Every Halloween we carve a few real pumpkins to set on our doorstep. I illuminate them with electric lights so we don't have to worry about candles and the kids love them.

Oh, and I LOVE toasting the pumpkin seeds too.

But for the past few years, I've also done foam ones so we can keep them to reuse year to year. Hey, if I am going to spend hours on these suckers, I want to keep them longer than 1 day.

From 2006: I did this Jack Sparrow pumpkin from my own design. I'm posting it especially for Jay 'cause she's a Johnny Depp freak er, FAN like me (okay even MORE than me, if that's possible):


Okay, maybe it's for moi as well....

Last year I did another Jack.

Jack Skellington, that is. This one I am posting for my niece, Ashley... cause we are both Nightmare Before Christmas lovers:

Now if youll excuse me, I have to figure out what the hell I am going to do this year. I have no idea yet.

Good thing I took tomorrow off as a vacation day...

Gad it's good to be back home from my business trip to the big T.O.

Tor-on-to...

A nice place to visit, but with apologies to my Ontario readers, it's too damn big for this fraidy cat. Five frickin' million people; and I swear ALL of them were squeezed into Eaton Centre on Saturday.

Shockingly, my presentation on Friday went extremely well. Mucho kudos were received from the GE Head Honcho, Reps and many of the 100+ audience members afterward who told me I had them LOL'ing.

Which is a good thing, since I MEANT to be funny.

Besides the meeting, I spent Thursday to Saturday taking in the sights I had planned without incident. But instead of boring you with photos of buildings and statues, I'll let Sam tell you all about it.

What? You haven't met Sam my travelling companion? Well she and I just met last Thursday at the Winnipeg Airport:

So without further ado, here's Part 1 of

What the hell? There I was, minding my own business, sitting on a glass shelf in a gift shop, when all of a sudden I'm shoved into a bag and everything goes black. After hours of bumping around, I am pulled from the darkness, squinting at the bright lights of a plush Toronto hotel room.

And my travels are far from over yet, as I am informed we are headed to something called "The CN Tower".

That doesn't sound good.

Damn. She didn't give in to my pleading blue eyes to let me stay on my green pillow and watch TV.

Oh no. She HAD to drag me to my first subway trip... I try to hold on tight, but it's kinda hard with these stupid fuzzy paws.

Why didn't I get sharp claws? Even plastic ones would keep me from flopping over all the time.

The train speeds us to our destination; and I am getting nervous about this trip.


Oh, hey! This isn't so bad after all. Yes, this tower IS big, isn't it? But I think even *I* can handle that height.

Yeserree.... not scary at all.

What's that?

It's only a scale model?

We haven't gone up the real thing yet?

Oh crap.






Aha! The Authorities!!!

I'm saved!

Constable Moose! Up here! Yes, me. Listen, I need you to talk some sense into this crazy woman who insists on taking me everywhere.

Apparently, we are headed up to "The Tower".

What's that? It's not so bad? Oh, sure! Look how BIG you are! Of COURSE you'd think it wasn't bad...


No one ever listens to me.

Okay, maybe if I just don't turn around, I'll just pretend we aren't so high up.

La de dah.... la de dah.

Not looking.....







Oh funny. Thanks loads.

No I am NOT looking through that thing at the "incredible view".

I am sitting right here and asking you once again to PLEASE go back to that very nice hotel room.

You know the one; with the soft green pillow?


Ah! Lunchtime! Well, okay... I am a bit hungry.

You ARE going to share this, aren't you?

Turkey..... and Bacon!

And it's bigger than I am! Nom, nom, nom.

Finally, after lunch we head back down. Straight into the gift shop.

Gift shop! Whoo Hoo! I loves Gift Shops! I wonder who I'll meet there?


Um. 'Scuse me. I thought this was the Gift Shop.

It is? What kinda gifts... honey???

This ISN'T funny.

You see those long sharp claws? That open drooling mouth?

And here I am, reeking of turkey and BACON!

You are a cruel woman, aren't you???


Ah, at last. Someone in charge.

Although I didn't know there was such a thing as the "Royal Canadian Mounted Bears"... maybe he protects the honey.

Heeeellllooo down there!


Yo! Bear!

Great. He thinks I'm his "conscience". I'm not a Cricket you idiot!

Stupid bear. No help at all. Just stands there with that idiotic grin on his face.


Ah, finally I've found others with the same point of view as me.

They look eager to help, but all they've suggested so far is that I get a cool hat and join them for a meal of maple bark.

No thanks my bucktoothed pals. I already had lunch.

Sigh.

I wonder where this insane woman is going to drag me to next...


Look for The Further Adventures of Sam in upcoming posts, including:

Part 2: Sam In The Hockey Hall Of Fame
and
Part 3: Sam's Trip to Ikea

... and maybe even more ... you just never know.

"We can forget all our troubles, forget all our cares and go
Downtown, things'll be great when you're
Downtown, don't wait a minute more
Downtown, everything's waiting for you."

Yeah. Sure.

On Saturday night we celebrated my parent's 60th Anniversary with a family dinner at a fancy-schmancy Downtown Hotel. We had them transported there earlier by stretch limo, with roses, champagne and music from 1948 awaiting them in a luxurious room they were occupying that night.

However, when we arrived for dinner shortly after 6 pm, the parkade was full so I had to resort to parking in a gravel lot across the street. And because most drivers are either:

1) Idiots
or
2) Inconsiderate jerks who don't give a damn about other people

there were at least three spots too small to even try to get into because some people can't seem to grasp the concept of parking "in between" the yellow lines.

Finally we found an empty space we could just barely squeeze into. So I let my family out before I parked, exited out the side slider door and walked over to the parking machine to pay and get a receipt for our dash.

Checking the sign, hubby and I noted that evening parking was a flat $ 4 after 6:00. Cool. As per the instructions, a Toonie and two Loonies were inserted into the laundromat-style dispenser and the machine spat out a receipt that I tore off and placed face up on the dash of the car.

After dinner, we left about 11 pm, thankful everything went without a hitch... until we get back to the car, that is.



After I climbed in, I notice an envelope flapping about in the rain tucked under the windshield wipers.

Thinking it was simply flyer, hubby got out and retrieved it.

I was dumbstruck when I read it.

Aw crap!

A parking ticket!!!

What the hell?



It was too dark to read the damn soggy paper until we got home. When I was able to take a look, my blood began to boil when my eyes fell on this:


Oh, crap, this is going to be a case of my word against theirs that I really did have my receipt FACE UP ON DASH. (And hubby's comment "You're lucky they didn't tow you away" really didn't help things at this point.)

But then I noticed they had our receipt number on it... what the hell? If they could read it, they SAW it! They KNEW I had paid!

Then when I saw this, I flipped:


I stewed about that damn ticket the rest of the weekend... so first thing this morning, I looked up ImPark online and found a few people discussing "scams" by this company. I felt sick. They mentioned they send collection agents and can affect your credit rating if you don't pay.

I was so pissed off, I was ready to report their scam to The Better Business Bureau, the City and anyone else who would listen.

Then I found out this was the same parking company that I use for my monthly parking pass at work.

Crap! I was going to have to pay.

But I still wanted to know WHY, so I called as soon as their offices in Vancouver opened this morning. I put on my nicest demeanor (at least to begin with unless things got ugly) and politely enquired as to my infraction. Surprisingly, the girl at ImPark was very pleasant. She looked up the lot number and asked me how I paid, and I told her. She explained that at this particular lot they still used the old style machine... I was ticketed because I didn't put in one Toonie, push in the lever, get a receipt for that, THEN put in two Loonies, push the lever again to get another receipt. I had put in all the money at once, pushed both levers together and got a SINGLE receipt.

Holy Crap. You gotta be kidding me...

Needless to say, she cancelled the ticket, gave me a cancellation number and her name and that was that.

Criminy. I think next time, I'LL take the limo downtown and forget parking altogether...

"Things'll be great when you're Downtown" my ass, Petula.

Damn kids.

They have an uncanny knack for making you feel old. Take the other day. I actually found myself saying "Well, in MY day..."

Oh. Gad.

I sounded like my mother.

What forced that ancient saying from my lips was a discussion about school rings.

In 1975 I was in Grade 10. My parents agreed to buy my school ring that year to avoid the rising price of silver that was forecast to occur.

That ring still adorns my right hand, has been for *Gak!* 33 years now (and is torture to try to remove, so you get a photo of my ugly fingers too).


Back then when we placed our orders, we had the following choices:

Silver or Gold
Birthstone

Yup. That was the grand total of how we could "customize" our rings.

And the cost of my silver ring was a whopping $28.

Now that Daughter is in Grade 12, she asked if she could get a school ring.

"Of course, honey! You NEED one, I love mine and I'll pay for it."

Sucker. I should have known better.

Today there are a titch more than two decisions to make. In fact when visiting the flash-powered "Ring Designer", you'll be bombarded by the following options over at Jostens.com:

97 designs
19 stone colours
151 stone cuts
3 metal colors
12 metal qualities
2 metal finishes
2 band types (smooth or textured)
483 logos

My calculator couldn't fully display the number of permutations that produces without that stupid "E" thingy...

While playing around designing her ring online, Daughter thought she'd be a smart-ass and sent me the following ring for approval via their email service:


She finally decided on what she wanted (silver, blue stone) and we ordered it.

It'll be here in November and I am praying that it comes sans fish.

Oh, and not only have the choices skyrocketed, so have the prices. That little baby is setting me back a grand total of $388.

Accckkkk!

"In MY day, we'd NEVER have to spend that much!"

Yes. I AM old. I admit it. K?

Yikes! It's been a long week. With Canadian Thanksgiving (and of course I was stupid kind enough to offer to host the family dinner again this year), my parents 60th Anniversary coming up, a certain "talk" to prepare for and a dying laptop I have been sorely negligent in the blogosphere.

But I DID get some new furniture this past weekend!

Oh yeah.

The old stuff was well worn; I've recovered it twice and it was full of cat hair and toys.

The new piece is modular, functional, a matching color for our decor and fits into the livingroom perfectly.

Yup. I'm one lucky gal.


About as lucky as the dog.

Dealing with what the Gods of Fate have in store for me is simply a matter of perspective.

After a sleepless night of cleaning up after a very sick dog (who is fine now), Monday didn't start out well.

Like the early morning downpour.

Sure, the Pessimist would have seen it as a dreary start to the day.
The Optimist in me realized it could have been worse... it could have been snow.

Then when I parked at work, I grabbed my purse, briefcase and lunch: leftover Evil Jungle Noodle Salad from the previous night's birthday celebration. Unfortunately I hadn't realized it had tipped over, drained all its dressing out of the foam container into the plastic bag, and proceeded to pour in a steady stream out a surprisingly large hole onto my lap.

Well, the Pessimist would have freaked out.
The Optimist? She was just thankful she had put on black jeans that day.

After yanking all available Kleenex out of the box to sop up the sticky mess, I headed out of the parkade and across the street to work. Because it was still raining, I decided to take the shorter route to the side door of the hospital. Which, after hurdling many puddles and landing in a few choice mudholes, I discovered was locked due to all the construction (and hence, the mud) outside.

The Pessimist? "Sure! It figures!"
The Optimist? "Well, at least the rain will clean my salad-dressing-soaked pants."

Once I slopped through the storm around to the far entrance, I made it up to my office, where I found a fish in my aquarium had passed. Oh, I had expected it; it was not doing well last week...

But the Pessimist would have seen it as just one more bad omen.
The Optimist? She had a hard time with this one. At least the poor thing wasn't suffering anymore.

What else could go wrong?

Well, at 10:30 I was tricked into going to the Conference Room where all the office staff had gathered to sing me Happy Birthday, give me flowers, a great big hilarious card and a huge cake.

The Pessimist would have said "Who wants chocolate cake at 10:30 in the morning?"

And after the day she had endured so far, the teary-eyed Optimist screamed "I DO!"

For the past few years, my employer has sent me to the fall Canadian cardiac conference held in Montreal, Vancouver, Quebec City, and this year, Toronto. It's been a blast to travel, sightsee, relax, sit back and smugly watch others panic speak about their Programs at the annual User's Meeting.

4 Dozen Eggs


Oh yeah.

And 4 Dozen years old today. Gah!

Sometimes you just have to accept what happens and not question the reasons. Still, I can't help but wonder if my latest dream was somehow inspired by Jay's wonderful blog "The Depp Effect" (and her tantalizing "pale biscuit coloured trousers" photo in particular).

Or perhaps it was from staring at this calendar over my desk at work for the past month:


Then again, maybe it was the wallpaper on my large office monitor:


Whatever.

If it was your blog, thank you Jay.

And thank you Morpheus, the God of Dreams for finally bestowing upon me the best imaginary experience I have ever had.

(Err, don't tell hubby, K? Thanx.)

Now, I am not giving out any juicy details; suffice to say, it was a very romantic encounter with Mr. Depp.


Very.


Romantic....



Huh? Oh, sorry. Just recalling, is all.

Don't beg me for details; I won't reveal them...

Go ahead, try

... for fear of atrracting Internet Pervs or Mr. Depp's solicitors (who, as far as I know, aren't Internet Pervs, but are probably far more relentless).

Anyway, it's pretty rare that my dreams turn out the way I would like them to. Most of the time if I DO remember them, they end with some kind of plunge in an out-of-control elevator. All alone.

Oh, I KNOW there is some Freudian psychoanalytic theory for that one...

So, why the heck am I sharing this?

To brag?

Or to simply have a blatant and unabashed excuse to decorate my blog with post some delish Johnny Depp photos?

Well, duh...

It's also my Dream to get on Humor Blogs front page...
help make it come true by clicking on the Smiley Face, won'tcha?