Hoppy Easter (and a Hoppy Birthday to Me)

So here it is, proof positive that whether it’s on my nails in polish or on a piece of paper with gel pens, all of my attempts at drawing an animal result in some gigantic butt’d aberration that looks like it’s suffering from a wicked case of conjunctivitis.  At least this chunky fellow is wearing a mask and maintaining social distance from those carrots.

I made that little card yesterday for my parents, who are used to my laughably childish creations, and we ran it by their place, along with a COVID care package containing ah-mazing Indian takeout (hit up karara.ca if you’re in Ottawa, peeps), chocolate chip cookies, raspberry cream cheese pie, toilet paper and a whole mess of silly comedies and rom-coms.  Don’t ever say I’m not a great daughter when I’m bringing my parents both Indian takeaway AND the TP necessary to deal with the aftermath.

Though, even at a distance, I think my parents could have done without their son-in-law showing up dressed like a pirate bike messenger.

We did the lightning fast trading-of-the-care packages via the garage, while my mom danced a trio of stuffed bunnies in the window and my father – so randomly, like a Kids in the Hall sketch – ran out of the house with his BELT looped around his neck, shouting that he was so bored he was taking HIMSELF for a walk.  I think they might be going a little stir crazy.  They just looked so excited to lay eyes on us for the first time in over a month.

Which is a feeling I’m coming to be quite familiar with.  I miss my parents more than is probably healthy for a 43-year-old; the urge to run at them with a tackle-hug, the kind I haven’t given since I was probably a little kid, was practically overwhelming.  I had to dither by the car for a couple of minutes to keep from bursting into tears, and then I bawled the entire way home.

Doesn’t help matters that tomorrow is my birthday (I’m turning 43 bullshit years old, if you’d like to send me a cake made of toilet paper and hand sanitizer.  I’m the one behind the Haunted Mansion doorbell.)  I’m an only child (duh) and kind of a spoiled one at that (double duh) and the big joke among my family come April is “How much are we going to get hosed for Sandra’s birthday dinner this year?”  Like hosing isn’t a foregone conclusion when I insist on going to a restaurant that only lists its market prices (and now I’m crying again thinking about the Kir Royale and seafood risotto I will not be enjoying at Giovanni’s on Preston tomorrow.)  It’s only-child-indulgence on a massive birthday scale, and I think my parents enjoy lavishing it on me just as much as I enjoy receiving it.  But this year is going to be kind of different.

Yeah, okay, so like my inability to draw creatures, probably all the proof you needed that my parents and I are close is this envelope addressed to “our princess.”  You can also see where I got my artistic ability (joke; that wonderful little doodle my mom did there is a reference to every stick figure drawing I ever made of “us is the family” – dog, Boo Boo; dad, glasses and two hairs; mom, miniskirt and curly hair; me, bangs and a tutu; cat, Puddin’.)

Anyhow, we made out about as well my parents did with this reciprocal gift of roasted garlic tomato sauce, apple cobbler with caramel sauce and these adorable little chocolate bunnies, which I immediately decided to take outside for an Easter photo shoot, because I’m clearly bored as crap.

A 2020 EASTER BUNNY STORY, IN THREE PARTS

After spending some time in quarantine on my parents’ kitchen counter, a plastic bag acting as their PPE, the bunnies were feeling severely cooped up, and so they decided to venture out into the world.  It felt very big and very quiet.

They made it as far as the front flower bed before they got freaked out by the silent emptiness and decided, like everyone else, to go back inside and get drunk.

It did not end well.  The bunnies now have to go take a nap.  The end.

Good to know I haven’t lost my (stupid) sense of humour!  Speaking of, you’ve got to have one to go out in public looking like this!  Easter weekend fashion in the age of Corona, folks.

So there’s all the mostly welcome weirdness we’ve been up to this weekend.  I hope you’re having weird and wonderful ones yourself, friends – may they be just the hoppiest. 😉

They Say it’s Your Birthday

It’s my birthday, too!  No, actually, it really is – today I am *giant sigh* 41.  I won’t dare complain about it, though, as the alternative is pretty darn grim.  I’m just not feeling the celebratory thing this year, although I’m sure that will change once I’m half a whisky sour into tonight’s birthday steakhouse dinner; a lot can change once you add whisky sours to the mix. 😉

And so this afternoon, for my 41st, I’m enjoying a few of my favourite things – Dirty Dancing on the TV, pretty springtime Mickey nails and a thoroughly inedible birthday “cake.”

As always, my mani’s got me thinking about Disney.  I think this is the part where I’m supposed to say I want to be there RIGHT NOW, but I so don’t want to be there right now – right now is spring break, and spring break at Disney occupies its very own circle of Hell.  I saw photos yesterday of the lineup for Space Mountain that just about gave me a panic attack – it extended all the way out of the attraction and down to Auntie Gravity’s.  For those perhaps not as well versed in the Magic Kingdom’s geography as I, that’s a gigantic, four-plus hour lineup, easy.  Ugh, what a nightmare.  I’ll take this simple, springy mani over that any day, thank you, but especially on my birthday!  Ain’t nobody got time for that nonsense.

And as has been my little tradition now two years running, I blew out a candle and made a birthday wish on a decorated wax sheet cake from Sniff My Tarts.  I don’t have much of a sweet tooth – plus there’s that whole sure-to-be-indulgent dinner thing coming up – so this custom cake (featuring a blend of Peppermint, Coconut Cream Pie and Sticky Marshmallow) really fits the birthday bill.

So happy birthday to me, and happy birthday to you, too, should you also be celebrating on this Friday the 13th.  To another great year!

Do You Suppose This is His Way of Telling Me I Smell?

Simply curious, as my husband gifted me with a metric butt ton (actual measurement, “butt ton”) of delicious Demeter fragrances for my birthday, and you just don’t do that unless a) someone really stinks (“This smells so great!  Wear all of it at once, immediately”) or b) you know your spouse really well, as mine did when he correctly surmised that I’d love to receive such a bounty of beautiful birthday blends (also an affection for alliteration.) 😉

So what terrifically odd combination of fragrances did my husband put together for his beloved on her 40th? Let’s take a peek, shall we?

Starting with the header photo, this apparently represents my birthday breakfast, a thing I actually didn’t have because I was fasting in anticipation of a blow-out Italian dinner later that evening.  But the thinking here is that I’d wake up and snarf down a plate of birthday cake-flavoured cinnamon toast topped with vanilla ice cream and maple syrup. With a tomato on the side (which I wholly approve of; all that sugar needs a bit of tart and fresh to balance it out.)

Speaking from a dietary perspective, that’s kind of horrifying!  But these fragrances are not – lovely single scents, all.  I particularly like Cinnamon Toast, which smells like cinnamon hearts, and, super surprisingly, Tomato, which on initial application smells exactly like a ripe, sun-warmed tomato.  It’s a unique smell that conjures up nice memories of my grandfather futzing over his heavily laden tomato plants out in the garden.

Next up we have the zombie fragrances, which, upon spritzing and sniffing, we decided I will never, ever wear because they smell like dirt and rot and probably skunk pheromones.  I love the theming behind these Zombie for Him, Her and Dog fragrances (what, the cats just fend for themselves?) but wowza, do they stink.  I suspect that Demeter’s Dirt fragrance, an otherwise pretty acceptable fresh earth kind of scent, is the base for all three of these colognes, with hits of dead flowers (for Her), decaying leaves (for Him) and something that’s erring awfully close to urine (for the Dog.)  I adore them, they are so weird, but these will probably remain collectibles only.  Also, you will pry my Snowmint Mallow from my cold, dead, zombiefied hands before I trade it in for something more apocalypse-appropriate.

Leaving the best for last, we have my cat Weegie looking disillusioned (so basically a day ending in Y) beside a bottle of Kitten Fur!  Which smells a bit like very mild laundry detergent.  I don’t think Weegie’s tummy fur smells like soap (you get the best, most accurate results – also probably hissed and swatted at – by sniffing a cat’s tummy) but I suppose if any creature in this house is going to smell like laundry, it’s going to be the one that spends 22 hours a day lounging around on freshly washed linens.

All in all, a lovely, thoughtful gift full of fun surprises and some very unique finds.  Well done, sweetie. 🙂

Celebration Nails

And what are we celebrating on this fine April Fool’s Day?  My impending fourth decade of existence, in a couple weeks’ time, and that’s unfortunately no joke.  Nobody likes getting older, except maybe six-year-olds. But tonight I’m going out with friends to celebrate in advance like adults, with roast beast by candlelight and something brown and bracing in a rocks glass.  Seeing as I need a pretty manicure for that (or would merely like one) I think these eye-catching, colour-shifting nails will suffice!

Second Star to the Right, and Straight on ‘Til Birthday

As tomorrow is my birthday (and no, I’m not going to disclose how old I am; a lady never tells, particularly when the lady is thisclose to a major life milestone and feeling perhaps a bit freaked about it?) I thought I’d get a jump start on my birthday beauty with this manicure featuring one of my favourite lacquers, Glam Polish’s Peter Pan-inspired Straight on ‘Til Morning.

I loveity love love this polish and its similarly formula’d collection mates, Wednesday and Lydia, rich scattered holos stuffed with shimmery micro glitter.  The colour-bending glitter gives these polishes – particularly bluey-purple Straight on ‘Til Morning – a super cool, nearly sequined type of look, full of depth and visual interest.  Sublime, and the perfect manicure with which (on which?) to grow another year older, if I really must, and I suppose I must, as I haven’t figured out a way to stop the clock…yet. 😉