If the cops don't catch ya!

So I have this neighbor. He's new, and renting a house 2 doors down. Every 3 weeks or so he brings the bar home with him. And they all drive to the house, and stand outside drinking and yelling. They are drunk upon arrival, drink until usually 5-6am, and drive home.
They wake up the entire neighborhood. They stand outside yelling every word, and even though the cops are called, (Not by me, but I have had neighborswho have told me they called) they don't seem to ever come.
So here is my solution.
Not to them partying.
But to them drinking and driving and seemingly getting away with it.
If you have proof, not just cause your neighbors and ass and you feel like it. But if you see someone drinking and driving. See them get out of the car with drink in hand, or stumble out and stagger or crawl to the door. Swerving all over the road. Actual knowledge, no doubt in your mind that they are in fact drunk and just drove you should take a can of spray paint, go to their car and write in big letters "I drank and drove" and the date!

Now, my husband does not feel this is a good idea, as we ourselves have pushed the limit. And he's right, I have in my day done very stupid things. However, this was when I was very young, very stupid, and thought I was invincible. The people doing this in my neighborhood, are not young, stupid yes, but not young! They are 30's and 40's, and at this point old enough to know better.

I really wouldn't care so much if it wasn't for my neighbor. He's an alcoholic that had his license taken from him. My son was 4 months old. We were on our way out the door, and I forgot something and turned around to get it. When I turned back around his car came speeding over my front lawn, he swerved to avoid hitting my house and instead hit the fire hydrant in front of his. If I hadn't forgotten that item I would have been standing on my front walkway with my son when his car came. It was stupid luck! The cops came. He went to jail. His car was towed, and his license taken away for life. However that was the exact moment when I lost any and all patience for anyone driving under the influence! As I stood there with my husband behind me on my front porch, both of us very thankful that I turned around and had to grab something.
Yes, have a beer, even have 2 depending on your tolerance. However if you have a buzz going, lets just opt for a cab, or walk. There's a large obesity problem in North America, maybe you could use the excercise.
I feel if the cops don't catch ya, but you walk out the next day with punishment for your crime, then maybe it would cut back on people attempting to do it!
Just saying.
It's not vandalism if it's true.
I think.
Don't quote me on that.

Do you think things like this.

So a few months ago I am driving on the highway on my way to make a bank deposit for work. I notice on the side of the road a blue reclining chair.
Just sitting there.
Being all chair like!

So I thought to myself, "How odd! I wonder if someone is coming back to pick it up?" Cause it seemed reasonable it may be missed, but also it was sitting perfectly straight facing traffic. It seemd like it was put there on purpose.
Then I decided that on the weekend I would like to get bunny slippers, a silk robe with a dickie, a pipe and a newspaper and have my husband drop me off at the chair for about an hour.
Why?
It's simple. It would be one of those things that if you witnessed it you would never forget it, and why not! I wanted to sit in the chair smoking a pipe reading the paper on the side of the highway! It seemed like the only real option in this blue chair on the side of the highway situation.

So fast forward about 2 months later.

We have 2 Zellers stores in our town.
One was in liquidation as they are both closing. So the one in Dieppe was reducing their prices by quite a bit. Santa made a killing on the sales!
So it comes closer to the end and all their fixtures are now for sale as well.
So again, on my way to do a deposit for work I notice that the giant Z for Zellers on the side of the buiding is gone.
So I wonder. Did someone buy the Z? Was the Z missing before and I am only noticing now? Where's the Z?
So I have concluded that someone offered them $20 for the Z, and they sold it to the person in question. And now there is someone in town with a giant light up Z in their living room. So of course, I now have to find this person and hang out at their place and have my picture taken with the Z as proof!
You have got to set goals for yourself in life! And my goal is to hang out in a living room with a giant red light up Z!

Am I the only one who thinks things like this?
Should I make an appointment to see a Doctor?

How many times has your mother died exactly?

Everybody lies at some point in their life. If you are saying right now you never lie, then you are currently lying you liar!
But then you get those career liars! The ones that lie so much they have either become experts, or are known for being liars.
I worked in call centers for many years. And the worst job I had for dealing with liars was working in a pay as you go department for a cellular provider.
People would by cards worth so much money. The money on the card was good for 30 days. If you added a new card within the 30 days any money still on the account would roll over and take on the new expiration date which was in 30 days from when the last card was added.
Get it?

No....

Well I don't know what to tell you, just keep reading.

The most common excuse I got when someone forgot to add a new card within the 30 days was "But my Mom died!" The second most common "But my Grandmother died!". This excuse was used so we would credit back the money lost, most times equaling less then $1.
Yup!
They were killing off family members for mere pennies! Classy bunch of people!
It was my absolute biggest pet peave with the job. Especially since we left notes after every conversation and you would see some people's mother had died the week before every month for the last handful of months.
I got a transfer to a new department and had to start training. The training room had been double booked the morning we were supposed to begin training, so we had to jump on the phone for a very short period of time. In the 1 hour I was on the phone 3 people killed off their mother and 1 killed off their grandmother.
And why only the mother or grandmother? How come your dad never kicked the imaginary bucket?
I don't get it!

And now for your amusement, Henry Rollins ladies and gentleman!

Nice chest hair.

Part of my job involves conducting interviews.
This was something I was excited to do at first. That ended quickly.
The first thing I realized is that I am not always the best judge of character. The first person I ever hired, talked allot during his interview, and was so nervous he was shaking. I just assumed it was his nerves.
NOPE!
He loves to talk, and complain, and make wild over the top hand gestures, and repeats himself over and over and over again. There are days when I have listened to the same rant 3 or more times! And he'll say his speal, then start it over from the beginning, so I get to listen to it again!
Also, when I first began I would get upset at how lazy these people were. They usually came in in jeans, something I would never do. And on more then 1 occassion they were in desperate need of a bath. Also, they seemed to feel they were God's gift to trucking!

1st rule: An interview does not mean you have the job. Do not walk in assuming you do, and demanding more money then the wage offered. It will end the interview, and your chances very quickly!

My husband would have to talk me down, because I got upset with how these men were dressed. He would explain that truck drivers are different, and a trucking job is something that means you need a certain amount of comfort as you are sitting in a small space, without bathing for days at a time. That's fine, but when you get home, do the rest of the world a favor and take a quick dip in the tub.

2nd rule: If you smell bad and I can't stand being near you for a short interview, I will not want to be near you any other time.

3rd rule: I don't care if it's a work from home job and you plan to be in your pajamas everyday! Take the time to get dressed before you come!

There is nothing wrong with checking in to see if a decision is made. If you call me 5 times just the day of the interview alone, you are no longer a candidate! At this point you are an irritation that clearly does not realize I have work to do, and I am trying to get it done.

4th rule: You can be to overeager! Respect the interviewers time.

My absolute biggest pet peave whether you are employed here, or trying to get the job, is showing off your chest hair! Button up your shirt, this is not a freakin disco! I have actually had meetings with my current guys and told them to button up there shirt. This does not mean it has to be choking you, it just means button it enough that I don't have to see your chest hair, the gold chain you insist on wearing cause it "cool", or that you don't look sloppy or lazy.
It's not a company rule, it just bothers me!

5th rule: I would love to hear stories about your time at Studio 54, but I don't need to see the outfit you wore that time you picked up a girl who turned out to be Miss Jay!

I just did 5 interviews for a position. I had 1 out of the 5 candidates walk in well dressed, clean, he was polite, and very qualified. I had another guy come in who was just as qulaified, however when the decision came down between the 2, I chose the first guy. I liked the second guy, but he came in in jeans, an old tattered shirt, unbuttoned well past the usual comfort point. I'm pretty sure I saw a nipple!
When it comes down to it, I don't want to ever have a conversation with you about the way you're dressed when you come in for work. Or the way you smell! Not applicable to this guy, however I have had a few stinky men walk in looking for a job!

6th rule: Perhaps the most important! Do not bad mouth your current employer!

I assume there is a reason you want to leave, and persoanlly I'm not going to ask. If you begin bad mouthing the company, your boss, or anything else, well then what's gonna stop you from trashing this company once you begin working here and we do something you don't like. Just don't do it!

Anyway, that is all for now!

Kids = No money left

So yesterday I took my son to get his eyes checked. We discovered that he like myself is far sited. It's worse in his left eye then in his right, which oddly is the same for me.
Also he has an astigmatism, which is also worse in his left eye then his right. I don't have that.
I was caught a little off guard because up until just over a year ago I had perfect vision. And the prescription I have is so slight, that I really only need my glasses to read, and drive. I tend to always wear them though because I do notice a difference when I take them off, and after awhile I do feel a bit of a strain. His father has perfect vision as well, however my husband is adopted so we have no idea what may run in his family.
Soooooooo....
We first go to Brunswick Optical, a place recommended by my mothers friend. My son was very picky. He wanted green glasses. They had to be grass green or lime green like the dinosaur on his shirt.
The woman was such a sweetheart. She really tried, however my son just wasn't having it. We told him that some of them they could order in the right color, however if it wasn't the right color at the store he wouldn't put them on.
Next we went to Vogue Optical. (Oddly there were 3 optical places all within a block of each other) they were closed, so we went to Hakim Optical.
I walked in with my 3 year old son. A woman with bleach blond hair sporting various colors of pink greeted me. I told her my son needed glasses, and he would like them in green. She stood blocking the wall with the kids glasses and said "We don't have green glasses that will fit him. You need to go somewhere else."
I asked "Can you order some in green?"
Her "No I can't."
Me, "Well can he try some on and see if maybe there is a style he likes?"
Her, "We don't have anything for you here. You need to go somewhere else."

Ummmmm...

What do I say here? Honestly.
I have a 3 year old little boy who needs glasses, I myself am wearing glasses, and I am being told by a woman that works at a store that purely sells glasses and contacts to get out.

So I left.
What was I supposed to do? Cause a scene in front of my son? Throw a tantrum like a child?
I will be speaking with their head office. I was not poorly dressed, I was freshly bathed, and maybe she didn't take kindly to the zombie roller girl on my shirt, or maybe my leopard print coat is not her taste. I do however have a pretty good job, as does my husband, and I was a customer just asking to be treated with a little respect.

I then went to Vogue Optical. We actually found him a pair of grass green glasses with lime green polka dots on them. He was so excited when he saw those, we were able to look around a bit more. And found some blue spiderman glasses. So he got 2 pairs.

His astigmatism is pretty severe according to the woman at the counter. The have to send the glasses away and have the lenses specially made, especially where each eye is different. So even with the buy 1 pair get one free, with the cost of the lenses for each pair of glasses made the price sky rocket! And we paid over $300. Not to mention the $100 we spent on his eye test yesterday.
So this is quite honestly costing us a fortune. And last night I discovered I don't have vision on my medical coverage. My husband has $200 for our son on his, I have nothing. So we will get back $200 of the almost $500 we have put out in the past 24 hours, but the majority of it is lost.
Why the crap does my work not cover vision? Especially when they began naming the random stuff that is covered! Stuff I have never heard of, the absolute 1 and only thing they do not assist with in any way is vision! That's awesome considering now 2/3 of my family wears glasses!

Anyway, the moral. kids are expensive, and avoid Hakim Optical.

All the way in!

Tuesday night I was laying in bed watching t.v. I was watching Modern Family and my intention was to turn the t.v. off when it was done. Then this completely random show came on called The Middle.
At first I was surprised that the mom from Everybody Loves Raymond, and the janitor from Scrubs got their own show. Then I thought how nice it was that all these sitcoms actors get a second chance with shows that are not a spin off of the show they were on initially. So no, this is not a show about how Raymond's wife left him for the janitor she met at the hospital while having her left leg amputated.
At first I was unimpressed. The over acting by the children on the show did not appeal to me in the least. And I'm quite sure the person playing youngest child is actually a very short 30 year old man. Also the story line seemed weak, that is until Brooke Shields came on.
Yup! Booke Shields was the white trash, mulleted (Is mulleted a word? It has to be right? Mulleted: A person wearing a mullet. I may have to look that up.) neighbor with a accent I could only place as deep south trailer park who threatened to punch in the boobs of the main female character.
That's right! She was going to punch her boobs in!
How could you knot watch something that had a line like that? And for the rest of show they continued to reference how she didn't want to have her boobs punched in, or how she was in fact going to punch her boobs in and I thought "This is fantastic!" Cause I am easily amused when I should be sleeping, and because well, come on! She was gonna punch her BOOBS IN!
So now I have decided I need to use this more in my everyday life. I mean there have to many opportunities to threaten to punch someone's boobs in that I have never before thought of cause it never occured to me I could threaten such a thing!
Like if you go through a drive through and they screw up your order. What better time to threaten to punch someones boobs in?
Also, just in this alone I have mentioned punching someones boobs in 8 times and it still makes you smile a little every time! Am I right?

Then I can get my driveway plowed for FREE!

When I leave for work in the morning I notice a small mob gathers in front of a house close to the corner.
At first I assume they were protesting the rights of the vertically challenged as some of them were abnormally short for protestors. As it turns out they were elementary school children waiting for a bus with their parents!
Who knew?
So yesterday I observed the owners of the home attmepting to pack their car for waht appeared to be a skiing trip.
Cause they were packing skis! That's how!
You know you just asked in your head how I knew it was a skiing trip, don't lie.
The parents and children seemed to feel they had dibs on the driveway owned by the soon to be skiers. And were standing in there way, refusing to move. I know this because the bus was coming and I was sitting at a stop sign watching this (In awe of the sheer lack of manners by the parents they were instilling in their children before my very EYES!) waiting for the bus to pass. Then the bus came around the corner and blocked the intersection, because there was a car on the road and the driver refused to go around the car!
I know! A whole lotta jerks in this story!
So then I decided that if School District 1 feels it has the power to assign the driveway as a bus stop, then in order to keep it safe for the children, they they should have to plow the driveway when it snows!
It's only fair.
So I am now trying to figure out how to make my driveway a bus stop for a school, so I can get my driveway cleared for free!
I know, I'm a genius! Thank You. Really? The Nobel prize, for me little ole me and my genius! I couldn't, well... Maybe just the money.

Are you still with me?

In grade 1 I went to Bessborough school. I had a teacher who was apparently named Mrs. Hore. Something I wouldn't actually remember, accept when I was about 12 or 13 my family was driving in a car, or possibly a van, and my father said "Girls? Do you remember your first grade teachers name?"
My sister and I responded "No, why?"
My Mother was saying "Tom! Stop!"
My Father laughing said "Mrs. Hore."
Which sent my sister and I into a fit of laughter. Then he said "Do you know what her first name was?"
My mother getting louder "Tom! Don't you dare!"
My sister and I "What! What!"
My dad "Ima!"
Which of course made my sister and I laugh until tears were streaming down our faces, my mother was glaring at my father, and my father was grinning from ear to ear.
Now I have no clue if my 1st grade teachers name was actually Ima Hore. Judging from the fact my mother knew what was coming I would have to assume it was. And if it was Mrs. Hore, why would she take her husbands name knowing she would be forever known as Ima Hore?
I remember 2 things about the class. I sat next to a really tall girl named Tamara, and I used to steal erasers out of her desk. Not full erasers. Tamara would take the erasers out of the stubs of her pencils, and for some reason I would try to get them out of her desk without her knowledge. Presumably because I was a clepto in grade 1.
Something I have since gotten over.
Also I remember a little boy in the class knocked over a snow globe on her desk and broke it, and she lost her mind.
This was back before there was a rule about touching students, and it was pretty much a free for all where teachers were concerned. She didn't hit him, but she did grab him and shake him, and make him clean up the broken glass. I don't remember the boys name, or have any memory of us ever speaking, but I remember that!
In grade 2 I had Ms. Dougall, not to be mistaken with my grade 6 teacher Mrs. McDougall who oddly was not Scottish but a small East Indian woman who insisted on calling me by both my first and middle name.
Ms. Dougall was mean! That's all I really remember about her. I couldn't read, and she would yell at me and put me on display. Now you think my lack of knowledge int his department would be blamed on the Hore in the grade 1 class.
See what I did there?
However this was not the case. The only memory I have of her is her yelling at me aaaall the time!
My sisters grade 3 class was overcrowded so some of the students got transfered to another school not far from there called Hillcrest. Since my sister was leaving, I got transfered to! There I had my absolute favorite teacher ever, Mrs. Geldart! And it's a good thing she was my favorite because I had to repeat the 2nd grade due to my lack of reading skills. The first year at Hillcrest I spent the mornings in grade 1 and the afternoons in grade 2. The grade 1 and 2 teachers put together a program to help me learn to read with phonics! You see our lovely Government did away with the phonics system deciding memorization was the way to go. And I had memorized the entire grade 1 reading material. however I could not take the words and place them in another book. And really, I wasn't reading, just remembering the words and the order they were in!
So after much work I finally learned how to read.
Obviously!
In grade 6th I switched schools again and went to Frank L. Bowser.
Grade 7 was Riverview Junior High.
The first 3 months of grade 8 were at Hillcrest again. Then back to Riverview Junior High. Grade 9 was the Wesleyan Christian Academy, that lasted for 3 years. And this should have brought me to my grade 12 year. However, the Christian Academy worked very differently from public school, and I ended up behind when I returned to public school in grade 12. So I had to stay and extra year.
And this is why if ever I referance something and say I was in high school at the time, but going clubbing on the weekends it will make sense because I was 19 when I graduated from high school! And as you know, being Canadian, 19 is the legal drinking age!
Not that I ever drank if you are reading this and I call you mom!
Really, I didn't, not at all! You should go talk to your other daughter though, cause I think I saw her drink a beer once.

sore, tired and cranky

Last night I went to derby for the first time in a long time.
I took an unplanned break in November, and we had December off.
When I went to bed last night I was feeling a bit sore. I got up and took half of a muscle relaxer, because the prescription I have knocks me out.
I knew half of 1 would be enough to help with the pain, and put me to sleep. And as long as I got a full nights rest I would be good.
So, at 11:22 I woke up to a man in the driveway, (I assume a man. Woman tend to be less rude.) beeping his horn over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.
This went on for over an hour!
He also had really bad dance music cranked up so loud, it could have been my alarm clock next to my head.
I could have gone outside and yelled at him. I could have called the police.
Instead I remarked he was an asshole, and attempted to sleep through his rude behavior with no success!

Then at 4 I woke up to my son calling for me. He had a nightmare. There was a monster in his nightmare with big teeth and green hair.
He also informed me that sometimes his dad is a monster, but his hair isn't green. Which just goes to show who the fun parent is!

It's me.

In case you missed it.
I told him that the monsters in his dreams just needed a big hug then they would be his friends.

I was to tired to come up with anything better, give me a break!

At 5 he woke up again, I sent my husband in cause I was unsure walking was such a great idea due to the fact that I'm pretty sure I was asleep when I made the request.
He peed the bed. So I had to get up anyway, clean him and change his clothes. He told me he wasn't tired anymore to which I replied "Well that's to bad cause it's 5am!"
I don't think his 3 year old brain can really process how early 5am is, but I feel my tone may have conveyed it properly.
My alarm went off at 6:11am. I hit snooze over and over until about 7. At this point I dragged myself out of bed. Since I showered last night after derby I did not feel a  shower was necessary, which just shoes how exhausted I was at this point, cause at the very least even if I do shower the night before I give myself a quick rinse and wet my hair in the morning.
So I put on make-up in an attempt to look more awake and brush my hair.
At this point I remembered why I wet my hair in the morning even if I have showered the night before. I threw it into a bun, and pinned back my bangs. Then realizing how tired I looked, I unpinned my bangs, wet the hair and attempted something less sloppy.
Why?

Well I work with a guy who always comments when I look tired, but never tells me I look nice. I suppose you could say the days he is not commenting on me looking tired he is in fact feeling I look nice, however I am not that positive and prefer to think he lacks basic manners.
Which brings me to another subject. I would like to take a day and write down word for word every conversation I have. What they say, what I say, but also what I am thinking in my head that I would really like to say.
Like when he says "Gee, you look tired. Did someone not get enough sleep last night? he he he" I usually say "I am a bit tired." or "Gee thanks." I am usually thinking "Hey asshole! I am tired, you know why you poor excuse for a human being? I have a kid and a family! When I get home I don't sit in front of a tv! I make dinner, give my kid a bath, do the dishes, tuck my son into bed, then attempt to stay awake long enough to have a conversation with my husband. My son woke up 2 times last night AND I DID THE BEST I COULD DO WITH WHAT LITTLE SLEEP I GOT! WHAT'S YOU'RE EXCUSE FOR LOOKING LIKE THAT EVERYDAY!?"
But I don't say that, because I am much angrier in my head then I am in real life.

I am also a lot wittier in my head then in real life, but not when I'm tired! Honestly though, I crack myself up in my head, really you should hear the crap I come up with, usually a day or 2 after the actual conversation when said comment is no longer relevant.
I also forgot my glasses at home. Which is why when attempting to proofread this it's a little blurry, but I can still see. So I should be good for the day. I may have a headache when I am done, but I woke up with a headache, so really nothing would change.

kablammo!

 

That is all.

 

Holy CRAP!

I'm reading this book. And in the book the girl talks about how she has Social Anxiety Disorder. So she's talking about and describing what it is and how she acts when in awkward situations, and crowds. As I'm reading I'm thinking "Holy CRAP! That's me!"
So last night I'm telling my husband about it. and he asked why I thought I was like that. So I got him to read it, and he looks at me and says "Yup! That's you!"
Which you think would make me feel bad, but it actually made me feel good, because at the very least when I say stupid random things at the most inappropriate times that make people look at me like I have 5 Dragon heads, I'm not alone! And it's not completely my fault!
I've basically taught myself just not to talk if I'm feeling uncomfortable, because if I am in a situation where I feel uncomfortable well, just about anything may come out of my mouth. Which then makes me feel stupid. Which then makes me say something stupider, which then makes feel like an idiot, which then makes me just want to run and hide.
Over time I have gotten better. I basically try and treat every social situation like I'm at work. For some reason I am good at work. I am social, appropriate, and confident. Since that's the only time in life I ever come off that way, I try really really hard to be the customer service Katie, when I'm surrounded by people in non work situations. Which has actually worked really well.
I was thinking I may just become and alcoholic. Because at least then I can blame it on the booze, and apparently you're not allowed to fire alcoholics, you're supposed to coddle them in business situations which at the very least would give me job security! Sure I may lose my family, and control of my bladder, but it's a small price to pay!

Art???

After many years of sitting in my room reading, I made a friend.
I was standing in a line on my first day at a new school. I was nervous, and as always when I'm nervous I was saying very random ackward things. I could hear someone laughing, then she tapped me on the shoulder and asked if she could be my friend.
Although we had many things in common, we also had many differences.
For one, she was a hopeless romantic. I am not. I never believed that one day someone would ride up on a white horse and sweep me off my feet. I was just happy if a a guy was nice to me when his friends were looking.
She didn't care what people thought or who was looking. I was forever shy and insecure.
She loved modern art. The more ridiculous the better.
I hate most of it.

Don't get me wrong. There are some incredible artists around today. However, I used to comment to people at my old job that I could take the outside ashtray when it was covered in snow and people were randomly sticking there cigarette butts into it, put it in a refrigerated room in a gallery in New York, call it something ridiulous like "Man Killing Nature" and sell it for thousands of dollars. If I'm pretentious enough while doing it, I could most likely pull this off with little to no effort.

When I was 17 my now closest friend moved back to her bithplace, Manchester England. When I was 18, a few months later, my parents purchased me a plane ticket for Christmas to visit her.
We had so much fun! She brought me to the pub she was working at. Oddly the same pub where the brothers from Oasis got there start. There I met some of the nicest people I have ever encountered. We went shopping, toured to different areas, ate in pubs, and visited many art galleries.
Here is where our differences became very evident.
When visiting older art museums I tended to wander away from the display of the week featuring the up and coming artist of the week, to older parts of the museum. This drove her crazy. Why could I not enjoy the artist on display.
Well, most of it was crap!
Quite literally on one particular occassion.
We went to a display for an artist who I just googled, it was very easy to find him as it seems he is the only one creating artwork with what is tastefully being called "Elephant Dung". Translations, he plays with Elephant poop!
This artist would put elephant poop on a canvas, decorate it with beads, and put it on display.

I'm gonna give you a moment to absorb what I just said.

You good? Or do you need another moment?

Okay, so after staring unimpressed at beaded poop, I wandered.
In this gallery I found temprarily there on display the original Lady of the Lake!
I love this painting! I could not understand why there were 2 schools on field trips there to look at poop, but none of them were coming to see this spectacular painting!
My friend was unimpressed by my wandering which began a small public argument where I denounced in front of many the talent of this artist, and called his work what I quite honestly felt it was, and what it quite literally was.

POOP!
7 years later I visited this friend again, this time in Scotland.
She again took me to galleries, this time featuring only modern art. While she wondered at the talent of a guy who drew a line with paint in his computer, printed it, glued it to a lite brite, then stuck 1 peg in it! I wondered if she would marvel at the full creations I had made with my lite brite as a child, that featured many colorful pegs instead of just 1.
Probably not.
But you never know, I could be on to something here!