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The numbers of 30 days

Writing for Nablopomo has set a new record for me for the number of consecutive posts. Some of the posts were just fluff, some were only a photo, a lot were stuff nobody but me even cares about, but it is still 30 posts in 30 days. At first I figured I would crap out after a week or so, but it didn’t take me long to realize that it really wasn’t too hard a thing to accomplish (especially if you don’t mind the fluff once in a while). I don’t plan to keep posting every day, but I think this have given me the push I needed to at least start regular blogging again.

For this, my last post for Nablopomo, I decided to break down the posts I’ve written into some categories. I started the draft for this somewhere in the middle of the month and got the idea because I thought I was going to end up with a ton of photo cop outs. In the end I didn’t do nearly as many cop outs in general as I figured I would. With that I give you the number of posts…

With photos: 17

About/involving my kids: 11 (I expected it to be more.)

Involving a rant (mini or full strength): 2 (I expected this to be much more.)

About me: 7

Where I whine/complain (excluding rants): 3

Where I get on my soapbox: 3

That include a Paint drawing: 2 (oddly)

That are a photo cop out: 4

That are memes: 1 (Woo!)

Where I actually had something I wanted to write about: 17

In the “I’m moving to Nova Scotia!” category: 6

With no comments: 8 (*tear)

With a bulleted or numbered list: 3

Where food is either pictured or mentioned: 12

Where I swear: 5 (Not too bad when you consider that all the drafts in my head contain swearing.)

That I wrote while drunk: 0 (This place would be way more entertaining if this number existed. I’ll work on that.)

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Is it just me…

…or is Quality Street not even trying anymore?

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More specifically:

qualitystreetwtf

The asterisk next to each of them isn’t even an excuse or apology it just says they may contain nuts which, you know, wouldn’t even be necessary if they still called the purple one Hazelnut Truffle (or whatever it was called). I don’t remember what the green triangle was originally called so I guess their plan is working?

I have just one thing to say…

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2 Bits and a Bite

I quit my job on Monday. I was not getting enough hours to make any money over the family payments I lost from being employed in the first place (I was scheduled for 3.75 hours this week in case you think I’m exaggerating). They just keep hiring more and more people so it didn’t seem like that was going to change any time soon and since soon is all I really have left here there was no point in sticking around. I certainly won’t miss working nights and weekends, but it was still frustrating since it was a big deal for me to have gone back to work after five years. I also want to add that I wasn’t getting low hours because I suck, the same thing is happening to everyone there (at least on nights) because they’ve hired so many people.

Our tickets home are booked! We leave here April 20th at 7:15am and arrive in Nova Scotia on April 20th at 11:00pm. Don’t let those times fool you into thinking we’ve only got a 16 hours flight in our future though, we are traveling back in time (so to speak) and I believe the travel time is around 28 hours (I don’t think that includes layovers, but none are too long so it would only be a few more hours). It’s exciting and nerve wrecking all at the same time. Exciting because, well duh. Nerve wrecking because we still have so much to do. The clock is ticking now!

My birthday is April 22 so it will be nice to back home for that. I’ll get to¬† have DQ ice cream cake for my birthday for the first time in eight years! And I will be turning 30. That fact didn’t bother me until yesterday sometime when it just suddenly hit me. 30. I will be thirty years old. 30! Yikes!

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Photos for a family with a dog in it*

At approximately 11:30 am today you could have found me sitting on a bench at a local mall, sweaty, shaking and crying (just a tiny bit).

You see today I had to take the girls to get their Australian passport photos done (and my Australian citizenship & Canadian passport photos) and if you read my post on Thursday you might understand why it wasn’t something I was looking forward to. I even found my self near tears in the car just anticipating the upcoming event – which I quickly realized was totally stupid, gave myself a slap (not literally) and kept on going. Anyway, what I’m saying is I was dreading what I knew we were in for (but still foolishly hoped we weren’t).

The story…

We set out for the post office around quarter to eleven this morning. On the drive I didn’t tell K what we were doing, but when we went inside she heard me tell the guy why we were there. We did not get the photos done at the first stop, mind you, because that post office was not set up for passport photos and he directed me to the central post office (which was where another post office suggested I go a couple weeks earlier because they could not do children’s passports and assured me this one could, but I got them mixed up). While driving to the new location K started saying, “No photo.” – over and over. That’s when I started bribing my two and a half year old. I started by promising an ice cream at McDonalds and she was all for the treat, but insisted on no photo. I added a new toy to the bribe, but she was still not budging. By this time we arrived at the central post office, paid for an hour’s worth of parking and got in a long line inside. Our turn came up and I told the lady why we were there, she looked at K and told me they were not set up for children that young**, I gave her a look that would likely make a giant bear drop dead on the spot and she directed us to a camera shop nearby. I did not go to this camera shop because they were rude to me not that long ago and I don’t want to give them the business so I went to a different one near where I live. On the way E and I managed to get K to agree to having her photo taken. She was excited about the prospect of all the treats to come and I gave her a big hug and a little cheer telling her how happy I was she was willing to cooperate. E was first and had her photo taken without a hitch, then it was K’s turn and she apparently changed her mind because she had a complete meltdown. Again. I tried holding her up, bribing again, threatening to throw Puppy in the bin, but it was impossible. If I was able to get her standing she would cover her eyes, if I tried to hold her arms she went limp, if I tried holding her arms and forcing her to stand she would shut her eyes tight and scream like a banshee. There is no way to force a two and a half year old to take a photo. Trust me – I KNOW. It was at this point that I left the shop for a minute for us to all calm down. This was also the point where we ended up on that bench looking like the most pathetic bunch of people you have ever seen. We need K to have these photos, there is no way around that. It is especially frustrating that a child who is a ham for the camera and will ask to have her picture taken if she spots the camera is so dead set stubborn about getting these done. The guy at the camera shop may have come up with a solution and we’ll find out if it works this afternoon – and God help K that it works or she might be in the same boat as Abby come April***.

The not so important cherry on top of all this is that I made the genius decision to go last and that means that my photo was taken after I was sweaty, shaking and crying. I look real purty.

*I let E name the post because I am about ready to quit this day (it’s 4:00pm). And we do not have a dog.

**The post office is where you have to go for the passport interview, so you’d think at least one around here would be able to take a small child’s photo. Not that it would have mattered for us anyway.

***Kidding. Sort of.

Updated at 5:16pm: It worked! It worked! I just wish her citizenship photo looked this normal:

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All about E

Back in the first week of Nablopomo I said I was going dedicate a post to each of my girls. I’ve already done K’s and since it is exactly one month to E’s fifth birthday (yes she was born on Christmas and yes it is only one month to Christmas…) I decided today would be the day for her post.

E at the playground

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over and done

Tonight we had our Annual General Meeting at the preschool where next year’s committee was elected. What does that mean? I’m done! Dooone donedonedone DOOONNEEE! Actually I’m still the treasurer until our handover meeting on December 9th, but the end is near, my friends. So near I can taste it – and it tastes good. Now being the treasurer wasn’t terrible, but until the last few months I never felt confident and comfortable with what I was doing. From the beginning I had things like budgets, petty cash, paper work and Profit and Loss vs. Actual statements thrown at me without any explanation of how to read them, fill them in or just what to do with them. They are all things that I’m sure are easy peasy for those who have had experience or were maybe taught how to do them, but when you have none of that tucked away somewhere in your brain things can get somewhat…frustrating. I basically felt like I was completely stupid for a the first bit of my job as treasurer. I’m hoping to be able to give next year’s treasurer a little more confidence going in than I had. I’ll try and pass on the things I’ve learned even though I still can’t explain a profit and loss statement very well, but I do understand them and know what is good and what is bad. I’m sure she’ll feel overwhelmed to begin with anyway (unless she’s got some sort of financial background), I think it just goes with the territory of jumping head first into responsibility.

In saying all that I am glad I volunteered my time. I got to see the kinder operate from the inside rather than just pick up, drop off and occasionally be the helper for the day. It was nice to get to know E’s teachers a little better than I might have had I not offered to take the position. And I won’t lie – I felt a little important analyzing the budget, doing paperwork and having my big thick binder and treasurer inbox at the school. Getting my brain working on a level that didn’t involve other people’s poop, bath times and meals wasn’t so bad either.

All things good and bad considered, though? Well, my plan is to never be an executive on a committee. ever. again.