It's going to be quiet around here

I'm sorry, my friends. I'm getting about 3 minutes/day on the computer right now and I simply don't have time to be here.
New York was awesome and seems like a lifetime ago already. I do have a few cool pictures and will get around to them sometime.
I'm not sure of the fate of this blog right now. I may be done.

To the Big Apple we go....

AACCCKKK
I have no time here, but didn't want to leave you hanging.
S.Rube's preschool teacher kinda ruined the surprise. There was no 3rd clue as a result.
We are packing and are leaving in 2 hours!
For NEW YORK CITY!!!

I'll tell you more next Wednesday.

B.Rube's Big Surprise - Part 2

B.Rube's Big Surprise

Shhhhhhh. I can't talk about it yet. But, I will give you all of the same clues that I'm sending to him.
All he knows at this point is that I have a date night planned for us on Thursday night and that he needs to be ready to go at about 5 pm.

Last night at work, I sent him this.



I'll send him another one tonight.

My Date with Destiny

I had an appointment with my hairdresser yesterday. Just like most girls, I love my appointments to get my hair done.
And yesterday was no exception.

I kinda went in thinking that I wanted a change. After the red wig that I got to wear as Poison Ivy a few weeks ago, I realized that I was a bit tired of the bleached out blonde. So, in preparation for my appointment yesterday, I went to www.instyle.com/instyle/makeover to see what might suit me well.

I was able to choose from over 100 hairstyles from Hollywood's most popular stars.
You HAVE to try this. It was freakin' HILARIOUS.
Here are a few of my favourites....
(Can you guess whose hair I have on?)









How did I leave the salon? Well.... not all that different than before. And certainly not like any of the pictures above.

EDITED TO ADD: (for you, Sue!)

Go Crazy!

Thelma, Thelma, Thelma
It is your day. Who'd have thunk that you'd even live to see 40? I mean, with all that reckless living you've been doing!
But, you did. And you're here. And you're 40. Holy shit.
(that means I'm not that far behind you. yikes. no, better yet, YIKES!!!)
And you look like you're 28, anyway. You know you do. Even when you smile.

Listen. I'm thrilled that we've reconnected in this way. I'm thrilled to have you in my life. We've seen each other through a couple decades of living and moved across the continent together. And it's wonderful to know that you're still there. And to know that you'll always be there. You're a good friend. Good friends bring out the best in each other. And we do.



I can't wait to party this weekend. All weekend.
I know that you will have relinquished all restraint and will be in TOP form. Be prepared to shake a booty, ride a bull, grind the pole and play air guitar, all in one night.

Happy Birthday, bella!!

Dear Mom and Dad,

7 days and counting down!!!!!!!!!!

Exploring our Options....

Okay. Please. Is there someone out there licensed to administer an enema to a kicking-and-screaming, truly uncomfortable little girl? It is now 28 hours later and S.Rube is still trying desperately to poo and not to poo all at the same time.

Edited to Add at 3:40 pm: Okay, she managed to get something out and is clearly feeling a bit better, but insists there is still more there.

I think the key is, as my friend Sue reminded me, that we increased her fibre intake without really increasing her water intake. So, she has been building bulk that isn't really helping the situation. Rather, it has made it worse.

See. That's as exciting as it gets.

The reality is that sometimes life on the Rube Farm is rather boring and mundane; uninspiring and kinda like living in a vacuum; where there's not much to say and even less to think about.
Rather than write you mindless drivel, provide you with links to other funny places, or confess that I've been making poor eating choices again, I just shut up.

Right now, S.Rube is hiding behind a chair in the living room trying to poo. Or trying not to poo. I'm never sure which it actually is. In any case, there's a battle of some sort going on between her and her lower half. My only wish is that I don't have a carpet to clean in the end. Oh, and I'd like her discomfort to be eliminated, too.

Happy Birthday MOM!!!

I know that you're tapping your feet and clapping your hands whilst singing "9 to 5" and "Islands in the Stream" along with Dolly Parton right this instant, with a belly full of yummy Italian food from Theo's. I'm sure you had a great night out.

I just want you to know that we're thinking of you and S.Rube made you a picture today that she can't wait to give you when she sees you. SOON!!!
Just over two weeks away!

I guess you can officially start taking advantage of all of those great seniors discounts, eh? (not that you haven't been cheating your way through them before actually qualifying anyway). Do you get a pay increase now, too? From our oh-so-generous government, or maybe from Dad?

We love you a ton and are looking forward to your visit.

More on Little Richard

I told you yesterday about the loss (death?) of our Golden Pheasant. Well, B.Rube isn't convinced at all that the bird was taken by a deadly predator and squeezed through the tiny slit under the fence in order to later eat.
He is fairly certain that the bird escaped. It would certainly fit with the theme on the farm this week, which seems to be ESCAPE.
B.Rube said that Dick's feathers came out easily and that the little piles that I saw may have been from when B.Rube took him out of his cage last week when we got him.

I like this theory. obviously. It kinda fits with my whole oblivious nature when it comes to loss and death on the farm.

So, from this point on, we are happily envisioning dear, daring Dick wandering around the fields and forests and safely roosting in tree branches at night.
What a lucky bird.

Beeturia

I don't eat beets very often. In fact, I think I've had them about 3 or 4 times in my whole life. I didn't like them when I was a kid, but I recall my mom making them. My dad probably grew them in his veggie garden. The few times I've had them as an adult I really liked them. B.Rube had some recently and requested them for dinner the other night.

So, I boiled up some beets and we thoroughly enjoyed them for dinner. As did little T.Rube (aka Garbage Disposal).
mmmmmm

Well....the next morning I experienced a good bout of shock accompanying my 'morning movement'. I gasped for a moment, convinced I was dying from blood loss out the rectum, and then remembered that I had eaten the beets. I ran to the computer, after attempting to flush (we're having some major flushing issues lately and I knew this likely hadn't worked well) and washing my hands. I googled "red stool after beets" and was reassured that I was not dying; that I had something called BEETURIA. Surprisingly, only 10-14% of people experience this ( I thought everyone would!) and it is suspected that it is due to a lack of iron, a recessive gene, short small intestine, problematic levels of oxalic acid in your system or any malabsorption issue. In other words, they don't really know. My urine wasn't affected at all; only my stool. (and has continued to be affected for three days following consumption!)

A short while later, S.Rube came into the living room from the bathroom with a confused look on her face.
She says, " Mommy, do you have your period in the toilet or someping?"
I couldn't help but laugh out loud, and remember that my little girl is growing up.

Loss, Escape and Oblivion

Okay, okay. So, it's been a busy week. Shoot me.
Errrr.. really it wasn't that busy. It was just normal and I didn't think much of the blog all week. I'm not supposed to admit that to you, but it's true.

We had a few losses on the farm this week and no gains. Firstly, B.Rube took all 14 of the baby bunnies to the auction last weekend, so they're gone. And are happily hopping around living rooms throughout the Lower Mainland as someone's sweet little pets. ;o)

Yesterday morning, when I did my morning chores, I noticed that Little Richard, our new beautiful Golden Pheasant that we just got a week ago, was gone. There were two small piles of lovely colourful feathers, but no bird. There is only a tiny tiny little slit under the fence that this killer could have gotten through. And it managed to pull the bird out of that same little hole. fucker.
That same morning, one of our older chicks was found dead just inside their pen. I couldn't really see any major signs of trauma, but it was stiff as a board and flat as a pancake. Definitely dead. I'm not sure when it happened that I am able to just lean over and pick up the dead bird by the scaly, gnarly feet, but I am. I just picked the deadweight up and tossed it on the top of the burn pile. I was wearing gloves, for what it's worth.
Not sure if it is coincidental or whether the same predator got them both.

C.C.'s week has been all about ESCAPE. She has managed to get through every little hole in every little fence we have. The only ones looking for an out more than the cute fluffy white dog are the huge stinky muddy pigs. I swear they must know when they're getting closer to the freezer, because they start running away. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that they are swimming in a mud pond right now and would do just about anything to feel cold hard ground under their feet and to touch a blade of glass with their disgusting snouts. And chasing around, capturing and returning slippery 150-lb pigs to their pen is not easy. In fact, it is downright difficult; bordering on impossible.
Quite a simple rule for me...when the pigs (or anyone, for that matter!!) begin to create havoc for me, the countdown clock begins. They are with us for 2 more weeks before magically turning into yummy smoked pork chops, delicious maple bacon and to-die-for breakfast sausage.
It is magic, right?

I love being Green

Another New Addition

In his quest for uniqueness and continued variety in his animal-gathering, B.Rube arrived home from the auction yesterday with this guy. He's a Golden Pheasant apparently. I know nothing about them really.
Other than the fact that he's pretty damn beautiful.

Dear Madonna

I was at your show last night in Vancouver. This is the first time you've ever played in Vancouver, which was so super exciting for people in our city who have been amongst your biggest fans since we were children. Apparently, you weren't as excited as we were. For you failed to mention the long overdue visit. Or acknowledge us at all really, except for yelling "vancouver rocks" once or twice.

The following are some of my criticisms of your performance last night:
(and, don't get me wrong, I had a great time with great friends and waaaay too much alcohol and I mostly danced all night long.)

1. The show was to begin at 7:30 pm. That's what our tickets said. You showed up just before 9:45 pm or so. This wouldn't be so bad, except that you provided us with no opening act or entertainment of any sort during this waiting period. There wasn't even music playing for us. Nothing.
2. Quite frankly, your voice sucked. I know the sound system at BC Place is amongst the worst in the world. (and they better do something about that before the 2010 Olympics or the whole world will know that it's the worst in the world.) But, really, your voice sucked. There were songs where you saved yourself by only singing every 7th or 8th word and, thankfully, the pre-recordings and digitalizing disguised this really well.
3. There are two things that everyone waits for, expects and LOVES at a concert (I'll talk about the second one in a minute). One of them are those moments when the performer stops performing for a minute or two, and actually, really and truly SPEAKS to the audience. It is what makes the live experience so special. It's what you kinda live for at a concert. We can watch you on a screen or a video or a DVD anytime. Hearing you actually speak to us, for us to see how real you are, for us to be worthy enough of your time....would have been nice.
4. Along the same lines.... You've never been to our city before. Ever. This is unbelievable. And your Vancouver fans were desperate for you- your concert sold out of our HUGEST venue in 3 minutes flat. Only the Rolling Stones require this venue. But, you didn't acknowledge it. You didn't say, "wow - it's great to finally be here in Vancouver with you!!" or "Fuck, it's been too long, Vancouver!" Nothing.
5. Did you really need so many costume changes? You were gone about 6 times for the length of an entire pre-recorded song. I found myself bored during these intervals.
6. And, finally, my biggest beef: the ENCORE. or lack thereof, I guess. I had read online prior to the show here that you were doing no encore on this tour. The least you could do, though, is to thank your fans for coming, tell them to drive home safely and tell us (lie to us even!!) that's it been a pleasure to be here.... SOMETHING. something. You needed to say something to us. And not just leave us standing clapping, whistling and yelling for 15 minutes before the house lights came back up and we realized that you really weren't coming back. You didn't say goodbye, You left us hanging. You didn't thank us for 25 years of service!
Better than that, even, do the encore. Would it kill you? To come back out, live, without pre-recorded crap even, and do one big hit to make your fans happy? It's a pretty simple thing to do to make 40000 people happy. Come out for one more fucking song.

Yeah, you disappointed me.

My favourite part, by far, was that steamy kiss with the female dancer that you had. Feel free to add more of that to your show. And, I liked your rocker version of Borderline - that was pretty cool. And, of course, Like a Prayer was fun.

But, really. I think we deserved more respect. I know I lost a little for you last night.

I feel GREAT.

I've had a few people ask me about the cleanse and how it's working for me. Also.. whether I'd recommend it or not.

I'd recommend it. It changes you. The weight loss, as of week one, isn't grand, but it's enough. I lost 2.4 lbs and plan on losing more than that in week two.
It is more about how you feel, for sure. We all feel GREAT (certainly better than good, even better than great). I have this feeling in my belly of calmness and serenity; an 'all is good in the world' type feeling, even when things clearly aren't all good in the world. The cravings are gone. Our appetites are super low, and the 12 days teaches you about a better way of eating, so that you aren't likely to return to the same habits before.

The release of toxins and the pooping is different for everyone. I haven't had one bout of stomach cramping, for example, while others have. For me, the pooping has been completely manageable. I've had moments of cold-like symptoms that mysteriously pass a half hour later. I also am getting headaches from time to time.
One of the things that is consistent amongst the group of us doing the cleanse is that we all started our periods early. I was 4 days early, and the other girls were more than that (even up to a week early!).
I'm on Day 9 and I feel GREAT.

p.s. the Wild Rose D-tox Cleanse is a Canadian product, but is available online.

Pure Sweetness

Everytime I walk by this family of Mother Clucker and her 9 babies, I melt. and swoon. And run to grab my camera. There is nothing I want to photograph more these days than this amazing mother.

I need to hire a hunter

I am about to sit down to eat a salad - my second today. This salad is special, though. Not because it is made with organic spring mix lettuce, which it is. Or because it is sprinkled with raw pumpkin seeds and raw sunflower seeds, which it is. Not because it contains some sweet grape tomatoes, which it does. Or because it is (lightly) doused in my favourite salad dressing in the whole wide world (Annie's Naturals Goddess Dressing), which it is. These are my normal things.

It is special because it is topped with warm ground moose meat.

Yes, you heard me correctly, moose meat.
I would have never in a million years imagined that I would be eating my organic salad with moose meat.
(and, really, all I can think about is how much grief Thelma is going to give me about this one!)

But, holy crap. IT IS SO FUCKING GOOD.

Some guy at work gave it to B.Rube and he wanted me to cook it up and make a macaroni and cheese dish with it. When I opened the package, I could see it contained little to no fat whatsoever. As it was cooking in the frying pan, I went online to find out more about moose meat, and learned that moose meat (and elk) contains almost no fat at all, and has a sweet taste similar to beef, but better. Moose meat contains less fat than chicken. And, if you're a dieter or healthy carnivore, you know the importance of a chicken breast! I was shocked to learn what I did.
And I tried it once it was done.
Delicious!

Who decided to go with the cows? That's what I want to know. Moose meat just ain't that easy to find.

Cuz I know how much you love the poop talk!

I think that S.Rube will be eating well for a while again. For as least as long as her memory will serve her.
She spent over 8 horrendous hours last night trying to poop. This involved sitting on the toilet rocking, shaking, sweating, moaning, crying and shrieking once or more an hour. We tried two suppositories, which didn't help. We tried a nice warm bath. We tried drinking water. And going for a walk. We tried stomach massage. And pumping her legs.

She promised, in her pain, that she would eat differently and drink more water.
This wasn't an isolated incident for us. She seems to form hard baseball-like fecal matter, with no real likely way out.

Finally, at 2:30 this morning, she pooped.
But only after the aid of my siliconed finger.
Ugh.
By that time, desperate to stop my sweet baby's pain (which had long before become my own), I was prepared to dig to fucking China to get that thing out. Fortunately, I didn't have to.
At times, I likened our experience to me helping her deliver a baby. The noises coming from her were identical, as was the content of her words: 'Get it out' 'NOW' 'It's stuck.' 'It hurts.' 'GET IT OUT'. The only thing missing was that she wasn't swearing at me or telling me to rot in hell.

I sure hope THAT experience isn't just me and S.Rube in a bathroom crouched over a toilet and ready with my lubed-up finger.

Cleanse Update

I am on Day 5 of the cleanse, and it really doesn't feel like much. I poop in the morning like I usually do. I take a bunch of pills before breakfast and again before dinner. I've been eating all naturally, with the NO flour, dairy or sugar thing. But, I've been using a fair bit of butter (which is allowed) and having my big bowl of popcorn at night (which is allowed) and using my favourite salad dressing (which is allowed and contains all the right natural ingredients for the cleanse) but also contains quite a bit of fat. I've also been eating a lot of almonds (fat) and avocados (fat).
I think I'm down a pound or two since the start. We're doing a weigh-in on Wednesday, so I'll let you know the results.

I'll be the girl who gains weight on the cleanse, because of the addition of FAT in my diet.

C.C. and her Sheep Peeps

I know you all have been wondering about C.C. this week.

She is amazing. Better than amazing. AMAZING.
She loves it here and she loves her sheep peeps. They aren't quite sure how much to love her yet, but they have definitely accepted that she isn't leaving anytime soon. Other than the occasional headbutt or hard knock up against a tree stump like this morning, they are doing just fine. Working out some differences. But, otherwise, doing just fine.

You'll be happy to hear that she is only locked in her kennel at night right now and while we're out. (which isn't very often). She starts to yap and whine a bit at about 7:30 every morning, because she wants out, usually to take a poop. But, other than that, she is content.
She gets playful with her peeps once in a while and tries to engage them in puppy play (to which they want no part). She resorts to chasing her own tail and attacking the giant dirty mole hills scattered throughout the field.
After she has expended some energy, she often just finds a spot on the edge of the pasture and sits straight up, very noble-y, and you just know that she's watching over her domain.









I took these pics this morning. If you look hard in the middle on the right side, you'll see C.C. lying by the pond.

My Toxic Contribution to the Depleting Ozone Layer....

...sounds something like this.


PPPPPFFFFFFFTTTTT.

PPPPPLLLBBBBBBBBB

The poor Rube family is having to put up with me. I'm stinkier than the old bloody white dog in the house. (He's a 11+ year old American Bulldog with digestive issues. Need I say more? ) I've started a cleanse called the Wild Rose D-Tox and am on Day 2 of 12. Fortunately, the gas seems to have subsided now that the pooping has started. It was just like a sneak peek (or should I say 'sniff'?) of what was about to come.

If you google Wild Rose D-tox, there's tons of stuff out there about it. Or check out the Wild Rose website (this one is the 12-day detox diet).

I'm liking it cuz I can still eat. That last Lemonade Diet that I did, I had to starve myself. Although I'd give anything to be able to put a bit of maple syrup in my lemon water right about now.
I find that I'm really craving sugars - something that we're NOT allowed to eat. Any form of sugar even - no maple syrup, no cane sugar, no Splenda, no Stevia even, I think. The sweeter tropical fruits aren't allowed either. So, I'm getting it from the odd apple or pear, which is nothing compared to the dark chocolate chips that are in the cupboard.
We are allowed to have a coffee or two, but only black. Yesterday I avoided coffee in the morning completely, cuz a coffee without sweetener (usually hazelnut creamer) just ain't worth drinking. This morning, however, I was desperate enough for a taste other than water and herbal tea that I actually did drink a half cup of black coffee and kinda enjoyed it.

Just be glad that I'm not describing my 'expulsions' to you in great detail, or, better yet, taking a picture.
Well...

Not yet anyway.

I've chosen a Conservative, much like my Dad

Okay, so I know I'm not the only Canadian out there to be more interested in the US election than our own. I know I'm not the only one who watched the US vice-presidential debate, but failed to see our own English-language debate. I know I'm not the only one to know Sarah Palin's name (and even the name of her Down Syndrome son), but just learned Elizabeth May's name right now as I am writing this blog.

Going back to the topic of the language debates.... I love how we make the politicians perform in a language that isn't their own and then proceed to trash the French-speakers for not being able to speak English and the English-speakers for not being able to speak French. Leaders from around the world speak all different languages, right? So, it really shouldn't matter, right?
Well then, you haven't heard Stephane Dion. Although I guess he speaks better than Jean Chretien. That's really not saying much, is it? I just went to Stephane Dion's Facebook page and it's funny to see the comments that people are putting up on his wall. Here's the last commenter:
GO DION!!!
dude, if you lose i'll be so sad :(
you're a very good looking man even if you're old!!!

Okay, let's talk about that for a moment. Let's take a look at what the candidates look like.


Who do you vote for, if you were basing your vote on looks alone?
I actually think that Candidate #1 is the most appealing, bald or not. But, I may be influenced by knowledge of his politics, which are also quite appealing.
#2's eyes are too small for his head (think: weasel). I can hear #3's slaughtered English just looking at him. and #4. Well, she has a nice smile. And looks really really out of place in that line-up.
B.Rube tried to convince me the other night that we aren't "NDP-type people". I clarified for him that perhaps HE wasn't NDP-type people, but that at 39, I was set in my political ways.
Too bad I live in the Conservative/Alliance bible belt and my vote just doesn't matter.

EDITED TO ADD: Magnolia's boyfriend, Gilles......


He does have nice eyes and even worse bastardized French than his neighbour Stephane.
He looks too much like Clay Aiken to me. ick.

Happy Birthday to Me!

I asked S.Rube on the way home from our first Thanksgiving dinner tonight whether her and her dad went out shopping today for a gift for me before they went to the auction.
She said, "Yes, but we're not allowed to tell you."
I said, "Oh, c'mon, you can tell me. I'm your mom. and the gift is for me."
She said, "No, mom. I'm not allowed to tell you."
I said, "I'm going to get it tomorrow anyway and then I'll know. What's the difference?"
She said, "Tomorrow is the day after today. That's the difference. You can't know now."
(fuck, when did this kid learn to reason this way?)
I said, "Look, if you don't tell me what you bought me, I'm never ever giving you chocolate chips again." (those are her favourites)

WHAT?? Are you kidding me? No, I didn't. You actually believed that I would say that? Of course I didn't say that. That would be mean and horrible and terribly damaging to the little Rube.
I just thought it.

and then I said, "Wow, S.Rube, that's very impressive. You keep a secret really well. You should be proud of yourself. I'm proud of you for staying true to your word with your dad. He'd be proud too. That's a hard thing to do. Good for you!"

Cake Wrecks

A friend sent me the link for this site and I got stuck there for an hour today checking out bad cakes.
See for yourself.
www.cakewrecks.blogspot.com

Mother Clucker

Okay, so there's more to life than just C.C. In fact, the Rube Farm has been full of life this week.
Lisa and Betty's litters of bunnies are absolutely thriving - they both have 7 each.
We have moved the chicks into their 'next-step housing'. They are in that ugly and gawky adolescent stage. If they could grow pimples and swear at their parents, I'm sure they would.



And, most importantly, we had 9 more baby chicks born yesterday - naturally and 'in the wild', with us almost completely removed. We had a brown laying hen go broody a couple of months ago; she started gathering her own eggs, and set up a nest in amongst the weeds and blackberries. She then laid about a dozen eggs over a couple of weeks. And then she set.
and set. and set and set. For about 21 days to be exact. We heard peeping under her yesterday and then she left the nest and went for a walk. With 8 babies in tow!! 8 wonderful and fluffy little yellow babies. I checked the nest and found one wet cold almost-motionless little chick, who had been left behind to die. I picked it up and put it under the heat lamp for the next 12 hours, where it warmed and dried up. We tucked it under Mother Clucker last night as she slept. She woke up this morning with 9 babies under her instead of 8, and doesn't have a clue.
We have provided chick grower and water nearby, so they can start eating, but otherwise, they are on their own.

C.C.'s Training Begins

She's Here!

Oh, it was a tough job, but someone had to do it. I held her for the entire way home. And snuggled her. And even kissed her, despite the fleas. I love puppy breath. What can I say? I'm totally guilty. She put her head on my shoulder, for crying out loud. It was hard friggin' work. The hardest.


She's as sweet as a big fuckin' batch of candy floss!
And, she loves me. Oh yeah, she loves me.
Well, she did love me.
Until I abandoned her to the cold dark lonely unfamiliar kennel.


(She's going to be just fine. And so am I.)

EDITED TO ADD: I should clarify that her full name is actually "Carolina Cargo Flower Dress Hawk". S.Rube's very first suggestion (insistence) of a name was "Flower Dress" which we vetoed. I thought. Apparently B.Rube compromised and allowed "Flower Dress" as her middle name. I told the Rubes tonight that I would be sticking with C.C. But, they are calling her "C.C. Flower Dress" or just simply "Flower Dress". I cringe.

A Glimpse into Saturday Night

I spent 5 hours making chore charts for the girls last Saturday night. I had the idea that I wanted to start some sort of schedule of responsibilities and I went online in search of ideas.

The result of my process is this....