September 29, 2012

Lannis: Kitty Reincarnation

So Thursday, like the responsible pet owner I am — Sandi’s the one bribing strangers with baked goods to take her cat, okay? Mine just dropped dead in our basement of natural causes, I swear — I bundled up two boys to drop off Amsodean at the vet for his neuter...

Five months old. A touch young, but only a touch, and I’m an advocate of grabbing them quick before they (a) multiply into more catlets and (b) get hit by hormones and morph into psycho-feral cat-o-saurs.

(Like dinosaurs, but feral and with the ability to climb trees.)

Anyhow, three baffled scratched vet techs and a disgruntled kitten later, we arrived back at home, cat still in tow.

Because you can’t neuter girl parts, you see.

I shit you not, you can’t make this up. (I have been assured by Facebook that I am not the only person this has happened to...)

So yeah. Asmodean, our little boy, is in fact more of a Halima (Wheel of Time joke, heh.). He’s a she. And now the name Asmodean just doesn’t fit.

Which is kind of good, because our neighbours were a touch perplexed as to why we had a cat named Asmodean and this bumper sticker on the van:


And let’s face it, most of them are aware Shakespeare dropped dead on Friday the thirteenth. (Um... and that I’m a little nuttier than your average fruitcake housewife.)

First thought: must be another baddie-WoT name. MUST.

Halima? Hallie for short? Boys vetoed it.

Mesaana? No. Just... no.

Alviarin? Alvie? Meh.

Lanfear (heh — it can be argued she cut off Asmodean’s whatsits... thanks for that, Richard). ::sigh:: No.

Selene? Nah, too prissy by far— despite this cat being a bonafide snuggler, it’s less manipulative and more simple cuddling. Too nice.

Moghedien?... Moggie? The boys cheered, because Moghedien is just fun to say, darn it!

Imagining veterinarians, vet techs, receptionists, and just about anybody not WoT-affiliated encountering the name on paper and attempting to wrap their tongue about it (ha HA!) kept my interest...

Then, (shoutout to my favourite podcasters), I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of calling an aging black cat by the nickname “Ol Mog.” SOLD!

So that’s the story of how Asmo became Moggie, and we’re still unsure if the new name will stick. She’s currently sitting in the middle of the living room floor with her back to us, displaying prime kitty disdain for the day’s indignity (because I’m writing this on Thursday evening, natch). But I have hope.

Also? I’m incredibly stubborn. And cats aren’t exactly known for coming when called, so I WIN!

(The thing is, I could swear I’ve only seen Toms with noses that long... hm.)

Yeah, I got nothin’... uh... except a gratuitous kitten cuteness shot.


Occasional poster at The Mrs, I'm Lannis - or Leslie, depending on which circles you're swimming. A while ago I decided that I don't care anymore, hence my general standards for life are lower than The Mrs' (but she still loves me.) [Editor: I do]

I live in a small town with my favourite people: my husband, Mr Lannis, and our two boys, along with two cats and one hamster.

If you follow me on Twitter, you might witness my issues with linear thought, road rage, spending more money on food than books, and potty mouth. Be warned.

September 22, 2012

Lannis: Never!

This week marked the 75th anniversary of the publication release date of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit.

By complete chance, I managed to discover our local library was hosting a Hobbit Second Breakfast to celebrate. In layman’s terms: it’s an excuse to have tea and goodies at the library, and for book geeks to get together with a smattering of obsessive book glee.

It was Friday, but a Friday that my five-and-a half-year-old wasn’t in school, so clearly we were meant to attend...

So I cracked out our elf ears (yes, I’m pimping Aradani Studios again — their products are awesome and the proprietors are pretty cool, too — I’ve only met one, but I’m sure his brother is just as entertaining... he must be — they share genes, right?).

And I maybe kinda sorta ambushed a friend and then dragged her along. She definitely gets credit for humoring me... her eyes a little too wide when she smiled indulgently as I pulled the ears out of my purse to glue them on the boy and I in the middle of Tim Hortons (without the aid of a mirror, by the way); and she tried very hard to not walk three feet behind us and our pointy ears on the sidewalk.

She’s not a joiner.

I don’t consider myself a joiner, either, but when it’s a geeky event, for some reason I itch to let my geek flag fly...

And let’s face it, the five-and-a-half-year-old loved the attention. He wasn’t too keen on putting the ears on at first, but he’s a ham at heart. Seeing all the grownups at the library excited to see his pointy latex ears? He was all for it.

And it all reminded me of why I love costuming and dressing up (usually Wheel of Time-related stuff, true).

It’s a choice to grow up.

Sure, my kids give me an excuse to be silly, but even if they weren’t around, you can bet I’d been itching for a reason to buy some latex elf ears. Having kids at home just meant I didn’t hem and haw over the decision (two boys? two sets of elf ears... easy peasy, and they’ll fit Mom, too. DONE!).

But grow up? Lose this spark? This marvel at the magic of the imagination? This giddy glee that infuses me?

Nope. Never.

And I hope my kids never do, either.


(Who knew Hobbits liked orange juice?)

Occasional poster at The Mrs, I'm Lannis - or Leslie, depending on which circles you're swimming. A while ago I decided that I don't care anymore, hence my general standards for life are lower than The Mrs' (but she still loves me.) [Editor: I do]

I live in a small town with my favourite people: my husband, Mr Lannis, and our two boys, along with two cats and one hamster.

If you follow me on Twitter, you might witness my issues with linear thought, road rage, spending more money on food than books, and potty mouth. Be warned.

September 19, 2012

Little Paper Delights

There's a big orange rectangle over there to your right (um, unless the internet is actually a mirror, and you're sitting on the other side of my screen, in which case the rectangle is to your left and I creeped myself out) that means a lot to me.

Besides being the only paid advertising spot (and by "paid", I mean "not paid for, because from the amount of work she's done for me she should actually own this whole blog and part of Lucy's leg"), that orange rectangle represents a company that I believe in, a family run small business out of Detroit created by a Mississauga woman I love dearly.

Inklings Paperie is all about sweet, affordable paper goods that are knock your socks off beautiful and stylish beyond belief. I wrote about six different versions of a sentence that was meant to describe some of my favourites in her current collection, and realized that me no write so good, so look at the pictures:




This one in particular is my favourite. I pine for it so much that I almost want to have another baby just so I have an excuse to buy it.


The thing is, Martha Stewart's team has noticed this delightful little collection, and Lindsay's company is in the running to go to NYC and meet Martha Stewart (and be featured in her little old magazine) as part of the American Made Awards. It's a reader's choice award, which means daily voting, which also means that Lindsay is giving away a complete set of her newest creation, Vintags gift cards for wine, EVERY DAY.

You want one, trust me.

To enter, and to give Lindsay and Inklings Paperie the last little boost they need to rocket to first place in the last five days of voting, head on over to her profile page and vote your little heart out, then let her know here what your vote number was.

And you know what? If she makes it to NYC, and you voted for her, I'll pitch in and buy you any one of her sets you want. Comment on this post with your vote number every time you vote until September 24th and let's make sure that Martha Stewart and Lindsay Henry shake hands.

September 18, 2012

And Lo, Her Paradigm Did Shift

...And I'm afraid.

I lollygagged through the summer, trying my very best to get in all the sun, swimming, and bare toes I could before Norah headed off to kindergarten. My reasoning was sound (I thought): travel and have fun with everyone now, leave the laundry and bathrooms and floors unless they really, really have to be attended to , and save up all the stuff that needs to be done for when Norah's in school and I gain all the extra time that the daily divestiture of a child will give me.


Those of you with kids in school probably can't stop laughing. You're probably gasping for air right now at my naivete.

Who knew that walking to school and back (literally a block away...I can see it from my window as I type) twice a day would take up so much time? Who knew that the kids fighting with each other so much would keep them out of my hair long enough that I could slip upstairs to put laundry away?

Also: lunches, packing. By September 5th, the novelty had worn off.

Why didn't you tell me?

September 12, 2012

Right Now...


...I'm feeling a little like someone is sneaking into my house every night and messing it up, but I don't remember having time to clean it during the day, so it's doubly perplexing.


...This boy is sleeping, exhausted from long mornings of having all the blocks to himself.

...This girl is sleeping, blissfully unaware that I'm about to sneak up on her and eat one of her delicious little legs.


...This tomato jam is simmering away, smelling the whole house up in a good way, except I started it around suppertime and it.is.still.runny.


...This girl is also sleeping, and looking forward to another day when she does this. Like it's no big deal.


September 8, 2012

Lannis: A funny. Or two. Maybe.

Earlier this week, Mr Lannis and I had a conversation about silly thoughts. There are some things in life that will always make me laugh. In just about any situation. No, really (it’s hardly a secret that I’m the asshole laughing at a funeral — truth).

And we all have something that tickles our funny bone no matter what. Today I’m sharing a couple of mine. Feel free to say you’re welcome... or call me a sick puppy, whatever.

This first has lain dormant in my mind for years. Literally. And I have a really difficult problem — I’ll get into a situation where it’s inordinately inappropriate to laugh, and this thought rises unbidden from the depths of my psyche and I will ALWAYS snort... usually to receive reprimanding glares in response.

Now that I’ve built it up, you’re going to read it, and think, “Oh, lordy, this girl’s bent...”

Anyhow. It’s a snippet of dialogue from the TV show Friends. To paraphrase Monica, “I’ve always wanted to own a bakery, ever since I was little and got my Easy Bake Oven and opened Easy Monica’s Bakery.”

That’s it.

Can’t. Help. It. ::snort::

The other one is really more a visual funny. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen it floating over the internet, it always gets me giddy.



I have no explanation.



Occasional poster at The Mrs, I'm Lannis - or Leslie, depending on which circles you're swimming. A while ago I decided that I don't care anymore, hence my general standards for life are lower than The Mrs' (but she still loves me.) [Editor: I do]

I live in a small town with my favourite people: my husband, Mr Lannis, and our two boys, along with two cats and one hamster.

If you follow me on Twitter, you might witness my issues with linear thought, road rage, spending more money on food than books, and potty mouth. Be warned.

September 7, 2012

For You, Dear Reader. Because I Miss You.

From Pennsylvania, where we are busy visiting relatives, shopping for school shoes (because does Canada expect children with size ten feet to be able to tie their shoes? Yes she does.), and - unsuccessfully - trying to corral children, I give you this:


My son. Sleeping under a rocking chair.

Oh I do love me some vacation.

September 5, 2012

Just Can't Wait To Get On The Road. Again.

On the road to Pennsylvania (yes, again) this morning, so I leave you with this:

My daughter, dear, darling weirdo that she is, went to her first day of kindergarten yesterday. As we walked home together, I offer to carry her backpack, which she says is kind of heavy "because my lunch is still in it".

I imagine my little girl, stymied by the still new lunchbox with its many compartments, unable to get her lunch open and too shy on her first day to ask for help. My heart breaks a little.

...for no reason, it turns out. She saved the cream cheese and jelly pinwheels and the heart cookies to eat at home. Why? I can only speculate. Because she's adorably strange?


I couldn't be prouder.

September 4, 2012

The Girl, She Is Going To School.

I was doing bento box lunches before they were cool.

"But how?" You ask, and I excuse you your confusion because we both know that "cool" in not a word that has ever been remotely about me, my activities, or my interests.

I've been doing bento box lunches ever since I've had kids who need to eat lunch regularly (pesky creatures), because - after all - "bento" is just Japanese for "sad little odds and ends from the fridge and pantry disguised as a complete meal by making it into shapes or drawing faces on it".

Aren't you glad you know someone who is fluent in Japanese and can explain these things to you?

Yeah. Me too.

Back to lunch. You see, today I am the mother of a school girl who needs to bring her lunch with her to kindergarten, and it's kind of a big deal, because now I'll have to think about her lunch whole hours in advance instead of just seconds.

The approach, however, will remain the same.

Because our school district, in its infinite wisdom, has decided to pursue what they call the "Balanced Day", Norah will have two "Nutrition Breaks" during her short school day. Read: "pack two lunches, stupid mother who is only feeding her kids one lunch at home and therefore handicapping their learning ability forever, noooooooooo!".

One of the mothers I ran into at Wal-Mart (not, you'll notice, a representative from the school or anyone remotely in charge of informing parents how to prepare for school) told me that Norah will have to have one of these enormous contraptions that has two sides, helpfully labeled "One" and "Two", so that she doesn't accidentally eat the food meant for Nutritional Break Two at Nutritional Break One - the horror!

I say Pshaw! To that. (You heard me: Pshaw!)

Instead, she helped me pack this:

Nothing says "I love you" or "Have a great first day of kindergarten" like a rubber band holding your lunch box together. I win at life.
But the peppers are cut into heart shapes, so I measure up to Pinterest, right?
Which fits nicely into her little kindergarten-sized backpack, instead if that 90 litre expedition number that that mother recommended. I think. It had Hello Kitty! on it...

And lest you think that this is about to become one of those "look what I packed my child for lunch today because I only feed them nutritious food that has faces drawn on it" blogs, think again:


I'm just not that put together, and neither is Norah's lunch.

September 1, 2012

Lannis: Picking and Choosing

Okay, so, I don’t really have a post for today, but I do have something to share.

In the realm of blackmail (I suppose), I’ve been keeping tabs on my kidlets’ schoolwork, and in order to keep the mountains of stuff they bring home contained, I tend to photograph choice items and am even choosier about what makes it into the box for posterity instead of the garbage.

So I’m a digital pack rat, really, but my rationale is that it takes up less physical space, so I’m okay with it--because it’s certainly not visual noise any longer. Heh.

Anyhow, this week I came across this.


I really have no explanation... I don’t even know what the assignment was, but clearly my child isn’t cool with people picking their noses.

Biggest nose-picker I know? Him. (Tee hee!)

In his defense, he received a check mark. So I suppose the teacher agrees?


Occasional poster at The Mrs, I'm Lannis - or Leslie, depending on which circles you're swimming. A while ago I decided that I don't care anymore, hence my general standards for life are lower than The Mrs' (but she still loves me.) [Editor: I do]

I live in a small town with my favourite people: my husband, Mr Lannis, and our two boys, along with two cats and one hamster.

If you follow me on Twitter, you might witness my issues with linear thought, road rage, spending more money on food than books, and potty mouth. Be warned.