours of the morning. Then the rest of the night I'd dream of everything I just crammed into my head.

There was a Calvin and Hobbs cartoon once that showed Calvin getting up for school, eating breakfast, getting dressed, brushing his teeth, etc...and then to wake up and realize he'd dreamt the whole thing! And now he had to do it all over again for real! With his tired little face he encompasses how I feel most Saturday mornings.

So here lies my list for tomorrow:

By 10am:

-bake 15 vanilla cupcakes

-ice in red buttercream swirls

-finish racing flags and add to cupcakes

-add eyes, lightning bolts, tire and hood details to lightning mcqueen

By noon:

-reattach flowers with royal icing

-prepare cake kit for delivery

-pipe green leaves

-deliver, picture optional

By 2pm:

-make strawberry bcream and ganache

-die ganache black

-torte, ice, cover and stack choc-straw cakes

-expect delivery of rose petals to attach

-take picture, deliver

-stack 4-tier (now piped) wedding cake

-attach flowers

-take picture, and deliver

Easy day, right? Let's hope I get each cake to the right place and the right time. Perhaps I will dream of that instead...

Mr. Man and the Peanut Allergy: Part 2

Here's another, one less heroic:

As an adult I can count on my one hand the times I have had a run-in with a peanut. Even my four-year-old sees a random peanut shell that a squirrel has left in our yard and is on instant mommy duty. As a mom, I buy and read all grocery labels, as a woman I choose all restaurants that I go to, and really, as an adult I can throw off the guilt and say no to a dessert, and even leave if need be. There are still those who are unaware that the allergy lies amongst the adults and not just the children. Bryan and I have been to wine and cheese’s that serve desserts with nuts, and we discretely leave. The hosts don’t necessarily need to know what could have been. There are restaurants changing their menus so often now that I have the freedom to go to different places than I would have dreamed. I celebrated my 34^th birthday in a restaurant that used to have peanuts in piles on the floor and bar. A local ice cream shop recently changed to be peanut-free. A whole new world is being opened up to me.

So, it was ironic that one night when Bryan and I went to bed, I should break out in hives on my face and neck wherever he kissed me. An affair to remember indeed. The conversation went as follows:

Me: (scratching) What did you eat today? (I go to the bathroom, and wash my hands, face and neck) Go get the Benadryl.

Him: (Coming from downstairs, Benadryl in his hand) I may have eaten something with peanut butter in it at lunchtime.

Me: (Swallowing the meds.) What was it?

Him: (Looking really scared) Peanut butter.

Gotta love him!

Sleeping in the Clouds

I don't sleep very much on Friday nights. I may go to bed at a decent time, or I may be up late, but when I get there, generally I don't stay asleep for long. I am armed with extra socks under my pillow, a sweatshirt on the floor , and a flashlight and novel from the local library on my nightstand. The extra socks are for when I am shivery and my feet inevitably get cold; the sweatshirt for nighttime walks in our cold, sleeping house; and the flashlight and book are for a brain distraction: a hopefully interesting (yet not interesting enough to keep me awake) story that takes my mind away from the stresses that are keeping me up. The flashlight is necessary so as to not wake up the snoring giant, Mr. Man, beside me. His solution to sleeplessness is not always welcomed...

Many times I have gotten up and made a carrot cake - usually one that is for a client the next day. There is something about the smell of the baking spices that calm my nerves. And the fact that I won't be eating any is good for my hips. I keep away from my mother's habit of nighttime eating. (Love you mom). I check on Facebook if anyone else is up and post that, yet again, I am up, baking at 2am. But the only one who really knows it is the cat and dog.

So I guess herein lies my question: what do you do for your sleepless nights, when you are worried about something, or your dreams are filled with what you did all day?