Restaurant Review: Kensington Cornerstone

This tucked away location at the corner of Dundas St. West and Kensington Ave. had always been a regular dim sum haunt for me in my childhood. Living only two doors away, above my parent's original hardware store, we would often walk over for weekend dumplings and the occasional scratch ticket from the door to door ticket salesman. Since those days, it has changed hands a couple of times but had always been an Asian style cafe. Now, chef and owner David has changed the small space into a very relaxed haven of comfort food that is (shhhh!!!) completely gluten free. The Kensington Cornerstone does not openly advertise this in fear of driving away potential customers who may have preconceived notions of the food. And you could barely tell. The chicken fusilli pasta is creamy and rich. There is no way of telling that it is rice pasta. Even the garlic toast is light and delicious. His secret? Instead of making a dough with rice flour (which makes it heavy and crumbly) he treats it like a cake batter. The results are an airy bread that works well with his pastas and sandwiches. Bonus is the lounging area where my kids enjoy frolicking in. Also a great view of the comings and goings of the Market hub bub. Desserts are ambitious but disappointing. Poached pear pie was cold and the crust odd. The chocolate cake not too bad. All in all, a great spot for lunch or dinner especially with friends who have any kind of dietary restrictions which he is happy to accommodate!

More poo

Though work is heck, at least I'm never bored. Here's a story that happened to one of my colleagues yesterday:

Tommy had a really bad accident in his pants. Poop all over. To his credit, he tried to take of it. He stripped down completely and began washing his clothes in the toilet.

"What are you doing???" his teacher cried. "I'm going to call your parents to come get you!" At this point, this poor, naked, embarrassed thing was covered in poo, up to his elbows in poo, and had covered the toilet and walls with poo. Realizing he was doing the wrong thing, he immediately came out of the washroom and continued washing his poopy clothes in the sink.

"Ahhhh! What are you doing???" she screamed. Now there was poo on the classroom sink and floor as well. "Your parents are coming. Don't move. I'm calling the caretaker."

Poor Tommy. Naked, covered in poo, and only trying to fix things. It couldn't get worse.

"What do you want?" grumbles the disgruntled caretaker. He looks over. "Whaaaat????!!!!!"

I hope Tommy has a better day.

Kiddy-isms

My two year old son:

Mommy. Sun. Go down!

Me: Yes, the sun is going down.

Awwww. Sorry.

Me: Why are you sorry? Did YOU make the sun go down?

Yesth.


My daughter while flushing:

Bye-bye poo! See you later!

On the size of poo:

Look mommy! Three poos! A daddy poo, a mommy poo, and a baby poo! It's a family!

On the shape of poo:

Mommy! It looks like a toothbrush!

On the sequence of poo:

Me: Did you poo or pee?

Poo! And pee! Together!

Hell: Week 5

Extreme "Whack-A-Mole" continues and though the numbers have decreased slightly, the monkeys I have more than make up for few bodies that have yet to show up. I have to sadly admit that it has gotten the best of me. I am HATING my job. I feel I am at the mercy of these monsters who have no concept of cause and effect. Reward or punishment. They are worse than Pavlov's dogs. In fact, if they were a Pavlovian dog, they would say, "How come he gets a treat? I want one! It's not fair. I don't want no bell. Bell? I'm going to go chew on my butt over here. Squirrel!" Pavlov would put them down.

Some strategies that are (unfortunately) working is rearranging all my furniture in order to corral them for lessons. With only 2 narrow escape routes, we gatekeepers can at least keep them in one small area. Not that it helps much. While trapped in this oval, they manage to do other damage such as pulling things off my bulletin board or taking all the books off my bookcase.

I could deal with all this if I felt the parents or administration were behind me. I gave some constructive feedback on how one kid was doing and the psycho dad, irrate with my "unfounded complaints," went straight to the principal to protest my groundless accusations. I was told to keep quiet from now on and don't say anything negative to him anymore. (???????)

If I must, say only good things. Yes, lie. (?????????)

Exhausted from dealing with exhausted children, I was also told to "not teach" in the afternoon and that it wouldn't hurt them academically. (??????)

All of us were having trouble finding our stride with our ECE partners. They were called in for a meeting and scolded for "touching" them (hugging, picking up, kissing). My partner took it very personally and now, in a really exaggerated manner, won't touch them at all. To the detriment of classroom management.

Difficult parents, kids, administration, and ECE. Maybe I'll go back to chef training.

Full Day Kindergarten...Week one

Oh. My. God. 31 three, four, and five year olds. 1 ECE teacher. Too many minutes in a school day for these little guys. Not enough hours in a day to plan, prepare, or rest. I am the living dead right now animated only by adrenaline and bananas. I don't know how I am going to handle Monday because not all students showed up today because of Eid celebrations. Monday will be all of them, plus 3 student teachers from Japan who would like to see how a Canadian classroom is run. It runs like a game of Whack-A-Mole except the moles manage to run out of their holes and all over the C.N.E.

I'm going to go and drink now...

The end of summer....

For me, the end of summer is often heralded by the opening of the CNE, morning glories blooming on fences, and TIFF ads. There are also a number of premature signs in summer that freak me out and make me insane!

1. Back to school sales in the end of June.
2. End of summer clearance sales in July
3. Halloween costumes and candy at Costco.
4. Snowblowers on sale (today at Lowe's)
5. Christmas merchandise being displayed.

Aaaaahhhh! Summer is over!

Mr. Hong Kong

Last night, I was watching Chinese TV with my parents and lo and behold, the 2010 Mr. Hong Kong pageant was on. Simply said, it was a laughfest. The dudes were very metrosexual and mostly very common looking. What was worst was the talent portion of the show which clearly proved that they scrambled to learn something last minute because they were not talented in anything but to look sulky (and maybe play Final Fantasy). No one took this seriously, even the judges who were a bunch of giggling cougars and college girls in lounge chairs. If these are the hottest guys Hong Kong has to offer, I'll look elsewhere. Wait. My husband is from Hong Kong.....



William Chak crowned Mr. Hong Kong 2010

CNE delicacies

Above, deep fried butter.

If you have not done so already, here are some of the more interesting food items to check out at the CNE this year.

At the kiosk outside of the Direct Energy Building, look for the enormous line up. There you can get deep fried butter, deep fried Twinkies, deep fried Mars bars, chocolate covered bacon.


Inside the Direct Energy Building and the Arts and Crafts Building are stalls that sell Carmichael's meat. They mostly sell jerky and summer sausage but there are some very exotic offerings this year such as camel, kangaroo, biltok (?), in addition to their usual wild boar, alligator, emu, and pepperoni sticks (which are addictive and delicious).

Only other thing of note this year are the beautiful miniature orchid plants (4-5 inches tall) for $13 at the Direct Energy Building. My mom seemed to like that more than the kangaroo jerky.

Reflections on Motherhood Part 2: Sunshine and Lollipops

Avoiding all the gloopy, Hallmark style poetic musings of motherhood, I want to give balance to my last post on motherhood by reflecting on my own personal experience of having two children. It wasn't love at first sight. In fact, when my first child was born, I thought I was dying. I was in active labour for 5 hours straight (pushing for 5 hours)after more than 24 hours of contractions. I was dehydrated, nauseous, pale, and my heart rate was crazy and I was getting feverish. The sight of my crying, wet daughter did not make me elated. All I wanted was someone to give me water and make me not die. That passed. I clearly remember a quiet moment with her by my hospital bed. Looking at her little body and thinking, "One day you'll grow up, maybe get married..." then I became a weeping idiot.

Everything changed. Who I am and what I love hasn't changed but my priorities and perspective have changed and I think that has made me a better person. I care more about the world because my children will be living in it. I am a better teacher because I have a new understanding and appreciation of a child's development and a parent's struggle. Suddenly, every child is my child and the pain and suffering of other children is felt keenly by me. Though I've always loved food, taste is no longer the primary feature. Nutrition, sustainability, and environmental impact have suddenly become just as important. Though my body has changed, I feel empowered. Prior to having children, I was shy and self conscious of my body. But after what my body has been through, I bear the stretch marks and C-section scars like badges of honour. I walk confidently through Body Blitz Spa (clothing optional) imperfect but happy. I want to be healthy but no longer want to fight with my body to attain a certain weight or image. I am comfortable with myself.

Though we struggle, I love my husband for the father he has become. He has teary moments when his love of our children threatens to burst his chest. He spoils them then chastises himself for doing so. He patiently teaches them to climb and swim, to greet others appropriately and to treat others well. Having children has evened his temper. He takes greater care in how he drives and how he conducts himself. Once reckless and carefree, he is sharply aware that he is needed. Though we have our differences, my husband and I hold fast to one rule, which is to keep a united front. We support each other and do our best.

We are not the only ones who have changed. My parents suddenly have a reason for taking better care of themselves. My father drinks far less and eats better. He spends his evenings gardening with them or filling a tub of water in the backyard so they can bathe under our pear tree. My mother cuddles them endlessly and takes great joy in playing with them or creating art inspired by Mr. Maker. My childrens' laughter fills their home and has made my parents very happy. Even my sisters have changed. Never having had young children around us, my kids were an eye-opener for all of us. The youngest sister has taken on various duties of care, entertainment, and guardianship. She takes them to daycare or programs and she patiently cuts paper shapes for them to make art with. She is the rock of discipline in their home. The middle sister no longer wants to eat children and has developed a tender, maternal side of herself. Also a consistent disciplinarian, she is firm yet caring and she (and her hubby) have helped me through my first year at home with a baby.

Finally, my kids. I can't express how much I love them. They are quirky and funny. Smart and silly. Yes, they are a pain and they fight and they can be demanding but then they reach up and say, "Mommy, I nuv ooo!" and everything else melts away. "All joy and no fun" is an apt title for the article that began this post but that JOY is worth it. I look forward to more joy to come.

Hot Men: Donnie Yen

For some reason, I've never really noticed Donnie Yen before though he has been in countless movies for a very long time. Perhaps it is because my interest in hot men is usually limited to interesting characters as opposed to the actor themselves. He is an incredible martial artist whose talent rivals (and I think exceeds) that of Jet Li and Jackie Chan.




A quick search also reveals that he speaks fluent English, Cantonese, and Mandarin and is a classically trained pianist. In this rare instance when I find a real man hot, it goes without saying that this fella has the whole package.










From mute vampire (Blade 2) to underwear model, Donnie is yum!

Pate: Epilogue

Done and done. I was a nattering lunatic once they injected painkiller into my IV. I was watching how the ceiling tiles cascaded like a waterfall before my eyes and I couldn't stop remarking about how neat it was to the doctor and nurse. The local injection was ok but didn't seem to dull the pain of the actual extraction of liver. It felt like I was being stabbed by a knife. In my daze, I turned about and asked to see the size of the offensive instrument that just punctured my liver. It looked like a fishing rod but I'll never be sure since I was drugged and half blind. Recovery at the hospital was painful and full of hallucinations for the first 2 hours. After that, I was bored. Now home, I just awoke in a panic because I was worried no one picked up my daughter from daycare! Fortunately, everything was taken care of by the hubby. Since I can't lift anything heavier than 10 lbs for the next 24 hours (otherwise my kidneys will fall out), I plan on watching tv and folding laundry when the husband isn't looking.

Pate, anyone?

Thursday is my appointment for a liver biopsy. Originally, I was not at all nervous about it but as my sleeplessness and dreams would indicate, I am getting concerned about my health. I've been dreaming about my finger nails falling off, sort of in the style of "The Fly" where Jeff Goldblum falls apart by pieces as he slowly transforms into the fly.

The procedure will be simple. One needle to freeze my side and the second one to go between the ribs and take out a piece of liver. They asked if they end up taking more than they need, could they have it for research purposes? I said, "Yes, as long as you don't clone me." The nurse replied, "Why does everyone say that?" Too much sci-fi!

Well, wish me luck!

My Hubby vs. The World

My husband imagined as the powerful and eternal Bruce Lee.


Inspired by the new Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World movie, I imagined what it would be like if my hubby had to fight all my ex-boyfriends. Wanting anonymity for everyone involved, I chose to use famous people that look like or remind me of the guys I dated. (In no particular order. Not all guys are represented. Ho!)








James Marsden: The sulky and somewhat whiny boyfriend that shoots lasers out of his eyes.






Taboo: The bad-ass, cool guy that gives people the creeps. Has the power to freak you out.












Conan O'Brien: Has the power to reduce you to tears by making others laugh at you.












John Smith: If you watch Pocahontas 2, you'll find that John Smith is a cheating cad who doesn't return Pocahontas' calls. Like a coward, his power is to use a gun.











Jonathan Rhys Meyers: Imagined power is to take your head off. Real power is to use his Ji-jitsu to put you into embarrassing submissions.












Colin Chou: Of Matrix fame, enjoys wearing very little to distract his opponents.












Tilda Swinton: The hubby insisted that I add this to the list too. Tilda is a fierce opponent who swoops down on her angel wings and lays waste to those who oppose her. (Much like her character Gabriel from Constantine. Or her character White Witch from Narnia. Either one. She goes both ways.)

Reflections on Motherhood Part 1: The Dark Side

Controversial artist, Vanessa Beecroft.

A very interesting article called, "All Joy and No Fun: Why Parents Hate Parenting" came to my attention that has caused me to do some serious reflection and introspection. The premise of the article is,

Most people assume that having children will make them happier. Yet a wide variety of academic research shows that parents are not happier than their childless peers, and in many cases are less so. This finding is surprisingly consistent, showing up across a range of disciplines.

"No!" was my immediate reaction to the whole idea. "Having children is a happy, wonderful, and natural thing that I have always wanted." My sentiments were supported in the article, saying that "(the findings) violate a parent’s deepest intuition." But to my horror and dismay, I began to realize that what it says is true. With great reluctance, I must admit that having children is not fun. The reality is that every facet of your life as you know it will change. Your body, relationships, friends, and lifestyle. And for what? Why do we have children anyway?

Historically, we had children to hunt and gather, tend the fields or mind the livestock. Children were an investment that would help secure your retirement and care. They would ensure your immortality through the passing of the family name or perhaps continue your legacy through a family business. But why do we have children in these modern times?

We hardly need more people. In fact, a friend stated that there worst thing you could do for the environment is to have a child. We do not need them for financial security and few people care about the passing on of names or the support or continuation of a business. I believe we have them because A. We are expected by society AND ourselves to have children. B. We believe children will make us happier.

Am I happier? I once convinced myself that I'm not going to be THAT kind of Mom. I believed I was ahead of the game because I would exercise, maintain my interests and hobbies. Make time for my relationship with my husband and because we have good communication, we thought we were a perfect parenting team because we were on the same track in terms of discipline style and ideals. We weren't going to have THOSE problems everyone warns us of. Well, yes and no.

Though I have gone back to my pre-pregnancy weight, I have not gone back to my original shape. My feet are a little bigger and my skin is dimply. I'd like to believe that no mom, Hollywood moms included, emerges physically unscathed by the changes in pregnancy.

There's no time for hobbies. Serious arrangements have to be made to put aside the time needed to dedicate to things I once enjoyed. Laundry, cooking, household upkeep and childcare take up all the time in a day. What time is left, is dedicated to my new hobbies of stimulating my children through outings, and activities. Every facet of my life has changed. Even the simplest choices are affected from the food I make, the time we eat and sleep, to the kind of fabric I wear, and the timing of my life to fit my kids' nap schedule. I managed to do some painting a year back but the subject matter became cartoon sea life because I thought my kids might like it!

It's a lot of work and it doesn't end. There's no break from it, only mild lulls that usually results in a rush of more chores. Guilt, stress, and worry often plague many moms and for me, guilt is the worst. Even as I am writing this, I am thinking I should be spending more time with my son instead of this. I should be cleaning the toilets instead of wasting time. However, this is often a state of mind for a person such as myself who needs to have a number of accomplishments done at the end of each day in order to feel worthwhile. Call it a neurotic work ethic.

I'm not going to go into lengths about how important dad's are because that's obvious. I don't want to defend them apologetically because I know this part is controversial and will ignite passions. I'll just say that men and women are different and each couple is different. My personal perspective in my own relationship is that despite all our discussions prior to having children, my hubby and I are still at opposite ends when it comes to child rearing. We are tired and worn out and we are not at our best. What we have left over of ourselves at the end to the day is not enough to properly maintain a relationship at times. Sleep is the new sex, as many would say about parenthood. We don't have the patience for each other because it is spent on the children. There are times when I look over and wonder, "Who are you?" as the stress and tiredness changes us both. We look at each other and think we need to compensate for each others shortcomings which in turn, worsens the problem. For example, being more rigid vs. being more lax, frugal vs. generous, fast vs. slow. It spirals into a situation where both people are at odds.

So why did I have kids? I believe every person has kids for "selfish" reasons. I want someone to be there when I'm older to enjoy warm family occasions with. Someone to call on for company. To have connections with people that have a bond deeper than friendship. I do not expect them to take care of me in my old age. I am sentimental and I value traditions and holidays and the closeness a family can bring. That's all for me and that's why I say it's selfish. I could do the same by adopting and doing greater good at the same time, but again, I want my own flesh and blood first. Then, you give every ounce of yourself to this little person. So is parenting fun? Hell, no. It's hard, stressful, tiring, and at times, very unrewarding. Would I do it all again? Hell, yes.

(To be continued: Reflections on Motherhood Part 2)

So hip it hurts

Last week I attended the Black Eyed Peas concert at ACC. "Black Eyed Peas?!" my sister exclaims. "I didn't know you even liked them." She knows well that I favour retro tunes, rock, and broadway. She was probably wondering if I thought I was attending some kind of legumes festival. "Sure, I do." I said but only after googling them to figure out what they actually sang. Fortunately, their music is so popular that someone as out to lunch as me still knew their music.
The last 3 concerts I've attended were Aerosmith, David Bowie, and Kiss. I figured I'd better prepare myself so I traded my baggy jeans for tight jeans. My tight top for a loose be-jeweled top. My canvas back pack for a stylish purse. Make up and high heels completed my updated look. Babysitting was secured so we were ready for a night on the town in a VIP lounge courtesy of RBC. The open bar was a surprise and I ended up as smashed as a frosh on a Friday night. The music was loud, the night late, and my feet hurt but the seats were great and they didn't even try to make us open an account or anything. After my fourth drink, I knew that I would pay for it the next day. "Mom, I won't be able to take the kids to swim lessons tomorrow." I slurred over the blaring music. Ten years ago, we would have gone clubbing after the concert then head to Denny's in the morning but all I wanted to do was sleep. Oh, how times have changed.

Old Wives Tales or Ancient Chinese Secret?

My pregnant friend invited us over for a bbq recently and I offered to bring her watermelon as a contribution. "Oh, no. I can't eat watermelon because of the baby." I suddenly remembered my own two pregnancies and all the restrictions our culture imposes for the sake of the child and mother. How quickly I forgot that watermelon is considered too "cool" for a pregnant woman's body and it is believed that it may have negative affects on the growing baby. In our culture, foods are considered to be either yin or yang, hot or cool, but this does not really encompass the entire meaning. "Hot" foods are considered to cause inflammation. For example, fried foods, coffee, and durian. "Cool" foods are often fresh fruit, melons, and vegetables, but foods that are too cool (such as my dad's vegetable juice elixir) can make some people light headed. To complicate things further, other foods are considered to be "boe" or have healing factors. These are good for pregnant women but not good for those with high blood pressure as they can cause headaches. Some such foods are red bean and meat and alcohol. Now the superstition comes into play. Homophones are regarded with great caution. Eat shrimp because the word for shrimp sounds like "laugh" and that's good. Don't eat strawberries on special occasions because it sounds like "lots of trouble." Then, there's just plain crazy. Don't eat that or your baby will look like it. A pregnant woman's diet therefore, is heavily scrutinized as our culture would believe the unchecked consumption of food as a jeopardy to the lives of two people. I was not allowed to eat watermelon (too cool). No snake or the baby will have scales (oh, darn). No watching scary movies or the baby will look like a monster (movies affect DNA?). No dark things either, even soy sauce. Apparently it would make my baby black. (It was the soy sauce, I swear!)

Hubby-isms - Final?

So the hubby continues to speak with enough care so as not to add fodder to my blog. However, while cleaning out some drawers, I came across an old notebook where I kept track of his more hilarious comments. Enjoy!


- If you don't fold your clothes nicely, they'll get wrinked!

- Put on your coat. You'll catch ammonia.

- This weighs an arm and a leg!

- I've got the legs of a python!

Conversations:

Me: I think I'll try to make bouillabaise.
Hubby: That's hard. How are you going to going to make the fish sing and move?

Hubby: You can't microwave water because of the neurons in it!
Me: Neurons?
Hubby: I mean electrodes.

Hubby: We need a humilifier.
Me: To humiliate the room?
Hubby: Yes.

And because it runs in the family:

Hubby's brother: TURN STRAIGHT!

I'm baaaack!

Renovate you must, hmmm?

Whoo! I've been quiet for awhile as life gets in the way of blogging. Update:

* Sister was married in the company of friends, family and a pair of drunken Stormtroopers.
* Preparation for my MC'ing duties which included a whack of Nerd-tacular games.
* After a lengthy series of interviews, I have finally managed to transfer to a new school closer to home. I'll be teaching the new Full Day Kindergarten.
* Packing and cleaning all my teaching materials in order to get out of my old school only to discover that my new classroom has no room for my things as yet and will need some SERIOUS cleaning.
* Crazy-ass renos are happening at my home which involves the addition of a 16 ft high bedroom and ensuite.
* Discovery that this "little addition" will also include re-doing a destroyed dining room, kitchen and bathroom.
* Bailing out the seemingly constant rain from our three-walled home.
* Trying to enjoy the summer as much as possible with my two ankle-biters and a house full of dust!

Hubby-isms: Update

While lying in bed, the hubby and I were talking about dreams and deja vu. I told him about a vivid dream that years later, became a reality. His response was:

"Hey! Maybe you have...you know...P..S..."

"Three?" I chuckle.

"No!" He says indignantly. "P-S-I!"

Restaurant Review: Le Trou Normande

As an early birthday celebration, the hubby wanted to take me out for dinner. We defaulted to the Yorkville area because of traffic and were stuck with the conundrum of which ritzy patio to rest our middle class bottoms in. Sassafraz seemed the obvious choice, with it's lively patio, and solid, if snooty, reputation. But something else beckoned. Dilapitated iron arches and a yellowed menu board somehow promised more. The only sign of life was a simple table lain with white cloth and a few empty display bottles of wine. Peeking down this corridor between buildings, I could glimpse a lone table by a picture window lit by a single candle.
"I want to go there." I said decidedly. "Are you sure?" the hubby asks. He is very wary of places that are old, and quiet which spells stale food and possible salmonella to him. Simply put, it was OLD. The rave reviews framed on the walls were from the 70's and 80's. That smell of old cooking oil permeated the place and the decor spoke of a glorious past that has faded like the yellowed wallpaper. Nonetheless, we took the table with the single candle and hoped for the best. It did not disappoint. French classics like frog legs were spicy and delicious. Escargots were decent and our meaty mains of duck and red deer were perfect. The creme brulee was the best I've ever had and I had a chance to finally try a glass of armangnac (buuuurns!). All in all, a great experience despite it's crumbling facade. If you want to be utterly alone in a fine French restaurant, it's a great bet. Go before they go bankrupt. (Written in April 2010)

In my heart...

My friend, whom I work with, is a rare and wonderful breed of person. Funny, positive, down to earth, and incredibly caring. Only two years older than myself, she managed to start and run a boy's orphanage in Ghana. This is something many of us say we'll do IF we win the 649. Anyhoo, she and I were having a conversation about the differences between the attitudes between developed and undeveloped nations and she related this story to me;

The boys often get snippets of information about the west and wanted to ask her to verify them. They asked her, "Is it true that men sometimes want to become women so they cut their penis off?" She replied, "Yes. Some men are born men but in their heart, they are really women. They then might get surgery to become women."

After some contemplation, another asked: "Is it true that there is a woman who gave birth to 8 babies at the same time?" She replied, "Yes. She used fertility drugs and she had eight babies."

After a moment's thought, the boy replied, "Oh, I see. So in her heart, she wasn't a woman. She was a pig."

Hot Men: George St. Pierre

There really isn't much I need to say in regards to George St. Pierre that "Of No Import" hasn't already said. After our recent UFC 111 party though, all I can add is that the man looks good in clothes and out of them.

Hot Men: The Men of Disney

WARNING: This post contains infantile fantasies of men that don't exist. Eye rolling and gagging may occur.

If you have read my past posts on Hot Men, you'll see a trend. The are mostly fictional. I think because they are imagined, they can reach a kind of unrealistic perfection that can only occur in our minds. The Men of Disney are princes, ragamuffins, pirates and adventurers. Dangerous, chivalrous, exciting. Some wealthy, others lucky. All become noble and honourable by the end of their stories. And of course, they are all handsome in their own ways.

My favourites are currently John Smith, a good looking smart-ass (Pocohontas). Captain Shang, a disciplined soldier with a hot bod and martial arts training (Mulan). And Gaston, a complete asshole but I think he'd be fun for one night (Beauty and the Beast). Upon searching for pics to illustrate this post, I came upon some scintillating images from Deviant Art on the Men of Disney. Below I have posted a few choice pics. There are more out there by the same artist that you can find (Dr.Sweet, Frog Prince, William Turner, etc) if you curious to see their depictions. Who are your faves?

Restaurant Review: Frank @ the AGO

It's actually been awhile since I've been here but life gets in the way of blogging. :) The first visit to Frank was for Weekend Brunch right before going in to see the King Tut exhibit (which was somewhat disappointing). Now, I'm not a huge fan of pancakes, but these were the best pancakes ever. Thinking of them makes me crave pancakes. A heavenly, stack of fluffy buckwheat circles that absorbed the syrupy-fruity compote without being soggy. It was crowned with some whipped cream and a scattering of bacon lardons. I can't explain it. It was just sooo good.

Frank isn't by any means perfect but they certainly are high style with down home comfort favourites such as an up-scale shepard's pie. However, they do surprise pleasantly with such things as bacon-brittle a top a chocolate cake (I think that's what I had. Jennie, please correct me).

All in all, a wonderful experience to pair with an afternoon at the art gallery.

Taking on my class

Celestial Speedster alerted me to this time waster. Apparently, I could take on 15 wild, bloodthirsty 5 year olds...which is approximately one class. (I'm in the right profession).

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Getting older Part 2

More things that prove that I'm getting older...

1. I use Olay Definity and ReGenerist.
2. I pull at the skin beneath my eyes to see it look smoother.
3. People are no longer surprised that I'm a mother of two.
4. I drive an SUV.
5. I wear sensible shoes.
6. The anime posters I used for my cartooning club are over 10 years old. (Ranma)
7. The Time-Life books (about the supernatural) I used in my Boy's Reading Club are nearly 20 years old.
8. My Ryerson student teachers are 20 years old.
9. Their professor from Ryerson looks 18 years old.
10. David Bowie is now a senior citizen and too old to fantasize about anymore.

Yikes. I'm going to take up knitting and adopting cats soon. Help!

Getting older...

Now that Bowie has turned 3, I'm realizing how much I am aging and becoming part of that un-hip group of adults detached from current culture. So here comes the list...You Know You are Getting Older When:
1. YOUR music is now considered CLASSIC rock.
2. YOUR favourite movies are now considered CULT CLASSICS.
3. You can't bring yourself to say, "That's SICK." unless it's actually gross or disgusting.
4. The clothes you wore in junior high can now be bought in costume stores.
5. Most new pop music sounds terrible to you.
6. Atheletes, actors, and actresses seem ridiculously young to you.
7. You buy pants that flatten your tummy.
8. You buy tops that hide your tummy.
9. You sleep early and wake early.
10. When you say to your husband, "I'm looking older...." He replies, "Hmmm."

What do you want to be when you grow up?

There is never a dull moment when teaching Kindergarten. We are currently finishing a unit on Community Helpers and I asked the children to draw a picture of what they might like to be when they grow up. Here are some responses:

"I want to be a pirate when I grow up." (Illegal, but doable)

"A princess." (Umm...how about an actress?)

"A King." (Of what?)

"A monkey." (What do you want to be WHEN YOU GROW UP. Not when it's Halloween.)

"A ghost." (When you grow up. Not when you're dead."

"A circle." (We're doomed.)

Hubby-isms: Guest Appearance by a Co-Worker

The husband has really been watching himself or perhaps he's really improved his vocabulary and speaking skills. I'd like then, to introduce my friend, co-worker, and teaching partner. Unwittingly thrown into the kindergarten mee-lee, he is still learning kindy-speak. Here are a few examples:

To a pair of student teachers who want to learn the ropes:

Ladies, ask lots of questions. Tell me what you need. Just SUCK ME DRY.

To the kids as they enter the class:

C'mon and take off your clothes quickly so we can have fun on the carpet!

To his group of attentive 4 and 5 year olds:

Who wants to come up and touch Mr. Pickle?

Literal Music Videos

Omigod, I haven't laughed this hard in a while. Thanks to the sis for sending this to me! Sorry, don't know how to put the video up properly but check this link. Worth it!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lj-x9ygQEGA