Uncategorized

Getting an iMac!

Ordered an iMac from Staples on Saturday because I’ve been writing a novel using an app on my ipad.  Truth is, it’s not that. I just really wanted a Mac.  Not a laptop either.  It’s a 21 inch, 4 retina, quad-something, 8 RAM, and a bunch of other sexy tech terminology. 

It should be in tomorrow.  Meanwhile I continue to write every night on my ipad. The price? $1700 taxes in. Included keyboard and mouse. I’ll be helping my son pay $$$$ tuition for the next 89 weeks so I really can’t afford it.  I guess I’ll dip into a bit of my TFSA. Anyway, the price isn’t bad as far as I’m concerned.

Can’t wait.  It’s going to make writing (at least the technical part) easier.  

So that’s it.   Nothing earth-shattering or insanely funny. G’night!

Uncategorized

Why NESPRESSO IS BESTO

Disclaimer: Just took a sleeping pill so if this posts suddenly ends or goes in a weird direction, I’ll apologize tomorrow.

Okay, if you LURV coffee the way I do, go ahead and take a hammer to your Keurig.  Better yet, hang onto it for people who aren’t Nespresso worthy.  I feel in love with the Nespresso machine on a recent trip to Vancouver.   The minute we got home I ordered the machine for $150, plus a TON of coffee pods.  I didn’t bother buying the milk frother.  No need.  I take it black and the Nespresso machine creates its own foam.  There are tons of strengths and flavour profiles but I like Envivo, Vanilio, and one that has a hint of caramel..

Now, I’m ruined for all other coffee!  I specifically buy the pods that make Lungo coffee.  That’s 110 mm per cup, unlike espresso which has half that amount.  Soooo good.  Who cars that it makes my heart skip beats.

If you want to check it out, just look up Nespresso.com. 

MUST. SLEEP. NOW

TO BE CONTINUED…….

Uncategorized

INAPPROPRIATE HIGH HEELS on a 9-Year-Old

I’m going to rant a little because who the hell lets their little girl wear high heel shoes, obviously designed for someone much older, to the DOLLAR STORE. I’m guessing the age so unless she has Benjamin Button disease and she’s really 43, I’m going to say she appeared between 8 and 10 years old.

I get to the door and I’m greeted by this kid who looks like a floosy and who I’m guessing are her sister and brother.  Younger.  Like cats on weed, the stand there blocking all the entrances so I gingerly step around them saying,”Excuse me, excuse me.”  Blank stares. I’m guessing that’s a word they’ve never heard.  And then I hear their mama.  She’s in line at the cash buying 3 for $1.00 lighters,  1/2 price tuna with a bubble of botulism seeping out the side and a huge back of green licorice whips.

“HEY! HEY! STOP,” she screams over at the kids.  So I figure their names are Hey, Hey, and Stop. I TOLD YOU TO….” I tuned her out because really I was only there to pick up a scoop to clean out the litter box.  You know what, that store on “cheque day” is like a fun house full of wrong. The minute I got there I regretted it.   Really.  For just a dollar or two more I could have bought the damned scoop at the Superstore.   But I was already annoyed, may as well complete the transition to all-out enraged.

It’s no crime to be “financially challenged” but to see the number of adults in this town who have ZERO life skills and children to raise is insane.  Maybe it should be against the law to get pregnant until you pass a test.  Some guys sits there with cue cards and you have to say Appropriate or Not Appropriate. If the card shows a 9-year-old wearing high heels, the answer, my friends, is NOT APPROPRIATE. 

I should have shaken that woman’s hand and said, “Congratulations….she’ll be pregnant at 14 just like you were!”

So by now you’re thinking, “Who is SHE to judge?”  Well, I’ll tell you.   I was reigning Mother of the fucking Year for 18 years and I sure as hell didn’t put high heels on my son.  SIGH.  I old and I’m cranky and sometimes I just fly into a hot-flash induced sweaty rage.  I just wish common sense was something I could donate to.  You see THAT would be a worthwhile charity.

Aw, I shouldn’t be so harsh.  That woman was probably in a frazzled hurry to get her daughter fitted for her first IUD.

MIC DROP……Lisa out.

Uncategorized

Top 10 Stupid Things I Did in my Youth

1.  Accidentally kicked a kid in the head while doing aerobics.  I think he’s a priest now so I obviously damaged him.

2. Didn’t tell a new bus driver where I lived and let him drive me all over hell.  Hey, I was 6!

3.  Lost a (bleeep) in my (bleeep).  It got infected.

4. Got married once.

5. Got married twice.

6. Accidentally rubbed cream for feminine itch on a baby’s teething gum.  I was young!  It was right next to the Ora-Gel. No harm done!

7. When my son was 3, he had his own little plush chair.  While I worked on the computer one day he struggled to pull his chair closer.  “Mom,” he said. “Push me over”.  So I did.

8. Waited four hours in outpatients because I though I had a blood clot in my wrist.

9. Wanted to help my mother clean the house and thought Windex was multipurpose.  Tip : Don’t dust wood with Windex.

10. Told my gym teacher to kiss my ass.  I was in grade 3.

Uncategorized

Writing this Novel is Hard

Duh! I’m sure nobody ever thought it would be easy. Getting the words on paper and having it all make sense in a grammatically correct way is the easy part.  Feeling the emotion of the story is what gets me.

The book is based on the story of my partner who went looking for his biological mother only to discover that she, too, had been looking for him.  Sandwiched between those two narratives is a series of stories that eventually connect mother to son. That’s where it gets hard. I’ve fictionalized the story, using creative license to create worlds that move the story forward, but the truth is there in the passion, fear, loneliness, and hope felt by both protagonists.  And me.  You can’t write a story like this without feeling it. When I’ve had enough, I leave the page and go for a run to drop the anxiety and clear my mind.

There’s so much story to tell that I sometimes get impatient to get it all out. The best part of writing is the revision, the polishing of the manuscript.  I think that once the story is out of my head and on paper, I’ll be able to relax a bit.  Maybe. 

This story has been with me for six years, ever since I first heard my partner’s story.  I’ve wrestled with how to tell the story, and IF I should tell the story since then.  On a run one day, it occured to me that I could create a fictional tale based on this true story. That’s when I knew I would do it. Timelines, characters, and the story’s trajectory have been changed, but the truth is all there in the characters and their emotions.

I wrote for two hours this morning.  Now it’s time to run. On Monday, I go back to work and it’s going to be even harder to get this book written.  I’ll do it though.  It’s a story that needs to be told.