To Spawn or Not To Spawn

I have been married for more than a year now, and I guess people were giving us some time before we got down to business. No one mentioned babies before now. Well, except for my father-in-law at our reception. After several glasses of my famous Flirtini, he got tipsy, grabbed my arm and with watery eyes told me he wants to be a grampy. Who can say no to that?

We could.

Babies have been on our minds well before the wedding. We knew we wanted some, but weren’t sure when the right time is. And we’re still not. Is anyone? We have goals, such as buying a house and Byron finishing school to think of before we bring a baby on the scene. When is the right time!?!?!

Well, according to family and friends, 2010 is.

It started this fall when some former colleagues and friends found out we were house-hunting. In emails they would tell me to buy a house big enough to fill with “little Stuikes”. Then my aunt gave me a birthday card that wished me luck in “planning” the coming year. I joked with her and asked if she was telling me to have a baby. She giggled and said yes. My sister’s gotten in on the baby-urging, too. And just the other week, some co-workers asked me point blank if we were trying for a family.

Surprisingly, my mother has been silent on the subject. And she’s the one I figured would be most vocal! Everyone else, it seems, has an opinion on when we should have a child and when we should start trying. But my mother, who has an opinion on everything else is silent. Maybe George and Evelyn, and Dave and Nicole’s baby in May is keeping her busy?

For the record… it’s no one’s business. When we’re ready, we’ll tell people.

Does anyone else have people prying into their bedroom antics? Is anyone else getting conception questions? Is this, like a wedding registry, a passage of marriage?

Non-Conceivingly Yours,

xoxoSallyS

Snookin' for Love

My new favourite show is Jersey Shore. It is pure trash, vile, and horrific on so many levels. But I cannot get enough of J-Woww (the extra W for emphasis), Snooki and “The Situation”. Of course, I can't get enough of The Situation. He's basically a Rambo, you know. He said so himself. They are all douchebags and heinous humans, but their exploits are more ridiculous than any sitcom could ever come out with. What they fight about, who they fight, and how they fight is fascinating. The show, by the way, is all about fighting - yelling, pulling, slapping, and a lot of expletives. These kids would sooner fight than eat – and it makes for a great guilty pleasure.

When I watch the show, my mouth is usually agape. I cannot believe people actually live like this! But then I think it’s probably just an act for the cameras. But then I see the Italian flag with an outline of the state of New Jersey on it, and I think that maybe people really do live like this. I feel like an anthropologist, observing a vile tribe of over-tanned and crass sub-humans.

The men are particularly disgusting, in my opinion. They talk about “creepin’”, which I think is the equivalent of “picking up”. They string girls along to come back to their hot tub. In the scenes of them creepin’ in the club, they look like letches and fools. And, sadly, guys I have seen in real life. So maybe the letchiness of these asses is universal in a certain breed of men. What makes them disgusting is the tanning, the preening, the hairdos, the fawning over themselves.

The girls are no better with the tans, hair extensions and fake nails. In one scene, a girl was whining at home after the bar and was taking out her hair while complaining. Long strips of plastic hair were laid out on a dresser like a discarded bracelet. To cheer themselves up, they get their nails done and tan. It’s all so superficial. And delicious to watch.

Snooki is by far my favourite. She’s so tiny and bizarre. She’s crude and trashy and completely unapologetic. Her bumpit hair is tragic. Her backflips in a mini-dress on a dancefloor is revolting. Her punch in the face from a guy is hysterical – only because of her reaction. Snooki balled up on a bathroom floor, screaming “Tell me I have all my teeth” is pure magic. Watching her milk a supposed sore jaw the next day was a delight. Then fighting with “the hippo” less than 24 hours after getting socked in the jaw is side-splitting.

If you are looking to see how low humans can go, without actually being in their putrid presence, catch this show. Warning: it will make your jaw ache. Not from a punch, but from hanging open in horror.

Ya Stumpy Bastid,
xoxoSallyS

A thing of beauty

Is this a beautiful picture?

It makes me proud to see Janie holding her little girl. She's an amazing woman.

Look how good she looks here! When taken, she had just given birth five days earlier!

Oh Petite, I miss you!

xoxoSallyS

Happy Birthday, George!

It's a day late. He turned 2 on the 21st. Where does the time go? It seems like yesterday he was this little bundle of joy turning people into bundles of nerves. He was so big and so sweet and so cuddly. He was soft and warm with the sweetest little head of reddish hair.

Now look at him!

















He sings, he dances, he talks, he plays, he talks and talks and talks. He's smart and loving and fun. He also has good parents who are doing an amazing job of raising a ball of energy.

Take count, please. George is the fifth birthday in December. Five. Five! March is apparently a good month for fertility in my family. Dave and Nicole bucked the trend and are expecting in May. So for now, we put away the cake and party hats for a few months.

Happy Birthday, Georgie!

xoxo Auntie Sally

Happy Birthday, Evelyn!

My sister had a baby this morning. Evelyn Clare Salter.

(pronounced EVE-lyn)

I am so happy for Jane and Craig and I am dying to see how George reacts to her.

Waiting for pictures from my parents... hint hint hint.

My sister had a baby... what a peculiar and delightful phrase to say. Jane had a baby girl.

Congratulations!

xoxoAuntie Sally

I want one

Recent months have been rather fruitless on this wee pink blog. I felt I didn’t have anything of worth to say that didn’t make be sound like a bragging douche or a whiney brat. So I kept my fingers still. November turned out to be a bit more productive, and sometimes I think I have something of worth to say.

But I want more.

I want to get nominated for a Canadian Blog award next year. I suppose that means I have to write more, and I need to have readers besides my family. I need to build a following. The funny thing is that I have gone to several social media courses since being in the GoA for the past six months. I have been told how to build a following and how to make blog postings sexy. But that is making blog postings about government stuff sexy. Not making me and my life and my musings sexy. They are already naturally sexy, don’t you know? No? Now you do. My life and my musings are sexy. (psych!)

Do I start a series about how progressively annoying our upstairs neighbours are? Do I blog about our house hunting experience? Do I blog about future attempts to become a mother? Now, there’s bringing the sexy!

I don’t want to do political things. Everyone has their opinion and I don’t think I’m invested enough to care to blog about Iggy or Eddy. Besides, I work in government, and when I am home, I could give a rip about politics. Religion? Hells to the no! I think organized religions are a farce and I don’t want to invite the kooks of the world to bombard me with their “truths”. (Starting right now. If you read that line and get all uppity, take it elsewhere, sister.) I’m not going on some weight loss journey because to me, that’s setting myself up for failure. I have no real hobbies except for cooking, reading and watching TV. Which may explain my need for a weight loss journey, but re-read the line two sentences earlier, please. Do I blog about the weirdos I see on the bus? Because I see a lot of them. A lot.

My head hurts from this existential crisis. So may I be so lazy to ask my seven readers… What do YOU want to read from me?

Satre-esque Yours,

xoxoSallyS

December 8th

I was four, almost five, when my brother was born. I strangely remember chunks of that evening.

My sister and I were at my Granny and Papa's house but I don't remember for how long or when we got there. All I know is I was watching Little House on the Prairie when we got the call. Being four, three-days-short-of-turning-five, I was mad that my show was cut short by a trip to the Fredericton hospital.

I think we were in the waiting room with my grandparents for a while, then we found out that David James had made the scene. They brought my sister and I to the bassinet that held him. I remember very clearly looking at this perfect round head with scrunched eyes and down-like hair, "That looks like my father." And sure enough, he does, even to this day. A little taller and broader than David James I, but they look the same.

Then they brought us to see our mother, who had just had a c-section and was high as a kite. It was 1980, after all. She scared me as she loopily asked us to give her a kiss. I just wanted to go look at the tiny creature who looked like my father.

Dave was a cute baby, with the nastiest diapers ever but a strong sense of self. He was a strong little boy and a talented young man. Now, he's a husband and soon to be a father. I wonder if, when I see his baby, I will think "that baby looks like my brother"? I just hope his baby's diapers show mercy to him and Nicole.

Happy Birthday, Dave.

Reminiscingly Yours,
xoxoSallyS