TREE SAGA CONTD....

Today, my "Leadership" class' job was to set up the four Christmas Trees that Marty and I had purchased the other day, in the lobby of our school.  The whole plan for these trees, is that they will be used as part of our school wide Food Bank incentive.  Our idea was, that for every 5 cans of food a student brings to the Food Bank Collection, they will be given a light bulb that they will get to screw into the string of lights on a tree.  Our goal being, that we would collect enough cans to light up all four trees by the last day of school before Christmas break.  Sounded like a simple, tangible, great idea, but I'm telling you, the logistics of it were anything but simple.  

The trees not only had to be assembled but in order to work for our "incentive program," they had to have the lights removed from them. Ofcourse the only trees Marty and I had been able to find were pre-lit. Pre-lit trees have their place, I guess, but they really defeated the purpose of our Food Bank promotion.  Removing lights from trees that are meant to be pre-lit was going to be challenging.  I had noticed in the store, on the "floor model" that the lights were on circular strings which had been maticulously wound around each branch by some poor worker in a sweat shop somewhere.  The carefully woven strings of lights had not been intended for removal, especially by pre-pubescent hands! Like I said, logistcal nightmare, but....I had a plan! I envisioned an efficient assembly line.  One group of students would assemble the trees, one would flatten branches, one would remove strings of lights and one group would remove the large light bulbs from the strings of lights we had bought especially for this project.  We had wanted the big outdoor lights, the kind that easily screw in and out of the sockets on the string, however, we could only find strings of lights with bulbs in them. In order for the incentive of "bring 5 cans, screw in a light" to work, we had to start with "naked" strings on our trees!  The final group would place these bulbless strings on the trees.  It was going to be challenging, but not impossible.... Here is a more accurate account of  how my "efficient" assembly line functioned: The Box Opening group, dicovered BUBBLE WRAP, that was the end of their productivity.  The Tree Assembly group grabbed the individual, pointy sections of the trees, realized how much they resembled their own individual pointy "sections" and their productivity turned into an inappropriate comedy act.  The Branch Flattening group, ended up breaking more branches than they flattened. More broken branches found their way into 8th grade nostrils than garbage cans.  The String Removal group unwrapped the strings from the trees, wrapped them around themselves, and spent the remainder of the period "turning themselves on," by plugging into electrical outlets! The Bulb Removal group actually, without incident, managed to remove the light bulbs from the big strings of lights and successfully place the naked strings on the trees!  The fact that there were four upright, assembled, naked stringed Christmas Trees standing in the lobby at 3pm was a miracle!!!

THE CHRISTMAS TREE HUNT

Today Marty and I went on a Christmas Tree hunt. It was not like the Christmas Tree Hunts I remember from when I was a kid. Those hunts were fun! We always got a real tree, one we'd cut down ourselves, each of us taking a "token" swing with the axe. Ofcorse the cutting down of the tree, came at the end of the agonizing process that is a family a 5 coming to a concensus on the perfect tree. We'd head out as a family, into the "Deep Dark Forest," a heavily treed area on our property. The adventure would begin with us trudging through deep snow, listening to Nicole wine and complain, begging for someone to carry her, she used to hate hiking. We'd try to drown Nic out by singing obnoxiously loud, vulgar versions of Jingle Bells, eventually she'd join in, adding her own voice to the mix. When we got to the forest, the debate would begin...you know how it goes when 5 opiniated people try to agree on one thing. Some of us liked our trees tall, some liked short ones, some liked the branches evenly spaced, some didn't care. Some preferred thick trunks, some like a skinny ones, the list of criteria went on and on. Dad would diplomatically mark each potential tree with a ribbon, so we could come back and narrow down our choices. Eventually, we'd be sooo cold we'd just cut down the one we were closest to. Each of us would take a chop at the trun with the axe. It was a ceremonious chop, we all considered it a huge priviledge and a tradition! With renewed enthusiasm, we'd trudge back home, toes frozen, dragging the tree, our prize possession, by the trunk! We sang twice as loud all the way, excited to finally have the perfect tree!
There were times we'd take the horses out to the Deep Dark Forest, tie the tree to the saddle horn and drag it back home. There were times Dad would hide deep deep in the forest, only emerging when he was sure he could scare us enough to make us cry. There were times we'd argue over choosing the tree until there were tears, but every tree hunt ended with at least 5 swings of the axe and 5 giant smiles! Those Christmas Tree Hunts remain an awesome memory, one I will try to create for my own family one day. Today, the hunt with Marty was NOT one of those fun memories, though, it was an adventure. First of all, the fun factor started out low, as we were not hunting for a tree for ourselves, we were hunting for 4 trees for my school. This was a job, not a chosen adventure. I had actually volunteered to get the trees as I knew I was going to Walmart tonight. Marty, ever the good sport, volunteered to come with me. Walmart was all out of plain, 6 foot, 29 dollar Christmas Trees, BIG SURPRISE!!!! Next stop, Canadian Tire (we had to go there for a tail light anyway.) They had a huge selection of trees, but only fancy, expensive ones. The cheapest ones already had lights on them, lights or pinecones and berries. Like what? Nothing says "merry Christmas" like fake pinecones and berries hanging on from the fake branches of cheap, fake tree!!! No thanks!! Last stop, Superstore. Now, Superstore had a tonne of trees, all sizes, all kinds of berries, pinecones and lights and all kinds of colors, but not in the store. Ofcorse not, it couldn't be that easy! We had to go out to the "Garden Center" where there were hundreds of boxes of everything, all wrapped in shrink wrap all stacked 8 feet high, all without picture lables!!!! A disgruntled store manager helped us with our search and eventually, we found 4, six foot, pre lighted trees, halejulia!!!! Marty and I piled the trees into the van and trudged back home, I was the only one singing, obnoxiously loudly all the way home!

It is way too early to have a photo of this year's perfect tree, so I have posted a photo of Nic, Troy, Marty and I, infront of last year's tree. Nic and I had decided this should be an "open mouth" photo....you can tell Marty was new to the family....

HAMBURGER HEAD

We had this cat when we were kids, he had this disgusting scab on his head. The scab bore the appearance of a permanant spoonful of ground beef. Not sure who came up with it, but Hamburger Head became the cat's handle and he went through the rest of his life with it. Gross, I know, but true. I had my fair share of "hamburger" today too....

We were playing this game in gr.5 French Class. A game that involved two students racing to a pile of stuffed animals, attempting to be the first to pull the one I had called out in French, from the stack. It was great fun, we were all cheering, laughing wildly and learning "en francais." Ofcorse, like most fun things, this game ended with an injury. One of the girls slid across the carpet to grab a pig (un animal de la ferme,) she sat back down at her spot in the circle, victorious, and that is when we noticed the blood seeping through her jeans. She pulled up her pantleg to reveal a red spot. From where I was sitting it looked like a "cherry," you know a little rug burn. I started to warn the rest of the kids NOT to slide or they too would end up with rug burn, but the girl's voice was insistant when she said, "Madame, it's not rug burn." I took a closer look and almost lost my breakfast!!! She was right, this was no rug burn, this was....well, it was hamburger!! I could see the meaty part of her knee when she lifted up the thick skin flap that had once covered it. She explained that when she slid she felt her knee scrape across some metal. Turns out there is some kind of electrical outlet in the floor, under the carpet that is covered by a metal trimmed carpet lid. I had never noticed it before, but suddenly it was in very plain sight!!! The young lady ended up getting the skin flapped stitched back over top of the knee meat!!! DISGUSTING!!!!!!!!!!!

I should have known I was in for a particularily scabby kind of day, after the discovery I made on my face this morning! See, I have this nose piercing with a history of growing large, infectuous, pusy (I don't know how to spell puss ending with the "y" sound, but when I put two s's it looks like pussy and my nose ring does not grow pussys) bumps around it. It can look pretty gross and sore, but I love it, I love it too much to take it out. Anyway, I must have scratched myself in my sleep because when I woke up this morning, I had this enormous, fluid filled bump behind my nose ring. It looked hideous, so I did what any desperat woman would do when faced with a blemish...I reached for the safety pin I keep in my make up bag. I scraped off the mascara (hey who doesn't use a pin to seperate her eyelashes?) and poked it into the squishy bump...nothing. I pushed harder and whoooosh, out spewed all kinds of thick mucussy fluid!!! Soo gross, but sooo satisfying at the same time!! I kept squeezing and manipulating the bump until it appeared much flatter and held a Q-tip on it until it stopped bleeding. To me, the hamburger looking mess I left behind seemed way less detrimental to my otherwise flawless (ha) face than the pusy bump! I have posted a picture of what things looked like on my face at the end of the day....dont' worry, next time you see me, it will look normal!

GRAPE ESCAPE

Writing this blog is a Margurita Making machine...at least that is how I feel after 2 nights of making nothin' but! I can sling Tequilla, triple sec, lime juice and margurita mix with the best of them! I started the evening pouring shots of tequilla which was pretty simple. I wasn't gonna mention the Margurita Maker if no one asked. It's not that I don't like Marguritas, it's just that they take a while to make and long line ups make me nervous! Ofcorse some chick, whose legal age was questionable, would eventually show up and ask, "What are you guys pouring?" I'd say "shots of tequilla" and Maria would say "Mojitos,"( she was pouring Bacardi's new pre mixed mojitos. ) The girl would turn her nose up at Tequilla, and head towards the mojitos, undoubtably, her keen eye for girlie drinks, would catch the margurita mixer on the back table. She'd ask in a desperate, whiney voice, "margurita?" Because I was being paid, I'd have to slap a smile on my face and say "sure!" But once the blender started up, that was it! People would leave other line ups, line ups of fine wines and cheeses' and join the back of the Margurita line!

I did pour the odd shot of tequilla, usually with a group of "older" men who'd insist I do a shot with them! Most of the time, I'd refuse (shooting tequilla has this way of waking up a terrible drunken memory of a night involving WAY too much tequilla, that makes it near impossible for me to ingest), but every now and then I'd take a deep breath, shoot the tequilla, plaster a forced smile on my face and swallow!

Eventually Maria and I ran out of the plastic Bacardi cups we were serving our tastes in. All we had left were the tiny,individually wrapped plastic martini glasses we had been pouring the tequilla shots in. There was NO way we could unwrap those glasses and pour drinks fast enough to meet the demand of the LONG line behind our booth. I had to send out the emergency call to Marty, who, feeling he had left his booth in sexy, adorable hands, was enjoying some time tasting the competitors drinks. I only had time to text "Come here!" He eventually made his way back to the Bacardi booth to find two stressed out chicks madly blending marguritas, pouring mojitos, shooting tequilla and unwrapping tiny, plastic glasses! Marty took over the unwrapping process while I tried desperately to pour the slushy marguritas from the giant spout of the blender into these miniscule martini glasses. Disaster!!! Marguritas all over the table, all over the floor and all over me! Luckily it was late enough into the event that several people were intoxicated enough to offer to lick up the mess! Not long after running out of cups, we ran out of margurita mix. Secretly, I was glad. I'd had enough of that machine. Don't get me wrong, it is actually really fun making marguritas and that margurita mixer is awesome, but I was margurita'd out!! I was happy to be back to pouring straight tequilla shots....but people had been spoiled and they were not about to settle for straight shots. That is when the drink inventing started. I took a look at the tiny glass, then at the ingredients I had left on the table: triple sec, lime juice and tequilla, then I looked at the inibriated crowd, hell I just started mixng and pouring and dropping single ice cubes into each glass! You would have thought I had just discovered water in a desert! People were coming back for more, more of that mystery, invented drink!!!

It was an exhausting night, but soooo fun! Sometimes it is nice to have a change from the classroom and for 2 nights a first grade teacher and a French teacher got to be bar tenders!

BACARDI

One of the best parts about Marty working at Bacardi is that sometimes, when he has to get ready for a big event, we get to test the drinks at home!

Tomorrow there is a wine tasting event that Bacardi is going to have a booth at. Marty has hired my good friend, Maria, and I to be the "Taste test girls!" We are excited for the opportunity to be barmaids for 2 nights (Friday and Saturday.) We will be pouring tastes of Marguritas and Mojitos, both made with Bacardi owned products. The marguritas will be made with Cazadores, the brand of tequilla that Bacardi owns. The marguritas will also be made in a margurita maker, the one Marty brought home tonight for us to "practice" with!! Fun!!! We had a great time experimenting with how much ice, lime juice, margurita mix and Cazadores to use in order to create the perfect drink! We did have access to a reccomended recipe, but what fun would it be to follow a recipe??? A few bags of ice and half a bottle of tequilla later, we had perfected our drink! It was a team effort, even Scout helped!

NESTEA PLUNGE

"You know the 'Nestea Plunge'?" That's how the sixth grader started to explain the stitches in the back of his head when I noticed them the other day. I couldn't help it, before he even continued the story, I got a knowing smile on my face. I mean come on, can't you just see it? You don't even need me, or him to fill you in on the rest of the story. You know exactly what happened....and whether lauging about it, considering he did get injured, is right or wrong, it's funny!

Guess they should add, Bearspaw, Canada to the list of places that don't have Nestea....or at least an appropriate place to take "the plunge!"

If you have no idea what i am talking about, check out the ad at the following address!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a3Dtzfed5Kw

Nope, the photo has NOTHING to do with Nestea at all, but it is cute and Nic did tell me I should post more photos. I figured, hell, why not post an old one of me with Tucker and Duke, mom and Nic's dogs?

Funny how guys love action movies, car chases, gun fights and spies! We just saw the new James Bond movie and all the way home Marty kept talking about how cool it would be to be a spy! I just smiled and nodded. I really don't get the big excitement about being a spy, at least the way James Bond portrays it. Ok, sure, I get the appeal of sexy ladies, fast cars and fancy martinis, but the rest of it? The rooftop jumping in suit jackets? The dangling by the ankles from ropes while blood dries in your eyes? The bare handed glass grabbing and stabbing? The bare chested sutchering of wounds? The constant running at top speed for miles in dress shoes and tuxedo pants? No thanks!

Come on, is one night with a sexy lady you'll never see again really worth all that? I guess men think differently than women. Marty kept making comments like " I could be a spy, but I dont' know 14 different languages. I could be a spy, but I'm too big. I could be a spy but I'm not that agile. I could be a spy, but I bet you'd have to serve in the military first. I could be a spy, but...." the list went on and on. Marty was quite worked up and excited about this whole spy thing when we pulled into the driveway. I pointed the garage door opener at the door and...nothing! "Stupid thing," I said. It had been giving me trouble for a while. "It must need a new battery" was Marty's response to my frustration and he grabbed the remote opener from me. We sat in the driveway twisting and pointing the remote towards the door in everyway possible until finally, randomly the big door lifted up. I drove the car in opened my door to get out, but Marty wouldn't get out of the passenger seat. He was determined to open the remote and check out the battery situation. I closed my door and waited for a couple of minutes, I had actually been wondering how to check the battery. I watched as my "wannabe" spy rolled the remote over and over in his hands. I watched him squint as he read the instructions telling him "...to change battery, slide cover." I watched as he inspected the "sliding cover" for the secret handle that slid. I watched and I waited. Eventually, I lost interest in the mission. I got out of the car, closed the garage door with the big button on the wall and went into the house. Marty, ever focused, stayed in the car, fiddling with the remote. I had let Scout out of her kennel, gone pee myself, got the coffee maker ready for morning and picked out my clothes for tomorrow before Marty made his way inside. "So," I inquired, "did ya get it open?" I looked up into his defeated eyes, he didn't have to say anything. I knew he had not cracked open the garage door remote opener! So much for "I could be a spy but....I am pretty sure that being able to change a simple battery would be a pre rec for any spy training course. (Hey, I know I can't do it either, but I am not proclaiming I could be a spy.) Poor Marty, guess he will have to settle for the hot chick he has, the mini van he drives and the booze he sells without the excitement and danger of 007!

Check out the pics of my wannabe spy and his sidekick, adorable!

PMS

Marty actually brought out his giant, leather bound daytimer today and wrote an "F" for Flo, as in Aunt Flow, on the days when "Aunt Flow" will be visiting our little condo. He did not write this as a note to himself to help track my cycle for fertility purposes. No, he wrote those "F"s as a warning to himself, a reminder that he should find something to do besides stay home with me on those days....guess I have been a little bit grouchy lately.....
I can't help it if I sometimes go through stages of moodiness, bitchiness and random crying. Dont' all us women have weeks like that? At least one a month? My sister's husband calls this crazy state ER. It stands for "emotionally retarded" and since he has created an acronym for it, I have to assume that his wife, my sister, also experiences random moodines and bitchiness and that she too inexplicably bursts into tears from time to time.
I hate being unpredictably crabby. I hate crying for no reason and I hate that things that normally don't rattle me, send me right over the edge at certain times of the month, but, that is how I am and if Marty wants to highlight it with an "F" in his calendar fine by me! I will highlight....damn it, I can't think of a single thing to highlight in my calendar to warn myself about him. Turns out he is never moody, he is rarely bitchy and I have never seen him randomly cry, so unfair!!! Aint the balance between man and woman beautiful!

POOP POLICE

I have noticed that I am the kind of person who always seems to announce when I have to go to the bathroom. Actually, i didn't notice this, someone pointed it out once, "Jeanne, you don't have to make an announcement every time you leave the room," and ever since then I have become concsious of the fact, that, yes I do quite often point out where I am going when I leave a room. Not sure why. Maybe it is because, as a teacher, I expect to be informed when my students leave the classroom, maybe it is because I dont' want people to miss me when I'm gone, or maybe it is just because I like to share!
Lately I find myself becoming obsessed with bathroom habits, not mine or Marty's, but rather Scouts. I guess it is because she is a puppy and because she is a house puppy and because I hate cleaning up "accidents." Naturally I am a very unobservant person. I am not details oriented, I can't even tell you what color my garage door is right now, and I drive through it everyday. I am however, very good at observing character and behaviour of living things. I know exactly how many minutes after eating Scout has to "eliminate," and that is why it drives me NUTS when, mysteriously, she won't go!!! I stand out on the porch in my poofy, winter coat, my huge moon boots (we did have snow last week and the boots are still at the porch,)my arms crossed, waiting....waiting for Scout to do "her thing." Normally she goes out, pees by the tree, comes to see me for a treat and heads back out to the corner of the fence to finish her job, but not tonight. Nope, tonight, she refused to complete number 2 of the process. We were going for dinner with Marty's parents and then taking them to the airport (they had been visiting for the weekend.) I knew Scout would be locked up for at least 4 hours. She had just eaten and I had timed everything perfectly so that she would "eliminate" just before being locked up in her kennel. I thought it was perfectly timed, but she wouldn't go. I was getting anxious as our departure time grew closer. I tried leaving her out in the yard and spying on her through the blinds, but she wouldn't stop playig with her stuffed duck out there. I went out, took the duck away and waited, still nothing. She casually ate grass, tried to dig a hole, carried the pooper scooper around, but did not "get busy!!!" In desperation, I got out the leash and took her to her favorite spot, the place she always goes when we head out on our walks, but tonight, the magic spot elicited nothing! I drug her back in the house exasperated, but knowing at least, that as soon as we got home, she'd have to go for sure. We got home, I let her out of the kennel, gave her some water and headed outside. I carried her to the corner of the fence, and hoped it would be quick, I was only wearing flipflops, jeans and a t-shirt, but there was no action. I let her back in, and proceeded to follow her around the house like some kind of crazy, neurotic freak! i had become the poop police! There was no way that under my watch, she was going to crap on the floor. I knew she had to go, I knew she did and as soon as she got that look in her eye, I was going to be ready!
The story does end with me recognizing the signs and Scout pooping in three different, messy piles on the lawn, right where she was supposed to. Everything turned out ok, but it kind of freaked me out, how obsessive I have become. Starting right now, I need to get a life!!!!!!!!!!
I have posted a couple non-pooping photos of Scout from our little hike in Canmore today. The pictures, like Scout, refuse to co-operate. I will post them another time....

NOVEMBER 11

November 11^th is fast approaching the little boxes of poppies for sale are on display everywhere.  I was in the school office the other day where I saw a young boy looking to make a donation to get a poppy. He had a toonie and before he dropped it into the donation box, he asked me how many poppies he could take for giving a toonie. I didn’t know the official answer so I told him to take one for his shirt and one for his coat. Like how many do ya need?  After that conversation, on my way back to my classroom, I must have picked  three “lost” poppies up off the ground.  Maybe a guy should have a huge stash of poppies, I had forgotten that the darn things are impossible to keep attached to your shirt!  I spent the rest of the week, pinning poppies  back onto young children’s shirts and picking them up off the ground at restaurants, the grocery store and even at the barn!  It got me thinking about all of the different strategies I have tried or seen people try, to get that poppy to say on. 

There was the “stick a little piece of eraser on the end of the pin” trick, then we tried using sticky tack, and we’ve all bent the pin upwards.  I can remember trying to manipulate the pin so that it weaved it’s way through the poppy itself (actually one of the more successful strategies.)  There’s the people who just totally give up, remove the pin and the little center, fold up the poppy and stick it in their mouths to make lips, (I have been in the frustrating place before!)  Marty told me, he used to have a little, tiny Maple Leaf pin that he would put in the middle of his poppy and secure the backing to it, he has never lost a poppy with that technique.  I can vouch for him, as I saw his poppy from last year neatly placed in the coat closet waiting to be pinned to his lapel!  Yep, he still has last years’ poppy!!!!!!!!!  I personnaly don’t mind donating the 25 cents every year to get myself a new poppy, or two, or three or however many it takes to actually have one pinned to my coat on the 11^th of November!

GAS

Scout has officially qualified as a spawn of Marty and I. Last night, Scout proved she has one of the chracteristics, Marty and I will, without a doubt, pass on to our children, she had....gas! I'm not talking about a normal, weird smelling dog toot, I am talking about a full on, loud, squeaky string of FARTS! It all started with me making a poor judgement call by buying a big, faux rawhide chew toy at the Dollar Store. I was so excited to give it to her, that I hardly noticed that it was not authentic rawhide. She was chewing away when Marty noticed how strange the thing looked, how it was flaking all over the floor and how it smelled like ass! We took it away, but her sad, dissapointed eyes made me decide to let her have it back if she took it outside. I should have been tougher, her little tummy and rectum would be thanking me right now, but instead, i gave in. The chew toy was devoured, not to be thought of again, until 4:30am. Scout woke me up with urgent cries coming from her kennel. She never wakes me up at night, so I figured she must be desperate! I pulled on my sweat pants and took her outside. She raced to her "magic spot," and squatted like she was going to "eliminate," I shined my flashlight on her backside, (I like to know if she's done her business,) but, to her frustration and my amazement, the only thing that came out was...the loudest FART ever! I couldn't help it, I laughed outloud! I had never really heard a dog fart before. I'd smelled Duke's farts and I'd smelled Scout's, but never had I heard it, not loud, in the raw like this! Scout seemed surprised, she looked behind herself, raced to another spot, squatted and another one ripped out! Wow, if she hadn't looked so bewildered it would have been way funnier. Three times it happened before anything besides gas actually came out! I will spare you the details of the un-gassy things I had to clean up at 4:30am, but, please learn from my mistake, NEVER FEED YOUR DOG FAUX RAW HIDE, especially if it only costs a buck fifty!

PAPER OR PLASTIC

Remember way back when the clerks at the grocery store used to ask if you wanted your groceries packed in paper or plastic bags? Remember when they started phasing paper bags out and you had to specifically request paper bags?  You might not remember this, but I do because my dad would specifically ask my mom to remember to get paper bags, he needed them.  Why did Dad need paper bags you ask?  Popcorn.  Dad needed paper bags to make popcorn!  His secret to great, buttery, salty popcorn lied in the...paper bag.  He would air pop the popcorn into this great big blue tupperware bowl.  He would systematically dump the popcorn from the bowl into the paper bag.  He would then dump melted butter and salt on the contents of the bag, roll down the rim and shake the bag like it was a polaroid picture (I borrowed that analogy form a song, but I think it fits.)  One he had adequately buttered and salted the first batch, he would pop another batch, add it to the bag and repeat the butter, salt drowning and shaking process and then, pop another batch.  Dad, would fill the paper bag with popcorn and then pour it into large plastic bowls for each of us.  He would always eat his portion from the big blue bowl.  Sometimes Dad would let us have popcorn for supper, that's right, popcorn as our meal.  Those were the days!  I hadn't thought about paperbag popcorn for a long time and then just the other day, we got a random paper bag at the grocery store.  I couldnt' wait to get it home and drown air popped popcorn with enough butter that it would soak through the paper bag making those familiar grease stains, the ones that would eventually create a hole in the bag forcing Dad throw out that bag and get a new one. Marty was impressed with how the paper bag made covering every kernal with an even amount of butter and salt, so easy.  Usually a huge, glass measuring cup filled with melted butter makes me think about the size my ass is sure to get when all of that butter ends up there, but I couldnt' help it ,just having the bag made me want to really drown the "healthy" air popped corn, in all the stuff that makes it good, butter, lots of it and salt.  I poured the popcorn into one giant plastic bowl and we devoured ALL OF IT, scraping the last few kernals through the grease and salt at the bottom of the bowl!  Thanks Dad, for showing me how to make the best popcorn ever!  Go ahead, get yourself a paper bag and indulge!!!

WHITE TRASH!

Have you ever seen the show "Trailer Park Boys?" It is a show that kind of makes fun of people who live in trailer parks. The show isn't mean spirited, the comedy is all in fun, just like Nic and Troy's Halloween Party this weekend. The theme of the party was "Trailer Park." Everyone had to come in a costume that represented the stereotypical "trailer trash."

So, what comes to your mind, when you think trailer trash? I am willing to bet you see a lot of drinking, smoking and swearing. I bet you conjur up images of men, dressed in "wife beaters" (tight white tank top,) sweat pants, baggy camo pants or tight jeans. I bet you see a large women standing on porches in house coats, rollers in hair, a cigarett in hand and cats rubbing against her legs. I bet you see skinny young girls, wearing skirts that are too tight and too short paired with a top that is too tight and too low cut. I bet you picture older women who epidimize the saying "rode hard put away wet," and old men who sit on couches, hands in pants, beers balancing on bellies! These images are funny, it's how we love to think of "trailer park people," and it was fun to dress like them!!! I decided to be a pregnant, drinking, smoking bride (the cigarett I picked out of the trash at a 7-11,) Nic was the "young thing" in tight leather, all tatooed up, Troy was the camo pants, wife beater guy and Marty was the guy trying to keep hard rock and acid wash alive!!!!

We wrapped Nic's curtain rod with big, bright outdoor Christmas lights, we strung a clothes line across the living room and hung LARGE satin lingerei and X-LARGE tighty whities from it. We completed the decor by covering the windows with tin foil! Perfect!!! I took a photo of everyone as they entred Nic's house dressed in thier version of "trailer trash,"but I couldnt' post them all. I have posted the best of the best though! Please enjoy our trailer park spoof with the fun spirit it was intended!