04.29.08
mother mayhem
My baby is home…he’s well over six feet tall and nearly twenty years old but even when he’s sixty he’ll still my baby. The big silver dog brought him home on Saturday night. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to ride the bus again after his last nightmare trip but things went much smoother this time and it was the most convenient method of transport considering the amount of baggage he had (just like his mom…so much baggage!).
My own mom turned sixty last week. She was adamant (Adam Ant?…goody two goody two goody goody two shoes) about not having a party. If that was her way of suggesting we throw her a soiree (like “Oh you don’t have to buy me anything.” which translates to “You better buy me something!”) we didn’t take the bait. I suggested to my dad that since my boy was going to be here for the weekend that maybe we should have my brothers come home as well and we’d do a family dinner to celebrate. My dad is happiest when he has to put forth as little effort as possible so he was all for the idea and told me to go ahead and call my sibs and set it up.
When I phoned my tattooist brother I was not surprised when he said he and his family could not make the trip. Weekends are busy for him and he was already booked up but fortunately the other brother (sic) and his wife said they could take the time off and come out. It wasn’t much of a gathering but we had a fun weekend together at least. I’m not sure if it made the mothership happy or not…and frankly at this point I don’t really care. I have my own maternal issues to contend with.
On Thursday I have to take my son back to Cowtown so that he can fly back to Ontario. Obviously I am stressed about saying good-bye to him yet again. It never gets easier. His work term in Vancouver finished last Friday and he starts school again next Monday for another four month stretch and then he will be going on an eight month co-op in September. Depending where that next job is (he starts applying when he gets back to university and it could be anywhere…but here!) it will likely be Christmas before we see him again. I suck at letting go.
My husband applied for a job in Cowtown. Some days I feel like it will be the right move for us and other days I have extreme aversion to leaving this place. I have looked at houses on MLS and there are none in our price range that are anywhere near the quality or have the features that this home has. We built our place to our specs fully expecting to live at least the majority of the rest of our lives here. The rooms are all sizable, there are three bathrooms (no waiting!), the main bathroom has a six foot soaker tub, we have tons of storage, a two car garage and my kitchen is spacious and functional. I can’t imagine spending more and moving into a place that doesn’t have these ‘simple’ comforts. Or maybe I am just projecting my anxiety at a house when it is really leaving the life I know that upsets me.
On the flip side there are a lot of benefits to living in the city I have a few friends and both brothers there, we could do more as far as entertainment and cultural things, we’d only be a plane ride away from the kid, groceries, insurance and pretty much everything else is cheaper and of course I would finally have high speed internet. On the other side of that there is also more crime, more noise, less privacy and more line-ups to deal with. I keep batting the whole idea back and forth and my opinion of moving changes daily. I guess at this point I will leave it to the universe. If he gets the job and if we can sell our house and get a decent price for it then I have to assume that it’s meant to be and I will go along without (much of) a struggle.
To say I am disturbed would be an understatement at this juncture. Fucked up would be a better term. I am trying to not look too far ahead and just take each day as it comes but when everything external is unsettled it’s more than a little difficult to calm the internal. For the moment however I have to concentrate on my son and enjoying these last two days with him. Nothing else matters as to me much anyway. And in typical university student fashion he brought his laundry home and didn’t bother to mention it until this morning so I know what we’ll be doing all day.
04.24.08
gentle health
Well, apparently I am going to live. She says I don’t have cancer but she did admit that the only way to be absolutely sure would be to scrape the mole off and send it to pathology. So while she poo-poo’d my paranoia there is always the possibility that she is wrong. The jury is out for now but if I do die I hope someone sues the bitch.
Actually the new doc was quite NOT a bitch at all…though she did have bad hair, like she was trying to straighten with a blowtorch and without any product. She knows her business and I know fuzzy hair. I was completely shocked that I didn’t have to spend the obligatory twenty minutes (or more) in the waiting room and even more surprised when I didn’t have to sit and stew in the little exam room for very long either. My appointment was at 11:30, she was in with me by 11:25, that never happens!!
I told her immediately that I have anxiety though I am sure it was obvious by the shakiness in my voice, the redness in my cheeks and the blotches on my chest that I wasn’t exaggerating the severity of the condition. She did suggest a mild antidepressant but I have always been more than a little anti-antidepressant so I declined for now. I opted for more ativan and promised her that if the anxiety demon becomes more prevalent that I will consider the alternative. Everyone seems to be on antidepressants and I guess it bothers me that I might NEED a drug to function. Maybe I am just in denial. I will keep an eye on how often I feel like the edge of the planet is crumbling beneath me and if it happens more often or gets worse then certainly I’ll at least talk to her about it again.
Doctor Frizzy assumed I was only in to see her because I couldn’t get in to see my regular GP. I think next time I go in I will inform her that if she possesses the patience I would prefer to be her permanent patient. I liked her, she was thorough just like I had been told by my client, she even drew me a picture of what they look for in an abnormal mole (I put it on my fridge) and dispensed the drugs I requested without hesitation. I do appreciate generosity with the prescription pad. I am not a drug seeker! I do however like to have plenty of Ativan (for occasional sleeplessness and anxiety) and Toradol (for headaches) just in case. The girl scout in me likes to ‘be prepared’ for any drug shortage related emergency.
The rest of my questions were answered and my queries were addressed. Not once did I feel like she was rushing me, I picked up my prescriptions and I was still back at work by 11:45.
Impressive. I might not be so stressed out next time I have to go back. Maybe.
Now I have to wait to hear back from the Mammovan…they come here twice a year to do squish the local girls. I’m not sure how I feel about a mobile mammary unit, it seems kinda sketchy to me, it would make a brilliant scam for pervs. That would totally be a funny movie! A couple of guys buy a van and some old mammography equipment and travel around to small communities checking out the breastage. On second thought that would not be very funny at all and I will be looking for credentials before I bare my boobies and step aboard any hooters on wheels!
…again.
04.23.08
quacking up
I have an apointment at the clinic tomorrow. I am more than a little worried about it. I get terrible anxiety every time I have to go there. I’m not sure what it is about that place or a visit to the doc but it’s all I can do to even call to book it. It’s a catch 22, I have to take an ativan to go to the doctor to get more ativan. When and if I can get away with it I have my husband get a prescription for the anti anxiety meds for me when he goes to the doctor to save me from having to enter the dreaded medical facility. This time however is not just about Ativan, and I can’t send His Highness in for me. Believe me though if I could I most certainly would.
I am due for a mammarygram., not exactly the kind of test you can cheat on. I haven’t been squished yet but it’s time, I am 40 now. I was actually supposed to have one last fall but my regular doc forgot to book me in. This time I am seeing the new physician who apparently is fantastic, thorough and has great follow through. I need a medical professional with follow-through because I have fuck all when it comes to my own health. I take more of a “the pain will go away…eventually” approach. And really it usually does…eventually.
I believe that much of my medicinal disdain comes from when I had endometriosis. I lost a lot of faith in the profession at that time. I suffered with the evil disease for ten years and saw several GP’s and eight gynecologists before I found one who not only believed that I was not just having ‘bad cramps’ but also wanted to help me. I can’t count how many times my husband took me to the ER because I was in excruciating pain, doubled over and unable to function. Most of the attendings and nurses were pretty good but I did have to contend with more than my share of assholes and ignoramuses…ignorami?…in both professions and more than once I was accused of being a drug seeker. I could not have faked that kind of agony, I am not that good of an actress. I will admit I liked the all over warmth of morphine but even it didn’t take the pain away it just made me not care. I think mostly I just feel like I have done my time. I also hate going to the clinic because it’s full of sick people and I am convinced if I wasn’t sick before I went in I would be when I exited.
Maybe there is a part of me that doesn’t want to hear what she has to say too. I know she’ll tell me to lose weight, it’s in the doc handbook…”When all else fails or you’re in a hurry, tell patient to lose weight.” Though they never tell you how. It’s a copout I think to blame health problems on weight. Sure most of us might feel better in general if we lost a few pounds but that is no excuse not to look deeper into what could be (pardon the pun) bigger issues. My MIL and the man she lives with tell me that once you hit 60 they start blaming everything on old age. I know there is some validity to it all but it pisses me off that they can be so blase and dismissive about it. They might see twenty patients in a day and in a small town I imagine not very exciting and I am sure they see a lot of the same patients week after week and get tired of the hypochondriacs (although that is a disease that should be treated too!) but I only go to the doc once every six months or so and only when absolutely necessary and either way that still does not excuse brushing off anyones malady (mental or not) so flippantly.
So, what’s wrong with me?
I’ve decided I have cancer.
I am not a doctor but I play one on Google.
There is a spot on my arm, it’s kind of a mole and kinda not a mole but it looks just like the skin cancer my mom had. I am pretty sure it’s the real deal. I actually discovered the spot last fall but it took a disturbing incident for me to finally do something about it. A local woman found a small lump on her cheek. She assumed it was an ingrown hair or a pimple or some other such benign something or other. The bump grew and grew and still she ignored it. Finally her family forced her to get it checked out and it was a tumor (it’s not a toomah) and she had to have half of her face removed. I haven’t seen the woman and I know it’s kind of a twisted thought but I totally picture her wearing a Phantom of the Opera mask now. I know, if I believed in hell I’d be on the waiting list.
A client of mine works at the hospital and she told me the story, adding that it is very easy for melanoma to metastasize and freaking me out further with tales and details of cancerous grossness, chemo, radiation and death. I told her of my doctorly trauma and anxiety and how it’s all I can do to even go to the clinic and she convinced me that it’s time I started seeing this new doc. I never really thought I had a problem with my regular physician but then the more I thought about it the more irked I got at her. Twice I asked to see a specialist and twice I had to go back in to remind her, I have had blood tests several times (she always thinks my sugar or my cholesterol should be high and they never are) and rather than call me to let me know it’s all fine I have to go in to check and she knows how much I hate that. There have been a few other instances where she’s pissed me off (like the botched mamovan request) and I’ve had better luck self diagnosing so I took her advice and called to book with the new sawbones.
Heiny says I should make a list. Besides the drugs, mammogram and cancer I’ve had a headache for a week, I want to see a dermatologist (I’ve decided I have rosacea too) and I am thinking maybe a shrink…or more drugs…for stress. They don’t like it when you go in for more than one thing per apt. so maybe I should have booked six appointments in a row so nobody can bitch. I don’t give a shit, I have medical coverage. If someone has a problem they can suck it.
I’m all tough now and full of piss and vinegar but I imagine I’ll be a bit of a mess in the morning. I’ll pop an ativan and wear some extra deodorant just in case. Docs are like dogs and bees, they smell fear…and I reek.
04.19.08
well I ever!
This is a ‘have you ever?” meme that I ripped from my buddy Rox. I’ve been crabby today because it’s been snowing here all day and I am about ready to lose my winter-hating mind. Doing this meme gave me a distraction and cheered me up a little…so did the chocolate. I have decided chocolate is not just a substitute for sex, it’s a sub for sun too!
1). Taken a picture completely naked? No, some things need not be documented for posterior.
2). Made out with a friend from MySpace/Facebook? I had to go look…my husband is my friend on FB and I have made out with him once or twice.
3). Danced in front of your mirror naked? No way, I’ll dance nekkid but I sure as hell don’t want to see the carnage!
4). Told a lie? Once or twice.
5). Had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back? Yes, feelings of love, hate and ambivalence.
6). Been arrested? Only in development.
7). Made out with someone of the same sex? Yes…’nuff said.
8). Seen someone die? I’ve never witnessed the exact moment of expiration (thankfully) but I did see my grandfather just minutes after he passed. I kissed his cheek and told him I loved him.
9). Slept in until 5 P.M.? Most days I would be happy to sleep until 5am.
10). Had sex at work? Yes, in the bathroom at the music store.
11). Fallen asleep at work/school? Yep after sex in the bathroom at the music store. Kidding, I have never slept at work.
12). Held a snake? Only trouser snakes, I am afraid of the other kind.
13). Ran a red light? Many times, I am a rebel…thankfully nothing was coming or I’d be a dead rebel.
14). Been suspended from school? No but I’ve always wanted to be suspended from a helicopter.
15). Wrecked your car in an accident? Not my car.
16). Pole danced? Only the trouser variety, you never know where the other kind have been.
17). Smoked? Yes, cigarettes and other things…and I’ve smoked a few poles too.
18). Been fired from a job? Nope. And I’ve never been fired from a cannon either.
19). Sang karaoke? Yes, badly, alone and in front of people.
20). Done something you told yourself you wouldn’t? Yes but myself is an idiot and just doesn’t fucking listen!
21). Laughed until a drink came out of your nose? No, but I have laughed so hard that urine came out of my…
22). Caught a snowflake on your tongue? Yes, In Canada it practically comes with breathing and it snows here most of the frickin’ year…it’s been snowing all fucking day!!!! Die snow die!!! *makes stabbing motion*
23). Kissed in the rain? Yep, I am an all weather kisser.
24). Sang in the shower? Yes, and I am fabulous when nobody is listening and there are no recording devices about.
25). Given your private parts a nickname? Yes, I call it ‘Persuasive’.
26). Ever gone out without underwear? We once drove to Cowtown and back and my husband asked me not to wear panties or a bra. I did, we stopped twice each way.
27). Sat on a rooftop? And kicked off the moss.
28). Broken a bone? Right clavicle, the day before my first day of grade one.
29). Mooned/flashed someone? There is no need for the full moon but I do flash my husband my boobs every day as he leaves for work. It makes him smile and that makes me happy… and it’s good that we have no neighbors.
30). Shaved your head? Nope, it’s the only hair on my body (besides lashes and brows) that I want to keep.
31). Slept naked? No, the girls get in the way and my shoulders get cold, I sleep in a t-shirt.
32). Played a prank on someone? I am very stealthy, I love to silently walk up and stand behind someone (my husband) and wait until they turn around. I don’t ‘boo’ or anything and then feign innocence. Fun’s fun until someone has a heart attack.
33). Had a gym membership? A lifetime membership at Spa Lady… and awe shucks there isn’t one here.
34). Felt like killing someone? There were two people I was pretty sure I could kill if I knew I would get away with it.
35). Made your girlfriend/boyfriend cry? Yes and I feel like shit about it every time.
36). Cried over someone you were in love with? Yes and I feel like shit about it every time
37). Had sex more than 10 times in one day? Riiight, my one shot pony couldn’t handle that kind of riding!
38). Had Mexican Jumping Beans for pets? No, but I did jump a Mexican once.
39). Been in a band? In high school I was asked to sing for a metal band…it was the 80’s…but I had to decline, I couldn’t deal with the nerves…I did however have the hair and the acid wash for it!
40). Subscribed to Maxim? For four years. It is my favorite magazine.
41). Taken more than 10 shots of alcohol? Beware the Goldschlonger!! Yes, I have done this several times and paid dearly for it the next day…and the day after that and the day after that.
42). Shot a gun? Yep, a .22 and a pistol when I was a kid.
43). Had sex today? Ha, we only saw each other for about half an hour today when my husband visited me at work and I don’t think my pedicure client would have appreciated that kind of interruption.
44). Played strip poker? Yes, and it was always the boys’ idea and always a BAD idea.
45). Tripped on mushrooms? No, I just step over them.
46). Donated blood? No, there is no place to do it here but I am on the unrelated bone marrow donor registry.
47). Video-taped yourself having sex? Hell NO, I think that would be completely mortifying and would make me (and anyone else who saw it) never want sex again!
48). Eaten alligator meat? Not a lot of gators in Canada, but I hear they taste like chicken.
49). Eaten frog legs? No, but I hear they taste like chicken.
50). Jumped out of an airplane? No, I’ve only ever flown commercial and they frown on that during commercial flights.
51). Been to more than 10 countries? I have been to exactly two countries, Canada and the US of A!
52). Ever wanted to have sex with a platonic friend? That would certainly change the platonic-ness of said relationship wouldn’t it?!
04.15.08
private performance
If there was ever any doubt that I am a total and complete dork today I proved it beyond a shadow. My husband is working afternoon shift this week and I could not wait for him to leave. No, I was not sick of having him around or up to anything particularly shady…though I did draw the curtains and lock the door before I began. I even put the dog outside.
I was pretty excited, I hadn’t had much time to spare lately let alone time to myself…me time. I couldn’t wait to get to it. I was practically drooling as I plugged it in and turned it on. I was finally going to get to play Boogie.
Wii Boogie is about as lame as a game can get but it has a karaoke feature and I wanted so badly to play it and be able to belt it out without being embarrassed that someone might be <strike>laughing</strike> listening to me. My husband has been privy to most of my more humiliating moments and he’s seen me naked which is about as exposed as it gets yet I can’t bring myself to sing along with a video game in front of him…I’d feel silly. It’s one thing to sing along with the stereo, it’s entirely another to use a microphone and sing to the TV. I didn’t even tell him I brought Boogie home, he only likes to sing along with anything on his terms…which are out of tune and the wrong words and that does not bode well for Boogie play.
I pretty much suck. My milkshake does indeed NOT bring any boys to the yard, my only hope of being a Weather Girl is if I happen to fit under their umbrellas and the only way I’ll be walking on sunshine is if I head to space. I did rock YMCA, and I did so without benefit of hard hat or Indian feathers and I did do a killer rendition of Blondie’s One Way or Another but for the most part the tunes were not in the key of me. Most of the ditties are not even singable…even by the original artists…crap like Groove is in the Heart (Dee-Lite), U Can’t Touch This (MC Hammer), Pop Muzik (M) and two, two, two shitty Britney songs (like there are any other kind) and the only good thing about The Jackson’s ABC is the dance sequence in Clerks 2, it certainly is not karaoke worthy…at least not for me or anyone without their nuts in a vice…not that I have nuts but if I did they’d have to be squeezed pretty tight to hit some of those notes.
I’ve had my fill now. I have sated the chanteuse in me and come to the realization that I will never be the rockstar that I dreamed of being, I will never be Fergilicious, you’ll never wish your girlfriend was hot like me and it’s not likely that I’ll get everybody Kung Fu Fighting or Dancing in the Streets. I will just have to be content to enjoy singing even if it’s something I have to do secretly and behind closed doors so as not to completely make a fool of myself…because that’s the way (uh huh uh huh) I like it (uh huh uh huh).
04.13.08
early bird special, hold the worm
It’s 7am on Sunday morning. I don’t have to work today, in fact I have fuck all to do today, so why am I up? I wish I knew. I’ve been awake since before 5am and I tossed and turned until I got completely frustrated and decided to get up rather than keep my husband awake. I can function reasonably well on very little sleep but he gets cranky(er) without enough shut-eye. I find it best to just get up and let him rest unless I am feeling really bitchy and want to share the misery by keeping him up too. If mama don’t sleep, nobody sleeps.
I have Billy Joel’s Piano Man stuck in my head this morning but the words are different…it’s five o’clock on a Sunday, I’m tired but I cannot sleep, my mind is working overtime and I just can’t count no more sheep.
My cousin and business partner Trixie (the pornstar manicurist) is on vacation. She won’t be back until Friday and she’s already been gone for two weeks…bitch. As if it isn’t enough that I am getting slammed at work looking after her clients as well as my own (the money is great but I am exhausted and I think I have fucked up my rotator cuff) she also gets three solid weeks of fun in the sun, shopping American style and basking by the pool…not to mention Vegas and Disneyland!! I’m a little bitter. There will be no vacay for the ben clan. My husband’s job has now been cut back to work one week and no worky the next week cutting his income in half. We’ll be lucky to make the mortgage payment. Ok, I’m a lot bitter.
Since this was an off week, His Highness picked up some work at a hotel doing some maintenance and spring cleaning under the table. He wasn’t actually cleaning under tables, he was just being paid under the table, though not literally, at least I don’t think so but I can ask to be sure. It was a tough week for him physically but I think there was a part of him that actually enjoyed it. He could see what he accomplished at the end of the day, you don’t get that kind of satisfaction when you work a production job, it’s the same shit over and over and every day is more of the same. He still has not decided what he wants to be when he grows up so we are still in limbo…how low can you go? I’m getting tired of the stress of the unknown so I’ve been harping on him to get his shit together and figure out what he wants to do so I can chill the fuck out about it. I am sure that is a big part of my insomnia but I cannot make this decision for him…as opposed to all of the other decisions I can and do make for him.
The second that Trix and family skipped town we stole their Wii. It is currently hooked up in our bedroom and we’ve been Mario Party(ing) like Guitar(ded) Heroes every night. We’re total losers without lives I know but we do have fun in the sack! Though we are careful to clarify when we mention to other people that we’ve been Wii’ing in bed.
Despite the fact that I worked my arse off this week and was completely and utterly bagged, when the Pathfinder leader called and asked for my assistance I was unable to say no. Pathfinders are the 13-15 year old Girl Guides. I was a Spark (5-6 year old) leader (they call me “Sparkle”) for five years and I strongly believe in what this organization does for girls and young women…especially troubled ones…so when they ask me to help out with something I usually oblige. Last night the small group of girls had a sleepover/pajama party. A hairdresser went in to show them how to take care of their locks, another woman taught them how to properly apply make-up…and not look like they are working the streets…and my duty was to teach them about nail-care. I gave each of the girls a nail brush and we all washed our hands (that way I knew theirs were clean!) then I gave them each an orange wood stick and taught them to properly tend to their cuticles. I took some olive oil and sea salt scrub and taught them about exfoliating and then I painted all of their nails and gave them each a mini lotion and told them that if they never use make-up or do their hair or even care at all about anything esthetically related that they should always moisturize. It is one of the things I wish current day ben could go back and tell young ben. I’d also like to tell her a few things about boys but apparently she learned those lesson eventually on her own anyway. She just did it the hard way.
It’s been beautiful here this weekend. It got up to 17C yesterday and it should hit close to that today too. This is the warmest it’s been here since September and I could not wait to start gardening. The snow is finally melting, it is still about a foot deep over most of the yard but it’s going and hopefully there won’t be any more for a while. I am quite sure it makes for a funny picture when I am outside in my flip flops and short pants digging through the snow to get to the flower bed, if it doesn’t melt over the rest of the yard soon I may have to get out my hairdryer (or a tiger torch) and help spring along.
Captain Crabby Pants is awake and already whining that he’ll need a nap this afternoon. Nap or no nap I’ll be taking drugs tonight, getting up before the sun is for the birds.
04.08.08
reefer madness
My son is renting a room from one of my mom’s cousins (my second cousin) in Vancouver. I have referred to her as Puff the Magic Cousin as she has a weakness for the wacky weed. None of us have any problem with her bogarting the buzz, it’s her life and they are her brain cells to blow…er…suck?! I always get a giggle over people who insist that smoking the herb does not make them dumber. They swear on a stack of rolling papers that they are just as aware and intelligent as ever and often claim the grass actually makes them more astute. I am sure there are some occasional users who manage to function just fine and even retain a good portion of BC’s (brain cells) and I know one particularly high strung woman who could not function (or sleep) without it. She partakes of pot so she can slow down. She is more than a litte ADHD and apparently the mary jane works better for her than ritalin. Still I know a dope smoker laugh from a mile away “uh huh huhu huh” and the chronics I have encountered have to share their BC’s because unlike their j’s there aren’t enough to go around.
Puff is a high powered realtor. She likes to doobie it up in the evening to help her relax. To her it is no different than a glass of wine might be for someone else. Again, I have no problem with her usage but she swears it doesn’t effect her mind. I beg to differ.
Whenever Puff does or says something funny my boy can’t wait to get on MSN and share the tale with me. One day he told me that she always smokes cigarettes outside but she prefers to bogart her joints in the house. I asked my son if she offers to share or if he takes big breaths as he walks through the room. He rolls his eyes at me and says “No, if that’s what pot does to people, I’ll pass.” Good boy. He also tells me that she often gets words mixed up, for instance my kid has heard her use the word ‘infostructure’ many times. I guess that would be the information regarding the structure? I am not saying that I am certain that it is the spliffs that makes her loopy, Puff is not blonde, she is in the top ten percent of lower mainland realtors, she makes millions of dollars each year she can’t be doing that well and be entirely dim…can she?
Several weeks ago Puff’s boyfriend went on a motorcycle trip down to California and one of the fellows who was fairly new to motor sports went along was having continuous problems. Puff was telling my son the story and she said, “You really need to be experienced to do the Baja, that is not the kind of trip you should take if you’re a novelist.”
The Boy did a double take…did she really say novelist?
She did.
He could not wait to get online to tell me, adding that “next time you go biking, make sure you leave your grammar at the door… no novelists allowed.”
04.05.08
puppy love
Some couples like to play ‘Doctor’, today my husband and I played ‘Vet’. No, that is not some bestial type game and it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain puppy prone sex position.
We have an almost eight year old Border Collie/Lab cross. Her name is Mika and she is by far the happiest, sweetest canine ever…her stench notwithstanding of course…and she does like to stand at the side of the bed to watch us have sex, which gives me the giggles and totally ruins the mood so my husband has to put her outside or he knows he’s not going to get anywhere. She is my early warning system when someone enters the yard, she is my (mostly) fearless protector (unless of course I am being attacked by a cat as she has been hissed and swiped at enough times that she knows to maintain a safe distance from felines), she is my bedwarmer when Heiny is working, she is my constant companion and there is nobody else I would rather walk with. Don’t tell my husband I said that. I simply prefer to walk with the bitch because she always keeps my pace and she lets me listen to mipod and doesn’t make idle chatter. I also appreciate the fact that if we do meet up with anything menacing…in this area that means bears, cougars, coyotes or squirrels…she will not only let me know they are near but she will also at least attempt to chase them away. My husband would surely push me to the ground so that he could get a head start in the opposite direction. I am sure he’d make me his escape sacrifice. It would be easy enough to explain to the authorities that I tried to run but I tripped and fell and by the time he realized I was no longer with him it was too late to save me, I was already critter vittles. Apparently I have my entire demise figured out. If I do happen to become bear chow I hope that someone checks into whether or not my husband purchased a new life insurance policy on me recently.
Mika knows how to tell time. She used to wait at the end of the driveway every day at 4:30 every day when my boy was in school because she knew that was when the bus would be rounding the corner. When I worked at the music store she would ask to be let out at 6:20 because she knew I’d be coming home soon. On days when I was late or my son didn’t get off the bus she would hang her head and mope. It’s kind of nice to be loved like that. My husband never wags his tail or jumps around excitedly when I get home at the end of the day. By the same token he also doesn’t lick his privates and try to kiss me either…though I am pretty sure if he had that option he’d take it.
I have been walking almost every day for a few months now…and can finally do so without the parka!…but I have this thing about walking, I hate to walk back. That was why I loved my treadmill, when I was had had enough I could just get off it. I will happily stroll in one direction forever but I detest having to turn around and go back the way I have already been. Maybe it has something to do with seeing the same dull scenery again, maybe the return route feels longer, maybe I’m just lazy. My solution to this is to walk as far as I can in one direction and get a ride home. Now I know that sounds like a waste of fuel and a pain in the ass for my limo driver but I have found a way to do it without being either. When my husband is on day shift he finished work at 4:30 and it takes him about 30 minutes to get home. If I head to meet him just as he finishes it gives me a solid half hour jaunt before he meets me and picks me up. Quite often when I have extra time and energy I leave early and get an extra 10 or 20 minutes. Usually by the time we meet up I have walked enough and am ready for the lift back.
Mika has figured out that 4:30 is walk time. As soon as the phone rings she goes apeshit bouncing around like a 60 lb spider monkey on Red Bull and crack. If for any reason my husband is late in calling she finds me and starts nudging me, dancing around, telling me it’s time to go. Yesterday was no exception but when she jumped up on me in excitement, nearly knocking me on my ass, she left a spot of blood on my hoody. My stomach turned, not out of squeamishness but out of fear that there was something seriously wrong with her.
I told her to sit and shake and she handed me the paw, it was all bloody and the dew claw was obviously missing. Gross. She was too excited to sit still, she was more interested in walking than being checked out so I figured it likely wouldn’t get worse in half an hour so away we went.
By the time we got home I could tell it was bothering her but she wasn’t limping or whining…she just wanted to lick it. Great, now my dog has a taste for blood.
I Googled “torn dew claw” to see if it was the kind of thing that needed veterinary assistance but according to the great and powerful Wiki, it just needed to be cleaned and wrapped so it won’t get infected.
I set up an ‘operating table’ on the bathroom counter and gathered all of the necessary supplies…peroxide, gauze, polysporin and band-aids. When everything was in place I called her. She just ignored me which is dog speak for ‘Fuck off, I do not want a bath.” I walked over to her and said “Come on!” She looked away pretending not to hear me. Finally I put her collar on her, and she came more than a little unwillingly into the bathroom. I lifted her (no wonder my back hurts today) up onto the counter and had her lay down. We cleaned her paw and thankfully the peroxide did not turn her blonde (I was concerned), put some antibiotic ointment on the gauze and wrapped her leg using the bandaids to secure it. It looked much like the wrapping of racehorse legs…or a mini legwarmer.
Mika sniffed at the bandage a few times and I hissed at her when she started licking at it and she finally left it alone. She spent the rest of the evening reclined on our bed between us as we watched TV raising her wounded wing into the air every time we paid her any attention and rolling onto her back to let us know that a belly rub would make her feel better. We obliged. Hell, there is nothing I love more than a good tummy scratch when I hurt myself too.
This morning we removed her bandages and she seems just fine, we may have missed our calling as vets but that still doesn’t mean we’ll let her watch us play ‘doctor’.
04.02.08
homeland insecurity
There are a few reasons why I have decided to leave the other site and move here, the main one being that it has really never felt like home to me and even though I know this means I will lose touch with a lot of people from there I just feel it’s time to move on and those who really give a shit will find me here and those who don’t…well, it’s one way of finding out who your friends are I guess. Wow, run-on sentence much?! I also really like the features here, there are alerts for posts and comments and it’s faster, easier and far more stable. It might take me a bit to get the hang of it all but even if I don’t it is still completely operable for the computerly challenged.
Another reason for leaving is that I feel like my blogging has gotten stale and I need a fresh start to shake off the stagnation and find my voice again. Life has been handing us some pretty shitty blows lately and I haven’t been able to clear the mess from my head long enough or effectively enough to do anything constructive. I want to write but every time I set out to do so I find myself frustrated and feeling like it’s all been said before and rather than coming off as redundant I pull up Facebook and have a few games of Scramble to distract myself instead….oooh shiny words! While my vocabulary has improved it has not kept the demons out of my cranium. I need to purge, to spit them out, I have to get rid of them, or at least put them on paper (screen?!) because turning on the lights and exposing the little bastards usually makes the monsters a little less intimidating.
We are apt to be making some big changes in our lives very soon and I am not at all happy with them. My husband’s job is all fucked up and they are now saying that there will be no work for them for two weeks a month. We were barely making ends meet with full paychecks, there is no way we can survive on half that. Decisions have to be made, likely a move is in our future which means selling the house (and home) that we built ourselves and starting over somewhere else.
I was born and grew up in this town and despite the fact that I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out when I turned 18 I also couldn’t wait to get back here after living in the city for a year. It was here that I met my husband and had my son. We moved when our boy was two but by the time he started school and the stress of living (and worrying) in the city got to me I begged to move back here so that he could have the kind of formative years that I had (minus the insane mother of course). I always felt good about and still stand by that decision, I think kids in small towns are able to (usually) stay kids a little longer and there are more eyes on them despite the smaller population. If my kid ever got into shit he knew that I’d know about it before he even got home. By the same token I was secure in the knowledge that this was a safer place for him too but if he ever got into trouble there were plenty of people here he could turn to for help. Three times I have left here and three times I have moved back. It is home for me and as Dorothy so wisely put it “There is no place like home.”
I love it here, the weather is not bad by Canadian standards, it gets cold but not usually the bitter frostbiting cold, it gets hot in the summer but never so hot you can’t breathe, we don’t get any wind in this part of the mountains and it’s peaceful and private. I love my work and I am finally building a reputation and a clientele that would take me years to acquire elsewhere. We love our house and I have worked my ass off in the yard and gardens and while they are not quite lush and lovely yet I would like to see them become at least pretty and productive…even that is a far cry from the rock and clay I started with. I fully expected to live in this house for the rest of my life, I even imagined my grandchildren (eventually I hope!) coming to spend time with us here. It devastates me that we might have to let it go and we will never get out of it all that we have put into it financially or emotionally. The worst part of leaving for me however is the prospect of losing my real happy place, the lake. We will always be able to keep our spot but we will never get as much time there no matter where we move to and what kind of time off we get together. From home it is a forty minute drive, from anywhere else we’re looking at a minimum of four hours. From here it is feasible to go out for the day or a short overnight but those trips will be gone if we live anywhere else. I have spent the entire winter in anticipation of getting out there and starting on our cabin (so that we can camp year-round) and now it’s all fucked up and not only will we not be able to afford the cabin but we also may not get out there much at all. It’s beyond depressing for me.
My husband has to make some decisions. I will not force his hand even though I loathe the prospect of moving…not to mention packing all of our shit! He is forty years old and it’s hard for him to start over too and I know that but since he makes the bigger money ultimately it is up to him where and how he does so. I could gently (or not) nudge him in one direction or another but I would never make him go somewhere or do something that would make him unhappy even if it means sucking up my own sadness to do so. I understand why he holds onto hope that things will turn around at the mill, he knows that job so well, he makes good money (when he’s working), he gets four weeks of vacation in the summer and the benefits are fantastic. I realize that it’s hard to walk away from that if there is a chance it will pick up again but we can’t live on hope. It’s time to shit or get off the pot and the sooner he tells me where we’re going the sooner I can figure out how to deal with it. I just keep telling myself that no matter which route we take at least I will finally have high speed internet. It’s small consolation but consolation nonetheless.
I hate to be a whiner and I know our situation is not life or death and I realize that there are plenty of people who have it much worse than I do and I have perspective on that but at the same time this is my life, my world and these are my fears and frustrations. I get that things could be much worse and yes, at least we have our health but it’s hard to be grateful when it feels like the life I love is crumbling in and I am about to suffocate in the rubble and anxiety of it all.
Maybe changing blog sites will be good for me in that it’s a move of its own sort as well. Maybe starting over online will prepare me for starting over offline. Maybe not. That was me trying to be optimistic and failing with flying colours.
