I have determined my next personal project - outside of finding the perfect console table to hold my tv that will go with my fabulous new carpet.

I am going to fix the front of my house so that it doesn't look like a crack den.

Here is how that decision came about:

I was reading tweets and followed a link to Breakfast Television's blog and noticed a BT/Home Depot contest to fix the front of your house, improve curb appeal. Just send a note why your house deserves the make-over and a picture.

This is what I wrote (well first draft anyway, minor tweeks made to the original):

The front of our house is so hideous that adults walking by weep and children run in fear...and animals defecate because the lack of grass gives only the impression of our front yard being one very large litter box. The green and cream paint (though I suppose considered grand in the 80s when it was last done) has peeled and hangs in strips, the astroturf carpeting does nothing to hide the disintegrating floorboards, and the lone hanging lightbulb emphasizes the despair that is our family home. Flowers no longer bloom, birds do not sing, and the garbage bins stand as sentinels at the front allowing in only skunks who burrow under the porch and then spray.

I am amazed that the neighbours haven't risen up against us, for we are the most pitiful house on the street and desperate for a curb appeal makeover.

And here is the picture:


I seriously did not realize just how bad the front is until I went outside to deliberately take a picture of the old horror. I think after so many years of living here I would deliberately stare down at the sidewalk and hold my breath to protect myself from the stench of catspray and rush quickly into the house. Sidestepping the holes in the porch boards.

Now to start sourcing house numbers, light fixtures and paint colours, and also plants and pots for the front.

And to build up my courage and remove the astroturf (after taking a couple gravol) and see exactly what is living under my porch.

Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated!

It is so beautiful today! So why am I blogging?

Because I can't stop staring at my new rug!

The downside to my beautiful new rug is that I am now stressed at work thinking that at any moment one of my evil cats will be yacking up a football-size fur ball, but mostly preoccupied with how horrible my curtains look and how tired the furniture is (but I can't buy new furniture yet, the kids won't let me have nice furniture...yet), and that finding a console table for our tv has been upgraded to urgent!

But other than those tiny matters, if I just focus on my rug and nothing else, I am blissfully happy.

Now to do something incredibly indulgent - I am going to open a corona and take my guitar and practice on the back steps. My even pop a slice of lime into the bottle.

And not-so-silently curse my guitar instructor who blew off my lesson on Sunday. How am I ever going to join a band by the age of 50 if he's not here helping me reach that goal? Good thing I have quite a few years ahead of me.

I love craigslist. I finally made the decision to buy the Quinn rug from Pottery Barn (http://www.potterybarn.com/products/p11587/index.cfm?pkey=cwool-rugs) that I have been obsessing about for months and on a whim typed the name into craigslist only to find a nearly brand new one in the exact colour and size being offered up. And it was posted on my birthday which meant that it truly was destined to be mine!

And it is now in my living room.

Jakob says it looks like a million marshmallows.



New rules now apply to the living room: No eating or drinking ANYTHING except on that little wooden strip of flooring. The end.

Honestly, if the makers of the Twilight movie series ever needed a little boy vampire, Jakob would be perfect. Especially after he drinks a cream soda turning his lips bright red.

Jakob is now on day 5 of his antibiotics and doing so much better. The rabid-moose bellow has not been heard in days - lucky for him...

Just when you really need a TV in your life, it has to up and die.

I took Jakob to the doctor today and as she hovered over him, writing a prescription, taking swabs, feeling his glands, telling me this little guy needs a lot of TLC over the next couple of days because he has a bad case of STREP...I could only feel really bad that I have been telling him (and I would not describe the tone as maternal) to BE QUIET for the past 24 hours. And I was being the nice parent.

Unfortunately for me I really need sleep. For example, if I'm forced to go since, say, Thursday night without a good night sleep, by today I'm a broken mess capable only of eating Girl Guide cookies, hoping for a sugar rush, washed down with coffee.

And Jakob is not easy when he's feeling unwell. We went to Shoppers to fill his prescription and he started bellowing like a moose in heat. I had to tell him to knock it off, he's going to scare the old people picking up their prescriptions - maybe give them a heart attack. At least the bellowing kept the pan handlers who hang out front of the store from harassing us for spare change - which always makes me think of Ellen Degeneres - because you could tell from the expression on their weathered faces that they didn't have a clue what Jakob was capable of or if he was perhaps contagious.

Jakob doesn't stop making noises, and if it's 3:30 in the morning and you're begging him to be quiet because you all you really want to do is sleep and be warned, you're not a good parent in the morning if you go one more night without, he'll just get louder and come up with new noises to push you over the edge.

It's almost like he has tourettes. He's currently sitting quietly on the couch watching the TV that's not broken and every once in a while, just to let me know he's still suffering (though not battling death like he thought this morning and when I thought it was just a head cold - because he has had a diagnosis), he lets out the moose call, now sounding perhaps a bit more rabid than in heat.

Maybe he'll keep the skunks away - give purpose to our suffering. That wouldn't be so bad would it?

Must go to bed after a very exhausting birthday weekend made even more INSANE by Jakob getting incredibly sick and miserable.

But first I promised to mention a fabulous contest by a talented Ottawa graphic designer and artist. Check out http://www.mchenwears.com to win an original t-shirt.

Now...bed. 4 hours of broken sleep is not enough to keep me going.

One day to "B" day.

To make today less painful, bought strawberry infused wine and cupcakes and plied 10 women (and one lone male consultant) at work. No one sang. Except for me, in my head, and that was Birthday by the Beatles. I can always rock out alone.

Two days until my birthday and I'm really trying hard to not think about it - but it could explain why I am so incredibly cranky (mother issues - meaning issues with my mother not my being a mother..but that could also be true). That and finding out my guitar instructor was born in 1984. 1.9.8.4.

I mean come on - I could be his mother! A really young hip mother, but his mother.

My life is feeling like one big Orwellian nightmare.

My 12 year old went to see a movie yesterday with his 12 year old friends, driven by one of their parents. Life is becoming tricky with 12 year olds because it seems the days of knowing what they are up to and what they are thinking are fast becoming history.

For example the movie. I said sure go with your friends, it's your last day of the long weekend plus I THOUGHT they were going to see Fast and Furious...a stupid movie made to appeal to the changing brains of 12 year old boys. But no, they went and saw Observe and Report, a movie that passes date rape off as a sex scene. And how did they even get in to see it? It's rated 18A, Satchel's friend is barely taller than Jakob, and they paid child admission prices!

Now I need to talk to Satchel about the film and its mistreatment of social issues and women, I would like to call the theatre to find out how they determine whether children are old enough to see inappropriate movies and, this will horrify Satchel and his friends, I'm going to email the parents of the other kids to let them know what kind of movie their kids saw in case they would like to talk to them about the content.

What a weekend - no wonder I had an anxiety attack yesterday which Jakob bore most of the brunt of. My headcold was severe on Friday, we attended a funeral on Saturday (another post will have to detail how much fun it was for me to take family out for a drink after Uncle Sam's funeral only to have one half on one side of me not talking to the other half on the other side of me, and my Mom not talking at all - but at least she knew who I was!), fabulous friends came for dinner Saturday night, Sunday was all about bunnies and chocolate and champagne and orange juice.

Thank God Pat came over yesterday afternoon and made me laugh so hard I nearly spewed white wine spritzer through my nose, a feat only made possible in the past by Bobbles. I may have to marry her.

I am now experimenting with Twitter and this is what I love: that Yoko Ono is following my tweets!

Hi, Meg Glover (meg_glover).

Yoko Ono (yokoono) is now following your updates on Twitter.

Check out Yoko Ono's profile here:
http://twitter.com/yokoono


And she sent me an email:

Thanks for following! love, yoko IMAGINE PEACE: Think PEACE, Act PEACE, Spread PEACE www.IMAGINEPEACE.com

Yoko Ono / yokoono

I know I shouldn't get overly excited, she must follow everyone who logs on to follow her tweets and send them this email form letter. But OH.MY.GOD! Yoko Ono!

What is disconcerting is the random mix of total strangers who are also following my tweets. I don't understand why - most of the posts have been about me sobbing into my keyboard over the snow and freezing cold temperatures. It must be my oh-so-eloquent way of describing my despair in 140 characters or less.

I watched Oprah again today. That's two days running, I'm feeling like a bit of a junkie.

But the episode was really interesting. They discussed the four blue zones (the mountainous Barbagia region of Sardinia, an island off the coast of Italy; the Japanese island of Okinawa; a community of Seventh-day Adventists in Loma Linda, Calif., about 60 miles east of Los Angeles; and the Nicoya Peninsula of Costa Rica, in Central America)in the world where people live healthier and longer than anywhere else. Dr Oz, Oprah and some well preserved man with an artificial tan and blindingly white teeth discussed the belief system of each area for living longer.

I am happy to report that drinking wine was featured prominently - up to two glasses per day. I'm having my second now.

Other factors include:

Exercise.

Eating well - many adopting a vegan or organic diet.

Having a sense of purpose - this was a priority with all four areas.

Laughing with your friends. Surround yourself with peers so that you have a support system in place. Though one 94 year old surgeon suggested that it was better to surround yourself with younger people because they were the ones who stimulated you (he meant mentally for you naughty readers).

To read more: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap_travel/20080519/ap_tr_ge/travel_by_the_book_blue_zones

or visit Oprah:
http://www.oprah.com/dated/oprahshow/oprahshow_20081009_bluezones

OH MY GOD, WHEN IS THIS HEAD COLD GOING TO GO AWAY? And I would like to say the same for the freezing cold temperatures, the smattering of snow on the ground, the ice rain...

It's all driving me insane and makes me want to board a plane quickly and head back to the Caymans.

Oprah's on television - looking mighty fierce with her straightened hair - talking to mothers. They are currently discussing what they don't like about motherhood which inspired me to compile a small list of my least favourite things about motherhood.

Starting with number 1: TWELVE YEARS OF BROKEN SLEEP. That's right: TWELVE YEARS!

2: poo. Changing diapers, wiping bottoms, smelling it in the house, finding it hanging out in the toilet because someone forgot to flush. Or maybe they did flush but they've plugged the toilet and it's now all over the floor. And the underwear. If I never see a brown stain on underwear again I will die a very happy woman.

3: personal time...GONE. Oh to sit quietly and read a book. Or have a bath without company who then complains about the bubbles, he doesn't like them, and can I please get out! And popular television programming...what is that? Isn't Friend's still on?

4: Yelling. The yelling and the wrestling really ties my stomach up in knots. The thumping I hear coming from the room above me, the inevitable crying...drives me insane! I can imagine a life with little girls would be all sweetness and quiet, tea parties and tying up Barbie with little scarves bondage style, hanging her from tv tables. Oh wait, that was my childhood.

5: MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY

6: The constant mess of my house.

7: Handing my bottle or glass of water to the kids because they are thirsty and getting back something that looks more like swamp water with floaty bits. I have now learned to take a quick big gulp before handing it over so that I can say "No, no...you keep it. You'll be thirsty again soon." coming across quite saintly and altruistic but really? NO WAY would I take another swig of that mess.

Feel free to add a few of your own!

I'm sitting in my kitchen, head in hand, watching the rain (and yes, typing on my computer) and listening to all the children of various shapes and sizes make noise upstairs.

I'm STILL sick. I broke free from work an hour early to race home hoping for a quick nap but instead found all the children starving and was forced to make grilled cheese sandwich after grilled cheese sandwich. And I'm expecting more people because my biggest personal flaw is an inability to say NO. Unless it has to do with with money - if you need money well don't come to me, because I ain't got any. But I will remember you if I win the lottery. Promise.

This is how I know I'm not well, because as Paul gave up on Xbox, I can't play my guitar. The poor darling is sitting quietly in the corner feeling utterly rejected and starting to gather dust. As useful as a goldfish.

And I'm eating suspicious cake which I have loaded with whip cream. Totally unlike me.