Teaser Trailer...

(*cue booming voice-over*) ON NEXT WEEK'S EPISODE OF FRANNY'S FABLES... Will our favourite blogger survive the most gruelling and vitally important interview of her life? Will the Sweeties' bid for the house of their dreams be successful, and if so, will they have taken the first step on the the path towards financial ruin? Will Joey find out that his frazzled parents have no idea when the Beaver Scouts Jamboree really is? Will Franny require medication and years of therapy when her friends point and laugh at her dorky Little Red Riding Hood costume? Will the haggard parents be able to remove Natalie's Halloween costume in time for her high-school graduation? If they do, will she EVER stop shreiking and crying bloody murder because "I WANT TO BE STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE, ARGHHHHHHH WAHHHHHHHHH GRRRRR!!!!!"? STAY TUNED FOR ALL THIS AND MORE ON FRANNY'S FABLES!

Ooh, It's Magic

With great power comes great responsibility...and parenting is no different. Mothers (and fathers) hold in their hands the welfare, the beliefs, the very souls of the future generation.

Which is why I like to MESS with my kids' minds every so often.

By total serendipity, I recently came into the possesion of a "magic wand". As they say, the wand chooses the wizard, and the one that chose me is Walnut wood, the wand of intuition and divination. (Yes, I know this is not real, but *sigh*, too many Harry Potter books.) And when I say the wand found me, I mean it. After a long talk about our favourite books, this person I had just met placed it in my hands saying "I have an extra wand, do you want it?" Ooooh, coooool....

Anyhow, I was showing it off to my hubby, and the kids were teeming with questions, so, I gave them a demonstration. I hid the remote under my lap, and then proceeded to change channels on the TV with my wand by uttering the incantation "Change Channel!" They were jumping around screaming with glee, and then I uttered the incantation "Shut Off" and the TV shut 'itself' off. We did on/off several times, and my oldest asked me to do more 'magic'. So I said, "Watch this." I pointed the wand at the kids and uttered "Jump up and down!"

AND THEY DID!

It was totally awesome! I made my daughter's hair 'grow' (she was beaming and twirling), made my son meow (he really did it), and then came the REAL challenge:

Joey: Mommy, make the TV disappear!!!

Me: Umm....umm...daddy? *desperate glance* Joey wants me to make the TV disappear...

Daddy: Ummm...no, sorry kids, very expensive piece of electronics, wouldn't want to misplace that!

Joey: Ok...*mischevious glance* Make the twins disappear! Here, I'll do it! *lunges for wand*

Me: Oh no you don't! That's not nice to do to your brother and sister! But I can make YOU disappear! *points wand at kid threateningly*

Joey: Eeek! *takes off at a run*

Daddy: Ha ha ha, it worked!

After that, I had to hide the wand because it was like having a weapon in the house, with each kid trying to get a hold of it to vanish each other or to command their sibling to hand over their cookies. Also, there was the more likely possibility of the "poke out an eye with a pointy object" hex taking place.

Later that night, when the excitement had died down, Joey came up to me and asked, in all seriousness. "Mommy, is there really such thing as magic?"

I smiled and said "Well, do you think there is?"

He didn't answer for a few moments as he considered my question. "I don't know." He replied. "But I hope there is."

Me too, Joey. Me too.

Goddess of Music

I just had my guitar re-strung. I really missed "Sammie-Jo" while she was at the music shop, especially since there was this AWESOME song I was desperate to try out. When I got her back, they had lost all my guitar picks, so I improvised and actually made my own pick using a margerine container lid cut to the right shape. And then I grabbed Sammie-Jo, and played "Goodbye My Lover" by James Blunt totally by ear.

It was pure magic.

I got it right, right off the bat. The sound was heavenly, by far the best sound I had ever achieved, (with a margerine-lid pick no less!!) I have been sneaking guitar time all day today. My hubby caught me fresh out of the shower strumming. He smiled and let me be, even though I should have been helping him with the kids.

It's been a musical day in general. In the car this morning, I heard the song "I Wanna Be Sedated" by the Ramones. It was a big song (think hyper punk sound) in my bar days, and I was bopping and blasting the music on the drive in.

Then, when I reached work, I stumbled across "Canon in D" by Pachebel on the radio. It was my wedding march and still mesmerizes me whenever I hear it. Funny how I went from punk-rock to soothing classical in less than 5 minutes. I enjoyed both immensely!

Today I will have 30 mins between ending work and picking up the kids. I think Sammie-Jo and I are going to share some quality time.

Music is a language which the soul alone understands, but which the soul can never translate. ~Arnold Bennett

Real Time. Wasted.

Me: What do I smell like?

Hubby: Wh-what?

Me: I read this article saying that people in love are more likely to enjoy the smell of their partner's skin. So what do I smell like to you?

Hubby: Umm...you don't smell...

Me: Not like when I'm gross and sweaty! Like now, like right now? Just smell me! *offers arm*

Hubby: *sniffs arm*

Me: Well?

Hubby: Hmmm...you smell like a Laura Secord's store.

Me: *beaming* Really?

Hubby: Yeah, like *sniff* mint and oranges *sniff*...and chocolate...

Me: Wow. That's awesome...good job! Ok, let me smell you!

Hubby: *offers arm*

Me: *sniff*...you smell like...a forest...

Hubby: More like a bog, maybe?

Me: No! Like a shady forest, in the mountains...

Hubby: Like something that died under a decaying log you mean?

Me: Oh for pete's sake! *sniff* Ok, maybe a little mossy, but a GOOD mossy...

Hubby: Like fungus maybe?

Me: Ok FINE, you smell like a carrion-eating vulture's asshole, ok!?

Hubby: *chuckling* Yeah, that would really stink!

Me: Argh! You're a wooded mountain! It's a GOOD smell! A GOOD SMELL! Moss, wood, fresh air, mountains...IT'S A GOOD SMELL!!!

Hubby: A good smell...gotcha.

Me: Sheesh! I'm SO gonna blog about this you know.

Hubby: Yeah, I know...

I'm Not an Alcoholic but I Can Learn

Everytime I try to do something proactive and interesting with the kids, it always ends one of two ways: either someone throws a fit, or someone gets injured. The end product is the same, though - one (or more) child/ren is on the floor, screaming bloody murder. My life is sure to make the newspapers one day...

Music Time Violence
Violence erupted yesterday at the home of a local mom after supply and demand issues pertaining to musical instruments got out out of hand. "Family Music Time was supposed to be FUN", quoted Franny while standing outside of her home, chainsmoking. Details are yet to be confirmed by authorities, but witnesses say that Franny provided a box of small, musical instruments to her children with the intention of having them accompany her while she played the guitar. Evidence assembled at the scene included a tambourine, a harmonica, two maracas, miniature cymbals and a broken plastic recorder. "They all wanted the stupid recorder at the same time..." muttered the shell-shocked father, "they were screaming...they were fighting...no one wanted the other instruments...oh God, I tried to make them take the other instruments...". Franny denies having said where exactly everyone could stick the goddamn recorder, but has mentioned that plans for future "Family Music Times" are on hold indefinately. The children were not available for comment.


Turkey Tragedy
An innocent morning of make-believe turned bloody today when two preschoolers unexpectedly collided in their family home. "We were just doing a little play about turkeys! Ha ha ha, TURKEYS!!!" screamed their mother Franny, who is currently in a soft room awaiting psychiatric assessment. Investigators have pieced together the events that led to the incident. Franny had been reciting a poem about turkeys for her children, who were acting it out ("I have a turkey, big and fat, he spreads his tail and walks like that...") At approx. 10:15 am, she spoke the line "his daily corn he would not miss", during which point Nicky, aged 32 mos, lay on the floor to 'eat' his corn while his twin sister, bent over, 'pecking' her corn. The sister couldn't see where she was going and turkey-strutted right over her brother's face, giving him a cut tongue and a nosebleed. According to stunned neighbors, the resulting screaming 'woke the dead' and continued well past lunch time. A fund has been started to help the family purchase bubble wrap and helmets for their children, as well as a new carpet for the living room.

*sigh*

I'll bet now the title of this post makes sense!

Un-Rescued

This is the time of year that my hubby and I started dating, so naturally I am whimsical about our early days together when it's autumn...

And then there are the memories you'd rather forget.

Like the time we went to a dance club with all of our friends and the guys chose to sit around eating pub fare rather than dance, so I went out on the dancefloor (really annoyed at my bf/future hubby by the way), where, during a really hot song, somebody reached out and grabbed my ass!

I spun around, eyes ablaze with rage, and said "WHO THE HELL DID THAT?" The guy closest to me shrunk with fear and pointed to his friend, who looked horrified that he had been betrayed.

I walked up to the 'gooser' and asked, very calmly, with the *tiniest* hint of seduction in my voice, "So...was that YOU that grabbed my butt?" He started to smile confidently, and he nodded, moving closer...

And that's when I punched him.

Turning on my heel, I had to step over the bodies of his laughing friends who had fallen to the floor in hysterics. The 'gooser' is probably still sitting flat on his ass on that dancefloor, 14 years later, eyes and mouth agape.

I stormed angrily (though *slightly* pleased with myself) back to where my future husband was sitting with his friends. Me and my army of girlfriends told him what had happened, CERTAIN that he would jump up and go looking for blood. CERTAIN that there would be some vengeful, 'jealous-boyfriend-and-his-posse' ass-whooping that night. CERTAIN that I would be swept from this place of imminent, lascivious peril and rescued by the arms of my hero-protector as he shouted furiously against the wind...

"So you took care of it. Excellent."

And then he continued eating his chicken wing.

Hold on...deep breath...

Moving on, only one man was assaulted that night, though the other man lives to hear this tale of unchivalrous behaviour OVER and OVER and OVER again, likely for the rest of his natural life. Makes you wonder who got the better deal?

Also, it's important to point out that my husband has NO RECOLLECTION of this night ever happening, and reminds me of such every time I tell the story. But I remember it like yesterday, every moment, every detail, down to the sauce on the wings (mmm, honey-garlic). You ladies out there would understand.

But I'm older and wiser now. While that night I felt "un-rescued", my husband's reaction revealed that he was gentle, level-headed and believed in me. Besides, a boyfriend who starts bar-fights wouldn't make a good parent to my children, or a good best friend for the rest of my life.

As Zsa Zsa says, "macho doesn't prove mucho."

Mighty Mennonite-y

There's this beautiful covered bridge in West Montrose, Ontario that my hubby and I stumbled upon during our courtship sometime in the mid-90s. It was the fall, and we had just been shopping in the local tourist village of St. Jacobs (which is mainly a Mennonite community), and as we were wandering the area, we saw signs that led us to the breathtaking bridge, also appropriately known as the "Kissing Bridge".

Well the wind was icy-cold, and the ground was thick with fallen leaves at this little park on the other side of the bridge...and, I've always been good at improvising...so I ended up making a huge leaf pile and burrowing inside, and then my hubby burrowed in too and we were warm and snug and happy and it was SO romantic and picture-perfect until something was crawling up my pant leg and I jumped up screaming "GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF ME!" and that was the end of that passionate encounter.

Well this weekend we went back to the "Kissing Bridge" and we took the kids. As we walked the excited kids across, we heard the 'clip-clop, clip-clop' of hooves on wood. We stood aside as a Mennonite farmer and his buggy came though. The magnificent horses slowed at they passed us, and the farmer tipped his hat to us. My kids stared in wonder, while, two children wearing black old-order hats and clothing, stared out the buggy window back at us.

It was a moment when the world stood still. When we were transported back in time for a minute, given the gift of seeing life during a simpler time. Then we were redeposited safely back to where we belonged.

At the farmer's market I bought some dried, mixed beans and some smoked pork, and the lady gave me her recipe for Traditional Bean Soup! I was so thrilled to take home a taste of Mennonite Country, and couldn't WAIT to make this stuff. Well let me tell you...I spent all the damn day making this soup! I used to wonder what these people did without cars and electricity all day, but now I know!

THEY ARE MAKING SOUP!

Chopping endless piles of carrots, celery, onions, peppers, garlic, meat and tomatoes into tiny little pieces and letting various combinations of these things simmer for 4 friggin hours EACH (not to mention the stuff that needs to cool overnight that you have to cook the day BEFORE so you can skim off the fat and the beans that need to soak for 2 days!) I still stink like Traditional Bean Soup and that recipe made enough to feed an army and I had to do SOMETHING with this stuff so I filled up large containers of this steaming hot soup and delivered some to my parents, and some to my grandmother, and some to my mother-in-law, stopping for chats and company along the way.

It was only when I got home that I realized the point of the soup.

And it was good.