Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess named Abby. She was not as beautiful as her sister Olivia but she was still quite a looker.
One day Abby headed off to the mountains. We can only assume it was one of her usual walk-abouts. The girl did love to hike. So anyway, Abby was trekking through the mountains of Jasper when tragedy struck. Just as Abby had discovered a new shoe store on the corner of Caribou and Elk Drive, she was distracted by a large male elk. She slipped on the treacherous streets. Like the good girl-scout that she is she managed the situation by using her cell phone to call for back-up. To the rescue came two of her delightful children, Wonfur and Gabio. Wonfur's whole name is Wonfur the Road. Gabio is the youngest son and is as handsome as Fabio but quite chatty so the named him Gabio.
Now the details are still sketchy but I understand Gabio had a headache from talking too much and Wonfur had a headache but no one will tell me why.
So off Wonfur and Gabio rushed to aid the ailing mother. Abby usually has a very keen sense of direction but for some reason her ankle didn't. Wonfur and Gabio raced Princess Abby to the hospital. Unfortunately, the local doc was not sanctioned to care for one as lovely as Abby. So they ordered up the chariot and transported her to a better facility.
Princess Abby is being cared for by the best mountain folk and will recover quickly. The saddest part of the tale is that Princess Abby won't be able to take advantage of the new shoe store "Two's Company".
If there is anyone out there who wants to go halfsies on some new shoes please contact her at ican'tdancesodon'taskme.com
But remember Princess Abby, you are much loved by many, and you will survive to one day shop again.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Under Seige
Once again, I am being held captive in my own home.... by my own son... and several of his peers.
Every now and then I try to assert my authority. I have evicted my son at least 4 times. Seriously, I can be quite stern when I set my mind to it. And I have very firmly explained to him that he's 22 and no longer lives here. I have stressed the fact that since this is not his house he is not entitled to entertain. That means no more friends. No using the hot tub. No emptying the fridge to feed them. I have sat him down and looked directly into his eyes and have spoken in very clear English, in no uncertain terms. And he has looked right back at me and with what seemed to be a certain amount of clarity, nodded and agreed.
So why is it that for 2 nights in a row I am confined to my quarters (my quarters being my 12 x 14 foot bedroom) with a small 20 inch t.v. for company and only drinking water from the bathroom to soothe my parched throat? It is not within my understanding. But I am truly grateful for the bag of taco chips I found under the bed. With the computer for outside contact, my bag of chips and my 8 hour pass to go to work I will survive.
But I am going to have a long talk with that boy. Once his friends leave that is.
Every now and then I try to assert my authority. I have evicted my son at least 4 times. Seriously, I can be quite stern when I set my mind to it. And I have very firmly explained to him that he's 22 and no longer lives here. I have stressed the fact that since this is not his house he is not entitled to entertain. That means no more friends. No using the hot tub. No emptying the fridge to feed them. I have sat him down and looked directly into his eyes and have spoken in very clear English, in no uncertain terms. And he has looked right back at me and with what seemed to be a certain amount of clarity, nodded and agreed.
So why is it that for 2 nights in a row I am confined to my quarters (my quarters being my 12 x 14 foot bedroom) with a small 20 inch t.v. for company and only drinking water from the bathroom to soothe my parched throat? It is not within my understanding. But I am truly grateful for the bag of taco chips I found under the bed. With the computer for outside contact, my bag of chips and my 8 hour pass to go to work I will survive.
But I am going to have a long talk with that boy. Once his friends leave that is.
Friday, December 16, 2005
A Busy Day
Growing up in the palace it was hard to notice the Christmas Preparations. Somehow magically, with a staff of 7 and the help of elves, Queen Paulonia created a celebration fit for royalty and a feast fit for the King.
Now, being far, far, from the palace and without benefit of staff, I am forced to imitate my childhood Christmas with only the Commoner and 2 male offspring for help.
So once again, I am preparing for Christmas independently.
After years of stressing the little things I have learned much. So it's early Saturday morning and I will be putting in a busy day. There is much to do. There will be shopping and wrapping; baking and freezing; cleaning and polishing. At least I'm assuming there will be. However, it will not be happening here.
I will be busy soaking in the hot tub with Bailey's in my coffee. I will be busy chatting on the phone with friends. I will be busy later in the day with a bag of chips, a container of dip, and an old movie. Maybe later in the week I will be busy preparing excuses for the children on the lack of gifts. I will be busy looking for invitations to someone else's Christmas dinner. And of course I will be busy counting my blessings that I have achieved an age where I don't feel compelled to compete with Martha Stewart.
So if anyone out there is reading this and has room at the table for 4, please respond.
Now, being far, far, from the palace and without benefit of staff, I am forced to imitate my childhood Christmas with only the Commoner and 2 male offspring for help.
So once again, I am preparing for Christmas independently.
After years of stressing the little things I have learned much. So it's early Saturday morning and I will be putting in a busy day. There is much to do. There will be shopping and wrapping; baking and freezing; cleaning and polishing. At least I'm assuming there will be. However, it will not be happening here.
I will be busy soaking in the hot tub with Bailey's in my coffee. I will be busy chatting on the phone with friends. I will be busy later in the day with a bag of chips, a container of dip, and an old movie. Maybe later in the week I will be busy preparing excuses for the children on the lack of gifts. I will be busy looking for invitations to someone else's Christmas dinner. And of course I will be busy counting my blessings that I have achieved an age where I don't feel compelled to compete with Martha Stewart.
So if anyone out there is reading this and has room at the table for 4, please respond.
The Twisted Sisters
In our small town lives several groups of sisters. It seems common as you grow older for sisters to start doing everything together. First it's travelling to far off lands like Winnipeg. Then they do their shopping together in near by Yorkton. Eventually it becomes unheard of to catch a sighting of one without the other.
My favorites are 2 elderly spinster sisters. I will not name names but I refer to them as the Twisted Sisters. I gave them the nickname when I heard the two dear sweet innocent old girls leaving the church and calling the organist a "filthy @(#$" because the young eligible pastor had accompanied the organist on a shopping trip and hadn't included them.
I'm really not trying to make fun of them. Honest! But this summer at the local fair our office was one of the teams participating in a bed race. We were to come in costumes so we had dressed the General Manager, and a few others in pajamas and bathrobes. Our office supervisor was concerned because she didn't see anyone else dressed in costume. Then she looked at the crowd and said "oh, there's a couple dressed up". Yes, you guessed it. It was the twisted sisters. And no, they were not dressed in costume. And wear they found those jackets is anyone's guess.
But the point of the story is that no matter how bad their behaviour and how odd their dress, sisters share a bond that strengthens over time.
I, Olivia, share that strong bond with my sisters Abby and Ella. (Despite their intense jealousy concerning my beauty and grace). But we sisters stick together even though we are all very different. We occasionaly submit Ella's name for "What Not to Wear". And Abby is maybe a little eccentric. I however, am normal enough to keep us centered and on track.
You might think me judgemental. But Ella has worn in public, brown pants and blue socks. She did not learn this in the palace. And if you think that Abby is not eccentric I can provide an example. Abby is under the impression that being in the sisterhood is a good thing. We have adopted our two beautiful cousins, Gypsy Rose and Cherie. If 5 sisters is good 6 must be better. She has recently invited Julia to be part of the family. Abby has the gift of making this sound like a good thing. Poor Julia (whose name means optimistic)was tricked into joining the family with promises of fresh bread and yellow roses.
So now the royal family is growing. But if Gypsy Rose, Cherie and Julia think they can get ahead of me in line for the family jewels they have another thing coming.
Besides, when it comes time to get matching jackets it will be more dramatic with six rather than three. Maybe we'll get a group discount.
My favorites are 2 elderly spinster sisters. I will not name names but I refer to them as the Twisted Sisters. I gave them the nickname when I heard the two dear sweet innocent old girls leaving the church and calling the organist a "filthy @(#$" because the young eligible pastor had accompanied the organist on a shopping trip and hadn't included them.
I'm really not trying to make fun of them. Honest! But this summer at the local fair our office was one of the teams participating in a bed race. We were to come in costumes so we had dressed the General Manager, and a few others in pajamas and bathrobes. Our office supervisor was concerned because she didn't see anyone else dressed in costume. Then she looked at the crowd and said "oh, there's a couple dressed up". Yes, you guessed it. It was the twisted sisters. And no, they were not dressed in costume. And wear they found those jackets is anyone's guess.
But the point of the story is that no matter how bad their behaviour and how odd their dress, sisters share a bond that strengthens over time.
I, Olivia, share that strong bond with my sisters Abby and Ella. (Despite their intense jealousy concerning my beauty and grace). But we sisters stick together even though we are all very different. We occasionaly submit Ella's name for "What Not to Wear". And Abby is maybe a little eccentric. I however, am normal enough to keep us centered and on track.
You might think me judgemental. But Ella has worn in public, brown pants and blue socks. She did not learn this in the palace. And if you think that Abby is not eccentric I can provide an example. Abby is under the impression that being in the sisterhood is a good thing. We have adopted our two beautiful cousins, Gypsy Rose and Cherie. If 5 sisters is good 6 must be better. She has recently invited Julia to be part of the family. Abby has the gift of making this sound like a good thing. Poor Julia (whose name means optimistic)was tricked into joining the family with promises of fresh bread and yellow roses.
So now the royal family is growing. But if Gypsy Rose, Cherie and Julia think they can get ahead of me in line for the family jewels they have another thing coming.
Besides, when it comes time to get matching jackets it will be more dramatic with six rather than three. Maybe we'll get a group discount.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
The Enchanted Forest
After marrying the Commoner he vowed to make my life a true fairy tale. It was decided we would live in the enchanted forest. The Commoner bought a small plot of land near a magical lake. But alas, the land did not come complete with enchanted forest.
The very resourceful Commoner knew just the thing. He put in his order to the PRFA and low and behold, the very next spring, a large order of trees came.
So the Commoner took me to the plot of land, handed me a shovel and a truck load of seedlings. 4 days and 2600 trees later I had planted my very own enchanted forest.
Perhaps for other princesses it did not happen this way. But princesses on the prairies are bound to have their own, very different tales to tell.
And that is how it came to be that I, Olivia, the exiled princess lived happily ever after in the enchanted forest.
The very resourceful Commoner knew just the thing. He put in his order to the PRFA and low and behold, the very next spring, a large order of trees came.
So the Commoner took me to the plot of land, handed me a shovel and a truck load of seedlings. 4 days and 2600 trees later I had planted my very own enchanted forest.
Perhaps for other princesses it did not happen this way. But princesses on the prairies are bound to have their own, very different tales to tell.
And that is how it came to be that I, Olivia, the exiled princess lived happily ever after in the enchanted forest.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Call me a Doctor
Originally, the purpose of this page was to share the woes of being a princess forced to live in exile on the prairies. But today I need to vent. I have no doubt that I am royalty. If not, how could we explain that my husband (yes, the Commoner) insists on living like the King.
Yes, I agree he is delusional. I mean King Stephan is the true King but somehow the Commoner thinks he should be treated in the same fashion. With the proper encouragement and the promise of sexual favours, the Commoner can be persuaded to work. We use the word loosely because I've seen what he does and there should be no man that gets paid that much to do so little. But I digress. The Commoner will work for 2 weeks and then declare he needs a week off. Being the brave soul that I am I cope with this. Now suddenly, the Commoner has developed a pinched sciatic nerve. His masseuse told him to take it easy. It took me 2 days to tell the difference. For 10 days now, I have tolerated the moaning, the groaning, the limping. I have done all the cleaning, the shopping, etc. But will the Commoner see a doctor? No, because no medical degree can compete with the knowledge of the coffee shop. That is why it is so difficult to keep a doctor in small towns on the prairies. It's the lack of work. No man ever really needs a doctor when you can get expert advise at the local diner.
Sometimes I wake up grumpy. Sometimes I let him sleep. So I bravely get out of bed each morning to make the coffee and head off to the office. I call home throughout the day with words of encouragement and gentle suggestions of perhaps a trip to the doctor. But no, the Commoner would rather head to the coffee shop and enjoy the sympathies of his peers.
I trudge home to care for the wounded. I give this 3 more days. If there is no improvement I can't help but feel obliged to put him out of his misery. If he were a dog I would take him to the vet to be put down. I feel that as my husband he deserves as least the same treatment as a dog.
Yes, I agree he is delusional. I mean King Stephan is the true King but somehow the Commoner thinks he should be treated in the same fashion. With the proper encouragement and the promise of sexual favours, the Commoner can be persuaded to work. We use the word loosely because I've seen what he does and there should be no man that gets paid that much to do so little. But I digress. The Commoner will work for 2 weeks and then declare he needs a week off. Being the brave soul that I am I cope with this. Now suddenly, the Commoner has developed a pinched sciatic nerve. His masseuse told him to take it easy. It took me 2 days to tell the difference. For 10 days now, I have tolerated the moaning, the groaning, the limping. I have done all the cleaning, the shopping, etc. But will the Commoner see a doctor? No, because no medical degree can compete with the knowledge of the coffee shop. That is why it is so difficult to keep a doctor in small towns on the prairies. It's the lack of work. No man ever really needs a doctor when you can get expert advise at the local diner.
Sometimes I wake up grumpy. Sometimes I let him sleep. So I bravely get out of bed each morning to make the coffee and head off to the office. I call home throughout the day with words of encouragement and gentle suggestions of perhaps a trip to the doctor. But no, the Commoner would rather head to the coffee shop and enjoy the sympathies of his peers.
I trudge home to care for the wounded. I give this 3 more days. If there is no improvement I can't help but feel obliged to put him out of his misery. If he were a dog I would take him to the vet to be put down. I feel that as my husband he deserves as least the same treatment as a dog.
Friday, December 09, 2005
The early years.
Olivia was born into the Royal Family as the third daughter. The king was trying desperately for a son but alas, it was not meant to be. Instead King Stephen and Queen Paulonia had two beautiful blonde princess, named "Absolute-Lee" and "Sin-dyrella". To keep a low profile they sisters prefer to go by Abby and Ella. Much, much, later Queen Paulonia gave birth to the most beautiful princess there ever was, Olivia. As is true for all fairy tales, it is always the most beautiful that suffer the most. Abby and Ella were jealous of Olivia's beauty, grace and amazing wit and tortured her for many, many years. One day Olivia decided that since her chance of ever becoming Queen was slim and she could no longer bear the abuse she left the royal palace. And so it came to be that Olivia married a commoner and remains to this day hidden away on the Canadian Prairies, trying to blend in and make the best of her dismal circumstances.
With only her laptop, lucky slippers, a block a cream cheese and crackers she will try to update this blog page with stories that will hopefully entertain you or at least make you appreciate your life a little more.
With only her laptop, lucky slippers, a block a cream cheese and crackers she will try to update this blog page with stories that will hopefully entertain you or at least make you appreciate your life a little more.
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