It doesn't matter that I am 47... like a little kid I still love to play with the new treasures that Santa brought me.

Here is the toy I happily discovered this Christmas morning: a the Wacom Bamboo graphics tablet. I've read that if you're going to get a tablet and you're not really a professional graphic artist, Wacom is the way to go. But they are hard to get, at least up here in Canada, so I really doubted I would be lucky enough to get this puppy:



The best part about being off work for two weeks (yay!) is that I get some time between meals, dishes, laundry, house cleaning, and taking care of the sick and infirm (actually all are on the mend now, thank goodness), to draw and digitally paint.

Here is my first attempt using the tablet. Of course I had to choose the furriest creature in the house (what the heck was I thinking?):



Now that the laundry is done and I have another week off work, you know what I'm going to be doing for the next few days -- continuing to learn the features of the tablet and software and paint, paint, paint.

At least I don't have to worry about cleaning up after THIS.

Ah...December 25th. The day I prepare for months in advance has come and gone. The day we tear open carefully-wrapped gifts, gather friends and family near to share in the beautiful decorations and over-indulge in feasts aplenty. Yes, there is nothing like Christmas Day.

But it's the days AFTER Christmas I enjoy the most. Time now to play with new toys (a Wacom graphics tablet, thankyouverymuch) and "recuperate".

- Recuperate from the house scrubbing, holiday baking and post-feast mountain of dishes.

- Recuperate from too much chocolate, turkey, eggnog and plum pudding.

- Recuperate from taking care of a sick daughter, dog AND cat (gad, I need hardwood floors).

- Recuperate from the lack of sleep (there's nothing like the age-old tradition of wrapping at 2 am on Christmas Eve).

- Recuperate from the hoards of shoppers on Boxing Day (yes, I was that foolish - but I DID get the three items I wanted).

Other than daughter's flu which struck on the 24th, took a short hiatus on the 25th (thank goodness) but returned full-force yesterday, everything went off without a hitch.

All the preparations paid off.



And believe it or not, in a few short months I'll be planning for next Christmas all over again.

Christmas past... ah the memories. In the 60s and 70s, if my family wasn't at home for the traditional turkey feast on December 25th, we would most likely be found at my Aunts' house nearby.

Two of my mother's sisters never married so they remained living together in their parent's house after their mother and father had passed on. Since they didn't have families of their own and lived only blocks away, they became our extended family. Any special event automatically included them.

As a small child, I loved going over to Joyce and Harriet's home on Handyside Avenue. On Sundays we would watch The Wonderful World of Disney on their color television (well, if you could call various shades of green "color")... a real treat since we only had a black and white TV back then.

I remember during the holidays they set up the same tiny tree on a small table at their front window. It looked so bare, unlike our seven foot pine at our home that was nearly lifted off the floor it was so packed with presents underneath. When I got older, I kept a tradition of stopping by to drop off a little something to put under their tree. Not that they couldn't afford presents; they were both very well off. It's just that they were together but alone too and I always wanted to show them they weren't forgotten at Christmastime.

Harriet left us at age 85 in the year 2000. I still constantly think about her. When she passed, Joyce eventually moved into a nursing home, and still joined us for Christmas dinner until last year. Her other siblings, including my mom visited her almost daily...

... until yesterday.

At age 90, Joyce left us to be with Harriet once more.

And the memories of Christmas on "Candyside" (as we kids called their street), have come flooding back with the tears.

Every year it's the same thing. For months I moan and groan about how early the stores set up the Christmas displays. I shake my head at neighbors who light up their houses in November. I cringe when the carols start to play on the radio.

But then it happens. In the blink of an eye, the holidays ARE coming... and way too fast.

Then somehow, someway, the Christmas Miracles begin:

The Miracle that I actually finish my shopping on time.

The Miracle my cards are made and in the mail.

The Miracle that my decor is found among the crap in the basement and set up on time.

The Miracle our tree hasn't been toppled by our new rambunctious kitten.

The Miracle that I get time alone to wrap presents without too many feline interruptions.

The Miracle that I can organize and prepare a turkey dinner for ten.

The ultimate Miracle that hubby finally got the outdoor lights up.



Yes, it truely is a season of Miracles... how else can you explain it?

Ah, 1997.

The year I was first sent to the great State of Wisconsin on a business trip. The land of cheese and bratwurst, Brewers and Packers. The place where taxi drivers point out some of their most interesting tourist sites:

The sidewalk where Laverne and Shirley "schlemiel-schlamazeled" to the opening credits of their sitcom.

Mass-murderer Jeffrey Dahmer’s apartment.

The world's largest four-faced clock.

And here I am again; back in Milwaukee for the fourth time on another medical computer training course at GE.

Why the heck couldn’t their headquarters be in Florida? Or California? I mean, if I have to travel and subject myself to rigorous Security scans and Customs interrogations, why can’t it at least be to somewhere exotic?

Don’t get me wrong, Milwaukee is a nice town; my hotel room is fantastic (room service, a maid, two double beds and a honking huge HD widescreen LCD TV – with a remote control all to myself) but otherwise, I’ve been here, done that. In 1997, 1999 and now twice this year. It’s actually starting to feel like a second home, especially since the weather is just a tamed-down version of Winnipeg.

Yeah, it snowed. But really, it's kind of cute the reaction it caused... an inch of snow snarled up traffic for hours, closed all the schools and had the television reporters braving the “storm” out on the street, cautioning people not to go out of the house if at all possible.

So here I am, a Canuck stuck in Milwaukee. The weather makes it feels like home, but on the positive side, at least I have total control of a big honkin' TV for five days.

Stressing out over Christmas?

Having trouble getting everything on your To-Do list completed?

In these final days of preparation, you just may need "Kristmas Kitty" ™ ©. "Kristmas Kitty" can assist you in more ways than you thought possible to guarantee a holiday to remember.

From supervising the preparation of homemade seasonal cards to assisting with mountains of wrapping duties, "Kristmas Kitty" will lend a paw to ensure it gets done, and done right.



Even your holiday baking will be scrutinized for quality control by the most finicky of tastebuds.

No small detail will be overlooked.




"Kristmas Kitty" will also use her keen eye to select the finest holiday decor for their shiny pounce-ability.

With feline precision, she will point out the best location (from her unique perspective inside the tree) to hang your most prized possesions within easy reach so they soon can be skidding and skipping all over your tile floor.




So do yourself a favor and get your own "Kristmas Kitty" ™ © today for a holiday you won't soon forget!

This week I continue the new feature here at IRBB. Since acquiring Mr. Peabody's Wayback Machine on eBay (it's better when you win it, they say) I'll use it to travel back in time to either stories from my distant past or posts from my not-so-distant past that you may not have read before. Today is one of the latter.


I have very little patience for cyclists. Especially in rush hour when they cut me off, run traffic lights, or swerve between lanes.

Here I foolishly thought one of the benefits of winter was not having to deal with this annoyance for at least a few months... but then I came across this scene while driving to work at the start of a blizzard the other day.

A cyclist.

Walking his bike.

In the snow.

(Well, not a great picture, but I really shouldn't have been taking photos whilst driving through said blizzard either, to be honest.)

This reminded me of a blog entry I did last summer - a memorable encounter, to be sure:


IT WAS

... a hot day.

But what was worse, it was a hot day in an un-air conditioned car.

Worse than that, it was a hot day in an un-air conditioned car in rush hour traffic.

Worse than that, it was a hot day in an un-air conditioned car in rush hour traffic stuck behind a cyclist.

Worse than that, it was a hot day in an un-air conditioned car in rush hour traffic stuck behind a cyclist who was COASTING (not peddaling).

Worse than that, it was a hot day in an un-air conditioned car in rush hour traffic stuck behind a cyclist who was COASTING (not peddaling) who was unbelievably fat.

Worse than that, it was a hot day in an un-air conditioned car in rush hour traffic stuck behind a cyclist who was COASTING (not peddaling) who was unbelievably fat with his extremely large butt crack staring me in the face.

It doesn't get worse than that.

Obviously.

I kid myself that it's just the "collector" instinct in me. But I know deep down it's not. It's more.

I have to admit it's a definite problem when:

1) I have two file cabinets full of utility bills, receipts, tax returns and instruction booklets from every gadget we've acquired, from the past 26 years. Cabinets so full in fact, that I can barely open the drawers anymore.

2) I have T-shirts from the 70's (and yes, some that I still wear).

3) I still own Betamax tapes... even though I don't have anything to play them on.

4) Ditto for vinyl record albums.

5) Ditto again for 35mm slides from my 1977 school trip to Europe.

6) I keep all my hobby magazines just in case I want to read them again. Only problem is, if I ever want to attempt those projects years from now, the supplies required will have been long obsolete.

7) We still have 4 VCRs (two of which ARE Betamaxes) and a microwave in our garage; all broken beyond repair, of course... but still not disposed of.

8) Oh, there is more; a lot more, but now I'm just too embarrassed to list them all. Soon you'll think I am the reincarnation of Fred Sanford.




Sure, I can place part of the blame on hubby; he's even worse than me (believe it or not) for hanging onto useless stuff from the past; a quirk I am reminded of every time I pass his workbench. There's his old clock radio, collecting dust. The one that gave up the ghost decades ago, its little number flaps stuck on 7:12 forever...

I need to resist the temptation of keeping too much crap around; and I'm working on it. Baby steps.

Last week we said goodbye to our broken fridge and freezer. Yesterday it was our ugly 1980 couch. To be honest, I very nearly had second (and third) thoughts about finally saying goodbye... but the garbage men were already called and I don't think I could have dragged that thing back into the garage, gliding it over the slippery snow and ice by myself.


So I had to, even though it was hard... to just let go.