A 2 Second Breather...

I'm not dead: just really tired. My last weekend in Toronto has proven to be crazy to say the least. The tale will be told, however that shall be left for another day. But this must be pointed out: we were at Skalliwags this morning, to the shock and amazement of many, to watch the England game. Sure enough, CTV shows up. We were on the news. Michelle thinks Beckham is hot. Mary is pro-international. Rooney has magically turned into a characture of himself and tries desperately to get in the camera at every turn.

We pissed ourselves SO hard when we saw this on the evening news, and we've been laughing ever since.

Check out the news cast HERE .

My Olny Blog from Engerland...

says this: My cab comes in 5 minutes, I just watched the first period of the Oilers game, I am not sober, and this is the only chance I've had to write anything. It's been a good trip.

Go Oilers!!!

And So It Begins

I spent a few minutes in bed with Eek this morning, trying to convey to her that she had just slept through her last night in Toronto. Don and Eva are picking her up today, and other than a few visits home over the next couple of weeks, I will not see her until August.

I don't think she understood, as she seemed relatively indifferent.

I, on the other hand, seem to have developed a permanent sense of nerves that I can't shake. I hope that my trip to Engerland will help settle them.

My move from Toronto has begun.

The Andersons and their Crazy-Assed Pets

Most of you have met Eek at some point or another. Somewhere along the line, my cat lost all vestiges of sanity and convinced herself she was a human. She likes to stand on her hind legs when looking at something intently. She will only drink water out of a glass (or direct from the tap). I have also recently discovered that she loves strawberries. Not loves in the if-placed-down-on-the-ground-I-will-eat-them loves, but if-a-box-of-strawberries-is-opened-I-will-sell-my-soul-and-god-forbid-anyone-gets-in-my-way loves.



Apparently I have developed some very dubious pet-rearing techniques somewhere. More specifically, apparently I have developed some very dubious pet-rearing techniqes from my parents.

Case in point: their new pet. They are very excited. They have a baby goose. They have named him 'Curious George'.

Curious George was discovered by my Uncle on a gravel road by the farm. He picked him up, and unable to find the rest of the gaggle, took him home to rear to adulthood. Unfortunately, raising Curious George proved to be more difficult than one would expect, and one short week later, Curious George was shuttled off to my parents'. This was for 3 reasons:

1. They have nothing else to do. So Curious George gets all of their attention.
2. They have a river, and have in fact walked Curious George in the river (teaching hime to swim, with my parents following in rubber boots, see above)
3. They love animals (and have no problem letting a goose into the house).

It also gives Don a greater reason to sit down by the river:



Good Lord they need grandchildren.