September 2nd, 2010 by Sherry

Guess what? The blessed day of my birth is fast approaching.
You’re excited, aren’t you. Notice the period, and not the question mark because it’s more of a statement than a question because you should TOTALLY be excited and there should be no question. It’s all about me, after all.
As per usual days leading up to the blessed day of my birth, I will be doing the countdown via this magical blog. Not magical as in shitting Skittle rainbows or anything, but magical to me all the same.
This year, instead of posting photos from my youth or any other shtick that I have done in the past that I can’t remember, I will be doing something wonderfully indulgent.
I have decided, for all of the days up to September two-nine (the blessed day of my birth) that I will buy myself a gift. One gift, per day, for me, myself and I, that I will love and enjoy. It doesn’t have to be an expensive gift. It doesn’t have to be a grand gift. It does, however have to be a gift that I do not share, and that I wouldn’t normally buy myself on any given day of the week. You know, like gum.
I will purchase said gift, and then brag….um, BLOG about it here, the following day.
Stop being jealous. No one said you couldn’t do the same thing, you’re just not creative and selfish as I am.

So! For September One:

On the first day of blessed birthday month, my fantastic self gave to me:

A one year subscription to Style At Home Magazine.
Style at Home is awesome and totally Canadian and, for the most part, affordable. Which is the best part. Especially since I’m buying myself 28 gifts.

[insert devil giggle here]

August 25th, 2010 by Sherry

Dear Walmart:
How am I supposed to look at myself in the mirror and see if I like the glasses that were probably made by 3 and a half year olds who don’t have shoes, in some sweatshop somewhere in a country that I’ve never heard of, if you put the mirrors here?

If Ryan Reynolds was tall enough to be able to use this mirror, this is what he would look like:

Can you imagine how silly those gigantic glasses would look on Ryan Reynolds?
Although…..

Oh my, that was gratuitous wasn’t it? I’m not sorry.

August 21st, 2010 by Sherry

In my alternate life, where I’m rich and single….or even rich and have a family that let’s me live out my inner wishes and trusts that I do actually have pretty good judgement…..I live in a giant house that I/we bought for a steal because it was neglected, beaten and abandoned by someone who was incapable of fulfilling a vision like mine, for the structure.
The house is massive and boasts such descriptive words as formal, original hardwood, grand entryways, high ceilings. It has generous square footage, large rooms, possibility. I would choose one room at a time, and make it spectacular.
I’ve had visions of designing a beautiful oasis bedroom for myself with flowing fabrics, soft surfaces, touches of nature, and a double door entryway. I’ve seen this bedroom in my dreams, in my head, in an enormous house filled with chaos and contractors. This is the first room of utopia, completed as a retreat to retire to when the home renovations have just become too much. The oasis bedroom is the jump off point for the rest of the rooms. The salvation created to make an enormous project obtainable.
It goes without saying that a master bath goes hand in hand with this utopia. Although, if you are going to have sweaty contractors running around your house, doing the big and nasty stuff that you have no business doing yourself, you need to be able to have a main floor bath with, at least, a working toilet and running water. And probably a can of Lysol and some antibacterial wipes.
I have this romantic idea of coming into this crazy, unfinished space, taking in visuals of daily progress. Walking around in empty rooms, visions and ideas popping into my head. Finding a beautiful piece of furniture that I can restore and build an entire living space around.
Retiring at the end of the day to bedroom utopia with a smile on my face, a heart filled with hope, thoughts racing with creative ideas, and looking forward to waking up in the morning and doing it all over again.

August 15th, 2010 by Sherry

Cache two for two yesterday was a little harder to navigate than the first one. This is a good thing because, had we trekked out for #2 first, there would have only been one that day. As it is, #2 was enough to make me seriously consider each and every cache before hand from now on, so I know what I’m getting in to.
Lessons learned yesterday:
1. bring bug spray
2. bring polysporin
3. bring bandaids
4. flip flops are probably not the best caching footwear of choice
5. i might go against all my sensibilities and actually invest in a fanny pack. Oh, the horror.

And one lesson that I took very seriously…when a road threatens to swallow up the suv tires, it’s time to abandon the vehicle. Or abandon the cache, but we’re WARRIORS!!! right? Okay, maybe not.

So, we ditched the suv and headed off with the gps on foot. The bizarre thing about this road, that was a dirt pit in the middle of nowhere, covered in the hot afternoon sun, it was COVERED in pretty little orange butterflies. They were everywhere.

So, the gps led us off the main dirt road into what was basically a four wheel path made through the woods. Most of it was okay, but as we got in thicker, there were a lot of deep ruts and mud and muddy water and mud and lots of mud. And frogs.
I don’t do frogs.
I made Caitlin go first so she could scare them off the dry paths and force them out of my way because, God forbid, they jumped around me. I would have shit my pants.

The gps was spot on, and the cache was pretty easy to find. It was contained in a plastic peanut butter jar, covered in camo tape and consisted of a log book, a few pencils for recording, and some small trinkets.
Normally you are supposed to sign the log book, grab a trinket for another cache and leave a trinket for another cacher, but the trinkets in this case were kind of crappy. There was an old Canada keychain, a tiny plastic gift box decoration, and 2 other crappy things that I can’t remember. We didn’t end up taking anything, but left a super sweet voodoo doll for future cachers so they wouldn’t be totally disappointed with the cache bounty. I’m sure the voodoo doll won’t be there for long.

While I was scouting out the cache, and Caitlin was looking in completely the opposite direction because her gps was upside down, I could tell that I wasn’t alone. I could hear rustling and popping of twigs in front of me, but I couldn’t see anything. Sure enough, on the way back to the car, we noticed some fresh tracks that weren’t there on our way in.

I was SO happy to get back to the car. By then I was soaked in sweat, bitten alive, picking tree thorns out of my arms and legs, and my skin was shredded.

But it was fun!!!

August 14th, 2010 by Sherry

Procrastination has it’s limits. I mean, it should. Even for me.
But it never really does, I don’t think. I mean, eventually you just have to up and do shit that you’ve been meaning to do. But I hardly ever do.
Oh! Today I did though!
I don’t know what possessed me, but I decided when I woke up this morning that Caitlin and I should go geocaching. Why now, when I’ve been a geocache member since 2006? Who knows, but I was feelin’ lucky.
The first cache that we set out to find was “Under The Over”. It was a pretty easy cache, and totally in a right there in front of your face spot, but you don’t really notice that until you’ve found it. And that doesn’t do too much for your patience level when you’re looking for it. Well, if you’re me.
So, off we went…through here:

Also, I don’t think Josh loves Chrissy anymore. So much for “for life”. Damn. And I here I thought spray painting something on a wall made it so. Tsk. Such a disappointment.

Well, Josh may not have found true love at this point, but we found our very first cache, and that was all kinds of cool. And here is was:

Note: If you’re a cacher, this is where you need to decide if you really want that spoiler alert or not. Right here. I’m not playin’….

The cache was a pill bottle, wrapped in camo tape. It contains only a log, so bring your on pen. It was kind of okay for my first cache.

August 7th, 2010 by Sherry

My house is still for sale. I guess that’s one of the reasons we’re having an Open House tomorrow, huh?
Ugh, open house. The thought of strangers wandering through my personal space, in my house unsupervised, yuck.
It doesn’t matter that there’s nothing really personal of me left in the space, but it’s still my space.
It doesn’t matter that I want to desperately get out and stop calling it my space, it’s still mine.
Which leads me to wonder, why am I not taking this open house more seriously? Well, because life has been stressful as always, work has been kicking my ass, there have been NO bites on the listing, and I’m just beaten up. I just don’t have the energy to give a crap and I’m back in the mindset that “it’s not really so bad”.
It’s kind of cathartic. It’s kind of scary.
It’s very much, typical me. If something has gotten so overwhelming that I can’t deal with it without losing myself in the process, walk away.
The problem is, typical me is getting really, really, easy to be.

August 5th, 2010 by Sherry

When I initially thought about doing this post, I thought it would be favorable to iPhone users only, but come to find out we’re catering to not only iPhone users, but Blackberry, android and Palm as well. This makes me happy.
If you haven’t guessed already, Gowalla is a cellular phone app. A cellular phone app that I totally dig.
I was sitting in a restaurant on vacation, gettin mah Gowalla on, when I thought it would make a good blog post. Well, probably not a particularly good blog post, but it would entertain me, hence the point.
Gowalla is a type of travelling passport status application. When you go to new/unique or favorite places, you “check in” with your Gowalla passport. Sometimes the place has been created, sometimes you create it yourself. If the location has already been created, you can see who was there and when by their “check in” status and you can have a friend list on Gowalla just like twitter, facebook, etc. It’s a mildly stalkerish app, totally dependent on how many people you want to involve or not involve.
I only have one friend. Yep, one friend, and we’re never in the same places but I amuse myself enough using Gowalla without anyone else’s help. But that’s just me.
I used to amuse myself with a spoon and a shoe lace when I was a kid. I apparently don’t have high standards.
Okay, so anyway, if you’re feeling like you could use something new, a funky whatever that you don’t necessarily need but are all about yet another toy…..there’s an app for that!!! Really? You honestly thought I could resist the cliche? Have you met me?
I’ve certainly linked it enough up there ^ to make sure you have no excuse but to check it out. Check it out! It’s a free app, too, and we like free. A lot.
Besides, I told you, I only have one friend. I need some more. I can’t even convince my family to use this app though, so prove you’re cooler than they are. Check it out.
Friend me. Or something. (User name Sherendipity, duh) I don’t know, whatever. Even if you just check it out, load it up, and like it as much as I do and just let me know I’m not the only dork out there.
And by the by, I’m going to write crap about other apps that I like too. Beware.

Hey….wait, come back…..

August 4th, 2010 by Sherry

August 2nd, 2010 by Sherry

On our trip back home from dropping Caitlin off in Montreal for her flight to Africa, we stopped in beautiful Gananoque.

I wanted to do the 3 hour boat tour, but we arrived too late and missed the last trip by a half an hour.
While checking into our hotel, I noticed a flyer on the front counter for the Gananoque Ghost Tour. It was a ninety minute walking tour of the town, boasting historical and spooky facts about it’s founder and residents. Of course, with my adoration for all those supernatural, and my love for the town of Gananoque, I couldn’t resist.
Besides, what else was there to do until morning when we could take our boat tour before heading home?

The tour was pretty cool. Not so much for the spookiness, not so much for the history, because I’m really not a history buff, but I got to walk around Gananoque and take pretty pictures of beautiful things all the while being amused by strangers. And boobs. This was our guide:

Ok, not so much boobs as just really great cleavage. It was hard not to be distracted. About a third of the way through, when we had fallen behind the group a bit because I was snapping photos, I turned to Brad and said, “Alright seriously, how many times have you looked at her rack?” I can’t remember his exact response although it was something like they were screaming at you to stare at them, and he was right.
She was adorable though, and a good story teller, and very personable and fun.
I can’t remember most of the stuff that she talked about because it really wasn’t that interesting, but I did have a good time on the tour.
Here’s some pretty:

Mad props to Gananoque founder Joel Stone, who’s life was quite the roller coaster ride, and I think based on that we could be related:

Restaurant and Inn. 3rd floor is reported to be unused and very haunted. Had I know that, we wouldn’t have been staying at the lame old Quality Inn:

What’s a ghost story post without a creepy black cat photo? Also, why is it that creepy black cat photos always look creepy without help?

“The hang tower.” Disappointingly named because this is where they used to hang fire hoses:

Not haunted, just really freaking pretty:

Third floor of restaurant and Inn…apparently haunted by a stuffed bunny:

Nana Splitz. Not haunted, just guilty of false advertising. They had no bananas.

Gananoque Town Hall and the end of the tour. Apparently haunted by the family who originally lived in the house when it was a residence. I can’t blame the lady of the house, who would want to leave such a gorgeous structure?

July 31st, 2010 by Sherry

It takes a special kind of person to recognize the infamous imprint of “sucker” on one’s forehead, when it goes unnoticed to so many others.
I am, unfortunately, not the recognizer, but the recognized.
I blame no one but myself. I let the excuse of time and want cloud my vision, and didn’t cross my t’s and dot my i’s. But time was a factor, and want, with me, always wins.
I told the story of sitting in the garage waiting for the cabrio to get safetied. I’ve even blamed karma for the results, because I slightly mocked the 300 pound lady. Truth is, the result can only be blamed on my invisible customary forehead stamp.
I, ladies and gentleman, am a sucker.
The car that I was so proud of myself for getting for my price, and not the sellers, as it turns out will likely cost me as much as I paid for it, to make it safe, road worthy and adequate.
The seller, who I invested such a high regard for, was a freakin’ schister. (I’m sure that’s spelled wrong, but that’s okay. Misspellings don’t cost extra.)
There are SO many things wrong with it. Luckily I have found a garage that is willing to do the repairs and not charge me my first born. At least I hope, anyway. The car is still there and I haven’t heard the outcome of the etest repairs. Oh, ya, the etest repairs are only the first set of doctoring that the cabbie needs. If they can get it to pass the etest without charging me an arm and a leg, then we will proceed with the safety repairs.
I was on cloud 9 with this car. She’s adorable, and fun, and I’ve waited for her for 24 years, and I fell in love. I spent the greater part of the week planning her new body work, and paint job, and possibly a new roof during the winter months. Looking around for a new stereo and seat covers for the summer.
Now I’m using that money to just make her road worthy. And yet, I still love her.
I never got the allure of buying an old car and investing time and sweat and money into restoring it. I’m far too fond of comfortable seats, cruise control and new car smell to grasp that nostalgia.
That is, until I sat in the cabbie for the first time after I shelled out an envelope of cash and made her mine.
Now I own a total piece of shit, hunk of metal that is causing me stress, and grief, and a money bleed….and all I can think of is when I can have her back, when I can cruise with the top down, and how happy she makes me.
I won’t, however, ever understand why people do this: