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

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

Traditional Thursday: The White Why Behind Labor Day

Labour day has come and gone, summer is dwindling and fall is upon us. Many are clearing their closet of their summer clothes, making way for their chunky knits, coats and gorgeous cashmeres.

There is an infamous rule that you are not to wear white after Labour Day. Many cry out against the tradition of banning white from their wardrobe, stating they will not fall victim to silly fashion rules. The fact that these same individuals are found prowling the malls searching for the newest trend at the cheapest price never seems to dawn on anyone.

No matter, what is the elusive reasoning behind the "Wicked White" rule? Why must we ban our crisp white linen suits and lovely leather handbags? I believe it comes down to pure symbolism.

Many suggest logical reasons for the white wardrobe rule:

We all know that white is literally, a cool colour. Ask anyone wearing a black t-shirt in the middle of July if they feel the sun and they will almost always answer with a dogged and dried up, "Yes". Surrounded by our air conditioning, fans and exposed shoulders a simple colour choice may not seem important but to those without these luxuries I bet you buttons to dollars you would be wearing white too. Let's face it, when this rule was created there was no such thing as halter tops and spaghetti straps.

Also let's not forget the effect of the rainy season (directly pre and post summer) on that lovely crisp white shirt. Again, when this rule was created a nipplely wet "mistake" was not an option. There are modern rules for such a sight but those are for another day.

Like most rules of etiquette, I believe this is all about the symbolism:

Back in the day it was chic to "summer" in various neighbourhoods and at specific resorts. This was a luxury only affordable to the affluent, as they would flock from their places of work to their treasured summer locals. Work was certainly to be avoided and was replaced by parties, beaches and more socializing than you can imagine. One wore airy white clothing while sipping drinks at a luxury resort; dark coloured clothing was reserved for times of labour and hardship.

For example, black, grey and purple are colours of mourning. White is associated with weddings, celebration and purity. If you look back at pictures of the early twentieth century, the fun-loving summer clothing consisted of seersucker cottons, white linens and Panama hats. White clothing signified a time of light hearted fun.

At the the summer's end, the affluent would move back to their permanent address and their dark wardrobes. Similar pictures of people scuttling about in the city show dark suits and coats. Fall was and still is, considered a season of new beginnings (odd, seeing as everything is dying). It may not be vocalized but many, especially in the Western World, begin school and revamp wardrobes in the fall season. Throughout the summer the retail spending is painfully slow but things pick up again with the "Back to School Season".

To the upper crust, the group that made the rules, white clothing was packed away with the fancy drinks and summer parties. Seeing as everyone wanted to be viewed as "polite society" the easy way to fake having two wardrobes was simply to avoid wearing white. With Labour Day came a new round of work and a new beginning; an opportunity to straighten up.

I will point out that this topic is largely debated but I think there is some serious merit to this argument.

Will you be wearing white after Labor Day? Have you heard of any reasoning for banning white?

Whether you wear white after Labor Day or stick to cream, off white or beige enjoy your new beginning! There is no harm in breaking the rule if you are ready to own it. Personally, I avoid white after Labor Day; as I do the entire year, it washes me out.

Strictly suppressing white (for now),

L

Traditional Thursday: All About Brides and Babies

Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen,

How has your week been?  Have you romped and roamed and made your way back to the weekend?  I certainly hope so.

I have been back from my Newfoundland vacation for two days, and my readers, I need a break.  Silly, I know, but c'est la vie.

As I sit here, listening to Mr. Jimi Hendrix (one of my best blue mood friends, who can keep from making "fox" ears and grins?) I think it best to keep things light and simple.  

One of the very first rules of society my lovely mother taught me was the rule of no exception.  Normally there is an exception to every rule and I am usually the one to find just that abberation.  However, this is not the case today.

All babies and all brides are beautiful.

Yes, you heard me.  It is a law and how I do wish the government would put it into writing.  Regardless of the situation, mood or actual visual appearance, every single bride and baby I have ever laid eyes on is beautiful.  They may not be cute or sassy, sexy or smart, but they are all beautiful.  If I hear you say otherwise I will personally cuff and collar you.

I know, I know, there are some babies with giant misshapen heads (forceps anyone) and some brides channel too much Miss Piggy (on glue and sequins) but these creatures are all beautiful.

This law serves two purposes:

1.) This way everyone is beautiful at some point in their lives; and

2.) It prevents you from ever hesitating at gasping, "Oh goodness he/she is just beautiful!" when presented with a baby or a bride.

This may seem callous or odd, you may never have laid eyes on a bride or baby you considered anything but beautiful.  Unfortunately it should be known that not everyone is away of this rule.  Some have fallen to their social death by refraining from admitting a baby or bride's beauty.  Even worse are those who feel the need to state their opinion.  

These people, obviously, were unaware of the rule which renders their opinion moot.

Being a baby or a bride is not an easy task.  Folks, these creatures are under stress from poking and prodding and diaper changes.  They deserve a little bit of love and a little bit of beauty.

Bound and battered,

L

Traditional Thursday: Let's get Down to Business

Happy Thursday to you, my darlings!

I have always felt Thursdays needed a little love and something different than routine.  Thursday, in my mind, is like the last minute of regulation time with Friday acting as overtime.  Nothing actually gets done on Friday unless it absolutely has to, or unless by some stroke of genius (or luck) things fall into place and you cannot help yourself in putting that puzzle together.

Well, my friends, Thursday has a better use than acting as Friday's understudy.  Thursday is that final day of routine and tradition.  Let us make our Thursdays together a quick minute of tradition with which to prepare for the roaring party which about to begin on Friday.  Even if your weekend plans consist of nothing but some greasy take-out, sweats and the most comfortable couch in the world, those plans deserve a tad of class.

Let us reinforce and encourage the need for sophistication on Thursdays.  Let us enjoy a "Traditional Thursday" every week.

This week I will begin with a quick and easy discussion of etiquette and manners.  Now please, do not let these words terrify you.  Do not let visions of Cruella-esque women draped in furs or thoughts of an awkwardly proper and suitably depressing, politician (a number come to mind) crowd your mind.  Please do not fear giving up your pleasant personality, for etiquette and manners are none of the above.

Etiquette is simply the customary code that people in polite society are expected to follow.  This means that etiquette can, and does, change wildly depending on whose company you are sharing.  

Manners are the actual interactions in which you get to show off your etiquette.  

Now folks, you don't need cash or a wad of bills to to be well-behaved.  You don't need a ton of bling or a sugar daddy to boost your behaviour.  Proper etiquette does not equal money.  Proper people have two concerns: ensuring those within their company are comfortable and ensuring that they, themselves are presented in a complimentary manner.  This kind of endeavour requires nothing more than personal class and a charming temperament.

There is a group of silly people who will wander around, spouting sentences about their better behaviour and making it seem as if they are polite, proper and just so much better than you.  They will point out their assumed points of refinements and brag about having brand names and things like "P. Diddy" scribed across their chest.  Well, do not listen to these ridiculous statements.  There is nothing more improper than blowing your own horn and making others feel poorly about themselves.  In fact, this is exactly the opposite of a well-behaved individual.

To those who take part in public self-gratification, I thumb my nose at you.  Take that, boys and girls.

There are no excuses here boys and girls.  You either are or you aren't.  The good news, is that you get to decide what side of the line you stand on.

As we enter into the weekend and you begin entertaining and socializing keep in mind those around you.  Are you in a funky mood?  Could you provide someone a friendly compliment or kind word?  Is there someone you could provide a chair too?

Think my friends, then act.  If you build this habit you will be remembered, remembered and full of class.

Fine and fabulous,

L

Apology Accepted (A How-To Guide)

Today was difficult.  Today, I messed up and had to pay the price; I had to apologize to The Parentals.  Now, I genuinely like and respect my parents so this made the task that much harder.

You see, it was harmless really, but it was hard.  

The Newf, The Beast and I were visiting my parents and my brother, Yak.  Yak is the only boy I know who can talk his way into a woman's arms while keeping a couple ladies waiting-in-the wings in case the first doesn't work out.  What is worse, the ladies love him for it. 

This weekend, Yak was charge of watching a dog which is well known to The Beast.  Yak was also out doing what he does best which is chat ladies up over a pint or two.  As a result, the bitch under Yak's charge was left unattended and woke up my parents at 3 A.M.

Not a big deal you say, I wasn't responsible for the dog.  Well, my parents, robed and still feeling the anger of lifting of slumber, attempted to deposit the dog with my (missing) brother.  Instead they found me in the backyard; they found me doing something I definitely should not have been doing.  Ouch.

To make matters worse, my parents were roused because this dog was attempting to wake The Beast for a midnight romp.

Yep, you've got it.  The Beast is such a frigging stud that his bitch-friend woke my parents who, in turn, caught me with my pants down.

The only rebound I had was to bite the bullet and admit defeat.

I hate apologizing, especially when you really mean it.  I feel small, sheepish and vulnerable admitting I am wrong.  Apparently the sentiment is not limited to me, which is why everyone has abandoned the practice.  This removes the initial pain, but you still look like a boob.  

I did the crime, I have to do the time.  

An apology is required any time your actions have caused a negative impact on another.  What needs to be decided, immediately, is whether this apology is sincere.  This decision needs to be made in the privacy of your own mind and is never to be discussing in proper conversation.  

Not every apology is sincere but please try to make the majority of your apologies meaningful.  Understand that there is a difference in making an apology you mean and apologizing for the sake of merit and saving face.

If you are in the position where you must apologize and you do not mean it, there is a way to include a subtle insult to ensure that not only does your image remain intact but your nemesis will regret crossing you. 

Here is the How-To Guide to Sincere Apologies:

1.) Your apology must be free from pre tense or deceit, you must genuinely want to express your regret.  This means the apology cannot be part and parcel to an ulterior motive. 

2.) Eye contact - just as in public speaking, eye contact attaches you to your audience.  Even if it is for a fleeting moment, connect with the person to whom you are expressing regret.

3.) Acknowledge your fault.  Whether it was intentional does not matter.  I didn't mean to miss the fact the dog was shattering the atmosphere of the sleeping.   Nothing elaborate, but an "I'm sorry the dog woke you, I should have been watching Dumpster Dog" resonates a lot more than a simple, "I'm sorry".    This also avoids the possibility of misinterpretation - am I sorry The Beast is hotter than hot, am I sorry I was caught without my pants or am I sorry my negligence woke The Parentals?  This way you acknowledge the grievance and make it completely clear which fault you regret.  I would never apologize for my dirty little act or the hot Beast as I enjoy both and they alone committed no offence.

4.) Take responsibility for your actions.  Do NOT blame someone or something else; do not provide an explanation.  It just doesn't matter - what does matter is that you are truly sorry for you actions and it will not happen again.

5.) If you really bungled something up, say, you accidentally ran over the dog that ruined your night, send a handwritten note directly AFTER the apology.  Please, PLEASE, complete the initial apology in person.  You may have messed up, but you are not a coward - face this head on.

What have you had to apologize for lately?  Was it sincere?

Sheepishly yours,

L