Temporary? Insanity

Warning: Gratuitous Cuteness Within…

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

It’s time to say farewell, methinks. We leave Tuesday afternoon for our trip to see family in Vancouver and Kelowna over the holidays. Yes, that’s a few days away yet, but I got Neil a very spiffy Christmas present that will be affecting my blog a wee bit.
I gave him a promise. A promise of no blogging for two full weeks. Well may you gasp! What’s strange though, is that I’ve offered similar (smaller) promises[...]

So I think that, mostly, I’m an idiot. This is a declaration that may get me in some small amount of trouble, because in doing so I’m pretty much going to be accusing the majority of the world population of being idiots as well.
Have you ever looked at your body, I mean, really looked? Squinted at the mirror, or lain on your back and prodded at the jiggly mass that is your belly? And have you had the thought that[...]

So the illustrious, hilarious, multi-faceted and multi-talented Mombabe has sponsored a Karoke Christmas Contest. And because I’ve lost hold of my already tenuous grip on sanity, I decided to enter.
Now, I go to great lengths to take flattering profile pictures. Much of my youth was spent being mocked for my poor skin, big nose, lanky hair. You name it, I’ve been mocked for it. So to display an actual video clip of myself is transcending the[...]

Our first fight was over chicken breasts. I giggle a bit now, thinking back on that. It wasn’t exactly huge, really, though it felt so at the time. We’d just never fought before. Not in the four months we’d dated or in the four months we were engaged. Not when I bumped the rear end of that car when he was teaching me to parallel park. Not the night he decided to tell me[...]

It began with a cough.  Not one of those Ahem!-Please-Pay-Attention-to-Me throat clearing sort of coughs.  Rather, it was a deeply rasping phlegmy cough.  The sort that inflicts upon those around the cougher a suddenly intimate knowledge of the inner workings of the cougher’s larynx.  The convulsive coughing lead to mucus snuffling, which lead to low but somehow loud groans of distress as tears spurted forth from my dewy and distressed eyes.
I was sick, and as always upon such occasions, I[...]

Mostly this ole blog of mine is about shameless self-promotion, but as that tends to annoy people after a couple hundred posts, I like to be magnanimous every once in awhile and draw your attention to other fabulous people.
Now, I’m not a great fan of nepotism in general, but hey…family is family. Besides which, the gal I’m about to promote has some incredible skills. Quite frankly, she boggles my mind a bit.  For a wee little one time[...]

But, you know, in a good way. In the proud mummy grinning from ear to ear because her little darlings have it so much more together than everybody else’s. Some people become parents for the love and all that good stuff. I did it for the bragging rights.
Anyway, this is a pretty common dinnertime conversation at Casa de VanderHorst…
Neil: Emma, please eat some of your noodles.  You’ve had enough cucumber.
Emma: [in her I'm-cute-and-therefore-you-ought-to-adore-me voice] But my don’t like noodles!
Me: Good[...]

It’s about time I started contributing something at least mildly useful to the bloggy world so I thought I’d start a list of Weight Loss Tips since I’m attempting to be health conscious prior to the holidays. My mum made hand dipped chocolates this year. Heaven help me.
Disclaimer: The vapid meandering thought processes of Kimberly VanderHorst should not be used in place of proper medical advice. She abdicates all responsibility for any potential unpleasant side effects of taking her advice,[...]

Emma: [walks up to me as I'm wiping down the dining room table, because yes, I do that sometimes] Has you seen me before?
Me: Um…yes, you’re my daughter.
Emma: [solemnly shakes her head]
Me: Hmm…well, you do look different. What’s that on your head?
Emma: [Fingers the edges of the blue flowered beanbag on her head] My hair!
Me: I see. Blue hair with flowers in it. Very pretty. What’s your name?
Emma: Umm…Dala!
Me: What a pretty name! Where are you from Dala?
Emma: Mexico.
Me: [trying[...]