Danger, Will Robinson, DANGER!

As I made my breakfast this morning, some giggles escaped as I recalled a surreal sight from a few days earlier.

It was pouring rain as Newf and I drove through the city. Suddenly, my eye caught sight of a senseless senior standing in her driveway. She was a tiny thing with tightly curled white hair, and every other attribute one would assume a cute little old lady to have (including the tight-lipped grimace).

The woman stood firmly planted in a puddle, both hands tightly grasping a mighty and massive leaf blower. For whatever reason, the lady was hell-bent on blowing the wet leaves clumped and congregating in her driveway.

At first glance, the whole scene seemed merely silly, not stupid. Why this lady needed to clear leaves from her driveway on a sopping wet, soaker of a morning was questionable, but certainly not crazy. What was a little nutty was the fact that this lady was using an electric leaf blower. Not a word of a lie - this woman stood soaking wet, gripping her blower with gut-so, a long yellow extension chord trailing from the blower to the nearest available electrical outlet.

Did I mention it was raining really hard?

As I described the scene to Newf, interchanging chuckles with concern, he matter-of-factly glanced in my direction and said: "Lindsay, when you get to be that age you just don't give a fuck anymore."

Fast forward to this morning. As I made my breakfast, I couldn't help but be saddened by the idea of a funky, fearless lady who no longer cared about her safety. That's exactly when my bagel got stuck in the toaster.

Naturally, I grabbed a fork to fish it out.

I looked at the fork, and then looked at the burning bagel as said, "Fuck it, I'm going to fork it."

Let's just say that I lived to tell the tale. My breakfast was saved - and that little lady got her driveway cleared. It was a lesson well-learned: sometimes, rules are made to be broken.

Sounds good to me.

Your dangerous diner,

L

PS. Please let me stress that this is a humorous piece, and is in no way meant to suggest that holding electrical equipment while standing in a puddle (or in any way covered in moisture) is a good idea. Please do not try this at home.

PPS. Just in case, I should also stress that inserting metal objects into electrical appliances is also a bad idea. You can try this at home, but don't hold me responsible if you die or get harmed in any way. You may also ruin your hair.

Sunday Update: Moving Onward or Upward

"What's up with you lately?"

An innocent but loaded question as of late.

What am I doing right now? Watching the Vancouver-San Jose game.

What am I doing this week? Painting some walls. For the first time. Yep, you got it, this girl is getting her newly painted nails a little bit dirty. Well, hopefully not that dirty - white isn't my colour (and I don't think polish remover does much with paint).

What am I doing this month? Moving. A month ago, the Newf lost his job. A week later The Parentals advised they were looking to rent out their basement apartment. We made the executive decision to jump on the opportunity. Between our general dislike for the city of Toronto, and the ease of my transferring to a school in London it seemed like an obvious choice.

This move has been a humbling process, and I don't quite know how I feel about it yet. To secure my mind in the positive, I've decided to make a list of my pros and cons:

First, the pros:

1.) We will likely save a pretty penny on rent. Once the Parentals advise of the rental fee, I can confirm this, but it almost guaranteed the rent will be less than the cost of our studio apartment in the Toronto Beaches.

2.) I get to paint. Something about playing with colour gets me a little hot and bothered.

3.) Our place is a separate apartment, so theoretically the loss of privacy will be minimal.

4.) My younger brother, Jake, lives upstairs. At five years my junior he makes me feel young again.

5.) We really, really like the city of London. The tiny village I grew up in is a mere thirty minutes away, so I know what I'm getting myself into.

6.) It has a classy address. Sorry kids, I can't post it here, but I can assure you that I'm not living on a street that makes you do a double take. Nope, no Piccadilly Street for me; and yes, that superficial fact matters to me.

7.) I can (theoretically) transfer with ease to a photography program here in London. Once I get in, I will have 24/7 access to a full photography studio.

8.) My new apartment is complete with a wet bar. It has a beautiful polished wood bar that makes my liver tingle with excitement (my liver has always erred on the side of danger).

With this extensive list, let's look at the cons:

1.) We have to move. All of that cleaning, packing and unpacking is so much work. Once you include the address changes to that equation my eye starts to twitch.

2.) While it is a separate apartment with tons of potential, it is in the Parentals' basement. At twenty six (almost twenty seven) it is a humbling process. Not to mention a younger sister who is looking for apartments double my rent, and a little green monster is making a certain appearance.

3.) Despite the separate space, I am sharing the overall home with family. My family is cool, but they are still my family. Point made.

4.) My dog has suddenly turned into our dog. It isn't a matter that people are trying to lay claim to my furry friend, but more a fact that my family of dog lovers all have a different way of doing things. In my house, my dog is not allowed to sleep on the bed or sit on the couch. He is not fed from the table, even if he is really working the "I'm-sad-and-hungy" look. I keep tight restraints on his amount and type of exercise. Unfortunately, not everyone agrees and my carefully laid consistency has gone out the window. But, when your dog tops the scale at 140 pounds, can easily set his head on the table and has heartbreakingly bad elbow dysplasia we can talk. I'm going to have to let go a little bit, and I hate that.

5.) With its close proximity to my hometown, it is almost guaranteed that I will run into someone I know. Odds are, it will be a day I have not showered and am covered in paint.

6.) I have never painted. This could be a disaster.

7.) With my newfound geographical closeness to my immediate family I must begin to assert myself a little bit more. With anyone else a quick passive aggressive response would do, but I'm stuck with these people for life. The process is sure to ruffle some feathers, on both sides of the fence.

8.) It will be much more difficult to feign ignorance to all the nasty little tidbits of information I have on my siblings. Being the oldest of three, I tend to hear about everything the siblings do not have the guts to voice to the Parentals. Sometimes it is very rewarding. Right now it frustrating. Something about being expected to provide sympathy for a sibling who has provided the unabridged story six months ago is a little bit trying. I need to learn to walk away. I hate that too.

At first glance it may seem that this list is pretty even keeled. I may be crying over spilt milk. But, that is all resolved with the last listed pro. My new place has a wet bar. I have a pile of liquor and a hot husband. I have a brother who encourages intoxication.

Things will work themselves out. I can't say the same for the painting.

What are you working through right now?

Humbly at home,

L

DUKE NUKEM (Forever)

Earlier today (or yesterday, if you want to get technical) the Newf and I went for a drive around town.

We ended up shopping for some games for the Newf's new Nintendo DSi.

He got incredibly excited when he saw that the "DUKE NUKEM: Forever" game finally has a release date.

He got so excited, the Newf showcased his sensitive side:

It's a rare occasion, so it needed to be marked. To celebrate we purchased a "Happy Birthday" slab cake which we brought home to a house filled with the Parentals, the sister and brother. It was complete with smiling flowers, bumble bees and a GIANT sun.

There was no birthday, but there was cake.

Then, the Newf got drunk. I painted my nails. It was a good day.

How was yours?

Seeping with silly,

L

It's Freaking Friday: And This is a (Creative) School Thing

Good afternoon dudes and dudettes!

This is actually a quick post for a school project, but, feel free to follow along.

If you are a massive fan of "Where's Waldo" this may be your cup of tea. Or it might not, we will find out.

That being said, today I have to submit an example of "The Databased Image". There have been some pretty neat examples floating around, check out the work of
Chris Jordan for some really freaky examples.

Let's just say I'm taking a different approach. I don't have any dead dodos lying around so I thought I'd provide a little example of my online database. Think of it as a scavenger hunt without a prize.

THE GOAL: You want to find this picture:

It is located *somewhere* in the bowels of this blog.

THE HINT: Because (I assume) my classmates are not frequent fliers here at Linnie gets Laced I assume you don't know the handles of the blogging world, or my blogging world, for that matter.

The boy in the picture is known as "The Newf". Yes, he's my Newfoundland lovah, and yes, he makes a mean plate of fish and chips.

The dog in my picture is known in these parts as "The Beast", mostly because, well, he is a giant beast.

You can locate the picture using a couple of different methods. Check out the post information bar below, and the sidebar for some locating love.

It's an IQ test, and the timer starts NOW! Good luck!

Looking for a likeness,

L

Duck, Duck, No Wait, It's a Goose!

My goodness, this is embarrassingly late. Some time ago, a love cupcake craving chick tagged me in a game of "Duck-Duck-Goose".

First, the girl. She is absolutely adorable, and I just love her blog. You'll love her too, especially if you love to bake.

Now, the game. I am required to post fifteen facts about myself, and then tag five new bloggers to complete their own list.

This was no small order. Partially because I am still chuckling over my original list, partially because I am always nervous opening myself up to the Internet.

"Why on earth do I blog?", you ask? That's a good question. I'll let you know when I have a good answer. I'm full of little idiosyncrasies like that.

Okay, that was a freebie. These bits are on the books:

1.) I am a photography student (although it still feels weird to say that).

2.) Photoshop and I have a love/hate relationship. We love to hate each other. Seriously. Hate.

3.) The majority of my photography projects, to date, have included a somewhat morbid theme. I tell myself it just "happens" that way, so I don't feel like such a weirdo.

4.) Big Brother? No. You need to be worried about me. I see everything, I make predictions and I am right most of the time.

5.) I respect your right to make your own lifestyle choices, although, it is highly unlikely I agree with them.

6.) Speaking of, I have a couple of friends I need to dump; I hate doing it, and never quite get around to it. Here's hoping you aren't on the chopping block.

7.) My spare brain storage goes to any, and all, etiquette rules. I love to know how I should be acting.

8.) I judge you by your wedding invitations.

9.) I also judge you by your table manners. However, all bets are off if we are wearing pyjamas.

10.) Pizza is, by far, my favourite food.

11.) Guilty pleasures? Baywatch and The Bachelor.

12.) I have never whitened my teeth.

13.) My little sister left for the army in September. She has some high ranking intelligence job and I don't really get to know where she is. I don't like to talk about it, because it makes me miss her more.

14.) There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that my husband will do anything and everything to keep me safe, no matter what.

15.) Chivalry turns me on (when it comes from a non incestuous source).

So, that is the list of Linnie. I hope that will tide you over until I create another one. Now, for the new bloggers.

The fabulously talented (and sweeter than sugar) Ana, at i made it so.
Ms. Charlie, who you can find at the best fashion blog:Heart Charlie. Forget the other fashionistas, this girl rocks my world.
The lovely Tammy George, a pure fan of colour who can be found at Punk Rawk Purl
The (knitting) needle neurotic Zoe, at A Giraffe in a Scarf. Check out her hats!
And finally, the crafty maven and an old favourite of mine, Chantilly, who calls from her corner My Girl Thursday.

GOOSE, you're it. Let's see if you are paying attention. We all know I wasn't.

I must might be crazy,

L

The Apple of my Storm

Darling readers,

Tonight I sit and wait. Tonight, the snow is coming.

For days the weatherman has promised the snowstorm of the year - high winds, lots of snow and even "thunder snow" (if you imagined snow and thunder, you'd be right). Services and schools have been cancelled in advance, and the sheep of the city have been bustling about collecting supplies and fretting about the frost.

Friends, I am not concerned. It is just a little bit of snow - this is what we Canadians are built for.

I am old enough to remember the Ice Storm of '98. I am old enough to remember when losing power was a problem and we had a kitchen full of neighbours huddling around our gas stove. Finally, I am old enough to remember my father filling up every pot and container we had with water, lest we really get snowed in.

Those were the best snow storms.

Tomorrow, instead of cursing the commute, think of those who call the street home. Think of those who are really braving the cold. Consider what we can do to help.

But tonight, when you are happy at home, enjoy the moment.

I know that with a Newfoundland man to my left, a Newfoundland dog to my right, and the Environment Canada radar onscreen, I'll be just fine.

My lights are off, but we are all home. We are the freaks who fret about a lack of snow.

Hoping for some havoc,

L

And a New Year Begins...

Happy New Year, my lovelies!

Hopefully you rang in the new and said goodbye to the old with a vengeance.

I, on the other hand, am battling a nasty cold. The way I see it, I'll rid myself of all the bad karma early in the year so I can enjoy the end!

Unfortunately, it seems as though my dear computer has caught wind of my cold and I must send it into the dealer for repairs. Fingers crossed that I will not be without my good friend for long.

This is an exciting week - I start school on January 11, and the Newf and I have plans to visit the Toronto Boat Show with the Parentals this coming Saturday!

How has your year begun? Good? Bad? Indifferent?

I hope you had a wonderful holiday, and all the best getting back into the grind tomorrow!

That is all for now!

Blowing my nose,

L

Picking a Fight with the Police

I honked my horn at a cop the other day.

He was sitting in a marked car, plain as day. I don't normally honk my horn, but I didn't like his attitude. Seriously.

Dude cut me off by way of the left hand turning lane. There was no need, traffic was moving at a decent pace, the sun was shining. But no. He had to roar up next to me and literally cut in front without so much as a hand wave.

He was a big important police man. He had places to go.

Then he cut me off and I snapped. "HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!"

Now normally I avoid honking my horn. It is rather rude; Miss Manners compares it to yelling and I think she has a point. Horns are loud and obnoxious, just like the crazy guy randomly yelling at the local mall. I am, however, the queen of using my horn to bring attention to road rage ruffians who attempt to scare me into doing what I'm told. The best way to deter someone from pressing on with their poor behaviour is to lay on that noise maker with everything your mama gave you. People always hate having public attention drawn to their foibles.

This guy was embarrassed and enraged. He looked back at me with indignation in his wrinkled face. I held my breath as the lights went on. "Not again Linds," the Newf snorted; "I thought you learned not to argue with the men in blue."

Full disclosure, cops are not my favourite people. Somewhere between my dislike for authority, growing up with a father as a lawyer and being arrested as my house burned to the ground, a strong dislike for police has formed. Don't get me wrong, I'm a good girl and I stay out of trouble.

For some reason, that doesn't deter the fucking fuzz. They follow me like a Boston creme donut needs its creme filling. Newf says I'm paranoid, I say he doesn't appreciate my situation. I mean, I could be the next Mad Max.

At this point, the lights are on, his siren is wailing and I am contemplating how hard it will be to pull a U turn next to a subway station.

Country girls never have to deal with this; the rule of thumb is to get your car out of sight. Once the cop can't see you anymore he can't lay charges, because he can't say it was certainly you. It is a great rule, unless he has your license plate number or you are surrounded by innocent people and cement barricades.

Then an amazing thing happened. The police officer bolted forward - an emergency had clearly come over his radio as he stared me down. Thank goodness, whoever was in trouble called off his request for assistance. Once his car cleared the city bus his sirens and lights were turned off.

Whatever, I escaped the lecture and the Newf has something else to rib me about. After all, that whole puke in the pumpkin incident was getting pretty old.

Avoiding authority,

L

It's All About Me: Time to Go Back to School

A couple of weeks ago I mentioned that I had some big beans to spill. As an extremely superstitious person I tend to hold back on announcements, waiting until contracts are signed and bills are paid.

Today is that day.

You may remember that I recently asked for your help with a project I was working on.

You, my lovely readers came out in spades to assist me - something I am completely grateful for.

Well, that project was my photography portfolio. And that portfolio was successful. I start school in January.

This is exciting for a number of reasons, one of which being the incredibly cool camera I bought today. But the biggest reason this acceptance has me grinning from ear to ear is the very simple reason that I thought my plan was a long shot.

I've always been a little more mad scientist than moody artist. My university career began in chemistry labs and ended in breaking apart bones in the forensics wing. My life and judgements tend to fall in one of two categories: black or white.

As a logical being I never thought I would have a place in art, but I've proved myself wrong.

The Newf, who has been incredibly encouraging as I spend money we don't have, thinks it is a perfect fit. He is convinced I will be take the world by storm and is sickly supportive of anything that will get me onto a boat.

I've got my work cut out for me. Until yesterday I had never laid my hands on a DSLR, let alone own one. However, I have the next two years in a program to begin my love affair with my new best friend: my Nikon D7000.

Friends, thank you for your ideas and thank you for your support.

Soon to be a student (again),

L

Wordless Wednesday: My Newfs, With Words

I have some quick photos to share. A rare glimpse into the life that is mine.

The Beast and the Newf, aloof and without bribes.

The Beast and the Newf, much happier, after being bribed with fish.

Never underestimate the power of a Newf's stomach.

Have a good one.

It's a wonderful Wednesday,

L

A Little Tease, A Little Tired

Booyah.

I have some big news brewing. It is rather exciting for me and I cannot wait to share.

I want to have a chance to chat with the Newf, make it official and then I will discuss further.

Right now I am so tired I can't see straight. In an attempt to reset my inner clock I stayed up all night and I am hurting today. It is obvious I am no longer a spring chicken.

I guess that makes me a hen. Cluck cluck, baby.

Strutting and sleepy,

L

Happy Halloween: A Foiled Pumpkin Plan

'Tis the Halloween season. Perhaps the best party season of the year, we were treated to have Friday and Saturday devoted to the evening of the dead. Sure, Christmas is fun, but all the eggnog can get a little boring (and never settles well with rum).

You know what does settle well with rum? A hot costume on a deliciously healthy body.

In the past I have held Halloween parties with a vengeance. One of my (and my roommates') best was a costume keg party, complete with Texas mickeys, random handcuffing and a live psychic.

This year, however, we were not as lucky. This year, the Newf, the Beast and myself have been fighting the stomach flu. Sexy. There has been so much fluid floating around here that we don't know which way is up; adding booze did not seem prudent (we only have one toilet).

Regardless of the bugs and bodily waste we thought it important to send a shoutout to one of the best holidays of the year. We had to set up on the sidewalk, close to the action and close to the kids. The Newf and I had an idea, one we had seen executed perfectly in the past.

We planned to plunk a pumpkin on my head, stuff my clothes with straw and set me up next to a bowl of candy. The Newf was going to lurk in the bushes with a video camera. When the unsuspecting children helped themselves I was going to jump to life and scare the living daylights out of these kids (and hopefully their parents).

If only we had gotten that far.

It took me forever to find a pumpkin. Apparently city folk have one size pumpkin: small. My head is size unusually large. We spent $30 on a pumpkin, thirty dollars, but it was a massive pumpkin. I scooped the guts out and drew a face on the bad boy while the Newf was at work. A hole was carefully carved in the bottom to ensure a tight, but comfortable, fit.

We had to give up on straw. Apparently city folk have no straw either; leaves would have to do. What they feed their livestock I do not know.

At the appointed hour I stuffed my clothes full of leaves (I assure you, it is not comfortable) and waddled out to the required chair.

With our plan ready to go and the sun setting the Newf hit the bushes. It was then I felt the gurgle; it was the gurgle of death.

"Newf, I don't feel so hot."

"Really? Are you okay?" the Newf inquired.

"Yeah, I guess. I just, I really don't feel good."

"Linds, you were fine five minutes ago. It is probably just nerves, you've always been the nervous type;" Newf suggested. "Besides, I think I see some kids!"

"Newf, I don't feel good, I gotta go."

"Lindsay, you are a scarecrow now. Scarecrows don't have stomachs, they have nerves of steel. Take a deep breath, it'll be fine. I promised you won't get arrested. There is a whole group of kids coming!"

I took a deep breath and that's when it all ended. We were so close.

I threw up in my pumpkin.

Not only did I vomit in the orange ball of bitterness, but I was trapped. I ended up on all fours, bringing up bile like it was going out of style, blindly pawing at the pumpkin, while a group of children watched. The Newf was laughing so hard he forgot to tape the scene (there is a God).

When I finally pulled my head out it was covered in puke. I had spew dripping down my face, pooling under my shirt collar and even up my nose.

"Cool!" one of the kids exclaimed. Not only was my plan thwarted, but these kids thought this was all a stunt.

"Oh really?" I questioned, still pissed off that my $30 pumpkin was now filled with the product of my purging.

I stepped towards the group and the kids' mother lost her cookies.

At least all was not lost: I was cool. She is just weak.

Needless to say, the Newf passed the candy out and I took a shower. There are no pictures; at least, there better not be.

Hope your tricks went as planned. Did you dress up?

Pickled in puke,

L

Tuesday is Trouble: Let's Find Some

Good afternoon readers,

Question for you:

What type of person are you?  What type of person do you want to be?

I ask because most of us are rarely who we want to be.  How many of us are changing to be what others think we should be or feel strong social pressures?  How many of us are desperately trying to fit a mold we broke years ago?  Is this what you pictured five, ten, fifteen years ago?

Granted when I was a young child I wanted to be the sun.  I wanted to be that big ball in the sky, shining and always making people happy.  By the time I hit sixteen I was a big ball of fire all right, just ask my mother.  That doesn't mean I was happy with me (somehow I don't think most teenage girls are).

Some time went by and I hit university.  Gone were my geeky unpopular days and in entered Linnie the girl of luck, love and parties.  I was still geeky but it was cool to be geeky.  I was somebody: the makeup artist, the bouncer, the bartender, or the girl who wrote your paper for some extra cash.

I graduated and started looking for my niche.  Fun work considering I was ready (and had the wardrobe to boot).

Some more time went by and I suffered an explosion that literally ripped my room apart.  As I was looking at my knickers and knickknacks littered along Bayfield Street something broke.  I wasn't alright.  I was scared.  I began to hide from the world.

Then, I got married.  As much as I love the Newf and he loves me, marriage doesn't exactly encourage individualism.

Well, two and a half years later and I am ready to set the stage for wickedness again.  It has take some time and I have a lot of remodelling to do but I am ready to kick this can.

Who wants to join me?  What skin do you need to shed?

I can't promise you'll turn into an official superhero but I am sure we can work something out.  Sometimes, all you need is a little push and a little company.  We aren't behind, we are just getting started.

Ladies and gents, welcome to my world.  Welcome to our world; it is what we make it.

Wicked and ready,

L

It's a Sick Sunday: All About Me

Good evening folks,

So, hopefully you have been reading along, enjoying my content and sarcasm.  You are slowly learning about me and gathering info on some off-the-wall social skills.

You are likely wondering where I am going with this blog.

Well, I don't quite know yet.  I am hoping to pass on the wisdom of benefit of etiquette while encouraging you (and me) to be the best we can be.  Right now I am attempting to figure out a routine and suitable subjects all while including everything I want to say.

I need to be a little more candid.  This piece has been very difficult for me because as a business writer I avoid using the word "I" like the plague.  It always makes me feel like the sun - self-centred.

If I am lucky enough to have dutiful readers you may (or may not) be wondering who, exactly, I am.  Well, hold on to your bonnets because I aim to give you a little look into the world of Linnie.

I have composed a list of twenty things about me.  Seeing as I am in a silly mood, I have made an attempt at humour.  I assure you, everything written is actually correct, if a little weird.

Folks, weird is just how I roll - I am always a little off kilter.

Enjoy!

• I have lived through an explosion (and subsequent fire) that levelled the better part of a city block.
• I have lived through a major flood (and only got a little wet).
• When surrounded by multiple funnel clouds, I took a shower in the rain and called my colleagues cowards.
• I am actually terrified of tornadoes.  Little did I know that my mother had lied when she told me tornadoes need the sun to touch down.  It was the only way she could get me to sleep and I believed her until I was sixteen.
• The only time my father visited a strip club (that I know of), I told him which one to go to.
• My husband went to the strip club too.
• Shortly before the aforementioned explosion I was offered a stripping job.  I was unemployed and considering it until the strip club burned (I have a way with fire).
• I met the Newf and eight months later I married him.
• The Newf proposed while I was in handcuffs.  It was very quick and a matter of necessity.  We are just that romantic.
• I am scared of the dark.  I have lots of night lights and a big 'ol Maglite, just in case.
• I really, really like cars and insist on driving a stick shift.  It's hot (and so much fun).
• I am a dancing machine.
• I grew up in a town of approximately 1200 people.  I consider myself hillbilly chic.
• Lucan, my hometown, is the home of the Black Donnellys, one of Canada's largest unsolved murders.  Check them out here.
• As a result of my small town farming roots I know a lot about animals.  I love them dearly but define them strictly as animals (no doggie strollers or sweaters here).
• I have never been awarded less than second place in a wet t-shirt contest.
• My fine china is not hidden away in a cabinet.  I use my best everyday.
• Judith Martin, aka Miss Manners, is my hero.  She is simply devine.
• I have eight piercings (only six have jewellery) but do not consider myself overly Holy.

Now that you are suitably frightened (and hopefully intrigued) I will ask: What should I know about you?  Do you have a list?  An interesting tidbit?  Leave a note (or a URL) below so I can check YOU out!

Cleverly candid,

L

Piglets and Tiaras

Friends,

I have some fabulous news, I get the Beast back tomorrow!  He was staying at my brother and sister's while we were in Newfoundland and this weekend we get him back!

He is 120 pounds (and growing) of black fur and he tends to follow me around everywhere I go.  The Beast is fabulous company (in his mind I am always right) and I have missed him.

These last few days I have settled for the company of Napoleon, the Newf's pet guinea pig.  Normally I would give him a false name, as I do with everyone in my blog but this pig can take you down.  He's gruff, tough and a distant descendant of the The Killer Rabbit, whose fluffiness belies its murderous intent.  You may remember the infamous rabbit from the humorous flick, Monty Python and the Holy Grail.  If you have not already watched this classic you must, I highly recommend it.

But I digress.  The Newf rescued the runt because he was suffering at the hand of all the other pigs.  They were beating him up.  His first day home the little guy was covered in scars, scabs and skinny as anything.

In true Napoleon style, this pig has exploded and taken over every morsel of food he possibly could.  Napoleon has also grown a fondness for the Newf which the boy could not be prouder of.  

Notice the double chin.

He gets rather feisty and despises having his nails clipped.  Having a number of pounds on the little guy I do have to force it on him.  The Newf usually leaves the room as he cannot bear to see someone force unpleasantness on his piggy friend (despite the fact his nails could pass as misshapen claws).  I assure you, the deed was done directly after this picture.

Napoleon loves his luxuries.  Grapes and apples are his favourite.  He's drunk on berries, if you will.

Eating, eating and more eating.

As you can see, the tiny pig the Newf originally brought home is no longer.  We are left with a loud, proud squeaking machine.  He is a rotund little fella and despite his size he makes his presence known (especially when the refrigerator is opened).

RANDOM FARM FACT: Guinea pigs are often used to keep barn rats at bay.  Their squeak is very similar to that of a big, Babe-like pig.  Rats are terrified of big pigs because big pigs have a tendency to stamp rats out.  Contrary to popular belief (and multiple children's movies) pigs have a nasty temper when it comes to things like blood and rats.  

So, to anyone who is feeling down in the dumps: if Napoleon can do it, you can too.

Have a great weekend!

Pig loving and pretty,

L 

Wicked Wednesday: Something About a Jet Plane

Happy hump day!

Oh, my friends, I am SO nervous!  Here, in Toronto, it is 3.45 AM and I am packed and ready to go.  In a mere eight hours my plane takes off for St. John's, Newfoundland!  Did I mention, I will be flying on the new Porter Airlines, allegedly the "high class" method of travel!  I hope they have laptop plugs and wireless internet! 

If you haven't already guessed, the Newf was born and raised on the rock and I have yet to go out myself.  After two years of marriage  I am finally going to meet the remaining Newfoundland clan.

It will be marvellous, I am sure - Newfoundlanders are notoriously friendly and our trip is the result of a big birthday bash (taking the pressure off me, thank goodness)!  On one hand I cannot wait, on the other hand my house has been cleaned three times in an attempt to dispel nervous energy.

So, off I go, heading deep into the land of anchors and aquatics ready to meet my family!

Wish me luck!

High in the sky and yours,

L