Not sure where I saw this first, but a few people in my neighbourhood have done it, and being the follower that I am... I present My Life Mosaic:

my flickr life mosaic... a bunch of colour and some nursing puppies

The Instructions:

a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
b. Using only the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s mosaic maker.

The Questions:

1. What is your first name?  Cath
2. What is your favorite food?  Sashimi
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?  Yellow
5. Who is your celebrity crush?  Robert Downey, Jr.
6. Favorite drink?  Water
7. Dream vacation?  Japan (sakura festivals)
8. Favorite dessert?  Ice cream
9. What you want to be when you grow up?  Teacher
10. What do you love most in life?  Being a mother
11. One word to describe you.  Unorganised
12. Your flickr name.  cathinto

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Taking a break from reading the very boring outline of the ministry of education's curriculum outline for kindergarten.  Did you know that by the end of senior kindergarten, our children will be able to... wait for it... tell us what they like and don't like??  And if that's not amazing enough for you, they will also be able to follow two-step directions!!  Insanity.  How are these kindergarten graduates not going straight into university with this massive amount of knowledge being provided by the ministry?

Anyway...

There was a great episode of Everybody Loves Rayond where Ray and Debra have a silent battle over who will put away a suitcase which was left on the stairs after a vacation.  Really... so hilarious.

We have many similar silent battles here in our house, although not so hilarious.  Not always with a suitcase, of course... there have been burned-out light bulbs, overflowing trash bins, empty toilet paper roll holders, and a pile of paper recycling, among many others.  Currently I'm monitoring the status of two suitcases:

One. 

A pile of charcoal briquettes from our gas bbq.  It no longer works, so he put it at the curb in the hopes that someone would come and take it.  Which they did, except first they opened the lid, dumped the charcoal (or whatever those things are called) onto our lawn, and took off the with the rest.  I actually watched them do this from the front window, and I was standing there trying to decide if they looked like the type of guys that would beat me up if I went out and yelled at them, but well, it doesn't take long for two men with a truck to load up a small bbq and drive off, so I missed my chance. 

Anyway, I might have actually take care of this one myself, particularly since I sat there and allowed it to happen, but on the first day, Greg said that he would do it, so I didn't.  And now so much time (10 days, to be specific) has passed that it's become The Suitcase. 

We have many pedestrians on our street since we live near the subway, and I spend all day at home watching the people walking by, glancing at the pile of charcoal on our lawn.  Perhaps they think we go out there at night and roast hot dogs on our front lawn.  Perhaps we are those neighbours.

Two.

A reuseable grocery bag on the counter, containing my george foreman grill, which Greg gave to me as a christmas present one year.  It was in the closet, clean and waiting for the next chicken breast, when, without my knowledge, he took it to the restaurant to experiment with one recipe or another.  I have no idea why, since, well, it's a restaurant, and they grill stuff there, so yes, they have a giant grill.  But for some reason they needed my teeny tiny one which can only fit a chicken breast and a small portobello mushroom at one time.

Last week he brought it home in the shopping bag (I should note that he is always badgering me about buying too many reuseable grocery bags, but he never mentions that my supply keeps dwindling because he keeps taking them), and tossed it on the kitchen counter.  There was a small, distracted exchange about the matter, but that's it. 

I looked inside the bag and I have no idea what they did with my grill, but apparently they were testing how long it would take to turn half a dozen skewers of shrimp completely to ash, and doing so smack dab in the middle of a mud pit.  And apparently he decided not to wash it before bringing it home.  So there it sits, as it has for almost a week. 

Okay, so those are the suitcases on the stairs in our house.  I will post updates as to the outcomes of these two standoffs.

The one important distinction between Ray and Debra's battle and the ones that occur between Greg and myself is that, uh, well, I'm the only one that knows the standoff is even happening. 

This is usually a big problem, in terms of how long the standoff will continue, as well as the level of satisfaction I get when he finally does it, as he should have done x number of days/weeks ago, and similarly, the level of righteousness I get to enjoy when I do it myself "because you know, I'm the only one who does things around here, and if I didn't do it, it would never get done, and grumble grumble..."

Nine times out of ten, I find out after it's all over that he had no idea that anything was even happening.  Sure there are some upsides to spending life with someone as clueless laid-back as this, but when it comes to suitcases on the stairs, I've learned it's just not as fun playing this game alone.

Still, though... ask me if I plan to wash the grill today.

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How would you like to be remembered?
Submitted by Paulha66.

Did I die and nobody told me?

Well, this is a dull answer, but first and foremost, I'd like to be remembered as a good mother.  This is likely my immediate response today because I'm in the midst of raising a preschooler and toddler and although at the end of every day I'm convinced that it's not possible to be torn with indecision, doubt, and guilt one ounce more than I am already, I wake up the next morning and prove myself wrong.

So, given my sleep-deprivation, my preschooler's increasing tendency to be as rude as humanly possible to everyone around her (and rarely ever sweet anymore), my toddler's increasing tendency toward aggressive physical behaviour to others (yes, he is THAT kid in the playgroup), and my total loss as to what to do about any of it, I just don't have much energy left to worry about accomplishing anything else. 

At this point, my only goal in life is to help these children become successful adults... and if they are then remembered for great, world-changing things, that's all I want.

But really... ask me again in five years.

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bike-riding

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Totally ripped this off from dewitte.  It's so funny I want it on my own blog.  

FaceBook In Reality - from www.idiotsofants.com

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I've got housekeeping issues.

There's a mountain of half-folded laundry on the living room floor, dirty dishes in the sink, cobwebs on the wine rack (that I spotted two weeks ago when shy was over and still haven't gotten around to cleaning), markers, magnets and other toys scattered into every corner, boxes of too-small or too-big clothes against walls waiting for homes, magazines I plan to read stacked on the counter, crafts and other kiddie artwork stowed away anywhere because I can't bear to throw it away... and so much more I can't list it all.

I say things like "Gee, I just deep-cleaned this washroom three weeks ago and it's already needing to be cleaned again!  What's up with that??"  And "No, don't put that ___ in the goodwill box - I know I've never used it before, and I know I don't even really know what it is, but I really might NEED it someday!" 

A big part of it is that I waste time doing other things (erm, like writing a blog entry about how the house is a disaster because I waste time), but there are other problems, too.  For example, Julie Morgenstern tells me that I'm unorganised because I'm a perfectionist.  Needless to say, I love that one.

All I know is that I just can't seem to keep up with the day-to-day cleaning and tidying that needs to be done to have a lovely, sparkling, clutter-free home.  Or even a remotely mediocre one.

Take this morning. 

M was at montessori, H was asleep on my back, and I thought I'd tackle the kitchen.   Everything that could be messy about a kitchen was messy about out kitchen. Dishes, counter, floor, etc.  I swept, since sweeping is really the only thing I'm able to do with any regularity, and then I started doing the dishes - loading things into the dishwasher (where they should go immediately, but never do), handwashing the rest. 

As I was doing that, I kept looking at the range.  Greg cooked dinner on Tuesday (and we weren't home all day yesterday), and he is a master at managing to get more food splattered on the stovetop than in the pot/pan.  It really started to bother me, so I quit the dishwashing (in hindsight, this was mistake #1 - Julie Morgenstern also told me to not fall prey to "zig zag organising," and I assume she'd say the same about cleaning.) and moved on to the stove.

I started by taking a cloth and quickly wiping down the top, but the spills were a day and a half old, so I needed to scrub and scour.  In scrubbing I became more aware of the tougher stains that wouldn't come off.  On went the over-the-range lights on HIGH, out came every cleaning instrument in my arsenal, and by the time I was done that range was sparkling clean, from the backs of the knobs (removed, soaked, scrubbed and the backs cleaned out with cotton swabs) to the tiniest crevices (scraped with toothpicks, scrubbed with a toothbrush).  What was I saying about being a perfectionist?

...and almost 45 minutes had passed, the rest of the kitchen was still a disaster, and I had only half an hour more to finish, prepare lunch, wake up H, and leave to pick up M. 

I felt discouraged, did some half-hearted cleaning of the counters (enough to carve out a small space to make lunch), and gave up.

The weird thing is how, for the rest of the day, the sight of that range made me kind of happy.  A normal person would be able to realise that if one clean spot brought happiness, then an entire house that's clean would be damn near life-changing.  But not me... it's really sick how well I was able to close my eyes to the mess everywhere else and feel stupidly pleased about the shiny stovetop.  How do I correct my ways if that's all I need to feel satisfied that I did my cleaning for the day (okay... week)?

I know that in three weeks, I'll be saying "gee, I just deep-cleaned that range three weeks ago, and already it needs to be cleaned again." 

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If you have an e-mail address, or perhaps only if you have an e-mail address and well-meaning friends or relatives who like to forward things to you, you've seen this before.  Sorry.  You thought the blogosphere was free of annoying forwarded inspirational messages, but alas, it is not, at least not here.  On the bright side, I did delete the last part about how you should send it on to "five amazing women," so at least there's that.

I just like the message, and I tend to forget it, so I want it here where I can trip over it occasionally when I look back into my archives. 

IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER - by Erma Bombeck

(Written after she found out she was dying from cancer).

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the ‘good’ living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have sat on the lawn! With my grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn’t show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I’d have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, ‘Later. Now go get washed up for dinner’ There would have been more ‘I love you’s’; more ‘I’m sorry’s.’
But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute…look at it and really see it.. live it and never give it back.

STOP SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF!!!
Don’t worry about who doesn’t like you, who has more, or who’s doing what
Instead; let’s cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us.
Let’s think about what God HAS blessed us with, and what we are doing each day to promote ourselves mentally, physically, and emotionally. I hope you have a blessed day .

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watching the cichlids

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It was hanging on the hook on my mailbox.  A medium-sized plastic bag with an advertisement for Yoptimal printed on it.  English on one side, French on the other.  Some new kind of Yoplait yogurt to strengthen your immune system.  And wow, it's got probiotics, amazing!  And antioxidants too!  Isn't that just the most fantastic, innovative thing you've ever heard?

Inside the bag was a 650g plastic yogurt tub. 

Empty.

Okay, not empty - it held a small leaflet and a coupon.

When I looked more carefully at the plastic bag, some small print at the bottom read "Please note that the container in this bag does not contain any yogourt.  We suggest you reuse it to store your favourite foods." 

... I honestly don't even know what to say about this, it's just so odd.

Something about how I am already overrun with plastic containers?  Or about how I keep them only out of guilt, allowing them to take up one full drawer of my kitchen cupboards even though I generally try to store all food in glass containers? 

Oh maybe I should mention that clearly, the brains over at Yoplait, while observant enough to notice and hop on board the super-duper probiotics bandwagon, are somehow so blind that they completely missed the whole green movement that is everywhere? 

A plastic container.  Empty but for a bit of paper.  An empty plastic container in a plastic bag. 

The bag is 100% biodegradable, does that make it better?

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What was the #1 song on the radio when you were born?

I wasn't going to post an answer, but I went to find out the answer to satisfy my own curiosity, and the results were kind of interesting.

The #1 song on the day I was born was "I Can See Clearly Now" by Johnny Nash. 

For one thing, I absolutely love the song. 

But what's neat is that it's one of the two songs that G and I used to make efforts to sing to our baby-to-be when I was pregnant with M.

And to top it all off, it was the song that happened to be playing on the radio in our room when that very same baby was born. 

Johnny Nash - I Can See Clearly Now

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