#22. Negotiate for something expensive

See my old table and chairs:

I found them a little too country for my liking and especially the décor of my house. The table was far too small when we have more than four people eating at the same time. T had a table worse than this in the townhouse when I first met him. A guy at work offered me this table for free and while T was away on business I switched out the tables…., now it’s time for this table to move on to a co-worker who needs to furnish an apartment.

My dream has always been to have a large solid wooden table but in my quest to find what most deem a ‘harvest’ table I have always found the prices to be way above anything I could justify spending.

Then while shopping in the tiny town of Southampton last summer at the Southampton Market I found that they carried a large line of wooden furniture. I could get a table made of any wood, stained any color, in a choice of three lengths. How wonderful – only the chairs they had displayed with the table were again too country looking for my taste. I had decided to keep the table in mind and look for chairs elsewhere when on another floor with unfinished products I discovered black parson chairs that I think compliment the table, yet make the table more modern looking than country.

Now, I do believe that these items were priced at a bargain compared to any furniture store I’ve visited in the 7+ months since I first saw them. When it came to purchasing the furniture and having it stained the shade I wanted the price seemed to keep rising. The price difference between pine and oak was upping the cost. Plus my time to drive 2+ hours there and back, and the cost of gas, I was seriously reconsidering the purchase.

That’s when the owner who sensed my hesitance started negotiating. Seriously, I don’t think I would have pushed, probably just bought fewer chairs or something. Because I wanted to change from my original quote of pine to oak for durability reasons, and the color I wanted was going to be double the staining fee due to the darkness, we negotiated so that the price would not include additional staining fees.

So folks for the VERY reasonable price of $1302 (taxes in), a tank of gas, and a bottle of whisky, here is my new dining room furniture!

Note my solid, can't see through curtain.... and my wine stash. A wine bar is next for this room!

#51. Know your blood type

Here’s how I went about finding out this information in an email to my mother;


Me: Hey mom, what is my blood type

Mom: You are O- and I’m O+, your sister and brother are O- too if they ask.

Me: Really? O- is the rarest blood type and can give blood to any other blood type.

Mom: Oh, wait, it’s me who’s O-, you are O+. That’s why I had problems with my pregnancies. Thanks for keeping me on my toes.

Does that make sense to you? A person who has a blood type that can give blood to any other type has difficulty with her unborn child’s blood type? You would think it would support it. What my mother had was antibodies that attacked the red blood cells of her unborn children – luckily treated with a shot of .Rho(D) Immune Globulin. All three of us turned out ok – depending on who you ask!

So I’ve never even thought about what my blood type is for not really ever needing the answer. Then I read Karen Kingsbury’s book ‘One Tuesday Morning/Beyond Tuesday Morning’ where a case of mistaken identity after an accident was only proven by the person’s blood type.

So I find out, and over dinner I ask T “what’s your blood type” you know in case I ever have to use it for identification, and of course he doesn’t know, and claims his mother won’t know either. I guess if we ever have children we’ll find out then. Until then, I’ll identify him with his dental records – his recommendation.


I’ve never donated blood – and before you get all judgmental about my lack of being a good human being and participating in blood drives and the numbers of people I could have helped by donating blood in my almost 30 years of life I will tell you all that I do not do well with needles.

‘Not do well’ is an understatement. Try I pass out. I will tell whoever is taking my blood that they need to use a ‘butterfly needle’ (the kind used for children), because I’ll pass out, and they do, and I still pass out. Only once have I not passed out. The women kept asking me questions about my job and the weather and then out of the blue asked me the ridiculous question ‘did you see a bear on your drive in today?’ The question caught me completely off guard and just as I looked at her like she was on crack she stuck me, but because my mind was completely elsewhere I survived it, and she laughed at me. That’s one tricky woman who is good at her job.

I was also under the impression that if you have a tattoo you can’t donate blood. I’m not sure where or when I heard this but it is absolutely wrong. Here in Ontario you only have to wait 6 months. So there go all reasons why I cannot donate blood.

So anyone out there needing any O+? I’m your donor.

#27. Write a complaint letter

Dear those of you who can’t seem to grasp the fact that Christmas was over 52 days ago.

While I understand your desire to celebrate the Christmas holiday, I don’t believe your Christmas lights should still be ON 52 days after said holiday.

Have you ever heard of global warming? While the rest of the planet drops the temperature in their homes, do laundry and dishes in non-peak hours and reduce their consumption of water, you greedy morons like to use up extra electricity just to piss everyone else off. How would you like me to send over someone who is about to get one of those massive, buzzing, eyesores known as wind turbines in their backyards ruining their views and the serenity of their homes because this planet requires more energy because YOU still have your Christmas lights on in February?!

How does it feel to know YOU are killing these polar bears?

How is your electricity bill? If you have so much extra money that you can pay the additional cost of lighting up your home well into February you can certainly afford to donate to charity to help those who can’t afford to keep the electricity on in their homes. I’m sure the less fortunate enjoy the spectacular view of your home while traveling to or from the welfare office. Thanks for making their day a little brighter.

Now, please do the rest of the world a favour and shut off your damn Christmas lights. Your complete disregard to the state of the planet and current economic times only highlights your lack of intelligence.

For those of you intelligent human beings please join me and the World Wildlife Fund on Thursday February 17th, 2011 by participating in National Sweater Day.

#48. Escape creeps & kick criminal ass

You know that one thing that terrifies the hell out of you? Could be winter driving, could be being attacked, could just be a spider. It’s the thing that keeps you up at night, turns dreams to nightmares and probably provides some shrinks with a steady stream of income.


Well, my fear is someone breaking into my house -specifically at night when T is away and I am home alone.

I have gone so far (when unemployed) as to completely change my schedule so that I would sleep during the day and be awake all night, just to avoid the chance of someone breaking in. My justification is that if all the lights are on and there is movement in the house no one will break in. Logical right??!

And yes, I’ve had this crazy fear since I was a kid and our shed was broken into and my parent’s bikes were taken. I was so young that I slept on the top bunk and even though my parents were in the house and still awake, and only slept a few feet from my bedroom, I would every night until I passed out from exhaustion continuously watch a) the door to my room, b) the window to my room (which was on the second floor!), and the closet (you know in case a bad guy was hiding out in there or maybe a monster?). It probably didn’t help that I watched Detroit news and being geographically challenged believed the bad guys in Detroit were a mere 10 minutes away – thinking a local bridge was the Ambassador Bridge.

Anyway, then in my early twenties no one broke into my apartment but I had a peeper who was luckily caught, but again it just fed the fear.

(Do you find it creepy that the peeper was only 26?)

Now T & I have moved out of the city into a small town where the crime is reported in three sentences in the weekly paper and all consists of cars being broken into that were parked outside. The paper gives the street name, and I Google map it to make sure it is nowhere close and my car is never left outside. However I still have this insane fear of someone breaking in. Our house backing onto a ravine that is pitch black at night doesn’t really help the fact either. Now I haven’t gone so far as to put blinds in all of the windows as I enjoy the light, however, I have strategically switched out curtains to ensure that my movement around the house cannot be followed. I know it’s crazy, my friend who is a police officer always attempts to simmer my fear with her knowledge of break and enters, and still I’m terrified.

I have so far when T travels been able to pass out at night due to exhaustion, having all the lights on in the house and maybe even a TV, and having drank a large amount of wine. Yes, when T travels I become quite the late night alcoholic. You should give me a call any time before 2am; I’m awake and quite humorous.

This all changed Boxing Day of 2010.

T had gone to a friend’s house to play poker and had called to tell me he’d be staying the night. With nothing the next day I knew I could stay up until I passed out and all would be fine. I left a light on in the kitchen, double checked all the doors were locked, had some wine, and I think passed out around 1am?

2am I wake to hear what sounds like the latching noise of a door. The sound can only be from one of the two doors on our main floor. I listen for the sound of walking, maybe the closet door or bathroom door opening, or even the fridge thinking that T had possibly changed his mind. I hear nothing.

I give it some time (probably 5 minutes) but what felt like an hour, while my heart is pounding so hard I really have to listen to hear over it, and I’ve broken into a cold sweat while gripping my phone. Still, I hear nothing.

I decide that if T is in the house and I call his cell phone it will ring and I’ll know it’s him. I hide the phone under the covers (to conceal the button sounds) and call his cell. Nothing. Panic has set in.

I look around the room for something that I can use as a weapon in case I have to defend myself and realize that my first objective should be to find a robe. The last thing I want is for something crazy to go down and the neighbourhood to get a peep show. So I find T’s robe and a red high heeled shoe – it was the sharpest object I could find!

Very stealth I tip toe across the bedroom and flick on the light. You know because light scares bad guys! I enter the hall flick on bathroom, spare bedroom, and hallway lights. I glance down the stairs to see if I can see T’s coat? Nope. Shoes? Well there were three pairs of his, who knows which pair he wore? I glance to box of Christmas gifts that hadn’t been put away yet in the front entrance and there was a cast iron pie iron. The sucker was heavy and would do serious damage. So down the stairs I went in stealth mode and grabbed the pie iron, flicking on the front entrance light, the living room light, and the outside lights. I see nothing, I hear nothing and at this point two of the three floors of my home are lit up.

So I decide while wearing T’s robe, carrying a red high heeled shoe, the phone, and a pie iron that my best move is to exit the house and call the cops from the driveway. I decide to exit through the garage as the door makes less noise as to not startle the intruder. I slip on a pair of T’s shoes and slip into the garage. I flick on the light to see…..

T’s car.

I fly back into the house yelling every obscenity known to man and probably a few new ones. T came flying up the stairs from his office (far back corner of the basement) trying to figure out what was going on. The adrenaline, the sweats, and the fear just let go and my legs gave and I continued to yell at him from the floor.

He knows I have this fear. So what part of slipping into the house, not waking me to tell me he was there, not taking off his coat or shoes, or turning on any lights was a bright idea? He forgot.

Well Mr. Forgetful is now paying for ADT to install a security alarm before he travels again for fear of being ‘pie-ironed’.

So whatever your fear is, I say do everything that you possibly can to avoid a situation like that. Exterminate for spiders, take a self defense course (they are actually fun), or maybe put a red high heeled shoe in your purse?! Believe me if taser guns ever become legal in this country I’ll be the first in line to purchase one.

#6. Ice Fish & #43. Talk to strangers

So… I may have ice fished illegally. Actually I don’t have a fishing license, so I definitely did.

T decided over the weekend that he wanted an outdoor ice rink to skate on in our town. I (having sprained my back last week) could not skate but went along for company. First we drove to a rink that the town has put in a park but it hadn’t be cleared of snow yet, so we decided to drive by the river to see if it was frozen and if rinks had been created yet. Just as luck would have it a guy with a snow blower was down creating one good sized rink.

While I’m not so good at standing still while being unbelievably cold I wandered around until I saw a pair of foot prints leading away from the rink…. Curiosity and the dare devil inside of me decided I should follow the foot prints. Who knows if the ice was safe? Or if it had been tested where I was heading?, what if the foot prints went to a hole in the ice? A few pressure cracks in the ice that scared the crap out of me later, I found Bob. I Think I possibly scared the crap out of him too.

It was a beautiful winter Sunday afternoon and Bob was avoiding his wife. There were no sports on until the hockey all-star game at 4pm which he really didn’t care for. He preferred football on Sunday afternoons, but as it was the weekend before the Super bowl there were no games. He’s predicted a Green Bay Packers win.

He doesn’t live far as he walked over from his house. His fish bucket was empty as he was sitting on it and he said he wouldn’t keep anything he caught anyway. All the time I’m thinking poor poor fish. The water is probably cold enough as it is, and today they get a glimmer of light from all the sunshine and there is some guy there trying to catch them. I explain to him my dislike of fish but tell him I need to ice fish before I turn 30 and well that’s coming up quick. He smiles and laughs and hands me the rod. I having left my mittens in the car thinking I wouldn’t stray far from it freeze my hands.

I told him the story about how I attempted to scuba dive in Mexico earlier in the month and how I basically hyperventilated when I saw a fish and well that doesn’t do so well with the breathing tube and how I sucked in a lot of salt water. He told me he loved to scuba dive in his younger years in Costa Rica.

I handed him back his rod (after probably all of 2 minutes) and told him I’d put money on Green Bay next weekend, and wandered back to find my mittens and heated seats.

So there folks, I ice fished, it was cold, I caught nothing, I’m not sure if you can fish there as I believe it’s considered a conservation area, but I did meet Bob. And, if I ever see Bob in town and say hi, it’ll be a funny story as to how we met.

So even though a high school friend is kicking for the steelers....

GO PACKERS!!!

#49. Invest in earplugs

Ever try to fall asleep beside something that sounds like:

That not only sucks in all your fresh clean air, but then heats it up, gives it an odour only a mother could love and then blows it right back into your face?

That horrific noise that if you don’t fall asleep immediately after your head hits the pillow, or at least are half asleep before T decides to go to bed you don’t stand a chance.

I have tried gently rubbing his arm, rubbing his leg with sometimes prickly girl legs, and blowing back in his face, nothing works. Sure he’ll switch positions, but the man snores in any and every position! He sometimes will wake himself up he’s so loud! T used to only snore on weekends after a few drinks and it was fine as we were sleeping in the next morning, but not now.

Sleep is precious, if I don’t get sleep I grow a tail and horns and my lack of patience with moron human beings simmers to non-existent. I refer to my dealing with grown men as ‘hand holding’ and ‘babysitting’, and threaten to take employees ‘out back’. Yes, I live right on up to the stereotype of the horrible HR department staffer whose answer is always ‘No’. On days where I don’t get any sleep they don’t even get a ‘no’, they just get me laughing in their face. I deal with sleep deprivation, and nastiness with humour. Sometimes I’ll throw in the word ‘audit’; sometimes I’ll cite the Canadian labour code because I enjoy feeding misery with more misery. All because T didn’t let me get any sleep.

I can’t blame it ALL on T. I share my half of the bed with Banditt, and he can get going pretty good also. He sounds more like you’re sleeping up close and personal with a winding down chainsaw. Only with him it’s hit and miss and not all night, which is why it’s impossible to get a sound clip or you know I’d share. His snoring I can deal with as it’s at my feet.

I am a person who prior to the endless snore fest would NEVER consider purchasing earplugs as I have to be able to hear any sound or bump in the night so I can be fully prepared to spring into action or crawl under my bed and call 911 (blog post to come). But for my safety and the safety of others I am planning a double attack of not only purchasing earplugs but also breathe right nasal strips for T.

Wish me luck.