Breakfast at Lani's

Boob Tube

I think it's safe to say that I have become a television junkie. This isn't something I'm entirely proud of, but it's the truth. With the exception of Star Trek Voygaer, there was a good 10 year period where I didn't really follow any shows (1996-2006). Sure, I'd catch the occasional Seinfeld or Sex and the City episode, but there was nothing I would watch religiously; nothing that tore at my soul should I happen to miss an episode. 

So what changed? My husband was the catalyst. It, literally, happened the day we moved in together. While unpacking boxes I came across something that looked like a VCR (but wasn't), was light enough to be a DVD player (but wasn't) and came with a remote control. 

Me: What the heck is this?

Dex: DVR

Me: A whaaaa?

Dex: D.V.R! It record shows.

Me: (pick ups DVR for closer inspection) And I can watch them any time? 

Dex: Sure.

Me: You mean, I can record a show, watch it later and fast forward through all the commercials.

Dex: Yep. You can even set up a schedule, no need to sit around and hit record.

Me: How did I NOT know about this thing?

Dex: [Insert Canada joke here]

So, I blame the DVR. Because of its magical fantastic-ness, I am now devout follower of:

Mondays - Heroes (which I hate, but can't stop watching because I've already invested so much time into it) & 24!

Tuesdays - House 

Wednesday - Big Love, LOST 

Friday - Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, BSG (which as of last Friday is over) and Dollhouse.

That's 8 hours of TV a week, ya'll! 

Like I said, I'm not proud. I'm trying to cut back but um, hello, what am I supposed to cut back on??

I need to know if Sylar is ever going to find his father. Nothing gets me going like the Jack Baur Power Hour. Hugh Laurie's wit continues to astound me. Will Bill leave Nikki for real and why do I, all of a sudden, like Alby again? Is anyone ever going to explain the smoke in the forest?! Is John going to hook up with Cameron? Is that where this is headed? So Starbuck WAS an angel, I knew it. What's up with Sierra anyway, why is she so freaky and omg it's the dude from Battlestar!

You see?? I can't give up ANY of that. So I'm just going to have to own it and embrace it. 

I am a television junkie. 

The first step is admitting it, right?

This time I mean it, really.

Greeting from Austin, Texas!

Just a quick note to let you know that I'm still alive. I promise regular posting will be back in full effect just as soon as I get settled into my new job.

New job, you ask? Why yes!

I started a new job two weeks ago and have been training in Austin ever since. What a place this is! Its absolutely gorgeous! Last week was toasty warm (70-80 degrees), the sun was shinning, the hills were rolling and I thought to myself, "I may have to spend every winter in Texas." That was, until this week came around.

Not impressed, Texas. Not impressed at all.

It's currently 34 degrees.

I spent 25 minutes yesterday scrapping the windows of my car with a credit card because, apparently, rental cars don't come equipped with ice scrappers. I think I actually saw an Austiner drive by while mouthing the words, "Poor Shmuck!"  My Nothern Pride just about died. "No, no, no, no!" I shouted back while waving my credit card in the air, "I'm from Canada, this is nothing!! Really!! I'm not as unprepared as you think!"

Oh well...as I learned in my homeland, the quickest way to a warm belly is wine (well, actually, it's beer, but that sounds so unsophisticated). And tonight I shall do just that! I shall warm my belly with some vino. This evening I'm driving downtown to meet up with the one and only Izzy Rose . If you don't know who Izzy Rose is...k, well...first of all if you don't know who she is then you  obviously haven't been reading my blog very long and second, you will be WAY cooler if you do know her. Izzy runs Stepmother's Milk, an incredibly well written, witty, intelligent, thoughful and sassy blog site/step-mom community. Izzy also has a book coming out this May! It's called, The Package Deal: My (not-so) Glamourous Transition from Single Gal to Instant mom. Stepmoms - if you haven't done so already, I highly suggest you pre-order - this ones gunna fly off the shelves. 

I look forward to giving my fellow stepmommy's a full recap of the evening (especially since I know they're secretly jealous that I get to meet Ms. Izzy Rose - tee hee).

Frigid temperatures...

It's a beautiful Tuesday here in Seattle; the trees are waving in the warm breeze, the sun is beaming and the air tastes almost fruity in my lungs. 

Convinced? 

Yeah. Didn't think so. 

Dudes, it's freezing in the state of Washington (actually it's below freezing). Now I know what some of you are thinking, you think I'm a west coast wimp who has nothing to complain about. But, people, I am completely unprepared. First of all, I had to scrape the ice off my car with a CD (don't worry, it was only Enya), I don't own a single pair of gloves, and who knew that there really is a difference between summer and winter tires?? By the time I got to work my fingers were frozen and my coffee was cold. Miserable. 

According to the Seattle Times, the temperature is 20F (-6C) but feels like 12F (-11C). And the worst part? It's sunny. If you ask me, that's just cruel. 

The forecast calls for more snow tomorrow and thursday, which means I will be working from home, thanks to the gigantic hill that I live on. Living on a hill in winter can only mean one thing,  ice, ice, baby. 

Trim the Tree

Last Sunday the kids, Dex and I took a trip to the Trinity Tree Farm in Issaquah, WA. It was cold, raining, wet, damp and any other word that sums up miserable. But that didn't stop me from forcing my family to stop and pose at every photo opportunity, it didn't stop me from forcing them to ride the little train that goes around the park (occasionally stopping to give tree cutters directions on where to fine twine), and it most certainly did not stop me from stalking Santa. I tried, desperately, to get a picture of him with the kids but they refused. I even went as low to tell them that, "Here's your chance to put a face to the name. If Santa doesn't know what you look like, you won't get anything you asked for!"

Their response?

"Whatever, Lani."

Pffftt....so much for the magic of Christmas.

Anyway, here are a few photos from our trip. I just got a new lens and was experimenting. Most of them turned out pretty bad (I clearly have no idea how to use the new lens). 

Bottoms Up!

I've already mentioned the insulting 1-ply offering to the porcelain god that my work has so graciously stocked their stalls with, and judging from the general consensus that 1ply is a disgrace to human waste, I don't think I need to say much more on the matter.

Except this.

You're not saving any money, Company! People will use twice as much, and you know what happens when people double up? Toilets clog. People panic. Nobody fesses up and nothing gets cleaned until the night crew shows up. It's hell. Actually, it's worse than hell. It's hell with a septic failure. An epic amount of crap baking in an infinitely hot oven. This is not a good thing.

I shouldn't have to tread to the sink through 1 inch of toilet water, soggy 1ply, and pieces of half digested lettuce just so I can wash my hands. Kinda makes my attempt to not spread germs a tad counterproductive.

And to the perpetrator...While I can sympathize with your need for more ply, I can't help but feel you've let the entire office down. You've made everyone suffer instead of just coming forward and admitting your unfortunate turn of evetns. Next time, take caution. Double flush if you have to. And by the way....stop swallowing your gum. That's just disgusting.

Confession #1

I think Catholics got a good thing going for them. Personally, I think confession is great. I bet most people come out feeling like a ton of weight has been lifted off their shoulders. 

I'd like to do something similar. Maybe not quite as serious but of the same nature. I'd like to confess some things about myself. Things that I'm not entirely proud of but have accepted that they are part of who I am.

I'll never wash my brand new clothes before wearing them. 

I'll probably never truly appreciate football.  

I'll never be good at math. 

I rarely remember to bring my reusable bags to the grocery store. Sorry.

I am determined to always have the last word. 

I don't think I have what it takes to be a stay-at-home-mom and therefore will most likely put my children in daycare of hire a nanny.

I'll never have a greenthumb.

If it doesn't come in a freezer bag, can or jar - we probably won't be eating it for dinner.

I'll never be the soccer mom who always looks perfect in her Northface jacket and skinny jeans. In fact, after rushing around the house looking for shin guards and cleats - I'm lucky if I have time to brush my hair.

I'll never like mushrooms or brussels sprouts. 

I am not a patient person.

I'll probably never switch from white wine to red.

I hate yoga, pilates and any other form of exercise that involves "finding my center". 

As I mentioned before, I am not exactly proud of everything I've listed. Some, I've accepted and some, I work tirelessly on trying to change (It's not easy being a stepmom to three children when you lack the gift of patience). 

There's more...But for now, that's my confession.

Can we still be friends?

Thankful...

Another one for the bitch files...

I full on decked myself in the face with my umbrella. 

I've had a rough morning.

First of all, I made a pot of decaf by accident. I have no idea how this happened. Do I even own decaf? Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever even had a cup of decaf.  It just seems wrong.  It's kinda like doing a line of highless-cocaine just for the fun of it. What's the payout for putting your nose through all that pain? Same goes for coffee. Do you think Juan Valdez would have had any luck marketing that crap if it wasn't a psychoactive stimulant?  I can think of a hundred things I would rather drink over coffee, things that taste 110% better, like peppermint tea, hot chocolate or juice. It's that zingy feeling I've come to depend on love that keeps me so faithful. So hear this! You can't fool me with your decaf. I don't how you got into my coffee canister but you are not welcome in my cupboard. What's next? Soy milk? Sick bastard.

But I digress.

After the whole decaf debacle, I knew my entire day was pretty much screwed. My pants felt tight, I had no clean black socks (which means I'm wearing short white socks underneath my black knee-high boots...hot), and it took me 15 minutes to find my car keys. I then proceeded to drive my youngest step-daughter to school, which is never fun because I'm already at war with about 75% of the parents who drop their kids off in the morning.

Quick aside: I know its, like, rocket science and all, but the whole drop yer kid off in-front of the school is actually pretty easy. All you have to do is move FORWARD until your car is positioned IN-FRONT of the school, did you get that? Not behind the school, not beside the school...in-front of the school. From there you give your kid a kiss and send them on their way. What you should NOT do is hold up traffic by telling your kids to get out when you're 10+ cars down from the front. How does this make sense to you? How does this seem like a good idea. I know your kid is uber special and all, but so is mine...so MOVE IT! 

When I finally arrived in Seattle I was greeted by the longest train ever to exist on the planet. Apparently some big-time train traffic controller thought it would be a brilliant idea to send a train snail-ing straight through downtown in the middle of rush hour. So I waited. And waited. And waited. And then it stopped. And then it began  reversed. I was almost thinking, "Ha ha, that was funny! Great joke. You almost had me believe that you were going to stop the train and send it back the other way! Cause that's hilarious. Truly hilarious."  I say 'almost' because it quickly became apparent that this was not a joke. 

40 minutes later, I  finally pull into my parking spot. I step out of my car, grab my umbrella, press the open button and am quickly socked square in the mouth by an expanding green and white polka-dot parasol. And it's not like I saw it coming  so of course I drop my coffee, which sends dozens of ceramic pieces shooting across the parking lot. 

It's not even lunchtime yet and already I'm ready to go home.

Oh well...on the bright side, it was only decaf.

The Block is Back

You know, for awhile I was actually beginning to regret coming out of the closet. I know, hard to believe. But I was seriously beginning to question my decision to announce my love for boy band pioneer's, New Kids on the Block. 

Some were supportive. Some were not. Some said they sucked. Some said they rocked. Some said Donnie Walhberg had to be taken to the hospital for a stomach pump after consuming a gallon of questionable substance. True? We'll never know, and I'm OK with that. You want to know why? Because I am a hardcore fan.

But I won't lie....the price of being a rock solid fan can be high. Real high. I've been the victim of many jokes. I've had to witness the rise and fall of other (lesser) boy bands, like *NSYNC, Backstreet boys, and that god awful creation, O-Town. With every crappy knock-off single that was released I had to ask myself, "How much longer do I have to wait before NKOTB make a comeback?"

Well, folks. The wait is over. And I can honestly say...It's been worth it.

Last Saturday, at the Tacoma Dome, I was reminded why I love those 5 boys from Boston. 

My best friend, Nicole, came to Seattle from Victoria and together we partied like it was 1988. It was, hands down, the best concert I've ever been too. I know it's hard to believe, but it was so much more than just the music and the performance. It was the energy and the bonding of the entire audience. I think Natasha Bedingfield said it best (she was the opening act), "This is a true love story...it began a long time ago and here you are today, together." Everywhere you looked there were women smiling, everyone was laughing and EVERYONE was amazingly giddy. Fans would stop and point at each other's circa 1991 concert tee while screaming, "OhhMiiiiigggoooodddd I LOOOVEEE your shirt!! Joey is soooo HAWT!!'

When we finally found our seats , we were immediately entertained by the jumbo-tron. Fans were being encouraged to send their messages via text message to the big screen. A few examples...(some were pretty crude).

Jordan...I'll be loving you forever. And maybe Joey too...

I've been in love with you for 20 years...Thank you for making me feel like a kid again.

and my personal favorite...

Donnie, will you be my boyfriend? My husband says it's OK!

After 20 minutes of reading hilarious fan message that were both nostalgia inducing and full of "inside jokes"....it happened. The lights went out.

Silence.

BOOOOM!!!

Lights explode!

Fireworks are launched over the stage...

And the letters: NKOTB slowly burn their way across the jumbo-tron.

Y'all. The most hardcore of hardcore metal bands got NOTHING on 15,000 New Kids' fans. I have never screamed (or heard screaming) as loud as I did last Saturday. I felt like I was a teenager again...I think everyone did.

It was magical.

Holy Crap!

Who the hell thought it would be a good idea to stock the bathrooms at work with 1ply toilet paper?!? Honestly. That's just cruel.