Secrets. Secrets and a stylish living room.

This weekend, because I love him, because it's funny to confuse the cat, because we were pretty bored but mostly because it's good to flex the marriage muscles every few weeks, Husband and I ... moved The Sectional. Four times.

That is not a euphemism for anything fun, in any way, whatsoever.

You see, we've decided to stay in this PMQ. The real estate market being what it is (crazy) and we being what we are (lazy), it just seems to make sense. But how to arrange it?

Side bar: Why are they called PMQs? It's not even a proper acronym... Pimmmmmku. It sounds like someone trying to whistle with a mouth full of caramel. Also, I heard recently they were re-designated RHUs or ''Rrrhuhs", which sound is similar to the one I make when I pull on my Spanx.  Neither noise is one that springs to mind when I gaze upon our little house on the prairie, our cozy home for two, our Small Homey Economical Dwelling.

Anyway, we have decided to stay and are now trying to decide how to live in it.  This is no big challenge. Ha. After all, Husband and I lived quite sparsely in our great rambling home in Comox, with 4 empty rooms and a whole drawer in the kitchen dedicated to my collection of three (3) linen tea towels from England. Shove all of that into what the Canadian Forces has decided to call a house and suddenly we have the perfect amount of beds, sofas, even tea towels, to fill it.  As long as it is carefully arranged. And nothing dents the ceiling, potentially releasing a cloud of 60 year old asbestos into our lungs. 

We did well. With minimal swearing and only one potential broken foot later, the place actually looks pretty good.  The Sectional had to be moved in order to make room for the dining room table. The dining room table had to be moved to make way for the sitting room. The sitting room is where the last of Husband's bachelor furniture has gone to die. He doesn't know this, bless him. He thinks it's great fun to have two living rooms, one up and one down. I think it's great fun to have furniture that does not appear to move on it's own. 

We'll just keep this our little secret, shall we? If he catches on that broken foot will have been in vain and if we move The Sectional again, we won't be able to hide the hole in the wall. 

Apple TV is neither an apple nor a TV. Discuss.

I miss the olden days when you plonked a pair of rabbit ears on the ol' tube, The Enemy stood on the roof wrapped in tinfoil and I got to watch The Wonderful World of Disney every Sunday night. Not anymore. There's a new-fangled set up in the Hood House. It's all wireless and high tech and works about as well as can be expected for a product designed to be more sexy than functional. Goodness, yes.  Sexy functionality in the Hood House looks like Husband, on his hands and knees swearing at a sleek little cube, begging for a signal and me, heading to the local library.

Welcome Heartbeat

Welcome, Heartbeat. 

Welcome home.

Decisions, Decisions

I was told once by someone that I had a choice, I could believe in God or I could believe in gorillas. This rather unusual ultimatum was prompted by the news that a small group of mountain gorillas was discovered using tools to assist in crossing a swamp and to dig for food. (Click here to burn in Hell)

Urban Gorilla

My initial response to this demand for a declaration of faith in one thing or another was to laugh whimsically, change the channel from news to The Simpsons and pour that person another cup of tea stirred with the Devil's tool (crispy bacon).  But it's always been one of the moments to which I wish I had responded differently. I think we all have these moments, these lost opportunities to communicate our thoughts and feelings clearly and without stuttering. Had I, in that moment, the time to consult a thesaurus and the gumption to confront this person who delights in creating uncomfortable situations, I like to think I might have responded thusly:

Gorillas are real, you insular little man and there is no reason to declare faith in that which is real. I do not need to believe that gorillas exist, nor do I expect, should I choose foolishly to do so, that they would care one iota whether I whisper wishes to them throughout my day, insist that they can work magics great and terrible, or wage war in their name. Please do continue to enjoy my hospitality, despite the offense my lifestyle causes to your parochial view of Humanity and the world.  More tea?

These are things that I sit and think, as I gaze out my window, binoculars and stop-watch close to hand; waiting for the next opportunity to 'casually' meet up with Neighbour Lady. 

I wonder if she watches the news? 

Letters To a Shut-In Deux

Dear Neighbour Lady,

Okay, I saw what you did there and I applaud your latest efforts to meet me.  The wee, small hours of the morning are the best time to walk dogs. However, it would have been more effective if you and your fabulous shepherd puppy had not dashed back into the house the moment Jesse and I stepped outside. But up to that point, your plan to draw me out worked flawlessly.

For next time, I'm considering leaving a trail of something for you to follow, ET-style, into my yard. Would those tiny Bailey's bottles do it for you? They worked a treat on me when Husband did it.

Yours at a distance,
Remote

On Frigid Pond

The trucks are loud and large and fast,

The lake is certainly cold.

The sun shines five days of the week,

But not for long, I'm told.

There is plenty of view, though not much in it

The horizon is certainly far.

You can see Tuesday from a long way off

And there isn't a decent bar.

The folks are friendly, except when they're not.

For the most part though, it's nice.

I'm told I'm seeing the town at it's best,

i.e. not coated in ice.

I don't miss the rain, and the ground is solid

And stable beneath my feet.

I do miss my friends but I'll make some here

(Though Neighbour Lady and I've yet to meet.)

There are nights when the sky is on fire with colour

And days when the wind sounds like waves.

There are Saskatoon berries growing wild by the road

And a fun local drunk name of Dave.

I think I'll enjoy my time on the prairie,

I can certainly see the appeal.

Unless I can't find a good sushi place soon,

Then I'm afraid there's no deal.

Skype me one more time. Please. It's been a quiet few weeks.

Dear #skype4sex666,

Thank you for your unsolicited invitation to 'skype all the sexy' today, which I received while online with my mother.  I was pleased to learn that you have 'honest feelings of love for womens and ladies who are strong with virtue' since not everyone is so certain what they are truly looking for. It was rather interesting to read that you are 'genuinely interested in a long-time sexy relations with a quality woman and not in just chatting with the random for naughty which is fun but not wholesome.' I feel exactly the same way about lemon-filled donuts.  
My mother and I were both surprised to discover that you had 'never done the online internets for sexiness' before, since you write so sincerely and with such ease.  Unfortunately I am not interested, though greatly complimented, by your offer to 'share videos and chatting that may lead to more realness.'

Regretfully,
notevenifURthe.lastman