HOW TO LAND A TOP-PAYING PIEROGI MAKERS JOB

What I lacked in content last week will now be made up for this week.

On Monday a new family member flew into the world. My brother, being a bundle of nerves and questionable motions at even the best of times posted a quick selfie of him looking nonchalant with poor Tasha in the background riding the tugboat of pregnancy into the jagged rocks of contraction island. At first I laughed, but then I got concerned because that was definitely the face of pain and she was obviously having a very difficult time.

It’s so strange how childbirth can vary from person to person in such extreme ways. For example, a girl I was friends with in my early twenties would literally be like “OH! Time to birth a child!” And then go to the hospital and emerge half a dozen hours later with a baby in her arms no worse for wear. I think it was very similar for the birth of my brother’s other two children. A wham bam thank you ma’am kind of scenario. My spirit leaves my body the morning after Taco Time. That’s like 5 tacos on a good run. A baby is at least 15 tacos clumped together and that is horrifying to me.

Anyway congratulations Jonathan and Tasha especially for birthing this cute baby!

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Her name is TRON McNUGGET! (just kidding! Sicily Marie-Lynn 7lbs 7oz)

In other news, I decided to dye my hair, and since I’m trying the natural route of things, this meant HENNA! 

I have a love/hate relationship with Lush. It’s really gimmicky and expensive, but you betcha that when I’m within a city block of a store my nostrils wildly flare and the endorphins in my brain react violently as if I hit the motherlode of all cocaine mines. (You mine cocaine, right?) I then have 50 seconds to squeegee my flesh across their glass storefront and touch a piece of soap or I DIE. It’s awful. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

Anyway, long story short, application was like smearing cow shit on my head and I don’t care what anyone says – IT’S IS NOT AN EARTHY SMELL. It has been a full week and I am still getting whiffs of it every once in a while. Could be worse though and at least it isn’t that dank egg-y perm smell.

My hair was bright orange the first few days while everything oxidized or whatever it does and now it’s a pretty copper color which I actually really like. I also like how nice my hair feels after doing it. I don’t know about anybody else, but I’ve started getting really weird wire-y black hairs (are they precursors to grey hair?) and it takes a lot out of me to refrain from plucking them. The henna helped cover and mask them in better so I don’t pick myself bald.

The grocery store had a SALMON SALE, so that’s what’s on the menu tonight. I’m writing this while cooking it, but I think it’s done so BYE.

Don’t sweat the petty things and don’t pet the sweaty things

Back in mid February, I started to get a really gnarly underarm rash that would not go away. At first I thought that maybe I had some nasty assed thrush or weird mushroom infection, but after treating my pits with medication for both, I was still an itchy suffering mess. Then I thought it was a side effect of doing the whole keto diet shebang (localized keto rash maybe?) But now that I have been off of it the past few months and ingesting complex carbs and sugars, it’s still bothering me quite a bit. Turns out that for whatever reason, my body decided that now was a good time to develop an allergy to many commercially bought deodorants.

I don’t know about anyone else reading this, but I sweat. A lot. I am a self proclaimed sweaty beast. I have especially sweaty hands and it’s always a nightmare getting an off guard handshake. I can’t even hold hands with my boyfriend for a long period of time because of my swamp-like tendencies.

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I rarely have to wear mittens in the winter though! SELF HEATING HANDS!

Anyway, I seriously cannot forgo deodorant and expect to have any friends by the end of the day (especially in this heat) so I’ve been looking into the natural side of things and getting my inner hippie groove on. A friend told me about using this big ol’ salt crystal for deodorant and holy shit, it actually works! (Thank you Brittany!)

I’m still sweaty of course, but I don’t smell like balls and so I’ll consider it a small victory.

This whole spectacle lead me to delve into some deeper issues and become aware of how much crap I was slathering on my body every day and if/when I was going to have some sort of reaction to it as well. My beauty routine/cosmetics are pretty much a cesspool of chemicals applied liberally to the epidermis and I have often wondered if the pros outweigh any long term cons. Sure it’s great to look and smell nice, but is that a potential price to pay if it makes me sick in the future? I’m not trying to don a tinfoil hat here or anything, but at the same time, I’d rather not take chances and put blind trust into people and products that only have dollar signs as their bottom line.

So I guess what I am saying is that I’d like to potentially eliminate much of the chemical garbage in my daily life and find something kinder and more natural to replace it. Luckily this got real trendy in the last decade, so I don’t expect it to be an impossible goal.

Do you know or have less shitty alternatives to everyday cosmetics/cleaning supplies/etc. I’d actually love some direction and personal input!

Hoodoo? You do!

I’m currently at the town’s laundromat trying to shove every article of clothing I own into one machine and trying not to catch the eyes of the vengeful owners up front. Next to me are a family that are new to the area and unfortunately do not have laundry amenities in their new home yet. Making small talk, I was asked how I like the area. “It’s a great place.” I replied in earnest. It was a simple reply for my complex relationship with Drumheller, but it’s my home now, and probably for quite a few more years.

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Kellan and I moved here in 2010 for his new job, and as the love-struck girl I was back then, I would have literally followed him to HELL, or at least Norway. I visited Drumheller as a dinosaur obsessed 7 year old and had extremely fond memories of the place, if not slightly antiquated. FOSSILS! I thought. HOODOOS! BOYFRIEND!

The first year here was arguably one of the worst of my entire life. The town felt cliquey. I met the wrong people. I was wildly depressed and ostracized for silly reasons. I missed my family, and was such a mess that Kellan and I just about broke up because neither of us could deal with this snowball of problems rolling down shit mountain.

It took a long time to feel comfortable here, but I didn’t give up. I was here by choice. I was here because I wanted to be. Nobody was forcing me to stay here and be miserable, so why was I allowing myself to sit in the dark and turn into a rotten little mushroom?

So I went out. Got a different job and started slow. Met people, made a routine, and as time went on, I started to take root and flourish. When you stop being pessimistic, you start to notice more of the pros than the cons. There’s so much here, and so many people are trying their hardest to make this town a great place to be. We have good restaurants, good shops, and good locals. There’s theater, clubs, sports, and other things to keep the mind and body active. I’m still a huge homebody, but it’s so nice to know that I can pick up a phone or shoot a quick Facebook message off and have someone to hang out with or something to do.

I guess my my advice to anyone in a new place would be to give it an earnest shot and don’t let negativity overtake your judgement. Sometimes the location isn’t gonna work out and that’s fine. If you aren’t cut out for one place then move to the next, rinse and repeat. It’s a big crazy world out there after all.

Jeepers peepers where’d you get those creepers

(I’m posting this a day early so I can spend tomorrow mourning my last day as a 31 year old or something!)

A word of caution: I scare easily. Especially when I am alone, in an old dark building full of dead people’s possessions from the past.

A few people whom have moseyed on into the antique store have asked me if the place is haunted. I get it you know? Drumheller is supposedly a hotbed for ghostly activity, but since I had to pay the town wizard 15 dollars to take me on the town ghost tour, I’m gonna remain mum on my otherworldly learnings.

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THE TOWN WIZARD IS THE COOLEST PERSON EVER AND I ASPIRE TO BE LIKE HIM!

The antique store wasn’t on the tour, and maybe I am just daft on any spooky tomfoolery, but literally nothing out of the ordinary has happened to me there that can’t be explained away. Once a cupboard door popped open and knocked a knick-knack onto the floor in front of a slightly unnerved tourist BUT THAT’S IT, plus it’s an old cupboard, okay?

Friday evening comes and it’s the home stretch of my shift. I’m just clearing out the last rush of the day when I notice a woman really checking the place out. We make small talk and BAM! She discloses that she’s a medium and decides to let me know about the ghost that apparently likes to walk up and down the back creepy stairs into the even creepier basement. She asks if I have ever heard loud footsteps or felt anything in the store, so I basically told her that if I was a light bulb, I’d be one of those shitty strands of Christmas ones you buy from the dollar store that only work half the time. Things go over my head easily, I’m not aware of my surroundings, etc. I also screamed “NONONO” a lot because it was almost time for my closing procedures, and I like to cash out in the dark as a fun challenge.

She told me some other things that frankly made me suspicious. How did she know some of this stuff? How did she know about our creepy back stairs? The spirit is supposedly either in western gear, or military judging from what she was telling me and also very attached to the store if not slightly miffed at how much it has changed (wait… what ghost doesn’t love antique cans?! RIDDLE ME THAT!)

I can’t get the image of a see-through Yosemite Sam out of my head now.

So I guess we have a slightly irritated cowboy ghost. I’m not one to anger the gods as it is, so what do I do? Should I perform an elaborate sacrifice? Does he want a little kitschy shrine with western motifs on it? I can leave a shot of Canadian whiskey on the back landing when I’m working I guess. Light some incense, get him a statue, do a pseudo Buddhist thing?

But wait, the medium has a solution, and it will only cost me $40 an hour.

I can get a bottle of Crown Royal to placate the ghost and I for less, my friend.

Anyway, sad to say that since I am not the proprietor of the establishment (and also poor) I do not get to make any decisions on hiring entertaining mediums to help cowboy ghosts cross over into wherever the dead go. I also hope with all my might that she went back to talk to my bosses because I don’t think either of them are too keen on that stuff and I’d LOVE to be a giggly fly on the wall for that conversation.

65b03b97-b9f9-4cee-8244-88e835e9cc1b.jpgI did however dig up some information on the building’s history and ownership after this encounter that has proved to be entertaining at least. Most notable were the accounts of how the second owner of the place would give each widow in town a Christmas turkey and that the basement was flooded after a fire because of inebriated firemen! Not very spooky, but I guess I learned something from it all.

And you betcha I closed the place in record time Friday night!