It's the school that nobody wants

There's something to be said about registering for kindergarten at a school without having to sleep overnight or line up at 5 am or have your child on a waitlist from the time she was born; where you know you could just bring her in that first day in September and there'd be a spot available.

Maybe it's saying... This is not a popular school, not special in any way, parents don't want their kids to go to this school, it isn't providing your kid with the best. Or, as I've heard said about our school before....'this is an inner-city school'.  Which makes me shake my head, and want to send their ignorant, small-town asses into the city. The 'real' city, that is.  Where inner-city truly means something. Not our rural town of 5000, where inner-city seems to mean that the odd parent might still be wearing her pyjama bottoms to pick up her kids at the end of the day or that a Grade 5 student might tell a younger student the different names of the weed his dad smokes or, God Forbid, because there are a row of townhouses across the street!! Townhouses!!! Yegads!!! A sure sign of inner-city.....

I did my teaching practicum at an inner-city school in Toronto one year; a school deep in the heart of the downtown core.  In a class where only 5 of the 22 kids could speak English, where there wasn't breakfast that morning or dinner to come home to, where seeing big bags under the kids' eyes was common-place, as was them falling asleep at their desks, where their moms, dads, uncles and grandparents have all been incarcerated at one time or another, where the 6-year-olds know the street names of all the drugs available in their building and where to get them, mainly because their moms and dads use them, and oftentimes sell them, where one little girl's mom jumped off the 30-story balcony to her death while we were gone for the Christmas holidays.

Don't talk to me about our Aldergrove school being inner-city. I've sat in the bathroom at recess and lunchtimes and cried real tears for the kids who are truly in survival mode.

So, I'm grateful to have our little school. And I'm happy there was no waitlist I had to be prepared for years ago. And I'm glad that I could pick up the necessary paperwork this morning but just bring it back in whenever I get around to it. And I am more than prepared to help teach my kids understanding, compassion and respect for the differences in people, to help them know that they are no better or worse than the next person because it is not our place to judge in the first place, and to build and celebrate their sense of self and strength of character.

And if naked swimming isn't your thing......

In my search for naked public swim sessions, I discovered a club called SkinnyDippers. I'm sure they'd love the traffic to their new site if you want to check out their website. It's www.clubskinnydipper.ca. Maybe some of you are interested in joining. ;o)

And, the best part is that they don't just provide naked swim gatherings, they have also organized an upcoming rock climbing event. A naked rock climbing event.

Now, I used to climb a bit. I'm familiar with the sport. It involves being up on a rockface with someone standing directly under you holding your ropes. Even with clothes on, this is a very provocative position to be in, as you are probably visualizing right now.  Your private parts are exposed to everyone below. And then, add to this visualization...the harness. The harness that comes up around the legs to the crotch area. For the naked gentlemen climbers, the ball sack will be nicely squeezed and hanging in between. For the women, the coochie will be showcased well, almost framed. And, in both cases, the ass will be beautifully on display.

But, these aren't rock climbers who have decided to climb nude, with their fine lean experienced bodies. These are nudists who have decided to rock climb. It is not likely to be a pretty sight. And will involve far too much visible hair.

However, the thing about this that worries me the most; again, going back to my own fear and sense of ick in all of this naked stuff... are the rental harnesses.
Ewwwww

I'm all over jumping naked into a lake, but...

This afternoon in T.Rube's fantasy world, she packed up one of her favourite dolls, a 4-year-old named Rosie, and announced that she was taking her "daughter to Squamish for a trip to the swimming pool". I played along and asked if there was a special pool in Squamish that she was traveling so far for the day, maybe one with a big slide or something? She answered, "well, we're going to the naked swimming pool." Ahhhhh, I see...the naked pool.

This all stems back to a conversation we had a few weeks ago. One that she was very interested in at the time and has evidently remembered well.
I was searching the web for schedules for some nearby pools when I came across a monthly naked swim session. That's right....a naked public swim at the Newton Wave Pool. I was pretty surprised, to say the least. And I shared my surprise with my family.

Now, don't get me wrong. I truly love being naked. Definitely more so than many. I rarely ever get opportunity to be naked now, but I can assure you that I WOULD NOT BE FINDING THAT OPPORTUNITY AT THE LOCAL NAKED PUBLIC SWIM SESSION.  There is something truly odd about the person who participates in this; jumping and playing in the waves at the pool as their saggy tits bounce uncontrollably about, or taking a leap off the diving board for the ultimate belly flop with your penis aiming straight down, ready to hit first. Or sitting about the hot tub with a bunch of other naked freaks, and just hoping to hell that one of the woman isn't riding a jet while sitting next to you.

Before writing this blog tonight, I googled naked public swim sessions for the area and discovered that they are happening all over the Lower Mainland at different pools every week. So, it would appear that we all have to consider the exposed pubic hair and stinky body parts that inhabited the pool in the hours before we arrived with our kids for their swim lessons.
Ewwwwww.

So, T.Rube was heading off to her first (imaginary) naked public swim, in Squamish no less. I asked her if she planned for her and her daughter to be naked. And she replied that her "daughter had her swimsuit on actually, and that she did too, but wasn't sure if she was going to wear it or not."
I tried to distract her by telling her about other fun things to do in Squamish; some rock climbing perhaps, or a nice hike up the back of the Chief, some shopping along Cleveland...

.....Anything but the naked pool.

A Very Darison Bertation

This newscast was on Sunday night, just following the Grammy Awards. Initially, they suspected that she had some sort of mini stroke, but that has since been ruled out, and she is totally fine.
I think that I'd be exploring the possibility of a brain tumour or something like that, though. How the hell does this happen?

The Fascination for CC

There's always a fascination for our Great Pyrenees dog, CC (or Carolina Cargo if you prefer the more formal registered name). It is her physical being - the massive size and long white fur - that captures people's attention first. And then they learn more about her story - the incredible way she cares for her farm animals, and her gentle demonstration of love for us humans; the fact that we couldn't love and pet her as a puppy, and that she's never been inside our house or yard. She is our working dog.

I first wrote about CC over two years ago, the week before we got her. www.aruralrube.blogspot.com/2008/09/carolina-cargo.html

I can't say enough about this breed and this dog, my friends. In fact, I have so much to say about her that she now has her own site; devoted to the extraordinary, yet ordinary life, of this Great Pyrenees.

Check out the new site at www.ccthegreatpyrenees.blogspot.com.

Love as deep as...an iPad!!!!!

As the effects of the chocolate assault are starting to wear off for the kids, I sit and reflect on the beauty of today. For 11 years I have consistently received flowers for Valentines Day. It is just something I have come to expect and today was no exception. I lovingly accepted a pot of pretty pink azaleas.

And, then, an hour later, was handed a gift bag. A gift bag that contained....an iPad!
Now, THIS is love!!!!!

In the safe arms of mom

There's something desperately sweet and eerily vulnerable about watching your 4-year-old sleepwalk; with that strange vacant look in her eyes and a slight smile on her lips. I'm afraid to wake her, mostly because I just want to keep watching her. As she moves into the kitchen, straight for the snack cupboard, it's as though I'm not in the room. She has to yank again and again at the cupboard door because a 10-lb bag of potatoes is leaning against it, preventing it from opening. When I reach in to help, she stares blankly at me; aware I'm there for the first time. She pauses for a moment to weigh up her options before grabbing a big unopened bag of nacho chips, and places it on the counter while grabbing a glass. I continue washing eggs at the sink while watching her move easily around the kitchen. She fills up her glass with water at the cooler, drinks it down, and proceeds back to the counter.

And, then, instead of grabbing the chips as I expect, she reaches for the waist of her pyjamas, pulls the bottoms off, and puts them on the countertop. And is now standing bare bottomed in the middle of the kitchen.
And for the very first time, seems disoriented and not sure what to do next.

That vulnerability strikes me, and I scoop her and her pyjama bottoms up and carry her safely back to bed.

I think I'll turn my Fuck List into my Bucket List

I was sitting around sharing an incredible meal at Tao in Vegas a couple of months ago with friends, and the conversation turned to The Fuck List. My friends explained to me that this was a list of names that you compile with your spouse/partner - a list of the celebrities that, if given the chance, your partner would want to fuck and you would allow your partner to fuck. (Because, let's face it... it ain't ever gonna happen.)

Well, I don't have a list. And neither does B.Rube and it isn't anything that we've ever talked about before even. My friends asked who would be on my list, if I were to have one. After thinking about it for a moment, I had to admit that I didn't have anyone to put on my list. (most likely the reason why I don't have one to begin with.) My friends argued that this wasn't possible and insisted that there HAD to be someone famous that I would want to fuck.

Still, I came up blank.

I've never been one to idolize stars or create dreamy scenarios where I meet a celebrity, lock eyes, and proceed to find the nearest broom closet or bathroom stall. In fact, I've never wanted anyone who hasn't wanted me. If you don't want me (and CERTAINLY if you don't even know I exist!!), lusting after you is truly a waste of my valuable time.
So, I held my ground and offered no names.

Then, a few weeks ago while surfing the net, I saw the celebrity athlete that I would add to my Fuck List. Cheryl Bernard, Canada's hottest and most well-known curling skip.
Slightly peculiar pick perhaps. Not the first, second or even thirty-fourth name that one might come up with for me and my List. But, damn, she does it for me. She just does.

And the girl's got guns!! And, I, a strong weakness for women's incredible arms....

And, if the arms alone didn't capture you, this one's gotta arouse a dirty thought or two.

Fine Canadian specimen.

So, last night, I was at the Canucks game, with one of the same Vegas friends with whom this conversation originated. And just before the game, the Fuck List popped into memory and I excitedly told my friend that I had recently realized that I DO have someone for my List and told her about Cheryl. She had the usual shocked reaction that the couple others I've shared this with had. But, you can't really dispute someone's choices. So, she kinda smirked and nodded and found it all very interesting, I suppose.
And, right about then, the Canucks announcer began introducing some Olympic athletes onto the ice and ....there she was...."Cheryl Bernard"....!!

With hope building and eager persistence, I spent the next 150 minutes scanning the boxes and seats for another glimpse. To no avail.

I decided overnight to turn my Fuck List into my Bucket List... you know, to appease that competitive side of me and give me something to work towards. To make this List worthwhile.
I may have to take up curling.

(ANDDD...not only is B.Rube okay with my List, he even said he wouldn't mind watching. Shocking.)

The Resurrection is Here!!!

The site has sat dormant for far tooooo long, and there is just too much to share every day to not be writing something!!

I'm back!

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.