So I’m back.  “From where” you ask?  From my Girlie vacation to the USA slash potentially life ending private flight slash 3 days of mad crazy shopping.

But I made it back.  Alive and in one piece.  And now wish to be forever known as “The Only Girl Who Has More Courage Than She Ever Thought And Possibly Even A Pair of Balls”.  Why?  Because I flew in a Mini Cooper.  Yeah, that’s right.  A Mini Cooper.  With wings.

Exhibit A - me beside an actual Mini Cooper . . .

Exhibit B – me beside the very tiny plane I flew in last Friday . . .

You’ll notice that they’re both roughly the same size, except one has wings and one doesn’t.  Also?  One tends to hop around in the air, particularly just after take-off, and the other drives smoothly with all 4 wheels firmly and safely on the ground at all times.

For those of you familiar with the Boston MA area, our friend Karen flew us (and by “us” I’m referring to myself, my BFF Elle and Paul-the-Instructor.  Why the Instructor you ask?  Because our friend isn’t fully licensed yet.  But will be very soon.  Although she does have an Aviator jacket & glasses, so she’s as close to an official pilot as you can get.  Isn’t she?) from the Norwood Municipal Airport to the Plymouth (as in the rock) Municipal Airport.  Turns out it was too windy to fly to Martha’s Vineyard as we had initially planned.  But frankly?  I also thought it was a little too windy to fly to Plymouth – but what do I know?

No, we did not get to see the rock.  But we did have a delightful lunch at the airport before agreeing to get back in the plane for the return flight (approximatley 15-20 minutes each way, although it felt SIGNIFICANTLY longer than that from 2500 feet in the air).  We agreed to the return flight partially because we couldn’t afford the cab ride back and partially because I wanted to be one of those people who fly somewhere just to eat a meal, then fly home.

So kudos to Elle and I!  We did it and lived to tell the tale.  Here’s few pictures just in case you require proof . . .

(NOT a very roomy interior.  Note the brave faces and seemingly happy smiles that succeeded in fooling the picture taking Instructor that we’re completely relaxed and enjoying our experience)

(a glimpse of how high up we were – gulp)

(I may appear at ease, but in my head I’m actually saying screaming ”ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod”)

So there you have it.  I’m clearly the bravest blogger in all the land.

And now I’ll leave you with what the marketing world refers to as a “teaser” for my next post . . .

Tune in next time when Cher details her experience with a suitcase and a half of newly purchased American clothes and shoes, and the fine Officers at the Canadian Customs Office that busted her.

Massachusetts – the State so nice, I’m going there twice!

(FYI for the Canadian readers- apparently residents of Massachusetts are often referred to as “Massholes”.  Not sure if this is derogatory or not.  My apologies if it is.)

You may remember my super awesome whirlwind trip to Boston & The Cape back in July when this happened;

(Monique, Jessalyn, Kate and me)

And this . . .

(me, CHELSEA HANDLER!, Jess & SurferWife – notice how tightly Chelsea’s hugging me?! Just sayin’)

And this . . .

(yep – me & Heather McDonald!)

Well, I’m heading to Boston again – today!  This afternoon in fact.  But sadly, there will be no blogger meet-up this time.  Nor will there be backstage fun and craziness with Chelsea or Heather McDonald.

Instead I’ll be flying down with my BFF Elle to meet up with another Canadian girlfriend who relocated to just out south of Boston a couple years ago.  This trip will include;

• some much needed girl time
• some equally needed relaxing
• LOTS of shopping.  The Canadian dollar has been kicking some US dollar’s ass lately so I’ll be getting good bang for my shopping buck  (woo hoo for that!) and I’m in desperate need of some new Fall/Winter clothes
• lots of eating – we’re 3 girls who love our grub
• fancy, fruity, girlie drinks

There is one more component to this quickie 3 day trip, however.  Our friend in Boston has spent the summer getting her private pilot’s license.  Yes – as in – to fly a plane.  A very, very, small plane.  A plane you can basically compare to a Mini Cooper with wings.  There’s only 4 seats.  And the front two lift forward to let the passengers in the back.  Elle & I will be the nauseous one’s experiencing cardiac arrest passengers in the back.

And if that isn’t bad enough, the municipal airport she flies out of basically has a grassy take-off strip in a Farmer’s field.  Is this legal in the US?  I choose to assume so.

And if you’re not already worried enough about my safety, I’ll add that we’ll be flying from south of Boston to Martha’s Vineyard. 

So just go ahead and just say it – we’re all thinking it anyway . . . “Geez Cher – isn’t that where JFK Jr., well, you know, died in a small private plane crash?”

YES!  Yes it is!

I know it, and you know it, but we’re not going to concentrate on that fact because Elle is a big scaredy cat and if might freak her out and then she’ll put the kibosh on the whole private plane flight thing.  And that would be a shame because I’ve been lead to believe that the 30-ish minute flight to Martha’s this time of year is beautiful what with the leaves turning colour and all.  AND I’ve spent the last 2 months psyching myself up for it.

So you will all send happy, lucky, positive thoughts my way on Friday when we take that flight.  Otherwise you’re all getting my boys for 1 week each on a rotating basis.

I do hope to be able to blog about it once I return.  Wish me luck.

Would you go up in such a small plane or are we crazy?  Have you ever been in such a small plane and if so, do you recommend bringing a barf-bag?  Do you have a favourite US clothing store that I should be sure to visit?

“Everything I do - I do it for you”  – Bryan Adams 1991

(name the movie, without using Google, and win my undying respect)

WARNING:  In order for this post to make ANY sense at all, you have to have read my most recent post about unicycles.  It can be found here.

Then you have to picture me doing my best Jessica Fletcher (aka Angela Lansbury) imitation.

So yesterday, I make the short 5 minute drive to our local convenience store for something convenient.  About half way there I pass – you guessed it – a boy on a unicycle.  AGAIN!  I immediately consider a rapid U-turn and some stalking.  Unfortunately a red light foiled my plans and I lost him in a nearby subdivision.

BUT.  Later that same day, I’m sitting out front of my  house.  Willie, the boys and a friend or two are throwing a football around.  I’m flipping through a magazine as I have absolutely no interest, desire nor ability to throw a football around.

When suddenly, my intent reading of the “mascaras in review” section is rudely interrupted by Willie shouting at me from the road.  “Cher!” he barks.  Fearing a football injury had just taken place or a ball was hurling towards my head, I looked up from my work to see him madly pointing at a boy that has just riden past our house ON A UNICYCLE!

I immediately hop into action and run down the driveway shouting “Hey! Buddy!”  I do it for you, dear Readers.  I do everything for you.

The following is the conversation we had, to the best of my recollection . . .

ME:  Hey – just wanted to ask you about the unicycle.  I’ve been seeing lots of them around town lately.  What’s up with the unicycles?  Is it the latest thing?

Teen-aged Boy:  It’s probably just me & my brother you’ve seen (good attempt at covering up the suspicious unicycle activity.  I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that there are more boys involved in this plot than just him and his brother)

ME:  (realizing I’ve probably freaked him out a bit by chasing him down the street, I attempt to smooth things over)  Are they hard to ride?

TB:  Not really.  You get used to it.  It’s like riding a bike (I deem this to also be a cover-up lie.  It’s clearly NOT like riding a bike.  There’s only 1 wheel, no handles and no kick-stand.  In fact I’d hazard to say that it’s the opposite of riding a bike)

ME:  Are they hard to steer?  I guess you just use your body weight, eh?

TB:  Ya.  You get used to it.

ME:  So you’re not training for the circus or anything?

TB:  No . . .

ME:  You just like riding a unicycle?

TB:  Ya.  I guess.

ME:  hmmm.  Very interesting.  Okay cool.  Thanks for the info.

And off I went.  Back to my magazine.  Knowing in my heart of hearts that I did all that I could to get to the bottom of this disturbing trend for my loyal Readers.  At least for today.  But I assure you – the investigation WILL continue.  I will NOT rest until, well, until I’m tired of talking about unicycles.

So, are you buying what he’s selling?  Thoughts?  Comments?  Praise for my investigative work? 

This is a story about stuff.  My car and the stuff I carry back and forth from the house to the car, and from the car to the house everyday.  I always seem to have my hands full as I make that walk.  Nay – overflowing.  “Why?”  I  ask myself.  “Why am I always carrying so much stuff???”

So yesterday I decided to take to closer look of said “stuff” to see what was really going on in that car.  I present to you a list of items I carried from my car into my house as I arrived home from work last night;

• my lovely Golla laptop bag that contained: a laptop, an agenda book that is way too large (note to self – get a smaller one for 2011), and a few other small office related items (access card, zip drive, bills to be paid, etc).  Okay – this kinda stuff is all perfectly understandable.

•  reusable shopping bag that contained; 2 packs of boy sized boxer shorts, 2 packs of boy sized socks, 2 packs of boy sized “wife beater” undershirts, children’s allergy medicine and a box of snack sized Smart Food (yes, I understand lunch-hours are for eating, but I prefer to use mine for shopping).
• a 7″ Sankotu knife.  Don’t ask.  Also – don’t mess with me when I’m in my car.

• 3 hardcover books I intended to mail to my giveaway winner Mimi except the line up at the post office was about 20 people deep and I had lunch-hour shopping to do and only 1 hour to do it in (sorry Mimi – I’ll get those in the mail for you today).
• My purse.  And let’s not even get into what all I carry in there.  That would be a very long post in itself.
• reusable lunch bag that contained: the remnants of leftover chicken stirfry that I hoovered down at my desk before heading to the mall for my shopping excursion (frankly, I love me some leftovers, but this wasn’t verygood, if you’re asking).
• 3 days worth of mail.  I don’t know about you international people, but in my neighbourhood, the postman/person doesn’t deliver to each house.  Oh no!  That’s just too much work.  Instead we have the Canada Post SuperBox (or StupidBox or NotSoSuperBox) at the end of the street where everyone has to go, with their little key, and check their own private “lock box” every few days.

No wonder my hands were so full!  THAT is a lot of stuff!  WTH?! 

There are so many questions regarding this post - Am I alone or do you always have a handful too?  Do you like my laptop bag? Are you curious as to  why I bought my sons “wife beaters”?  Are you more concerned about the knife?  If your name is Mimi, are you pissed I haven’t mailed your books  yet?  Are you as sad about the crappy leftovers as I am?  Do you get mail delivered right to your house? 

Okay – pick a question and get answering.

First things first – I have yet to announce the winner of my Blog Birthday animal books contest.  The contest closed last Tuesday and my excuse is pure laziness.  But www.random.org and I did do the draw last night and the winner is . . . Mimi from Living in France!  Yay - I’m so glad another Mom of boys won!  Hope your guys enjoy them Mimi!

Secondly, I feel that I’ve been cheating on my blog lately.  That I’ve been giving more love and affection to Twitter and Google Reader than I’ve been giving to “The Only Girl”.  And I’m starting to feel guilty about it.  And also annoyed with myself. 

Here’s what happens – I intend to write a blog post, so I fire up my computer.  But before I start writing I figure I should check my email, then catch up on Twitter and my Reader.  And by the time that all happens, at least an hour has gone by and any quiet writing time I had has long since expired or I’m too tired.  So a post doesn’t get written. 

But isn’t the point of having a blog to WRITE POSTS?!  Yes.  Of course it is.  Then why am I getting sidetrack with all the other stuff?!  Because the other stuff is easier?  Because the other stuff doesn’t involve much thinking, only reading?  Probably.

But that’s not how I intended it to be when I started out.  So when my little blog celebrated it’s 1st birthday last week, I got to thinking about what I really want from it.  And the answer was not “all the other stuff”.  I want to connect with other people by writing and I want to enjoy doing it.  Some of my writing might be good, a lot of my writing will be bad, but writing is the whole point.

So that’s what I’m going to try to concentrate a little harder on.  Sure – I’ll still be on Twitter, just maybe not quite so much.  Of course I’ll still be reading all your posts, I’m just not going to worry if I get a few days behind in my Reader.  In fact on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays (the days I’ve committed to post each week) I’m not even going to open my Reader or Twitter until I’ve written a  post.  Or at least I’ll try really, really hard not to.

Do you sometimes feel like you’re ”cheating” on your blog or am I the only one with no willpower?  What’s your strategy for getting your posts written?

SQUEEEEEEE!!!!!!

Okay – just had to get that out of the way.

Why?  Because I’m really excited.  Nervous, yes.  But mainly, really excited.

What could possibly have The Only Girl so excited?

An adventure.  That’s what.

I’m composing this post on Thursday afternoon.  As I sit on an airplane.  BY MYSELF PEOPLE!  Because I’m en route to one hell of a Girl’s Weekend.

Where you may ask?

Hold on tight.  Are you ready for this one???

I’m flying from Toronto to Boston.  To meet these people, who just so happen to be a few of my most favourite Bloggers;

•  Monique from A Day in the Life of a Surferwife
• Jessalyn from Cape Code Awesome
• Kate from Then Again Kate

I know!

And on Saturday night we are going to see the show of this person;

(Chelsea Handler) 

Apparently she’s a famous comedian.  I’ve read about her on many of your blogs, but honestly?  We don’t get her show in Canada, so no one up here really knows who she is.  I’ve been YouTubing her like crazy this week in preparation, but am slightly afraid that I’m not quite up to speed.  AND we have backstage passes!

I KNOW!

No, us Bloggers have never met before.  Well, at least not outside of the safe confines of the Webz.  And yet we know so much about each other.  But meet we will.  Tonight.  Gulp.

Can I just tell you how nerve-racking the thought of meeting these girls in person has been?  Granted, I just decided to join this little weekend meet-up barely over 1 week ago.  A very last minute and impulsive decision for The Only Girl.  She’s is not good with such things.  She likes to plan.  A lot.  Allow me to peel back the curtains of my mind and let you in on what the past week has been like. 

• What was I thinking?
• How can I quickly lose 5 pounds?
• I change my mind!  I’m not going!
• These boys are driving me crazy – how many more days?
• What to pack . . . what to pack?
• Crap – I need to get a mani, pedi and hair cut before I go!
• What if I don’t like them?  What if they don’t like me?
• What if we sit in awkward silence most of the weekend?
• I’ll be one of the few people who actually gets to see what the elusive Kate looks like
• Can the boys be trusted by themselves?  Surely they know to have the house back in order before I arrive home, right? (note: this was a cryptic reminder meant solely for Willie. Hi Honey!  Miss you!)
• Chilling on The Cod – Jessalyn style!
•  I am physically unable to poop outside my home base.  This means no poop for 3 days.  If you should see pictures of me where I appear quite bloated or slightly pregnant, please know it’s the poop.
• Generally, I’m unable to stay awake past 11:30.  I am sure to be the party pooper.
• Oh – Margaritas with Surferwife!  Inventor of the Celebrity Encounter Margarita Barometer!  How cool will THAT be?!

As you can see, I’ve been riding the crazy horse of emotions.  But now it’s too late.  I’m on the plane and the meet-up is eminent.  Wish me luck.

Be sure to visit their blogs to see what they have to say!

Before we get started today, we have ANOTHER office tour (that puts our total up to 17)!  Heather over at A Life For Rent showed us what she’s got right here.  Please enter at your own risk – she’s got fire hazards.  And if you still haven’t done yours – it’s not too late.

Also, if you haven’t entered my Great Canadian Butter Tart Giveaway, then you should.  But you only have until 6pm EST today (Wed July 14/10) to get on it – chop chop.

Okay, now to get on with my story . . .

I live in the suburbs.  The neighbours on one side of us have a pool, a hot tub and 2 teen-aged kids.  We’re not particularly friendly with them.  Well, its not that we’re UN-friendly, it’s just that they kinda keep to themselves.  As do we.  Which is quite fine!  We’ll give each other the mandatory polite smile and head nod if we should find ourselves out front of our houses at the same time.  We’ve spoken on a few occasions when it involved changes to our properties that we felt the other should be advised of.  But that’s about it.

That being said, my boys kick balls against our adjoining fence EVERY. BLOODY. DAY.  Thump.  Thump.  Thump . . . it NEVER ends.  I swear I hear that sound in my sleep.  And every day, a ball – or two – end up OVER the adjoining fence.

Our neighbours are kind enough to just toss them back over the next time they are in their backyard.  Over the years, I’ve apologized for this.  Willie has apologized for this.  I’ve had the boys apologize for this.  And we thank them when the opportunity arises.

Fortunately they just chuckle about it and point to their own kids and it’s understood that they have also “been there”.  Since they’re often away on the weekends, they have indicated that if their back gate isn’t locked, the boys can just run around and grab the ball(s) if necessary.

But when a hand-held sized water balloon that my boys were tossing went over the fence on Saturday night, in the dark, I couldn’t just let it go.

I had visions of the little thing floating around the surface of their above ground pool until it was grabbed by the skimmer hole, forced down into the basket where it would block the flow of water, thus burning out their pump and causing considerable, expensive damage.

Have I ever mentioned that I can be a little OCD sometimes?

This was one of those times.  Panic set in.  Destructive visions danced around my head.  My ears were on high alert for odd pool filter noises.  I knew there would be no sleep that night until the situation was resolved.

So I told Willie “you’re going to have to go over there and get it”.

To which he replied “It’s fine.  Nothing’s going to happen.  I’m not going over.”

Which I took to mean “do it yourself”.

And so I did.  And thus my search & rescue mission was born . . .

Armed with a flashlight, I headed next door.  Rang the door bell.  Noted that the interior of the house was in darkness.  Waited.  And waited.  No answer.  No car in driveway.  Clearly the occupants were not home.

I go around to the side gate.  It’s pulled closed but not locked.  So I enter.

I scour the yard near the fence for the water balloon.  “It was kinda in that direction” the boys say as they attempt to guide me.  But it’s not on the ground.  Ha!  Just as I suspected – it MUST have landed in the pool.  Thank God for me.

I shine the flashlight on their pool and begin to systematically check all areas of its surface.  No balloon.  It MUST be in the skimmer basket as I had feared!  I hope I’m not too late . . .

I head to the back corner of their yard where the skimmer is located and try to peek in.  This proves to be difficult.  It would be easier to remove the lid and look in .  Lid is stuck.  Can’t remove it.  Damn.  What next?

Just then their bright security light in the backyard comes on.  Crap!

It’s at that moment, with my eyes temporary blinded by the security light, that I notice the teen-aged son has come out onto their back step.  BUSTED!  The lazy bugger must have been sleeping when I rang the bell!

“Oh hi!  It’s just me, Cher, from next door” I awkwardly explain (in case he had a gun or a baseball bat)

But it’s not just the teen-aged son.  Behind him I notice the parents.  Who have clearly JUST arrived home and found someone with a flashlight prowling around their backyard.

And so my nervous, busted rambling begins . . .

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.  No one answered when I rang the door bell.  But you see the boys accidentally put a ball over the fence again, but its a really small one, and it floats, and um, they thought it landed in your pool and um, I was really worried that it’d end up in your skimmer and damage your equipment . . . ”

At this point I notice that it is strangely quiet over the fence at my own backyard.  And that my guys have ran into our house like a flock of nervous girls and left me out there on my own to dig myself out of this embarrassing hole – nice.

“Anyway, I don’t seem to see it in there, so I think it’s okay.  ha ha.  Really sorry.”

And then I leave.  Without really giving them a chance to say anything.  Trying to walk calmly and slowly back to my own house like it was no big deal.  When in actuality, my heart was pounding and my face was red and I was totally embarrassed that I had been caught.

I know they were probably thing “WTH???  Does she come over here every time we’re out?  Should we believe her story or was she up to no good?”

Somehow, I’d like to blame this on Willie.

Ever been caught red-handed doing something sneaky?  Will I ever be able to look them in the eye again?  Do you want to win butter tarts?

She did!

Since 50% of you voted in last Wednesday’s poll that I should get the free Botox, I listened to my peeps and went ahead.  Although technically I suppose that also means that 50% of you voted that I shouldn’t.  But I tried not to let that deter me.

Now keep in mind that a) it was done by a highly trained Doctor and  b) it was free.  If not for those two points, I wouldn’t have done it.  Especially the free part.  I mean, yes, I’m old, but I’m not THAT old – yet.  I don’t actually NEED Botox – yet.  But there is a certain part of my face that bothers me.

This is me smiling.

This is me frowning.

This is the part that drives me crazy.

I can hear you all saying “then just don’t frown”.  But here’s the thing;

• I stare at a computer screen for 8 hours a day in deep concentrate.  When you do this, you subconsciously end up with the frowny face.

• Then I sit in traffic for about 2 hours a day, squinting into the sun – regardless of the sunglasses I wear.  Squinting = frowny face.

• Then I proceed to get home and frequently scowl at a husband and/or children.  Again, scowling = frowny face.

So since I spend most of my day with the frown lines, they are starting to become permanently etched.  And that makes me look crabby, when really I’m not.  And it bugs me.

Now, I can tell you that the Botox was a breeze!  The needle he used was super fine and I hardly felt it.  I’m not sure, but I think he only did 2 injections.  Three at the most.  There have been no side effects at all.

Here’s a close up of the frown creases right before I went.

What I didn’t realize before I went was that Botox can take up to 7 days to become effective.  And I’m very impatient.  So I spent most the first few days obsessively checking my frown in the mirror.  Or just frowning and feeling with my fingers.  And then getting more impatient and being really glad that I hadn’t paid for it because clearly it wasn’t working.

Day 3 – see?  Still there!  Although I’ll admit – slightly less.

But here’s Day 7 – now we’re getting some results!  Because try as I will – I can NOT get the frowny face to make the creases!  I just can’t.  Everything still moves, but the creases do not form.  Happiness is achieved.

Just look at how smooth it is up there!  (never mind about the bug eyes and the shiny skin.  I was really trying to get it to crinkle up there for y’all)

It’s supposed to last anywhere from 4 – 6 months.  I wish it was longer because in the end, my opinion is that I love it!  It would definitely do it again sometime, but only if the price comes down because it’s still quite expensive.  And I’m not sure my creases are worth it.  Oh, and I’m cheap.

What do you think – can you see the difference?  Would you get it some day?

So Elle, my BFF eyes & ears on the Toronto G20 front line, came through with a few pictures yesterday on her way home from work.

This particular shot was taken VERY near the centre of the action, right at the perimeter of the protected zone.  Only small protests have taken place so far.  Hopefully it stays that way (click pic to enlarge - if you want).

This morning she was riding the subway to work where she was kept company by a “pack” (that’s what they’re calling them) of 8 policeman with full riot gear.  Do they know something we don’t???  Elle desperately wanted to get a picture for y’all, but didn’t think Toronto’s finest would appreciate it.  I may need to find a braver photographer.

(be sure to cast your vote in yesterday’s poll - I’m unable to make any of my own decisions)

Also, you may have heard that Ontario experienced an earthquake yesterday.  It was only a 5.0 magnitude and very minimal damage was reported - certainly nothing around my area.  But we’re not used to earthquakes up here.  I don’t think I’ve ever experienced one.  And as luck would have it, I almost missed it.

I was in my car at the time and was stopped at a traffic light.  Like usual, my mind was in La-La Land somewhere and the music was on.  Then I felt a little something.  A shake or a shimmy you might say.  To which I thought “is that my car?  Is it running rough?  Did someone just give me a little nudge from behind?  Hmmm.  How odd.”  And that was that.  The light turned green, and off a-shopping I did go.  Oblivious as usual.

Till I heard the news on the radio about 30 minutes later and put 2 and 2 together.  Needless to say it created a LOT of buzz and excitement around here, particularly in downtown Toronto.  With all the G20 preparations, people immediately thought the shaking and rumbling was the result of an explosion.  Thank God it wasn’t.

It also happened right around the time the Mr. Obama’s FIVE big honkin’ military helicopters were performing a test run and many people initially attributed the vibrations to them.  Did you know he often travels in a pack of five copters???  Yes, apparently it confuses the bad guys.  “Which one is he in?  Is it that one?  That one?  Ah forget it – this is just too confusing.”

I wonder if that tactic would also work with the boys, our multiple bathrooms and the never-ending “Where’s Mommy” game?

In case of aftershocks, I need to know quickly:  do we head for the basement or head for the hills?  Stand under a door frame?  Cower in the bathtub?  Run out into the street?  Apply pressure and call 911?  I’m not really up on my natural disaster survival skills (Surferwife – I’m counting on you here).

Have you ever experienced a violent protest or a big earthquake?

Guess where this year’s G20 Summit will be?
Toronto, Ontario

Guess which city I live very close to?
Yes!  Toronto, Ontario

Guess what the G20 Summit is?
Yeah, I didn’t really know either . . .

Apparently, it is a gathering of a bunch of Leaders of various countries from all over the globe.  They get together every year to discuss issues amongst their members, particularly those relating to the global economy.  And it’s happening this weekend.

The list of G20 attendees look strikingly similar to the list of World Cup soccer teams and will include;

• Argentina represented by Cristina Fernández de Kirchner, President
• Australia represented by Kevin Rudd, Prime Minister
• Brazil represented by Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, President
• Canada represented by Stephen Harper, Prime Minister (Host)
• China represented by Hu Jintao, President
• France represented by Nicolas Sarkozy, President
• Germany represented by Angela Merkel, Chancellor
• India represented by Manmohan Singh, Prime Minister
• Indonesia represented by Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, President
• Italy represented by Silvio Berlusconi, Prime Minister
• Japan represented by Naoto Kan, Prime Minister
• Mexico represented by Felipe Calderón, President
• South Korea represented by Lee Myung-bak, President
• Russia represented by Dmitry Medvedev, President
• Saudi Arabia represented by Abdullah bin Abdul Aziz, King
• South Africa represented by Jacob Zuma, President
• Turkey represented by Recep Tayyip Erdo?an, Prime Minister
• United Kingdom represented by David Cameron, Prime Minister
• United States represented by Barack Obama, President

(yes, I realize there’s only 19 countries on the list, but I just copied it from Wiki.  Clearly some country’s invitation was “lost in the mail” or maybe they just brought really bad gifts to the last Summit and the rest of the countries voted them out.  Not sure.  Always pick your “thank you” gifts wisely.)

It’s also a way for the host country to spend a CRAP load of money.  Last I heard, Canada’s bill will be over $1 billion for this event – that lasts 2 DAYS!

Why?  Because apparently securing the safety of World Leaders is big business.  These Summits are known to attract lots of protesters and activists.  Some have even been known to turn very violent.

Some of the precautions being taken?

• Removal of mailboxes, garbage bins, benches, bus shelters, newspaper stands and even some small trees (all potential weapons don’t you know)
• manholes sealed in the “protected zone” (about a 3 block  x 3 block area where most of the big-wig action is taking place)
• boarding up storefront windows
• 66 new CCTV security cameras
• miles of 6 foot high fencing around the entire “protected zone”
• A team of people that are solely responsible for ensuring the food is safe for the Leaders to consume (there will be no fatal poisonings on our watch!)
• Police presence like we’ve never seen.  And military. (mmmmm . . . uniforms . . .. )
• Sound canons (that emit an ear piercing high frequency that can cause pain) and water canons have been brought in (or maybe we already had them.  Not sure)
• cell phone reception will be blocked as each of the Leader’s motorcades arrive and leave the city (apparently bombs can be triggered by cell phones.  Who knew?)
• Residents and workers have been warned to basically “get the heck out of Dodge” if at all possible because the core of the city will virtually be on lock-down
• Airspace restrictions
• Many businesses have closed for the week
• Tourist attractions, theatre productions and sporting events have been canceled in an attempt to keep people away from the downtown core

Pure. Craziness.

Now, as it happens, I live about a 60 minute drive from the protected zone.  When I’m at work, I’m only about 30 minutes away.  I could easily get myself down there to the front lines.

My BFF Elle actually works right downtown.  Immediately beside the protest area.  In a large hospital.  Where they’ve been warned they could have a large influx of emergency room patients if things get ugly.

Which is EXACTLY why I have put her on the payroll as my eyes & ears in the downtown core.  She is to report on any and all action and sightings this week leading up to the Summit.

Then I got to thinking . . . why couldn’t I just drive down there myself, park as close as some nice Mounties will let me and walk the rest of the way in?  But that begged the question – what will I do once I’m down there?

So I’m going to leave it up to you my Bloggies.

Today we will have another addition of . . . WSCD! (What should Cher do)

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All responses will be considered, but not necessarily acted on.  I can’t afford to have my ass land in jail for y’all. Although it could be some very needed downtime . . .  (if you follow me, @Surferwife or @thisisScoMan on Twitter, you know why that word is in bold.  The rest of you should all feel very left out).

Oh, and be sure to come back on Friday to find out what happened with last weeks poll.  You may remember the question posed was “Should Cher get the free botox or not?”