Okay.  Now I’ve really done it.  I’ve broken my blog.  I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but it’s definitely broken.

When you land on www.TheOnlyGirl.com or click on “Home” across the top of my page, you will notice that my sidebar disappears from the right side of my screen and jumps down, way, way down, to the very bottom of the page.  And YET!  If you click on any of the other pages across the top (Meet Me, Email Me, etc.) or on a specific blog post, you will see that the sidebar comes back to the right side where it belongs.

But why is it hiding on my “Home” page???  Why oh WHYYYYYY?  (shakes fist to the heavens in sheer and utter frustration)

I’m reasonably technical – like maybe a 7 out of 10 – but this one has me stumped and I’ve spent far too much time trying to figure it out.  So I’m putting out a proposal to all you clever Bloggies.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.

If you can solve my problem, or at least refer me to someone you know that can, I’m willing to offer up a reward.  You can have your choice of any one of the following;

• a shout out and link on my soon-to-be-fixed sidebar for a week
• full use of our backyard ice rink for the remainder of the winter
• 5″ x 7″ colour picture of me and my Haley Ga
• a blog award to display anyway you please
• loan of my pink feather boa for the month of March
• my ticket to the Olympics Closing Ceremony

(okay, maybe I’m lying about the last one, but all the others are for real)

Okay – I’m waiting.  I’ll be checking my email all day.  Help me.  Puh-leeze.  I’m begging you.  Begging.  Can’t you hear my desperation?

This weekend I went to a 90th birthday party.  A party for this man.

This man has the bluest eyes ever.

This man is a WWII Veteran and a recent Widower.

This man still enjoys a good day’s work out in the yard.

This man hates peanut butter and has played the lottery for decades.

This man taught me the importance of hard work and the value of a dollar.

This man taught me how to dive and how to spell the word “vacuum”.

This man is a part of many of my best childhood memories.

This man is one of the most special men in my life.

This man is loved so much by so many.

This man is my Grandfather.

So the other week, as certain blogger (cough-Monique-cough) offered me her cute-as-can-be daughter, who she nicknamed “Mini Ga” after taking this picture of the lovely Miss Haley.

I believe her words were, and I quote, “take the crazy blondie off my hands”.  And, being in desperate need of some female companionship around here, I gladly accepted.   We’re going to have tea parties, do our nails together, maybe some baking . . .  it’ll be awesome!

But then, another blogger (cough-Meredith-cough) indicated that said daughter was to be HER’S and not mine.

Well.  As I told Little Miss Flash Pasteurized, I am not about to lie down and let her take The Haley Ga from me.

Sure – Meredith tried to prove her worth.  In fact she did her best with this photographic comparison the other day.

Whatever Meredith.  Not even close.

So I’m here today to launch a defensive and get my Little Ga back.

Exhibit A

We actually LOOK alike.  We truly COULD be related.  No?  I mean, we both own a pink boa for heaven’s sake!

Exhibit B

The other night we attended the Olympic Opening Ceremonies together.  I believe you’ll see the Canadian athletes entering the stadium behind us.  This was really the highlight of the evening for me.  Well, besides having Haley Ga at my side.

Exhibit C

In this pic she’s shooting a little stick on our backyard ice rink with my son.  They get along SO well.  Almost like they’re related.

And so, my Bloggies, I’m sure you’ll agree that the Haley Ga belongs with The Only Girl.

Although then I suppose I’d have to change the name of my blog.  Which would mean I’d have to get my tattoo re-done.  Hmmmm.   Okay then.  How about joint custody Meredith?  Can we come to some kind of a compromise?

(source:  Google Images)

In the 1st installment of my new feature “Moral Dilemma Day”, I have stumbled upon the following scenario and request, nay, DEMAND your input . . .

You go to the Mall, and enter a jewelery store.  Not a fancy jewelery store but rather a costume jewelery store where they sell many sparkly everyday baubles.

You are approached by a young (20-ish?) sales girl.  English is clearly not her first language.  Both her accent and her appearance make that obvious immediately.

English, however, IS your first language.  In fact, you don’t even know any other languages.

This young sales girl says to you;

“Dis fings ah half-a price”

HALF-A price???

Do you;

• Politely nod and continue browsing while silently chuckling over the amusement of her error?

• Kindly correct her by pointing out the word is actually “half” in the hopes of helping with her English skills?

• Become annoyed and impatiently say “What?!  What are you saying?!  “Half-a” is not even a word!  I can’t understand you!”

• Knock her to the ground, pin her down, and make her repeat the word over and over till she gets it right.

• Some other response that I haven’t thought of.

Come on now Bloggies.  What would YOU do?

Fun things first . . . time to announce the 2 winners of Monday’s Canadian Olympic Prize Packs.

• First was my sistah Monique from Surferwife!  Woo Hoo!  How much do I love that she won?!?!?!  Lots.  That’s how much.

• And second was my girl Foxy from The Fox Den!  Another awesome long time Only Girl favourite.

(I’m happy to show you the screen shots from www.random.org if you’re really that anal)

Both girls were uber excited and I expected to be thanked with pictures of them in their gear, raising a beer to the Canadian Men’s Hockey Team when they kick some serious Olympic ass.  Although if it comes down to a Canada vs USA final we might have problem of patriotic loyalty.  Ha ha!  Who am I kidding . . . USA won’t be in the finals! (kidding. just kidding. settle down you Americans)

Anyway girls, your gear is already on it’s way.  Be sure to let me know when it arrives so I can ensure the Post Office didn’t rip me off for those crazy shipping costs know that you got it.

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Okay Bloggers – time for a poll.  Why?  Because I’m nosy and want the answer to a burning question.

That question being . . . on average, how long does it take you to compose a blog post?

And I mean “on average”.  Oh sure, Wordless Wednesdays are a piece of cake.  You can slap one of those babies off in a matter of minutes.  But I’m talking here of your usual, every day, average kind of post.  Because I’m beginning to wonder about myself.  I think I spend far too long composing.  Which I don’t so much mind, because I do enjoy the “writing” part of the blogging.  And frankly – good thing!  Otherwise, what would be the point?  But I think I’m spending too much time on it.

Typically, I’ll hammer something out quickly in “draft” mode.  Then I’ll go back to it later that day and re-read it to edit, expand, fix grammar, embellish, etc.  Then once I’m satisfied, I’ll schedule it for posting.  I’m not going to tell you exactly how much time I spend until you all take the poll.  Because I’m quite sure I’ll embarrass myself.  But I have realized lately that I need to step it up a bit.  To challenge myself to get faster at the whole process.  Granted, you can’t rush perfection . . . but then again we’re not dealing with perfection here, are we?  Are we?  Hello?

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Apparently Ree Drummond, aka The Pioneer Woman, considers herself my best friend.  No, really.  She does.  I mean, I blog and she blogs, but that’s kind of where our relationship ends.  Perhaps I’ve mislead her.  I think it all started when I sent her this letter last month . . .

Dear Ree,

Enclosed, please find 2 of your fab cookbooks.  One is mine, and the other is my BFF, Elle’s.  I gave it to her for Christmas.  She claims it was the best gift she received.  And I believe her because I do give great gifts.

We’ve both been big PW readers for awhile now and were so excited when you announced the launch of your cookbook and the book tour!  Yay – we would finally get to meet you face to face!  After reading you for so long, and feeling like we totally and completely kinda know you, this was a very exciting prospect.

But then we read through the list of cities you would be visiting.  Shock!  Horrors!  Not only was our beloved city excluded, so was our country!  Surely to God you have many loyal readers and fans up here in Canada!  Let’s take the Calgary Stampede for example – that place is CRAWLING with cowboys.  Surely they’d ALL want their wives to have a copy of your book.

But alas, it was not meant to be.  Calgary was not on the list, and nor was our beloved Toronto.

But we will not let that deter us.  No.  We will continue to read, to enjoy and to admire our PW.  And in the meantime, we really hope you’re still doing the “book signing by mail” option.  Otherwise we’ve waste time and postage sending you our books.  And you can probably get one for free whenever you want.  I imagine you probably have a whole case of them in your house right now.  In case someone comes by the door.  You seem like you’d be really generous like that.

Anywhoo – we’re lost without our cookbooks and our families will not be eating until they are returned.  We hope that inspires you to sign and re-mail quickly.  But not too quickly – I’d be really annoyed if you rushed things and spelled my name wrong.

We’d be most appreciative if you could make one out to Elle and the one with all the post-it flags to Cher.  Please don’t remove any of the post-it flags.  Those are all the recipes I didn’t like – ha!  Just kidding.  Those are the ones I’m dying to try for my house of annoyingly picky boys loving family.

Many thanks – for the great website, for the awesome cookbook, and for the signings.

Much admiration,

Cher

And a couple weeks later, our cookbooks showed up in my mailbox.  Here’s mine;

See?  “from your BFF“.  And a heart.

Sorry Elle.  I think you’ve been replaced.

And if any of you also have one of The Pioneer Woman’s books signed in a very similar manner, please keep it to yourself.  I don’t want to ruin my fantasy.

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Be sure to enter yesterday’s Olympic Prize Pack give away.  Deadline is today (Tuesday) at noon Eastern time.

It’s game time at the Olympics . . . and it’s game time at The Only Girl too!

• 1 Team Canada hockey jersey (one is white, one is black, both are adult size large)
  
• 1 Team Canada toque (pronounced “two-k”, one is red, one is black)
• 1 Olympic pin
  

• One entry per person please (no trolls or spammers allowed)
• This contest is open to residents of all countries participating in the 2010 Winter Olympics (I’m so global)
• Contest closes tomorrow (Tuesday Feb 16) at 12:00 noon Eastern Time (I want to ensure I have time to get the stuff in mail and delivered to you in time for week 2 of the Olympics)
• I’ll use a random number generator to select the 2 winners

A long time ago, in a land far away, when The Only Girl was in her mid-twenties, she worked for a mid-sized Canadian company.  And at this time, she unwisely decided to move.  There may or may not have been an asshole ex-boyfriend involved.

Fortunately, the mid-sized Canadian company had a branch in the neighbouring city where she was headed.  And fortunately she worked for the President of the company at the time as the very-best-ever Executive Assistant.  And he agreed to transfer her to a conveniently timed job opening at the other branch.

But she wasn’t very happy at her new job.  She went from working with City Mice to working with Country Mice.  And she didn’t really like mice.

Then one day she happened to be speaking to her old boss and filled him in on her tale of woe.  As luck would have it, he had recently been speaking with a good friend of his, who just so happened to own his own company in the very town The Only Girl had re-located to.  And he was indeed looking for a very-best-ever Executive Assistant.

So the old boss hooked our Girl up with his buddy for a job interview.  Perfect!  Until Mother Nature stepped in and took Father Fate for a joy ride.

The interview was arranged for 8:30am.  The Only Girl slid out of bed at a respectable 7:00 to prepare.  The drive would only take about 15 minutes, so that would leave her plenty of time to shower, dress, put her face on and deal with the hairs.

Except she hadn’t counted on a very unexpected snow storm.  A very big snow storm.  Almost Washington-ish.  So she kicked the morning preparations into high gear and got in the car as fast as she could to begin her drive.  But instead of taking a mere 15 minutes, it took two frustrating, hair-pulling, tear-inducing, scream-prompting hours!  2 hours!  Which made The Only Girl very, very late.  For a job interview.  Which is typically frowned upon.

Now, had our Girl been a little older or a little wiser, she would have realized that the gentleman who would be interviewing her, this President, would very likely have understood that the weather conditions were to blame for her tardiness and not hold it against her.  She might have called ahead and explained the situation before politely asking to reschedule the interview for a later time.

But no.  Our Girl was young and stupid.  And somehow she got it in her mind that lateness = bad interview = no job.  So when she finally did arrive – 2 hours late – she had mentally thrown in the towel and had already given up any hope.  She gave what can only be described nicely as a bad interview.  A heartless, pathetic, drab, humdrum, dull, mundane interview.  Which is SO not our Girl.  She usually shows really well.

And so, as expected, she didn’t get the job.  The job working for the President of a fancy high tech company.  A company called Research in Motion.  The company that designed and manufactures a little device known as the BlackBerry.  You may have heard of it?

And you know what they say . . . behind every successful man is the very-best-ever Executive Assistant.  And it was almost me.

Have you ever had a brush with job fame?

(BTW – The Olympic Opening Ceremonies are on tonight – Friday Feb 11th – 6:00 Pacific / 9:00 Eastern.  See ya there?)

Now that I’ve been blogging for 6 months, I can let you in on a little secret – turns out there’s a big advantage to it that I hadn’t realized when I got started.  You get to “meet” some really great people.

One of those really great people just so happens to be my new cyber-friend Monique, from A Day in the Life of a SurferWife.  I look forward to her posts, and her comments on mine, because she always makes me laugh.  We have many things in common but at the same time, she’s also my opposite.  The anti-me.  And today you get to meet her because we’re blog-swapping!  She’s going to be posting here, and I’m going to hang out at her place.  Which, by the way, happens to be in San Diego.  I may not come back.

A little SurferWife/Only Girl comparison:

1. She lives in sunny San Diego.  That’s in California – where I should be.  Instead, I’m stuck here in cold, boring Ontario.
2. She’s currently training for a triathalon.  I am not.
3. Her husband is a surfer.  Mine plays soccer, hockey and golf.
4. We both have 2 children, but one of her’s is female.  Neither of mine are.
5. She has granite counters in her kitchen and a fab inground pool.  I have laminate and an above-ground (so not fair)
6. She has met MANY celebrities.  I’m obsessed with celebrities, but never actually meet any (see point # 1)

Monique does a great feature every Friday called “Happy Hour and a Celebrity Encounter” in which she re-tells the tales of her many celebrity encounters, then rates them on her super fancy Margarita Barometer (my fav so far being the story of John Cleese).

She recently had some good fun with a poor telephone interviewer regarding her new life insurance policy and she just broke up with her car.  I know – she’s FULL of the crazy!  That’s why I love her.

Although she’s currently in some very intense training for a triathlon (which you can follow along with on her second blog SurferWife’s Guide to Triathlon), she recently sustained a nasty forearm injury – as the result of a Wii game.  See?  That’s why I’m so against exercise – it can HURT you!

So please put your hands together and welcome Surferwife to the stage!

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My name is SurferWife and I hate racoons

I need to hurry up and type this story out because i can’t handle this monster threatening to eat my face off. A little background first.

When I was about 22 years old I was held prisoner in my own home by these A-Holes. I had come home from work and noticed my neighbor had left me a bag of cat food on my door step. She was a vet tech and did this often. Since my hands were full, I left it outside. I was planning on heading out about 7 or 8 to meet some friends for a few drinks and I would grab it then and bring it in.

At about 6:30, I heard some noise outside my front door in my patio. Thinking it was my one outdoor cat (I had an indoor scaredy cat and a super macho outdoor cat), Vixen, I open the door to let him in. Instead of my sweet Vix, I am greeted by three of the scariest faces I have ever seen.

Oh God. I am getting lightheaded revisiting this memory.

As I scream and slam the door, it clunks one in the head that was TRYING TO COME IN AND EAT ME. He was well over thirty pounds, and he TOLD ME that he was going to rip my face off and eat it. He did. End of story.

Anyhow, the three monstrosities had ripped the bag of cat food open and were enjoying an eating frenzy. Meanwhile, scaredy cat Beemer is cowering under the bed and come to find Vixen was already inside and he was pissed off. He would run head first into the glass sliding door, hoping to attack the trespassers. They in turn snarled at Vixen and I pretty much took to fetal position on my living room floor. My upstairs neighbor heard the commotion and called me. As I bawled my eyes out that my life was flashing before my eyes and I had to meet friends for drinks, he said he would distract them for me and I could sneak out.

Sure enough, he went outside and made some noise which thankfully made the mass murderers climb the tree to go eat HIS face off. I ran like the wind out the door and to my car. And proceeded to celebrate the rebirth of my life with a lot of Jaegar Bombs and Coors Light. Hey, I was 22, waiting tables and living in Santa Barbara. That’s what you do in your free time.

Fast forward to last Friday night about 5pm. I hear Bob pull into the driveway and my cell phone rings. I answer to a suspiciously whispering husband telling me to send Jason out. I ask what for and he repeats himself adding for me to stay inside. Uhhh. Yeah. Pretty much the only thing he wouldn’t want me to see is a raccoon. As I flip out saying, ‘Jason will be eaten alive if a raccoon spots him’, my near 8 year old charges out the door saying, ‘I want to see it!’

I grab Haley, head outside and see the overly plump masked freakazoid and nearly pass out. He was standing in our neighbor’s yard staring down my husband who was attempting to stare back. Jason is in awe at ‘how cool’ the raccoon is and Haley is frantically asking to head back indoors. Smart. She gets that from her mama.

Bob, offering to show his big manly skills, says how he is going to scare the furry devil away. He jumps quickly toward the beast who doesn’t move a muscle but continues to stare. Bob makes a ’scary’ noise and I can almost hear the raccoon snicker in disgust.

I flee the scene knowing that at least I can save myself and my baby girl. The ‘men’ in the family can kiss their faces goodbye. They have to have to learn their own lesson. And I need to return to fetal position. Or a Jaegar Bomb. Not sure which works better.

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Now be a good bloggy and go check out her site.   Tell her I sent you.  She’s promised me gum, tictacs and some other uninteresting stuff.

The Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympic games are starting soon.  This Friday actually.  And although I’m in Ontario and they are taking place on the opposite side on the country in British Columbia, it’s still in MY country nevertheless.  And I’ll tell you, we’re all full of pride and excitement.  And hope.

Hope that we win lots of medals.  Hope that we kick ass in hockey.  Hope that there’s enough snow on the ski slopes (which is proving to be a very valid concern).  Hope that something disastrous doesn’t happen.  Hope that – for God’s sake – Canada doesn’t screw it up.  Because as capable as we Canadians are, we do suffer from a certain lack of self-confidence.

But this Friday, once that Olympic cauldron is lit, there will be no looking back.  The event we’ve been planning for so long, will finally be here.

In preparation, the Olympic Torch Relay has been underway since October 30/09 when it arrived in Victoria, BC.  Since then, it has been all over the country.  Literally.  By the time the Opening Ceremonies begin;

• the relay will have spanned 106 days
• 90 per cent of Canada’s population was within a one-hour drive of experiencing the Olympic Flame
• it will have traveled over 45,000 kilometers (28,000 miles)
• 12,000 people will have had the honour of being an Olympic Torchbearer

The torch did pass directly through The Only Girl’s town back in mid-December.  Unfortunately at about 6am.  And oddly enough I was fast asleep at the time and failed to catch a glimpse.

But this Friday I will don my red Olympic mittens (which are the hottest trend in Canadian fashion right now because almost everyone is wearing them around here) sit in front of the TV, and watch as my country puts on it’s fanciest party dress and plays host to the World.

With my fingers crossed.

I hope you’ll join us.

Are you planning on watching The Games?  If so, which events are you interested in seeing?