Creampuff Revolution

Manic Creampuff Monday

We tried to upgrade our internet today and that's not something you should ever do while Mercury is in retrograde or really any time.

After Katr spent a full day troubleshooting, the internet is back and we are down a couple of pot brownies.

I was out running errands this afternoon and thought that, for what I knew would be a very short post today, I would take a photo of a cute restaurant name I'd never seen before on Commercial Drive and then on the way home I remembered another errand, crossed the street, missed the restaurant and then, by the time I remembered, it was raining and I was like "fuck it!"

The name of the restaurant is Ugly Dumpling and that's just adorable. It also looks delicious. Good thing it's closed this week or you would have seen two slightly stoned creampuffs on the news, having eaten all the dumplings and trashed the place looking for more.

Creampuff's 12th Anniversary

As of today, Katr and I have been married for 12 years.

Twelve years, motherfuckers! 

So many people (no one) have asked us how we do it; how we live together, work together, write screenplays together and then sit on the couch holding hands and watching terrible Christmas movies together without straight up killing each other.

Well, folks, it's time to come clean.

We do have a secret.

It is a secret about the bedroom.

And that secret is:

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Separate. Blankets.

The Scandinavians know what's up; every time some dipshit North American on House Hunters International goes into a master bedroom in Finland, there are two separate duvets on the bed. Well, that's how we do it, except our duvet is too hot, so we each have our own sheet and blanket.

No fighting over covers - no one sneaking their cold ass feet onto anyone's leg - no disturbing the whole bed when you get up to go to the ladies' shitter in the night. Magical.

Some couple asked me, concerned, if sleeping under separate sheets led to less "doing it" and all I will say is that if you can't figure out how to slide a hand under your wife's sheet, you've got bigger problems.

Anyway, apparently the traditional 12th wedding anniversary gift is linen, which, as it turns out, couldn't be more perfect for this year's celebration of our ongoing lurve.

Many moons ago, before we met, Katr fell in love with these cotton sheets in marbled colours from a place called Kama Design in Guelph. I also found them delightful and even after we moved to Vancouver, we still ordered our sheets from there. But Kama closed several years ago and we've never found their like again. Slowly, over time, we wore out the fitted sheets and pillowcases and now have only a few flat sheets left from those glory days. 

A couple of weeks ago, I was angrily walking down Broadway in Kits, pissed that the Starbucks on my Google map had become a JJ Bean. As I stomped fatly along the street, I passed by a random store window and stopped dead.

OMFG THERE WERE OUR SHEETS!!!!!

Technically, just that orange pillowcase, but I had a good feeling, as I peered into the closed shop like a psycho. This was it. We'd found them. Or rather, THEY HAD FOUND US.

Once they were open for the day, I went back and discovered that the store, Bed, was actually descended from Kama and that it's the same product. Say a prayer for the poor saleswoman who had to listen to the gripping tale of how I found their store that day and how bad we've missed the sheets, but not too long a prayer, because the sheets aren't free (though the pillowcases were) and I gleefully ordered two sets.

They arrived just in time for our anniversary. And they're very reminiscent of our wedding colours! Because the times have changed but our love of bright colours most definitely has not.

Happy Anniversary, Katr. You are my favourite human and I am extraordinarily lucky to call you mine.

I look forward sliding my hand under these sheets later.

Creampuff's Shar Pei Less Hippo-y Than Usual

Poor Effie sometimes gets the shar pei fever, an autoimmune disease where her hocks swell and she shivers and can't get comfortable and it's terrible. This is the second time she's had it this year, which isn't TOO bad; some shar peis get it a lot more frequently and a lot worse.

We took her to the vet recently, so we knew there wasn't some horrible underlying condition causing the fever. But it is, hilariously, often brought on by stress and, while nothing TOO crazy has been going on here at Casa Creampuff, the time change plus a few sets of dinner guests must have put her over the edge.

Someone's dog is a delicate flower.

Sunday morning, I was walking her and realized, a half hour in to our hour long walk, at the furthest point away from the house, the fever was upon us. Effie slows down to senior speed when she gets sick, so it took us over 45 minutes to get home. She spent the rest of the day pretty zonked out after we gave her some medication and before long, she was on the mend but still very slow for a few days. 

I'd rather she wasn't sick but I won't lie, once she's over the worst, it is very relaxing; she's so chill in the house, doesn't give a rat's ass about other dogs or noises outside, still loves to walk but just real slow. My dream is that this is how she'll be as a senior.

By far the most upsetting thing about the fever, though, is that a few days after she recovers, her beautiful hippo face shrinks and she looks like an idiot.

It took several weeks for her snoot to puff back up after she was sick in April - send fat thoughts to our little pudge!!!

Four-Eyed Creampuff

The first time I got glasses, I didn't think I needed them; I just thought it was gettin' REAL smoggy in Toronto and that's why I had trouble reading street signs a block away, or the number on an oncoming bus. Turns out I needed glasses for distance and once I got them, it was a WHOLE NEW WORLD, From Anna-style.

When it came to picking my glasses, however, I inexplicably chose these red wire frame ones, which were...fine, I guess? 

I wore these "homage to Sally Jessy Raphael" frames for at least seven years before upgrading to my current frames, seen here while I try to show off my cute hair and distract from my receding hairline (a post for another day).

I also have a pair of glasses with "transitions" lenses that make me look like a '70s pedophile, so unfortunately, there are no photos of those (although I do still wear them to walk the dog on sunny days and I do still get 'OMG IS THAT A 1970s PEDOPHILE?' looks from people on the street).

I've worn my current frames since 2011 and a couple of years ago, the last time I went in to get my eyes checked, the optometrist suggested that I might need bifocals. 

"Your current glasses are fine for distance but you might find that you need an adjustment to, say, look at your phone with your glasses," she said.

"Nah," I said, easily reading a text on my phone at the time, "I'm good. Not time for bifocals yet, GRANDMA."

Probably about a year later, I met up with my theatre school pals Gicl and Elca for sushi and when I was looking at the menu, Gicl caught me doing that thing where you hold the menu REAL far away from your face because you fuckin' need bifocals.

"Did you just do THIS??" Gicl said, imitating me with great gusto.

The decline had begun.

Of course, it took me WAAAAY longer than it should to get around to getting new glasses but yesterday, Katr and I went to the eye doctor and I got to try on ALL THE FRAMES.

I only tried on eight pairs and two of them might be the same, so I added in the dog.

I feel like the cutest picture of me does not contain the actual glasses I chose and I considered waiting until I got the glasses for a REVEAL post that only my mom would care about, but we may not get our new glasses until December and I didn't want you to wait until next November to see them, so I will let you know now - I chose the ones on the bottom right.

They are waaaay bigger than my current glasses AND they will contain Progressive lenses so that I can live the ultimate dream; watching TV and scrolling through Twitter AT THE SAME TIME.

As a side note, it was my first time seeing Katr's optometrist and she was lovely. My favourite moment was when she was doing the thing where you're looking at the letters and she's swapping out the lenses to see which are better or worse and at the end, she goes "Good job! You're such a good observer!" and I am 44 but I still glowed with praise. 

Later, I told Katr about it and she burst out laughing. "She said the same thing to me! And it FELT SO GOOD." Anyways, thanks Dr. Chow, for making us feel special. I can't wait for my giant old lady glasses!

 

Creampuff Scoff

Since I shared this post about wanting a decent cardigan on Facebook last week, I've been getting a lot of targeted ads for cardigans, including this one, from LL Bean. I liked the look of it, so I clicked on it, thinking "I didn't know LL Bean had plus sizes!"

Well, THEY DON'T.

Fuck off, LL Bean.

Creampuff Taunted by Chicken Restaurant

Growing up in Alberta, we didn't have Swiss Chalet. So when I moved to Ontario for university and everyone in my dorm flipped their shit over the Festive Special, I was like Ben Wyatt in Parks and Rec not understanding why everyone was so into Li'l Sebastian.  Like, guys...it's chicken. And some not great stuffing. Calm your tits.

Of course, after several more years of living in the land of the Swiss, I had become as indoctrinated as everyone else. Katr, coming from Texas, had also become a Swiss Chalet convert and when we moved to Vancouver, one of the biggest disappointments was being outside the delivery zone for both the Trutch St. AND Lougheed Hwy Swiss Chalets. A Swiss Chalet dead zone, if you will. We had to DRIVE to get Swiss Chalet GAWD TOTAL NIGHTMARE.

So when we bought our place in 2010, people laughed when we said we chose the location because it was within Swiss Chalet's delivery zone and we laughed too, but with our mouths full of chicken.

It's pretty rare that a month will go by without a visit from the dirty bird. Even if the salads are occasionally paltry or the fries aren't always as crispy as you'd like, we remain loyal customers. The delivery folks know to stay back from the door so I can slip out and pay them without the dog flying at their junk. We all have our little rituals around our meals, like how Kate always shakes the salad like maracas while I make a weird poutine out of my chicken, fries and that sweet, sweet Chalet sauce. Plus, this time of year, cranberry sauce!

A few days after Thanksgiving, I opened my Swiss Chalet app to order and ... I couldn't. It said the restaurant was "closed". "Huh," I thought, "Well, I guess the restaurant is closed today."

About a week later, we went to order again and same deal. This time, though, I got worried. The Trutch St. location actually fuckin' closed a couple of years ago - what if our beloved Lougheed location was gone too?? UNTHINKABLE. 

Katr went online and got the goods from other panicky Swiss Chalet fans - the restaurant was closed for renovations but was supposed to open up at the beginning of November.

"Whew," we said to each other, our heart rates returning to normal, "just in time for Festive Special season!"

Well, Festive Special season began and still, the restaurant was closed. Katr finally broke down and tweeted them; apparently now we won't be able to get our mitts on the Festive Special until "mid- to late November". NOOOOOOOOO!!

Even though our local Swiss Chalet is closed, I still get a lot of promotional email from Swiss Chalet, reminding me about the Festive Special. But I was prepared to be chill about missing out on a few weeks of precious Festive Special time because there literally could not be a more first world problem than this. And then today:

Our only local Swiss Chalet has been closed for renovations for OVER A MONTH. Every day without a Festive Special is like a knife to the heart. And today, I get this in my email. In the words of the great @jannarden, @SwissChaletCA - this feels A LITTLE INSENSITIVE. pic.twitter.com/Uy6RhhsDhS

— Rosemary Rowe (@rosemaryrowe) November 13, 2019

Creampuff Doesn't Think You Should Watch It

I talk to my parents on the phone pretty much every weekend and often, when we've finished untangling all the world's social and economic problems, we discuss what we've been viewing on the Apple TV.

My folks are avid fans of the British-style mystery show - nothing too gory but a cracking good yarn. They enjoy everything from Midsomer Murders and Death in Paradise to grittier shows like Scott & Bailey or Line of Duty. Having exhausted most of the selections on Netflix, they've subscribed to MHZ, which shows Nordic noir; excellent for mystery lovers who also want to work on their Swedish. They always have some new show they're bingeing and want to recommend.

Then they ask me what I've been watching and I tell them, but lately with the caveat "I don't think you should watch it." Like, there are a lot of shows I'm enjoying right now but I wouldn't recommend them to my parents, or even to you. For example:

Mindhunter

I don't know why I got hooked on this show. Set in the 70's - hate it. Two male protagonists - boring. Generally (certainly for all of Season 1) female victims and horrific crime scene photos and/or verbal descriptions of the crimes - extremely upsetting. But I weirdly fell in love with Holden and his open face and chain-smoking, tryin' to be  a good man Bill and of course lesbian Wendy the lesbian who's a lesbian.,

Watching them trying to figure out how to profile serial killers - before "serial killers" was a term - is strangely addictive, especially if you're a fan of shit like Criminal Minds and such and already know all the TV lingo. Also, I felt proud of myself for profiling Bill's We Need to Talk About Kevin kid. Poor Nancy. But I have to look away from the crime scene photos and "lalala" when they talk about certain crimes. So I don't think you should watch it.

Succession

A friend of ours REALLY wanted to talk about this show, so Katr and I started watching it. I immediately hated all the the characters and didn't give a rats ass what happened to any of them or to the giant media conglomerate they owned. But the second episode is called "Shitshow at the Fuck Factory", so you know I had to watch that.

After a couple of episodes, we grudgingly agreed that was something compelling about rich people problems and the writing is pretty stunning, so we kept watching, even though the opening credits are PAINFULLY LONG and you CAN'T SKIP THEM EASILY on Crave and that music, UGH.

We just finished Season 2 and we're fuckin' in it now, you guys. But a story about a control-freak rich white patriarch playing his approval-craving children against each other while he refuses to give up the reins of power isn't the kind of thing my parents enjoy.

Plus, I don't want to talk to my parents knowing we've all watched Kieran Culkin wipe his own jizz off a window.

Outlander

Oh man, this should be a whole separate post. I'm'a do a whole post on this. Anyway, the point is, my folks enjoy a good historical fiction - they were the ones who turned me on to my favourite show on Netflix, The Last Kingdom, after all - and I had high hopes that Outlander might well received. But based the horrors that befall Jamie at the end of Season 1 at the hands of Captain Jack Randall and his junk, I did not recommend it to my parents, nor do I recommend it to you. But I am still watching that shit.

As a preview, for those of you who've made it to Seasons 3 and 4, I fucking hate Roger. Something real bad happened to him in Season 4 and I was like "GOOD". But we can talk about that next time.

Are you watching anything you wouldn't recommend to me or my parents? Let me know, it'll probably be my new problematic fave.