As you know I have a lot of adjusting to do, so blogging will be sparse until I feel a little more settled in my new job. Suffice it to say, I’m loving it. I mean, for me, what could be better than writing for a living? It’s better than a chai latte. And you know that says a lot.

My first couple of days have been eventful. I tried the subway, yes I did. And it was a big fat FAIL (#bygones) because, of course, I got lost. And, it being the hottest day since the Dinosaur era (actually, I just googled, the temperatures during the dinosaur era are a subject of controversy, FYI), I arrived at work a sweaty frizz ball, and I have a hideous new photo-ID card to prove it. My work clothes were drenched, makeup was running, and blisters emerged by the dozen on my poor feet, way unused to high heels! But it didn’t matter. Everything exceeded my expectations — the people, the role, the office space. I have a desk with a view, Gorgeouses, of beautiful downtown Toronto. And I’m sure the novelty of the glam fashion magazine posters gracing the walls will take a while to wear off….

What else? I’ll keep you posted on when/where my work is published. In the meantime, I’m enjoying writing and learning a ton of stuff from all sorts of experts I’ve been interviewing. Totally fun and challenging!

I really appreciate all your support and congratulations in the comments, email, twitter, facebook…. Seriously, fahklempt! To show my gratitude, I give you a…a gift: some, umm, art created by none other than THE MONKEY — who, trust me, loooves that her mama’s suddenly wearing heals, dress pants, anything but Lululemons….

When I first saw this drawing, I was immediately drawn to the butterfly — because I distinctly remember loving to draw butterflies when I was in Kindergarten. My parents, of course, framed one of my butterfly masterpieces….

So, I’m sitting there tearing up over this butterfly, and then, I notice something. Not the curious scissorhands or fabulously long feet, but…this:

Ummm, what the…?  Freud?

It is priceless, isn’t it? And I give it to you, dear Gorgeouses, with love and thanks. Enjoy!

Love!

xo Haley-O

I cried in the grocery store this afternoon. Sobbed walking up and down the aisles. I’m pretty sure it’s not PMS. I’m pretty sure it’s the tooth, and the denture I’m going to have to wear on my FRONT TOOTH for a whole year while the bone grows enough (we hope) to hold an implant — the bone that’s disintegrated into next-to-nothing because it’s been infected for SEVEN YEARS.

So, I cried in the grocery store. And then an acnefied survey guy approached me in the pasta aisle: “Do you have a few minutes?” he asked me, “I just wanted to show you this new — .” “Not a good time,” I interrupted, looking up finally and showing him my bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He smiled and let me go, then chased after me with a coupon for free pop, which I accepted and then placed on a shelf because my fridge is packed with kale and spinach and broccoli because I need to grow bone — greens have good calcium. Also, I’m very anti-pop. Or soda, or whatever. Anything carbonated strikes me as just wrong….

I’m just sad. It was all funny at first — this whole toothless thing. But, I’ve now met with the ceramicist who’s creating the denture, and the periodontist who’s going to pull the tooth out, raise my gums (ack), and eventually screw in the implant. And, after all that, I may not even get an implant. It might be a bridge.

It’s just hard. I’ve struggled enough with my weight — post pregnancy — and now I have to deal with a denture that might not look so great for a year, that I have to take out and clean after meals ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

It’s totally superficial, I know. I’m lucky it’s not my nose, my ear, my breast. It’s just a tooth. A *cough* top front tooth. But, it’s still a big ordeal. It’s procedure after procedure after painful procedure. And, as it said in the agreement I had to sign, losing a tooth can be psychologically trying, especially — as the periodontist assistant pointed out ad nauseum — a front tooth. For a year.

Here’s hoping it’ll be successful. Here’s hoping I don’t look like Hilary Duff at the end of this. (They have to rework all four of my front teeth to make me hot again.) Or, maybe that I DO look like Hilary Duff….

In the meantime, a little comic relief because HUFF. Check what Rascal wore to his playdate the other day — too. much.

Also, the Monkey can DRAW….

Rascal’s…getting there, too!

The balance! composition! colour scheme. Bril-lers.

Talk about brillers, SPECTACULAR, heart filling-up WONDERful — go see Alice in Wonderland in IMAX 3D….

DEPP!

That movie, and the triple upgrade at the Park Hyatt Hotel, sans children, and my Pure + Simple gifty from Josh made our seventh anniversary beyond memorable. Beyond!

There, see, I have so many things to smile about. Just not too wide. (For the next year.) So as not to expose. The tooth.

Here’s hoping my dentist can keep his promise and make the tooth (both temp and final) look awesome. Right? Right.

UPDATE: My dentist just called me — it’s 10pm. He called to reassure me that everything’s going to be okay (and that I won’t look like Hilary Duff). If I can’t get an implant or the denture looks like crap, he’ll put in a bridge or some other wonderful technological marvel. I’m in good hands. Still. This sucks.

Love….

xo Haley-O

P.S.: In case you haven’t seen it yet, I’m hosting a Pure + Simple giveaway over at Goodies. Open to GTA and beyond (Canada/US). CHECK IT.

I’ve been under the weather the past few days. But that doesn’t mean there’s been nothing to blog about. There’s been hella lots to blog about. My favourite, though — and we’re keeping this short because I’m still under the weather (even as it SNOWED today) — has to be a certain birthday card that a certain cheaty little artist made for PAPA’SHERE on his birthday….

I’ll give you a tour of the card starting from that square thing, bottom-middle. Shall we? Okay. Bottom middle, you’ll find a BIRTHDAY CAKE. How convenient on a birthday card, right? I love it! To the left, you’ll find a PEPPERMINT. The next several pieces, culminating in that orange boxy-swirly thing on the right, are “BIRTHDAY KLITES” (kites). And, then, at last, BOTTOM RIGHT, we have Papa himself, apparently, reclining on the couch. Shall we have a closeup on that one?

Yes, my friends, this is phallic art at its finest. “Monkey,” I asked, “what’s that thing there in the middle of Papa?” “It’s a stick, Mama!” Of course, a stick. How convenient on a birthday card.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PAPA!

Love!

xo Haley-O

The Monkey got a new colouring book at Starbucks this morning (do NOT ask me what I was drinking there — especially because you ALL know what it was, and you ALL know my shame).

As with ALL Starbucks products, it was stupid pricey, but so awesome, and I was determined to keep the kids busy so I could maybe finish reading the 300 pages I have left of my monthly book club book in time for our meeting Wednesday — my ONE PERSONAL GOAL IN LIFE at this very busy time being that I read the book-club book in time for the meeting…, for Wednesday. GAH! Why did DENGUY have to pick the longest book EVER for this month’s read? Good thing the book is AH-MAY-ZING.

As I was saying, the Monkey’s new colouring book is awesome — especially for a kid who really is a natural artist. I mean, ALL kids are natural artists, but she’s a little more artsy, more “artistically mature” than others. She’s not one to kick a ball or master the monkey bars (despite her internet name), but the girl can DRAW.

That said, I was a little surprised at how she tackled the book’s prompt to “make a strawberry cake”:

She coloured the whole thing black, as you can see. And added, erm, a strawberry.

Closeup on the strawberry….

I have no words for this strawberry. Well, I do. Have words. But, they don’t need to be said. Do they.

She fared a little better with the, erm, cherry pie….

I love all the delicate details — her trademark. They always make me go “hmmm…,” and “wow”….

I never finished the 300 pages of my book. I was too busy laughing at strawberries. But, we all had a great time together, and there are two more days ’til Wednesday.

I’m a bit of an anxious basket case lately. I kind of always am when fall turns to winter, and the smells of the shifting seasons — damp leaves, home cooking, smoke from neighborhood fireplaces — emerge full force, subtly bringing me back to the dark, prenatal depressions of my pregnancies. And it’s togetherness that’s getting me by. Nightly “CUDDAH”s (cuddles) with the Rascal, reading fairy books in a fairy nook with the Monkey, playing a family game of Hungry Hippos on a Sunday afternoon….

Monkey’s favourite doll played the yellow hippo while I captured the moment…. For some unknown reason, she’s named the doll “Marshmallow”…

Again, no words.

The monkey loves making beds for “Marshmallow,” and she carries “Marshmallow” EVERYWHERE with her….

I love it. It’s adorable.

I LOVE my hilariously talented, quirky little Monkey.

Seriously, no words.

With the advent of twitter lists (which I doubt I’ll ever get around to making myself because I hardly have time to write to-do or shopping lists let alone SEVERAL lists dividing my friends into groups — high school much? — and unintentionally snubbing them, which is bound to happen)…what was I saying? I forget because I got distracted by Whitney and Jay’s conversation on this eve’s rerun of MTV’s The City….

That picture is so last year, like, when Jay and Whitney were still together. But I didn’t have time to find any current pics of them. But I DID have time to watch THIS WEEK’s episode just now. And I just want to say that, if Elle Magazine wants to interview bloggers — because, as Joe Zee (Elle‘s creative director) puts it, “blogs are the places where news is breaking right now” — they should come TO ME, and my SLIPPERS…. Remember these?

Still wearing ‘em! There’s nothing these two less famous bloggers have that I don’t, right? I blog in my pajamas, too, and shop with my mother…? No? Yes? Elle?

If I don’t get into Elle Magazine, can I at least get on X-WEIGHTED? I need to lose these last 15. Or maybe I’ll just curl up on my couch with my Puffins and make twitter lists, instead. It’s safer here in my comfort zone…. Except right now. Because Josh just made clam chowder, and it STINKS in here.

So, I do have a little list JUST for this blog because my poor blog gets pushed aside so often these days for other more “pressing” things, and this really shouldn’t be, really saddens me, really has to stop because I love blogging…, and if one more thing goes to sh*t because I’m working too much, then something’s got to give. Because DOGGONE IT, I’m important.

So my list, ahem.

1. I love the way Rascal says “banana” — “badanan,” as in, “MO BADANAN, MAMA! MO BADANAN.”

2. Rascal eats too many badanans.

3. The Monkey is addicted to hugging. In the middle of the Swine Flu pandemic, she’s hugging strangers (not that it really matters because Swine Flu is air born).

4. I had Kabocha squash for dinner.

5. Rascal can count to two now. It’s official: “One, Doo, ONE!”

6. Monkey is obsessed with drawing me without a body because, apparently, “it’s too hard” to draw my body….

7. WHICH I choose to take as a compliment, because why not and DOGGONE IT!

8. I’m the disembodied turbaned head on the far left of the drawing — next to me is the artiste herself, her brother, and a caterpillar.

8. I am NOT too old to love The City, OR The Hills….

9. I also love the Glee, The Office, The Tudors, So You Think You Can Dance and Survivor.

10. I did watch V, but I will never watch it again.

11. Just like I will never watch Fringe again.

12. Or the Y&R, which I quit a month ago, WHICH should be a post in itself because it’s a big f-ing deal.

13. I want Russell to win Survivor.

14. I can’t end on #13 not because it’s “bad luck” but because it’s just a weird number to end on.

15. #15 is a better number to end on than #14.

16. I always go for the odd numbers.

17. OCD.

18. But, #18 is an ideal number to end LISTS on.

19. Even though it’s an odd number.

20. I think I’m into even now.