January 12th, 2010 | 8 Comments »

Island folk have their own mystique. They are leery of outsiders, and often have strange names for them. We have two island provinces in Canada, and the larger one has such a unique culture that the rest of the provinces poke fun at its people.

“Newfies” are your basic, salt of the earth, hard working people. For the most part. I can always spot a Newfie woman, certainly by her charming dialect, but more so by the content of her conversation. When a woman lists off how many floors she scrubbed today, how many loaves of bread she baked, who she gave them to, and a whole list of chores she has performed, you can safely bet that she’s old school Newf.

Children of old school Newfie women have tightly braided hair, their starched dresses as spotless as the houses they live in. I got a sense of what it might be like to be on the receiving end of this work ethic when I had my hair done in Newfoundland. The stylist, not lazy by a long shot, really put her back into the ordeal procedure. There was more yanking and pulling of hair than I had ever experienced.Did I mention it was my hair that was being yanked?

I asked the stylist if that was how her mother did her hair. Duh. I already knew the answer. It behooved me to explain that a customer might go to a salon for some pampering. You know? A pain-free experience?

Her position was that Newfie women came to her to get the nostalgic Mom experience. “It’s how we always does it, missus.”

Who was I to argue? I was a “come from away”.

I think she was pissed that I didn’t tip her. Because really? Her shop was the cleanest I’ve been in.

Posted in down home
December 28th, 2009 | 12 Comments »

This holiday season, I did most of my shopping without going into an actual store. Most. Stocking stuffers require one to hold actual merchandise and pay for it with cash type of money or debit.

I have a friend in Maine, and she agreed to allow my orders to ship (free!) to her, and she would ship those orders on to me. I would pay the postage from Maine to here.

She’s also a twitter friend, and when I opened my twitter feed one day in November, found an excited tweet from her. Seems it was her birthday, and some secret admirer has sent her a copy of the The Pioneer Woman Cooks as a birthday surprise.

I had ordered the book for a local foodie friend for Christmas, because although she has gluten and dairy issues, she loves herself a cookbook. In fact, she has many of them, and now adapts her recipes.

I couldn’t yank her birthday surprise out from under her, because why would I even do that? So I looked to a local artist to order a replacement gift. Only, guess what? The replacement gift didn’t arrive in time. The lovely artist, Shelagh Duffet, offered one of her prints (free!) so I would have something to present on the big day.

I agreed, with the proviso that she sign the print thusly: “Shelagh Duffet, Famous International Artist Who Lives Nearby”, which she agreed to do. I armed myself with a boatload of hand sanitizer to meet up with her in a newly opened cafe, where we had a lovely chat and sampled the goodies from the cafe. The lemon scones made me all happy in my mouth. The conversation made me happy in the brain, and all was right with the world.

When I presented my friend with her prezzie, I told her the story, and she agreed, it was pretty funny.

But? There’s still a space on her kitchen bookshelf where a certain cookbook needs to reside. And? It’s on sale at a ridiculous price now.

Posted in down home, fustercluck
December 1st, 2009 | 13 Comments »

Every once in awhile, my inner pimp emerges, and I arrange for two people to meet, although my inner pimp demands no money. I know. I’d get kicked out of the pimp club if only they knew. (But I continue to send in my membership fees.)

Once the connection is initiated, I step back and figure that grown people can navigate without my help. Excellent policy, if I do say so myself. Besides, I’m hardly nosey. I know A LOT of people’s secrets. And a lot of them, I just don’t care to know, but that’s why they call it work, heh.

I had a conversation with one of the participants of said connection, and I secured permission to share with you. That’s because I love you THAT MUCH, and it’s sometimes fun to share.

witchy says :
i knew her place would be spotless
First Date Guy says :
I figured it would be too
witchy says :
you didn’t take a dump in her place didja?
First Date Guy says :
witchy says :
hahahaha bad first date move
witchy says :
still howling
First Date Guy says :
exactly and I have a nervous stomach
witchy says :
First Date Guy says :
stopped at TIMS (note: this is a place that serves STRONG coffee) before I got there
witchy says :
good move!
First Date Guy says :
farting is a bad first date move too
witchy says :
oh, is it? probably yes
First Date Guy says :
I am pretty sure it is a sign of things to come LOL
like Grammy farting and saying OOOPS>>>>
witchy says :
hah! this part of the convo would make a good blog post!
First Date Guy says :
yes things to NOT do on a first date

There were more, but then we were getting into identifying information. Discretion is my middle name. Really.

Posted in down home
November 8th, 2009 | 16 Comments »

Most everybody in my hometown had nicknames, crazy nicknames like Cardboard, and Neva Nabber. They meant something in particular to the originator, but whether you knew the origin or not, the nicknames stuck.

The last time I visited there, my BFF from highschool took me with her to visit Neva Nabber,who had recently returned home to live.

During our catching up, Neva mentioned that her gay son lives in Salt Lake City. whereupon my recent research of FLDS sects kicked in, especially the old ways of dealing with sinners whose sins were too serious for the blood of Christ to atone for. So I figured a gay man in SLC was a target for Blood Atonement.

me: SLC? That’s an evil place for a gay man!

Neva: SLC is very cosmopolitan. Why do you say it’s evil?

me: Cause it’s full of those effing MORMONS!

Neva: Oh. Well, we’re a Mormon family.

me: frozen smile, cutting eyes wildly to BFF, who is trying very hard not to look at me.

me: changes subject, convo continues.

We had a mostly lovely visit. Neva was still the perky, fun-filled person she always was, and we left on good terms.

BFF and I get into the car, look at one another and totally lose it. Big, long gaspy breaths, tears streaming down the face. There may have been a little pee.

It’s good to know I still have the knack.

October 20th, 2009 | 23 Comments »

I know it’s shocking, but I actually got out of the house last evening. Makeup, bra and high heels! I’m living dangerously, I tell you. And, I’m fairly confident that I didn’t cough on anybody, although there was some coughing involved.

There is a local twitter group of interesting women who meet once a month for events, and this one was a doozy! The fabulous Ben Boudreau (be sure to click on his Single Ladies wear Snuggies link!) was all mysterious and gave out clues that nobody really guessed, but all was forgiven when he broke out the martinis and yummy snack food at the venue.

Here’s what it was all about:

This is something I can get really excited about!! (See? Two exclamation marks) Clicking on the image will take you to our HalifaxChicks team page, where you can donate to this fabulous cause.

100% of donation money will be used for digital mammography equipment, something that my boobies will appreciate, and the boobies of many more HRM women. The campaign has corporate sponsors for all the administrative and advertising costs, so 100%. Practically unheard of.

Today, Bust A Move rocked the Flashmob at Hfx Shopping Center food court! Check it!

I wanted to get involved in Bust A Move without all that pesky exercise stuff, because the crowning event of this campaign is a 6 hour exercise marathon to be held at the Halifax Metro Center. There may be Guiness World Records! There may be a curly headed guy in stripey shorts! There may be a witchypoo FAIL if I actually sign up,which is why I’m begging for donations instead.

For coherent information on this event, head over to Alice in Paris.She has a paypal button for donations and she totally rocks the team spirit!

Posted in down home