Guest Post on Wellman Wilson!

So the brains behind Wellman Wilson Consulting have decided that I, Jordan, have some ideas about social media worth sharing. Fools.

Anyway, they're having me guest-blog semi-regularly, and I'm up there today, with a post entitled: Why I'm Friends with George Takei: conscientious content sharing. For those of you who love social media or want to understand it more, the WWC blog is always a great place to go--I do a lot of my own learning there--but now you can get more of me, too, as I wax eloquent, or at least, wax witty.

See you there!

Montreal for a Day: the NEST gets away from the nest.

ALL WORK AND NO PLAY...

Beautiful churches in MTL!

The new house has been all-consuming. Any of you who read our blog regularly already know this, of course, from reading many posts about the escapades and adventures we've been on while trying to prepare our nest. But there've been a couple of misadventures recently that showed we were both reaching the end of our patience and coping skills.

First off: turns out that if I see even a drop of Brian's blood, I get faint and start to gag--making me the worst First Responder ever and sorta a bad wife, because all I can do is shout out the location of the bandaids as I hang my head over a trashbin--and this is surprising because I have never had trouble with blood, cuts, or grossness before. But maybe more intriguing is that when Bri bumps his shin, stubs his toe, or hits his head, I cannot help but snicker. I don't understand how my brain works; why a gash on his thumb from a knife would make me puke, but a bone-crunching whack with a hammer would make me giggle, is beyond me. But there it is, and if it makes me an evil person, that's too bad because the best I can do is stifle my laugh.

Painty dog.

Secondly: it's vitally important to step away from projects like house repairs and GET OUT AROUND HUMANS. Brian works part time outside the house, but his bookkeeping business is home-based, and so naturally he's been the lead on some of the finishing touches on the house, like painting the living and dining rooms. I came home on Wednesday to find him painting a second coat on the dining room, and as we were talking, our pug Mr Darcy sat down and leaned against the freshly-painted wall. Brian hollered at him to get off, and with something akin to an eye-roll, Darcy stood up and moved away from the wall. His back was now painted a light buttery yellow, and the wall had a fur-textured patch the size of a toddler. (Mr Darcy is large and fat, in case you're not familiar with our pug dog.) Brian was livid about the texturized wall, and MJ, who I was on the phone with, suggested he just pick Darcy up, and texture the whole wall. "We'll call it 'pugging'," she added helpfully. When I relayed the idea to Brian, he looked me, doubled over in mirth and just raised on eyebrow. He then continued on with painting the room, pausing only to kick Darcy out of the way a couple times.

BREAK TIME.

So clearly we're all in need of a break, and I had the genius idea to spend the day in Montreal. It's only a couple hours away, and it had a few things I really wanted to see: the Biodome, a spot I love to visit; and Ben, my friend-and-former-summer-student who I miss keenly since he headed back to school. Add in the Montreal Comicon, plus my friend Hal, and you've got enough incentive to make us pile into the car and head down the road.

For anyone out there working on an all-consuming project like a house, I heartily recommend this type of adventure. The twelve hours we were away refreshed us both and gave us lots of good memories to get through the last of the house tasks. Now at least I can close my eyes and think of penguins while Brian is bleeding from any number of various house repair-related injuries. 

Here are photos for your enjoyment; I'll let them do their own talking. 

And Comicon...

Weapons check. Hilarious.

Everyone needs comics.

Tank Girl, because she's awesome.

The Flash waits for his date outside the ladies' room.

Yum.

Yep, that's Brent Spiner--Data from Star Trek.

Malcom McDowell

Even Starfleet captains need to stop for nourishment. Not from a replicator, this time.

From Points B to A: a bra misadventure

What happened to simple underthings???

I decided this past weekend that it was time to embark on one of my most hated purchasing ventures: bra shopping. Oh, I see the pretty magazines where Victoria’s Secret models prance around and tell me how incredible my bust will look when I put on one of their cheetah-printed numbers; but generally I’m into a less fussy set of underthings...and I am so freaking tired of everyone offering to push my girls up, spread them apart, or pull them together. All I’m really looking for is an easy-to-wear, padding-free bra that embraces my boobs gently, tucking them into place and otherwise leaving them be.

Unfortunately, the current trend in bra fashions means that I’ve been wearing foam-cupped contraptions for the past couple years, because the non-foamy choices generally are ugly things. The message is: if you don’t want your bust lifted and enhanced, then you must just want them swaddled tight against your chest in a sea of taupe polyester.

Consequently, I have held onto the few bras I do like, well beyond their recommended life span. It was around Wednesday last week that I realized this might need to be remedied. I was pulling on a rather hot little skirt for work, and Brian made a comment about how good I was looking...and then we both kinda looked at my unravelling, once-white, pilling cotton bra, and I said, “I’m going shopping.” Because it’s just way too early in this marriage for the bad underwear to start.

Mmm, sexy taupe, wide straps...rowr. (Sigh.)

So I headed out to the mall, and I went to a certain nationwide department store where they have a ton of bras and brands. I figured this was a good place to start: lots of options, lots of choices. Surely I would accomplish my goal of finding some non-foam, non-padded, moderately-cute bras. Surely this couldn’t be too hard.

I wrangled a saleslady into helping me, because as I wandered through the aisles I found my pulse racing and my palms getting sweaty; there were just too many options, and I couldn’t figure out what to try. Not to mention, I haven’t been sized in a really long time, and lately I wondered if maybe I’d lost a bit of...cushion...in the chest department. After explaining what I was looking for, the saleswoman approved the choices I’d pulled out, then sent me into the changeroom. I stripped off my top layers, pulled on a cute plaid number, stood up, and realized that I have, indeed, lost some volume in the bust area. The B-cup sat on my boobs like a pair of deflated parachutes, loose and wobbly. I sighed and asked the woman for some help.

She peeked into the room, tugged at the straps, and said, “Well the problem is, you’ve got nothing there.”

Yeah, thanks, lady. Saturday afternoon, in a busy changeroom, and you’ve just announced that there’s nothing there.

credit: Ambro

This shouldn’t bother me. I had a breast reduction five years ago—dropping from a DD to a small B, much to the relief of my nerve-damaged back and shoulders—but there was something about the way that she announced my breasts as the problem that just really made my stomach churn.

I stood there in that saggy bra and demanded she find me an A-cup, as this was clearly what needed to happen. If I’d discovered my reduced cup size on any other day, in any other situation, I honestly wouldn’t be bothered by it at all; but now I felt vulnerable, cold, and a little naked. Oh, wait...maybe because, you know, I wasn’t wearing a shirt.

The lady went and looked, and came back to inform me that there were no A-cups out there for my size, in the style of light little bras that I wanted. I thanked her, got dressed, and went to exit; but she seemed to develop a sudden sense of sympathy and instead of letting me leave, she made another suggestion.

“You know,” she said, ”Probably what you should be doing is shopping in the little girl’s section. Go downstairs, and see if they have your size there. It’s probably the best you can do.”

I stared at her open-mouthed, then walked away.

And at the last minute, I turned into the little girls’ section.

The dream, not the reality.
credit: Charisma

With burning cheeks, I checked, and yes: they had my size.

The punchline? All the little girl bras were padded, too. Don’t get me started on messed up I think that is.

I left the mall an hour later with some bust-enhancing foamy bras from a different shop in the mall. I wish I’d found what I was looking for, but in the end these bras are fine and maybe helpful, now that I’ve ‘got nothing there’. You can’t always get what you want...but if you try sometimes, you get what you need.

After this escapade, what I really needed was a stiff drink.

Fridays with Bri - cleaning roller skate bearings

My hot wife and derby veteran!

GETTING YOUR BEARINGS...CLEAN

Jordan and I have been planning for a long time to clean the bearings in our roller skates; we used to love skating together, but this season has just been too busy. It may seem like a big job and it can be intimidating, but it turned out to take only a half-hour. Now we both feel silly for waiting. If you use roller skates, roller blades, or a skateboard, this maintenance is important, so be sure to keep reading! Here is the step by step on how we did ours. There are many different opinions on what works best, but we were really happy with our results.

Firstly, we did check for videos on the internet and we found this one by SkateboardTech to be the best so we followed his video; however we mentally changed the skateboard wheels to roller skate wheels (which are almost the same). The bearings we have are Bones Reds, which can be opened and actually taken apart into its smallest components. We chose to only take off the red rubber seals, though. You can go further if you have the time.

First you will need:

A skate tool

Cleaner--an alcohol-based solvent is best, though the video recommends orange cleaner. But if you use an alcohol-based cleaner, you can skip the rinsing step.

Cleaner bottle--buy one from a skate shop, or make one like the video shows.

Lubrication oil--sewing machine oil will do the trick!

Paper towel

A paper clip

Bearings (we used bones reds)

Roller Skates, a skateboard, or roller blades

Step 1

Remove the  bearings from the wheels, and wipe off the dirt. Place the bearings on a paper towel

Step 2

Remove the cover/seal; the bones reds have a rubber cover. Stick the paper clip beside the inner circle and pop out the seal. Other beings may have a metal covering where you have to pop a metal retaining clip.

Step 3

Attach the bearings to the cleaning bottle peg and pour the cleaner into the bottle; about 1/3 of the way full.

Step 4

Shake away! Shake shake shake! Shake shake shake!

Step 5

Remove the bearings and dry them. We used an alcohol based cleaner, which evaporates quickly. If you use a citrus biased cleaner be sure to dry them thoroughly and you may need to rinse away a residue. You can use a lot of things as solvents, including methyl hydrate (we used this and it was great), isopropyl alcohol with a HIGH volume (ie. 70% or more), even rubbing alcohol. We've even heard of people just using the lemon juice you buy in a lemon-shaped bottle in the grocery store. Remember to read precautions, and wear protection if you're handling anything poisonous.

Bearings and their seals removed.

Step 6

Add the lubricant: we used Bones Speed Cream, however you can also use sewing machine oil or any lubricant intended for small machinery. Do not use motor oil, grease or WD40 as they become thick and sticky and are meant for large moving parts.

Step7

Replace the shield. With ours, we just pushed them back on. 

Step 8

Reinstall the bearings into your wheels and put back on the skates.

Step 9

Roll around on your freshly cleaned bearings.

Disclaimer: I am not a mechanic or am I trained to clean bearings. This is just a list of steps I took to clean my own bearings. Be sure to research your particular type of bearings, and experiment until you find what works for you!

There's nothing worse than feeling held back from a beloved activity because your equipment is in disrepair. A quiet half-hour spent together, cleaning our bearings, just gave us another great cheap date activity! What have you been putting off? Time to get out there and make it happen!

Yours truly, back in my roller derby reffing days!

Friday's with Bri - Ford Focus Review

 The car we named Sharona (m-m-my Sharona!)

 2012 FORD FOCUS:  BRIAN'S REVIEW

This trip to Nova Scotia which you have all heard a lot about was incredible and I have to say that Ford made it an easy trip. They lent us a Focus for the trip and I am super impressed. we even named it Sharona.

 

Here is a quick video review of the 2012 Ford Focus.

PS. A huge Thank you to Jordan for holding the camera while I drove. It made it nice that I could pay attention to the drive and give a proper review of the car.

This Focus got us to some amazing places, pretty much eveywhere east of Ottawa! We saw the world's longest covered bridge, the oldest light house in PEI, the Jost Winery, Hopewell Rocks, and 4 provinces. It helped us create some great memories in the process; Thank you, Ford Canada, for the gracious loan of the car for our trip; it made the whole journey a lot more fun...especially showing off the Active Park Assist! Sharona drove us the full 3000km for the trip and we were able to pack our entire trip with ease. 

The car got great mileage; we spent well under our alloted budget of 500.00 on gas for the entire trip. It's a very peppy car, which took Jordan a while to get used to, since our current car is lightyears less responsive. The built-in navigational system was fanastic, and it's the only reason why all six of us survived the trip without driving into a lake or murdering each other; we actually used the Focus's GPS to get us around Nova Scotia and guide the other cars in our convoy because people's cell phone navigation systems kept losing their signals.

Dual climate control made Jordan's trip perfect. She is always cold, and I am always hot, so this feature helped bring peace and happiness to the drive. There wasn't a single argument over the A/C settings on either 14-hour drive, nor any of the drives we took during the week. Amazing!

The Focus offered great fuel economy, comfortable handling, and helpful features like GPS and an alarm to tell you if you've left the parking break on. When we got home and piled into our own ancient clunker, both of us really missed Sharona pretty badly.

Oh, and space! The Focus managed to surprise everyone with how it handled the insane over-packing that Jordan threw at it:

We fit: 

4 Suit cases of different sizes

2 Acoustic guitars

1 Semi-hollow-body jazz guitar

1 cooler 

5 fabric shopping bags

1 set of juggling clubs

1 remote controlled miniature helicopter

1 back pack

2 purses

2 driftwood sticks

4 grape vine seedlings
3 yoga mats
1 car safety kit
1 case of water
1 coffee mug
2 water bottles
and

2 people

 My amazing driving partner

At the Jost winery

Now some great pictures of the memories the car had:

Chase's Lobster pound

Parked in front of Murphy's fish and chips

Oldest light house in PEI

Friday's with Bri - How to not end up on the couch, especially if your wife is a blogger.

Here is a post for all the people whose partners have blogs:

How to not end up on the couch

Jordan and I were just at the most recent SoCapOtt tweet-up where we got to meet some amazing people and have some extremely interesting conversations; and I must say my favourite part of tweet-ups are actually meeting the people you tweet with on a regular basis. That old saying, “putting a face to a name” or in this case, “putting a face to a twitter handle” rings very true. And during these awesome conversations I began talking to the men who were in attendance who jokingly said, “Ohh, you are gonna end up on the couch!” after a couple of my jokes. So on that theme, here are my Brian Bart Kent-Baas (BBKB) tips for not ending up on the couch if your partner is a blogger. (Yes my middle name is Bart.)

#1 Be supportive. (B)

Blogging is a big commitment and it takes a lot to be able to pour your heart and soul into what you write. So be their number one fan, read everything they write; even if it’s printed for you in paper hard copy form. Go to the events where their blog is being celebrated and celebrate the small successes with them even if you don’t understand; ie. finally breaking 1000 hits on their blog is a very cool moment.

#2 Be Understanding. (B)

With blogging comes social media; with social media comes time commitments. Let them have the time to build their brand and really succeed in what they are writing, and genuinely take an interest in it. You don’t have to understand all the technical jargon but at least show that you care.

#3 Keep letting them know you love them. (K)

It is the most horrible experience when a blogger gets their first negative comment on something they write. If it’s a internet troll or just an angry person, getting negativity around your writing is very, very, very hard to take. So let them know no matter what that you love them and that just because there are angry people in the world it is no reason to stop writing. And be ready to show them all the good comments they have received.

#4 Bring them Treats (B)

what is #FF - picture source

Yes, this is a great tip even if your partner isn’t a blogger: random treats and presents are always a good step. You should never need a reason to give your special someone a present, so go out and get them one; they deserve it. And if your partner is on twitter, get them a card with the present and make it say, “#FF (their name) because of how wonderful they are every day”. 

If you don’t know what #FF means it means Follow Fridays and you are telling everyone that you think that everyone should follow your special someone; it's a big deal for the twitter nuts... and it shows that you're paying attention.

With those four tips finished, I realized that there are no “support groups” for the partners of bloggers, and there is no meet-ups for the invisible husbands or wives of all these amazing bloggers. For all those who are reading this on a piece of paper because you don’t know how to read blogs, I want to let all of youknow  that the great thing about us tweeters, bloggers, and social media junkies is that we are able to make conversations out of nothing, and we have those conversations with people we have never met before. So come on out, it's a great way to show that you are using the BBKB steps. Attend social media events, like tweet ups, with your partner; we bloggers never get to meet you and you never know, you may be slowly turned into one yourself.

~Brian

Picture source

Dad blogs for cats: Part II

THE CAT DIARY CONTINUES.

Many weeks ago, I showed my dad a meme called "Dog diary vs. Cat diary". He loved it, and wrote a continuation of the cat diary which you can still read here. Today he presents a third chapter. (I can't turn him down; he loves writing them so much, and according to our analytics, you guys love reading them. Also, as we're just in the arduous process of going to a dozen different meetings while we sign off on our house, this gives you all something to tide you over.) Enjoy!

Day 1131

Today was a bad day. The idiot puppy saw that the human guards were preparing to leave the prison. Of course, he starts flailing about in a pitiful attempt to enamour himself of the screws (that's prison talk). But something is up: the humans appear contrite and a little nervous as they pick up my stupid cellmate. There is a flurry of fur, spit, and howls of delight as he is carried away and I am left to stare out through the invisible force field that holds me captive inside. What has happened? Did the dog's brown-nosing finally pay off?

The hours pass and sure enough the paddy wagon rolls back up the drive way. But this time, all is quiet as the dog is brought in. On his neck is the thing that all prisoners dread. I’ve have only heard of such a thing: it’s the CONE OF SHAME!! DA DA DAAA! It's a white plastic tube that covers the idiot's head and stops the mutt from doing his favourite trick: licking his privates. 

I hate the dog but he is a fellow con. What foul crime had he committed to be forced to endure such humiliation? Then I remember the poop on the pillow. When it happened I thought it was a touch of brilliance. Perhaps the dog is an idiot savant, I thought. I’ve often considered duplicating the feat more than once. But then I notice he is still very quiet and I realized with horror that the 'trick bag' he so loves to lick...was empty! Foul human creatures!! The poop stank, but what price is too high to pay for art?

I have decided not to copy the pillow protest.