Miss Unruffled

Darkness falls…

2011-12-16T17:48:00.001-08:00

It’s one of those Twilight Zone afternoons. The fog is thick enough, beyond the trees, to make me question the existence of a world beyond. (Am I removed from space and time, trapped in a finite universe, away from all that once was?) Quiet and eerie, the air casts a violet haze over all I see. Even the Christmas lights seem out of place, their cheer failing to reach beyond the gloom.

Darkness comes early these days; quick enough that you can watch it fall if you’re patient. I can’t watch, though. I’m uncomfortable with this moment. All I can do is glance up now and again, sometimes to be pulled into the heaviness.

On nights like this, dusk has a soul and it isn’t peaceful. Eerie gives way to sinister as dusk approaches. It comes, creeping, slithering down our streets and onto lawns, searching for… what, I do not know. Shade with no sunlight, it travels on the wheels of fear and desolation.

The heaviness thickens, coagulating into a sickening sense of terror and despair – the screaming wail that waits just below the breastbone for one more second.

Then, as dusk deepens past twilight, the air loses its menace. The street light pours out an amber glow over the neighbourhood and - just like that – it’s simply night time.

Change... but not too quickly

2010-11-23T02:06:00.000-08:00

Our kitchen has an island, which in many homes equates extra counter space. It's an area which some families might use for meal preparation, baking - for whatever normal people use an extra expanse of counter. In our home, the island is where our junk congregates. Mail and newspapers, wrappers, receipts and various bits of paper gather to bask in the glory of our many, hydro-sucking pot lights. Last week, I decided to tackle the piles of debris in a long overdue attempt at creating order-without (y'know, because they say that's the first step to order-within).

The standard tidy-up routine consists of sorting each piece of crap into new piles according to owner. Wolf's, Kitten's, Mom's, the landlord's and garbage. I took my crap and Wolf's crap to our room and put Kitten's crap outside her bedroom door (where it would stay for several more days) and had in my hand a bunch of crap for the garbage. As I made my way back across the living room, I became hyper aware of one item in my hand. It was a piece of Pale green paper, folded many times so it resembled a flattened tube. I'm a chronic checker (let me just make sure I have my keys... for the third time) which means I cannot throw anything out without first reading it. What if it's important? I unfolded the paper - a 4" square sheet of origami paper, coloured only on one side - and held in my hands one of the sweetest and slightly-less-innocent-than-I-would-have-liked love note. It was signed, in cursive, by the young man who enlivened our home for two and a half days, three weeks ago.

I took a few days to panic and obsess about it before I told Kitten we had to chat. I told her that I'd used variations of a particular parental quip on many occasions but that I had to amend it. In the past, I've said, "You know you can talk to me about anything?" and "I want you to talk to me about whatever!" This time, I said, "Communication is imperative. I need you to talk to me and you need me to talk to you. Because the only other option is for me to assume." I don't like being blindsided. It tends to tweak my anxiety and I get a bit crazy. The chat ended up being more of a mom-ologue (which I tend to be completely blind to, in the moment).

When Wolf arrived home, I brought the whole thing to him. Typical man, he said, "So, what did she tell you?" Allow me to take this moment to look sheepish.

He called Kitten. She arrived with her typical, "Yes, Daddy?" and the conversation truly began.

Wolf: Mom showed me the note.

Kitten: (deer-in-headlights-I'm-trying-to-look-innocent look)

Wolf: Is [he] your boyfriend?

Kitten: Yes.

Me: What does that mean?

Kitten: (deer-in-headlights-what-the-hell-are-you-asking-me look)

Wolf: Since when?

Kitten: Since I was eight.

Wolf: Have you kissed him?

Kitten: No.

Wolf: Have you kissed any boys?

Kitten: Only you, Dad.

Me: So what does boyfriend/girlfriend mean to you?

Kitten: We hold hands.

Me: (relief)

Wolf: Good.

It was a decent conversation. She's at the tail end of twelve and while there's a huge, screaming part of me that insists she's too young to be using the word boyfriend, I also know that there's nothing I can do about it. She was born into a family which boasts stubborn strength of conviction, for good or for ill. She will do what she will do out from under our watchful eyes*.

I spent a few more days lamenting the death of my 'baby girl' ("If drama was money, I'd be a millionaire" - Kitten) and then it snowed.

Due to recent extremely dire financial straits and a kid who doesn't complain, Kitten needed footwear. She's worn her runners folded at the heel almost since the day she got them. As a result, pinchy-toes have never been an issue. Snow is and there was no way I was letting her play in the snow with her heels hanging out of the backs of her shoes. So, Kitten got her first pair of grown up winter boots. She loved them so much she put them on at the till.

We had one more stop before heading home and I parked in a snow drift. Kitten leaped out of the truck as soon as Wolf had cleared the door. Off she tromped through the parking lot bent on trying out her new boots.

I watched her, independent and self assured, with my heart heavy. And then... I smiled. There was my daughter, a breath away from thirteen, climbing the biggest pile of snow in the lot. She thew her hands into the air and crowed her success at the mountain's summit. And she's still my Kitten.

*which means she must stay under our watchful eyes until we're confident in her strength of character!

Day Twelve - Timing

2010-11-12T23:29:00.000-08:00

I sit down to write, nightly, but I keep leaving it 'til later each time. As a result, I'm sore and edgy (not in that hip, desirable way) and ready for bed. I certainly don't want to use what little energy I have left trying to create witty quips.

So... tomorrow I will write earlier.

Day Eleven - In Remembrance.

2010-11-11T21:58:00.000-08:00

I'm taking the evening to process and be thankful. Remembering is important. Feeling is hard.

Day Ten - A Movie.

2010-11-10T21:44:00.000-08:00

Seeing as I'm not taking more than a symbolic part in NaBloPoMo, I can do this:

Have you seen Untamed Heart? Do so.

Day Nine - Kitten.

2010-11-09T21:59:00.000-08:00

Wolf was so proud... He's Metis. '08

Kitty torture 101 '08

Fire and water. '08

Sweet as cinnamon. '08

Kitty torture 102 '08

Sometime a Klingon invasion is just what we need.

Her secret weapon? Smiles... '08

or pouts. '08


Sometimes both! '10


She's begun to morph... which happens to be the first word she ever read	- Metamorphosis. '10

And she's slowly dancing away from me, into her own life... '10

Day Eight - Dragging...

2010-11-08T19:34:00.000-08:00

Sadness is pulling me under. I've been fighting it, giving it all I have for a couple of months. Today, it's almost too much.

Stress, right? We all have it. We all soldier through life's ups and downs. Sometimes, though, there just doesn't seem to be quite enough up to balance out the down.

So, I'm going to keep this short. Misery may love company but I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

Have a peaceful night.

Day Seven - It's the little things...

2010-11-07T16:24:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have those days when nothing feels right? Everything is just a hair... off. Physically, I'm feeling a touch under the weather. I'm emotionally 'blah.' I'm not tired enough to sleep, but I'm not interested in folding laundry or mopping the floor.

Whenever I cloud over like this, the universe offers me a little morsel, something that carries with it the possibility of a smile, a faded ray of sunshine. Today, I was reminded of this:

It displays a new 'slogan' with each page view. I was introduced to The Sloganizer several years ago when my blogging habits were more regular and far more whiny. I still have the blog, but it prefers to be called a journal... a livejournal. I was checking my friend page - I still have a friend who writes, once in a while - and something moved me to look at my profile. There it was... "WolfSong is better than chocolate."

Sloganizer therapy. I recommend it for anyone. ;)

Day Six - The stuff we carry never gets lighter...

2010-11-06T20:46:00.000-07:00


Dirty mirrors and work clothes.

By 2002, Kitten was four and I found myself in the midst of a re-kindling. After two years of only telephone and email contact, Wolf and I had a face-to-face visit. It lasted ten days, out here on the Island, and resulted in Kitten and my relocation to Ontario to create our new family. Why Ontario? Well, Wolf was the sole proprietor of a thriving company which wouldn't have taken well to uprooting.

... yes, this does have something to do with hair and my issues therewith...

My bleach phase was on hiatus and I hadn't done anything more than remove the remaining white tips from my hair. Ontario weather is brilliant! I grew up in arid Alberta and, therefore, didn't know my hair was curly. The constant Hamilton humidity meant twelve hours of air-drying time after I washed my hair. I finally had a wash-n-go 'do!

So, the very air was my friend, and my hair was growing ridiculously fast. My life was fresh and new. I was ready to start playing again. There was only one problem. Wolf was the sole proprietor of a thriving company in Hamilton, Ontario - I was 'Dharma' to Wolf's 'Greg,' but with less self worth and more guilt and a martyr complex that beat all. I was bound to the rules of upper-middle class society. No visible piercings. No funky colours. Buy yourself a nice dress...

And then, two years had passed. My hair was mid-back length and shapeless. Wolf was afraid to let me cut it, so I let myself get talked in to a 'complimentary birthday haircut' by our stylist friend. Oops. I asked for long layers, she layered it. I walked out with diamond head. You know, where the fullest part of the hair is at the jaw line and it tapers both up and down from there? Well, I stuck with that cut for about two weeks (see a pattern here?) before I grabbed the scissors. Wolf said he'd feel better if he cut it, as he could see the back of my head. So, he cut it. That one didn't even last 48 hours before I fixed it.

Two years later I cut off several inches in an attempt to clear up my split ends. I swore I'd start trimming in every couple of months, but it was already too late. The obsession was growing without my realizing. While I was busy being resentful, I neglected to see the strengthening correlation between my okay-ness and my hair. And my hair got longer. Two more years later and I had six inches removed. It was back to an inch above my bra strap. And my hair got longer...

I'm standing at the crossroads, nine years from my last play-with-my-hair day. My locks are long enough that they get caught under my leg when I get into the truck. They are badly damaged from years of sweater collars and it takes me almost an hour to get shampoo and conditioner through and then rinsed out of them. It's like having a baby. Everything has become difficult: sleeping, showering, cleaning, working... it's always in the way. Even if I put it up... It takes way too much energy, and it isn't energy I want to spend.

Are you asking how it got to this point? Why I didn't cut it sooner, if it was bugging me so much? Because it's long. It's really, really long. In a world where long hair is defined as 'below the shoulders,' it has become more than novelty. It's a defining characteristic. A part of me points out how pathetic that is. I'm a great person. I'm kind and likable. None of those things is effected by the length of my hair. My value or 'specialness' isn't decreased because I don't have long, unhealthy, resented hair.

Besides, it's not like it won't grow back...

Day Five - Carry-on Luggage

2010-11-05T19:00:00.000-07:00

Braided.

Baggage. I think it's safe to say that we all have it, in one way or another. I like trying to 'checking' it, banishing it to the cavernous depths of my metaphorical plane, hoping that the airline will lose it. Sometimes I shove it into the overhead compartment, out of sight but still looming over me. And no matter how hard I work on 'dealing' with it, the Universe is always more than willing to remind me that it's still here, tethered and weighing me down. Anchoring me in garbage.

The interesting thing is, all of my bags match. They don't all hold the same thing - that would be silly - but each holds something undeniably related and tied in to the others. It doesn't matter what the issue-of-the-day may be, somehow it will trigger 98.669% of all the other crap in my head.

Since 2002.

I have letting go issues and a self-worth disability, anxiety disorder and a sprinkle of debilitating depression. And they're all tied together feeding on and being fed off of each other. I was under the impression that the passage of time would lead to maturity, which would bring wisdom and, eventually, peace. You know what the passage of time leads to? More birthdays, which leads to older-than-ever-ness and, inevitability, wrinkles. Not overly comforting.

I used to have a hair fixation when I was younger. I bleached and dyed and refused to trim because I needed every battered inch that I could get. And I couldn't leave the house without styling it. You know how some women can fix a bad hair day with an elastic and a ball cap? I wasn't one of those. If my hair was shite, I was shite.

When Kitten was born, my hair was three or four inches past my shoulders. Life with a new baby doesn't leave a whole lot of time to play with one's hair, so for the first year of Kitten's life, my hair lived in a pony tail and grew. Close to her first birthday, I was sitting in the kitchen of the house I shared with my mom. My sister was visiting and she was playing with my long, straw-like - in both colour and texture - pony tail. I love having my hair played with so I removed the elastic and revelled in the attention. Eventually, though, her intention cut through my pleasure. She was cringing. I couldn't see her, but it was strong enough to be felt, none the less. This set me to thinking about how gross my hair looked, truly. With the remnants of a bad blond job* taking up about half the length of my hair, I knew cutting it was the only remedy. I had tried dying darker - twice at home and once in a salon - only to have the colour wash out. Apparently my hair was too porous. Something to do with the size of the dye molecules.... "Hurry up, before I change my mind." I was that unspecific and my sister was running for scissors.

She cut my hair to my shoulders which is my least favourite style in the world.* A few weeks later, while visiting family in Calgary, I had it cut Sarah McLachlan c.1998. Having curly hair made this a very disappointing style and a few weeks after returning from our visit, I enlisted a friend and we took the clippers to my head. I loved it and kept it that was for several months. Right up until I noticed the side effects. I didn't mind the flirty smiles from the ladies, but the threatening smiles from some of the men made me a little nervous. And I hated when senior citizens thought I was something to fear.

The great thing about those months was that my fixation was broken. My hair became something that I could play with. I bleached, properly this time, and spent a while 'looking like sunshine,' according to Kitten. I was reinventing myself and I loved it.

...to be continued...

*(note the natural colour of my hair... I used a box of blond dye, twice, two weeks apart, in order to get a lovely orange colour)

*as it was the style my mother had throughout my childhood. Show me a kid who grew up in a dysfunctional family who want to look like her mother and I'll.... I don't know.

Day Four - Long weekend...

2010-11-04T22:23:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I'm getting the day off. Not my usual day off - running Kitten to classes; knitting or reading in the truck or on the job-site all day. No, I get a real, at home with Kitten, doing whatever we feel like (while catching up on reporting), morning to evening, all day kind of day off! I'm a bit excited!

On a completely unrelated but equally exciting note, I've decided to hack off my hair! Currently, I only have one pic that sort of shows the length. Tomorrow, I'll upload my camera. It still hold my 'good-bye, hair' pictures.

I'm running on half brain, right now. I was doing really well until I junked out on leftover pre-Halloween candy (the stuff Wolf and I bought for ourselves the day before the ghouls came out - it's only fair). I felt great for quite a while, but the crash has hit like a ton-a and I have to put my head down... or eat more!

Until then, then.

Day Three - L is for the way you make me laugh...

2010-11-03T21:37:00.000-07:00

wolf: What's wrong

me: Headache. And I think I need some dental work.

wolf: Here, take this.

me: Shouldn't I take it with food or something?

wolf: Oh, you should be fine... I can't guarantee anything, I mean, it is an opiate. You may hallucinate there's a gorgeous, naked man in your bedroom.

And this is one of the many reasons why I love him so very much. Of course, he's currently pacing around in a bit of a huff because I'm blogging instead of enjoying my naked man hallucinations. This is not one of the reasons I love him, but is more than tolerable in view of all the wonder, joy and humour he brings into my world.

Sleeping where I sit...

Extra...

2010-11-02T23:45:00.000-07:00

Never write emails to people you don't know really well - or at all, for that matter - when you're too tired to keep a thought cohesive all the way from your brain to your fingers...

Trust me.

Day Two - Gifts

2010-11-02T22:22:00.000-07:00

There are times when what we've given to life gets reflected back at us. Sometimes it comes as a realization, while watching a stranger's behaviour. Sometimes it hits closer to home. My experience of motherhood has given me many of these moments. Sometimes it sucks, like when I heard my Kitten chastising her dolly using my voice and words. Or when I hear her say things like, "I can't..." That's one of my personal favourites. Thankfully, I only hear that one about twice a year. The great thing is, unless we've been icy or ogreish from day one, now and again we also get to see a reflection of our good sides.

This evening, while I was dishing up my dinner (Kitten and Nana had already eaten and Wolf was eating in the solace of our room), Kitten regaled me with tales from the book she just finished... for the third time. After a few minutes, she opened up the first page - a warning page - and read it aloud. Then, she flipped to the author's note and read out his words. When she was done, she smiled and said, "Y'know Mom, I really think you'd like this book and I think it would be cool if I read it to you, y'know, when we're in the truck and stuff. I mean, you've spent so much time reading out loud to me."

So, with thankfulness and joy, this evening I began listening to a dynamic narration of Rick Riordan's The Red Pyramid. It's a brilliant story that doesn't need to be read aloud by a loved one... but if you happen to have one handy, I'd recommend you both (all) give it a try.

Bliss...

Day One

2010-11-01T17:11:00.000-07:00

A thought occurred to me, just after posting my last entry. I really enjoyed the last NaBloPoMo in which I participated. I loved the commitment of sitting down in stillness, at least once per day, to focus on writing something - anything. So, I decided to commit myself to a little piece of sanity, whether I'm an official part of the annual event or not.

I'm not, for the record. The universe took me to task for overusing one particular excuse and I found my quiet, only-child household 'enlivened' by a very high energy, thirteen-year-old, oldest-brother-of-four! I was gifted with the opportunity to learn what "chaotic" truly meant!

I have to get Kitten to dance class and just might have a moment, once we return, to add a bit more detail to this too-brief illustration.

Facing the future with... something,

Beth

It's coming...

2010-10-26T20:07:00.000-07:00

Once again, October is almost over which means NaBloPoMo is on my mind. The thing is, I'm not feeling really secure in my world right now and I don't know if I should unleash that on whoever still stops in here.

So, iffen yer feeling so inclined, drop me a comment of encouragement and I'll add my name to the ring.

Whew.

2010-03-22T19:25:00.000-07:00

When life is a bit calmer I'll write. I'm sure I've said that before. The thing is, I avoid writing when things are messed up because I refused to let this become a whine blog, like my last one, filled to the top with negativity, depression and drama. The thing is, the farther I get from my last post, the more I find myself thinking about how funny the story has been - drama included - and wish I had kept up a running commentary of the whole thing!

Examples?

My last entry found me packing a three bedroom house. Not too big a deal aside from the sheer volume of crap that a family can accumulate over the course of a few years. The challenge was that we were moving into a very small space for a few months. We needed to decide what we could live without for a while and what was truly necessary for survival. Hahaha. That was(n't) so funny.
The small space we were moving into was a 28' trailer (with a pop-out) situated in our neighbours driveway and across the street from where I was packing.
The trailer was not a winter unit which meant we were wiping condensation off the windows and walls everyday in order to control a potential mildew problem.
In the time we were in the trailer, Wolf and I got the dreaded H1N1 and lived to tell about it. Kitten remained perfectly healthy during this time and revelled in her role as caregiver.
We ended up in that trailer from October 31st until sometime in the first week of March; I can't precisely remember because February 14th marked the first day of The Great ClusterF**k, and I've been a little crazier ever since.

The Great ClusterF**k deserves a bullet of its own. (Maybe even an indent, but I don't have that option with blogger and I don't remember any HTML.) It all started with an innocent phone call... (cue flashback) Things were getting lean in the work department. We were driving toward the exit of our local grocery store parking lot when Wolf hollered at me to "follow that gold car!" I did. Thankfully, the driver of the gold car wasn't going far. He pulled into a space one lot over at which point Wolf leapt from the truck to say 'Hi.' The point to this minor stalking was to get a phone number from the driver of the gold car. Apparently, Wolf used to work with gold-car-driver's son and had begun a deal (years ago) to change the roof-ling on the guy's house. In under a week, we were in business together. The plan: He's leasing a house in town and has been renting out his house which is on the lake. We'll move into his house for reduced rent while we work with him and while we renovate his house. His house has a hot tub, a pool and a generator which will run the whole house, water features included, in the event of power outage!
New plan: His house was trashed by the previous renters. We'll move into the place he's leasing in town. It's in "The Properties." (Yes, that is as pretentious as it sounds). The rent will be higher but we'll still work with him and help him renovate his house.
New plan: We'll move into his trailer and stay on the property. He'll stay in his house and break the lease on the house in town. It'll be cheaper for all concerned which'll put more money into the business. Don't worry, the trailer's way bigger than the one we were in; it's 38'!!

It was about that point where I snapped.

Okay. New plan: We'll take over the lease in town, he'll live in his house.... I stopped listening. I decided that there was nothing beyond This Moment. I planned nothing. I answered no questions. I ventured no opinions. I had no thoughts of my own, beyond my own actions. When Wolf asked, "So, what do you think?" I said, "Just tell me what's happening and I'll do it." It was both ugly and cathartic.

Funny, hey?

At some point I'll tell you about the house and where this adventure has taken us, so far, but now I have to sleep. I have to work in the morning and get Kitten to Cartooning class and Marimba. Thanks be for other homeschooling families and the possibility of impromptu, week-night sleepovers!
Amen!

Opportunities and possibilities.

2009-10-20T15:31:00.001-07:00

I've never enjoyed packing. Whichever form it takes, it always includes a tremendous amount of stress. What if I forget something that I desperately need?!! It's gotten to the point where I want to keep special suitcases packed all the time; the overnight bag, the weekender, camping must-haves. Sure, I'd have multiples of everything - contact solution and cases, shampoo and conditioner - but I'd also always have everything I needed.

Or, I could give myself the time I need to prepare.

I've been packing for the past two weeks, now. I should clarify that I started packing two weeks ago, packed for about 3 hours/day for two days, between hour long breaks playing facebook games. Not overly productive, really. Not even remotely enjoyable. It's my typical way of packing. Start early so I feel okay about myself, then leave everything else to three days before d-day. A flurry of stuffing random items into random boxes and labelling them as 'miscellaneous', and - poof - I'm a soggy pile of tears and anxiety with years of living with boxes that I won't open because I don't want to have to organize their contents! Magic!

Yesterday and today have been good packing days. Wolf enlisted help in getting the big pieces of furniture out to the truck and into the storage unit while I've packed and done laundry. We have two weeks before we have to be out of this place so there's not too much pressure. We're keeping all of our necessities packed separately so we can still use them before taking them to our temporary digs. And somehow, for the first time, I'm actually having fun... okay, fun isn't the right word, but when I take a break, I can see what's been done. It gives me the motivation to keep going. It's fun-ish.

Back to it...

Phew!

2009-10-19T22:13:00.000-07:00

One whole day without Bejeweled Blitz. My most recent addiction. But I did get more packing and laundry done. Now, I'm going to watch House (and maybe Heroes) then bedtime!

Clean sheets, de-cluttered space, clean shaven hubby and a tepid tea. What more does a girl need?

Obviously not a decent blog entry!

Have a good night.

Steps and Phases

2009-10-18T08:11:00.000-07:00

Looking back on my life, I see cycles - ever repeating, morphing with each turn. If I were to define it as a shape, it would resemble a spiral. I live from experience to follow through to lesson to experience - coloured by lesson - to follow through to new lesson.

It’s human nature, I think, to feel discontented with our lives. We want more money or less weight, more time or less work. We wish we hadn’t squandered our youth… Something is missing and we’re aware, on some subconscious level, of that void. This feeling heralds the beginning of my cycle, if cycles had beginnings, and the Dissatisfied Phase is born.

When I start feeling ungratified by my life, I hide in my addictions. If I have no addictions handy or convenient, I’ll create one. This avoidance encourages more unhappiness, which spawns yet more need to hide. Eventually, all of my ‘spare time’ is eaten and I’ve nothing to show for it. Then, all time becomes spare time.

Once the Avoidance Phase is well and truly established, it’s time to move on to the Recognition Phase. I’m really unhappy, tired and hungry. I have coffee for breakfast and snack on cigarettes all morning and afternoon. I eat once… at dinner… if something is made… not by me. I miss my family. I’ve fallen behind in all of my work. Denying and avoiding is no longer an option. So, I stop denying. I don't stop avoiding yet and I don't voice my realization. If I did, I'd have to do something about it. I can be stuck here, in self loathing, for another week or so. It's my own personal, self-created and nurtured hell.

I don't know where the breaking point is but when I hit it, I snap. The silence that has masked my emotional turmoil becomes charged with all of the energy I haven't spent. I can no longer exist within the confines of my dysfunction. Here I am again and I can't stand it any more!!!

I've come to my Action Phase. I speak. Words are power. A word, once spoken, cannot be taken back. A witness cannot un-hear. "I hate this. I'm wasting everything. I dream about change but that's not gonna make the change happen!"
Wolf's reply to this is in the form of a question. "What are you going to do about it?" (It's gently asked, not loaded with anger, resentment or judgment. Seven years is a lot of time to learn how your partner works. He's gotten very good at letting me get to where I'm going in my own time. God, I love that man!)

I once read a great quote: Be the change you want to see in the world. I've always thought the world was messed up. There is next to no community anymore. Heinous behaviour is to be ignored (not my place to do anything) or glorified (pick any hacker flick). My world is messed up, too. My world originates from within my own person. If I want to change the world, I have to start right here, with me. I know this, of course. I've learned it over and over, consciously since I was twenty-four years old.

A couple of years ago, I decided that the word 'should' wasn't going to be a part of my vocabulary. It was just a long four letter word. I replaced it with 'could.'
"I could be doing the dishes.
"I could be catching up on school reporting.
"I could have a shower, because it's been a week and I'm a slime-ball."

It was liberating. It made my active times feel good because I was choosing to be active. It made my lazy, avoidance times feel good because it was my choice.

Last year, when I went back to work, I lost the choice. I mean, I knew I could choose not to work, but that would leave my family homeless and starving. Had I made that choice, Wolf would have gone back to work and might not be here, today. I had a choice, I just didn't like the possible outcomes of taking the 'easy way out.'

Somehow, I've gotten mired again (*sigh*) in choosing not to engage in my life. I still believe that I needed to take 'should' out of my lexicon. It was imperative that I take responsibility for my own actions/inaction. I do think I kind of twisted the whole thing to suit my needs at the time, and now it's time to straighten out the kinks.

This is step one in my journey to recovery.

Reconnection.

Le sigh...

2009-06-05T09:07:00.000-07:00

I haven't written in a long time and I do so want to write. This is absolutely not the time to be doing so as I have to work in less than an hour but my brain is melting and my heart hurts so much. My world has opened up in front of me and there are so many possible avenues. I can see it clearly and it's just beyond my reach.

I have always been a jack of all trades and master of none. I like it that way. I get bored do easily and want to move on to the next thing to keep my brain from atrophying. This is generally not the best way to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads.

My heart lives in creativity. My soul needs to create.

With the departure of my favourite co-worker - the one who kept me looking forward to each week of work - I have new responsibilities. Creating purchase orders. Just one more thing outside of my comfort zone, in a department with too low an employee to customer ratio. One more thing there isn't enough time to get done. One more reason to feel like my job is killing me.

I spent my weekend, again, in the Big-City. My days off have become days of driving. With hubby medically unable to drive and working down island (oh yeah, he's working again... for the past couple of weeks) I have become chauffeur extraordinaire. I use my down time in drawing and thinking. This weekend, though, I was an interior designer... and I liked it. Picking colours and tiles and counter-tops and, and, and... It was fun. I was bouncy and bubbly.

And now I have to go back in to ten dollars an hour and ungrateful customers... and no favourite co-worker.

On news, theme songs and living two lives…

2009-05-06T12:02:00.000-07:00

Well hello there.

I never wanted this to become another defunct blog. Just thought I’d put that out there. I keep telling myself that I’ll write regularly when things settle down. The problem with that thought process is that things never really settle down. It’s all just various levels of busy.

Our latest busy-ness is in the form of another long term house guest. He arrived a week ago, yesterday, and so far it’s been relatively good. We have the consistent challenges - you know, the ones which present regardless of the visitor. Things like privacy, changes in routine, toilet seat tension and extra expenses. With this particular guest there are a few more things to think about.

This guest is a long standing friend of Wolf’s. This guest, who always had turbulent mood swings, has very recently been diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. This guest has spent a couple of weeks, twice, (from February to March of this year) in the hospital for suicide attempts. This guest flew out to the island about two weeks after his latest attempt.

….

….

I find myself stuck. There is no more to say about it besides my own stress about the whole thing. He is medicated. He is not yet level. Oh, and in August, his girlfriend will arrive, too. They met in the hospital.

On a lighter and more intriguing note, the members of my little family each have their own theme songs. Since she was about three years old, Kitten’s been singing The Imperial March while she plays. Wolf, who has recently rented all of the movies, fills our ears with the theme to Superman. Mine? Like, since I was a kid? Embarrassingly enough, my background music is the Mexican Hat Dance. Ole!

There. Now you know.

My work week. My weekend. I’ve often felt like I was two people. Nothing to be concerned about, mind you, just the me-that’s-at-my-best and the me-that's-falling-apart. Now, I have Work me. The cool thing is that work me tends to supersede falling apart me, more or less. I mean, I have I’m-really-sick-of-this-shit-but-will-keep-gritting-my-teeth-and-smiling Work me, but the point is the smile remains. Mostly.

Weekdays are for work. That’s all I have room for. Work and a little bit of family because my hours are so crappy. Weekends are for art, but art takes so much time. It takes time for me to settle into the zone, to see what my next step should be. I can still work when I’m low. I struggle with art, even the idea of art, when I’m low. I hate that I have to allot so much time to my work life when I find it almost completely unsatisfying and my paycheque sucks. I hate that I exchange eighty hours for $630. I hate that, without Wolf’s income (which is up in August), we would have about $136 left over after paying rent. Per month.

And I’m not overly keen on having become ‘just like everyone else.’

I’ve had a tough week. I’m ready for my big break. Hey Universe, are you listening?

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod....

2009-04-01T15:25:00.000-07:00

Things are happening. Things are happening faster than I thought they would. Since my last post, these things have happened - in list form!

~set up a website
~completed my next portrait
~completed the Bio and Contact pages on my website
~found an awesome place to get prints made
~have my first 'real' customer who wants a portrait done!!!

I'm excited and desperately wishing I could quit my job right now to do this full time... which would be jumping the gun, I think. I'm posting a link to my website in my sidebar. Ooh, of course you'll get to know me by my given name, rather than the one I chose. For the record, I prefer the one I chose.

Shout out.

2009-03-03T12:00:00.000-08:00

A month later, she stops by to say, "I'm alive. Wolf's alive and well (perspective). Life goes on."

I don't have time to fill this out to any detail, at all, but I figured I owed you a 'Hello,' if nothing else.

Much had happened and continues to happen and later (today?) I will begin to fill it out. Right now I have to go apply for a business licence and meet another down-and-out, post head-injury pal for coffee.

Until next time, be well good Internets.

The situation...

2009-02-06T21:01:00.000-08:00

This evening, at around 7:45, Wolf started seizing.
"Should I call an ambulance?"
I called 911 about ten minutes later. (There was a ten minute delay because if he doesn't respond with something other than 'No,' he'll fight anyone who tries to help him. He's a big boy. By 8:00, the ambulance had arrived. The arrival of three fire and rescue trucks, two squad cars and a half hour later, they finally earned his co-operation in getting onto the cot. They even managed to get him strapped in before he got antsy again.

Then, I lost it a little. Then I got it together and went into the spare room where Kitten was watching TV.

Now, I've managed to get some food into me and I've called his friend.

I can't seem to bring myself to call any of my supports, though. I'm feeling like I'm in limbo. I feel the fear begin to rise... then it just stops. It totally dissipates.

Is this what shock is? If not, what is it? It's very clear and calm. Which is odd. I don't know.

It's all big stuff...

2009-02-04T12:18:00.000-08:00

I've had a lot to think about, lately. The best way for me to break it down would be chronologically, I think.

First, as you may have been able to glean from my last post, I went out and got a touch blotto... for the first time in over a year. It took all of 4 drinks.

I had been invited to attend 'Girls' night out' by a couple of my co-workers and though I didn't want to go, I had already blown off several invites and thought it prudent to make an appearance, if nothing more. So, it was just us, the ladies. For the first time in over a year I was out, on my weekend, without Wolf. I had already decided I wasn't going to drink but my friend handed me her vodka/lime to sip and my thirst was on.

Back-story: I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome. For the last year and a half of my drinking years I would get the nastiest gut pains starting about a half hour from ingesting the first sip of whatever I was imbibing. I took this as a sign that it was time for me to back off a little. It took the 1.5 years to confirm my suspicions... and to let go of my favourite vice.

I think the first thing I noticed was that my gut didn't hurt. That was definitely a pleasant surprise which, obviously, precipitated another drink. By the end of the night, I still had no pain. I did, however, have the dawning of an ugly realization. I am a self-righteous bitch. But only when I'm not looking.

Wolf has always been a drinker. He never had a problem with it. As long as I was binging, I didn't mind either. But there came a time when alcohol became an issue for me and at the point that I could no longer deny that, it began hurting me. Well, with me no longer drinking I was better able to judge his drinking. How very convenient. This very judgement was fed and nurtured within me until last Monday. Eww.

Being who I am, I analyzed this to it's smallest detail and, once home, told Wolf all about it. I apologized for my self indulgent behaviour to which I was treated to the most relieved, sweet smile from my love. It really was amazing. The whole thing was amazing. I mean, I don't have the urge to spend my weekends plastered, thank God, and my feelings have changed regarding Wolf's occasional night with the boys. I know there will likely still be work to do to prevent me from slipping back into my old habit, but I'm up for that.

Next, Wolf had his neurologist appointment. The good doctor confirmed epilepsy, probably caused by Wolf's massive head injury. The back of his skull, travelling just below 60 km/h (about 37 m/h), met a curb. The doctor said that within two weeks Wolf would be called in for a cerebral angiogram. Hopefully the test will reveal the scar tissue on his brain and that the removal of said tissue is possible. They will also look at his aneurysm to see about taking care of that, too. Cleansing breath...

The 'third' thing that I'm working on is a new life. I have always been an 'artist.' I've know what I can do with a pencil, given the time and patience, and that I would love to make it a living. I know that my potential has not really showed in the bits and pieces of art that I have put on display. For the past week or so, I've been working on a portrait of one of my co-workers. Did I say that already? Well, If so, sorry about the repetition. My point is, I've shown the incomplete drawing to several people and each of them has asked what I will charge for my service. I've never had a clue. How does one put a price on something like this? What if the price is too much, or too little. How would I correct that, after the fact, for others without being totally unfair?!

Well, I was told, based on the info I had to date (it's taken me about 6-8 hours so far, I'm about half done...) that a picture this size, with this amount of detail, I could/should be charging about $450. It throws me and I think, "Really?" I'm timid about the whole thing, looking at the possibilities and daring to wonder - no, to dream that it might be possible. Wow. Really?

I guess I'm daring to dream... Now, I just need to finish the thing and get it 'out there.'

And, finally, my most recent lesson came today. I have linked my despair directly and irrefutably to anxiety. I awoke with a headache and immediately thought about this being the last day of my weekend. My mind took me to work tomorrow morning, and I was standing behind my till. I shook it off pretty quickly but my chest was a bit tight and I was instantly antsy. I managed to 'forget' the whole thing is pretty short order but I did become quiet. Wolf kept asking me what was wrong, and nothing was wrong. I was just quiet. And not hungry. And withdrawn.

Kitten was trying to tell us about her dream and one of Wolf's favourite things to do is pester the hell out of people. Every few words that Kitten would get out, Wolf would ask a question or link her words to a quote... whatever. Well, I was trying to re-engage with my family when Kitten said, "and there were these mountains and a river was winding between them..." when I smiled at her and said, "A river runs through it, which is the name of a movie." Well, my timing was off because I guess that was her breaking point. She just looked at me, eyes widened like I was the biggest betrayer, ever. Then her lips pinched shut and she turned to her breakfast without a word. I said I was sorry, and Wolf poked a little more. Well, I was done. I screwed up (which, when I'm at my best is a hard pill to swallow. At my worst, I shouldn't be permitted the care of a goldfish, let alone a child!) and had to leave the room.

As we all know, kids are far more resilient that we often give them credit for. Within minutes, she was knocking on my door, asking if she could finish the telling of her dream. I said yes and all was well. Except me. I crashed. Hard.

I realized that I wasn't trying to engage with my family for my sake. I know that when the ocean is turbulent, I need to just ride the wave. The less I fight, the quicker I reach solid ground. I know my limitations when I'm in that place. I know damned well that to deny my feeling is dangerous. And now I know that to deny my feelings, even when I think I'm helping others, is to hurt them as well as myself.

Biggies, all. Whoo-ee. And, as usual, the universe throws stuff at me when it's most pertinent. This morning, just before the emotional shit hit the fan, I saw this picture:

Thank you...

Perfectionist in the Kitchen.

2009-01-27T19:37:00.000-08:00

I used to be a slob. If I didn't see it, I didn't have to clean it. Out of sight, out of mind. 'I need to eat? I'll wash a pot and a plate... or maybe I'll just eat out of the pot. Yeah, that's easier.'

I used to be professionally unemployed. 'Too much stress. I don't fit in the world. I'm too depressed. I don't function the same way as others."

I used to cook as little as possible. Everything I made tasted exactly the same as the only seasonings I'd use were garlic powder, onion powder, soy sauce and, maybe, salt. I had no love for food. As long as it was edible, it was fine. It would keep me from starving. I mean, is that not the purpose of food, really?

I have a new-found love for clean, clutter free spaces. Working in somewhat cramped quarters with up to two other people in the same tiny area has shown me, first hand, how important it is to put everything in its place.

Speaking of work, I am and have been for almost five months. I've only held two jobs for longer than this one. One was with a family member and the other will not be spoken of, here. Five days a week I wake up and get ready. Five days a week I go in to the store where I bide my time until the end of my shift. I arrive on time, to a place that goes against many of my ideals, and spend eight hours with some of the funniest people I have ever met in a place where I almost fit. Often I have to battle my way through the days. I battle tears and despair -- this is not the life I wanted. Sometimes, though, I look forward to my day and it flies by.

I still have no love of food. Don't get me wrong, I truly appreciate a tasty meal and I finally know a little something about what that means. Wolf is a genius in the kitchen. I have learned, over the past almost seven years what good food tastes like and I would love, on one hand, to be able to produce such meals. I just tend to get a little stressed and flustered. Then, the F*ck-Up rears her ugly head and it's all a wash. The F*ck-Up, for the record, is my sixteen year old self who is a complete basket case who "can't do anything!!"

So, make me clean and I'll take a toothbrush to corners and a razor blade to crusted on grossness. I'll scrub toilets and bathtubs and make everything shiny and spotless. Sent me out to work and I'll bring in a much needed and appreciated paycheque. I'll go against my nature and do my best to work through my shit. I'll go above and beyond anything I have accomplished so far in my life, but please, please don't make me cook!!!

spinning, and oh so happy.

2009-01-27T00:17:00.000-08:00

Today marks the first time I've had more than a few sips of alcohol since November '07.

I forgot how awesome this can be (until tomorrow). I forgot how much fun it is to be an asshat, know I'm being an asshat, and loving it all, oh so much!

Ahh. Cleansing sigh.

Now, I can continue in peace... to sleep... as long as the room doesn't spin.

If this is a new beginning, why does it all feel the same?

2009-01-04T19:56:00.001-08:00

2008:

This photo you may remember from my last post or the link therein. It was taken December 21st. We were trying to deal with an uncommonly large snowfall. Please understand that snow in this amount is highly unusual in these parts, at least from the perspective of we younger folk. Apparently, thirty years ago it got damned cold and snowy every winter.

Last year we were shocked when snow fell in November! "We never get snow this early," and a week later there was no proof of any snowfall at all.

2009:

This picture was taken today at 4:14 pm.

What gives? I mean, it has been fun, sure, but I have to say my work-day has gotten almost unbearably long. We saw lass than 300 transactions today. I'm sure there were at least a hundred more people through the doors but those were looking in vain for shovels and salt. We can't get those items in fast enough.

To be fair, we did get a slight reprieve. And by reprieve I mean that it thawed and froze and thawed and froze but nary a flake did fall for a few days. Until today. It was cold this morning, then misty and a touch rainy by 2:15 pm. Two-thirty saw tiny flakes in the air, tiny flakes which became palm sized clusters in the time it took me to clock in for the second half of my shift.

I will post a proper time line when I'm not falling asleep. I am so going to bed right now.

And now, the exciting conclusion - with pictures!

2008-12-21T21:37:00.000-08:00

In my last post (hahaha, I just spelled post like toast) I began telling of weather drama here on the wet-coast. Now, I shall complete the story with full colour pictures!

We here on the southern section of our not so little island feel a little panicky about just below freezing temperatures. Knowing that, imagine how most feel about this:

December 17th.

Not too bad... sort of. Our store ran out of salt on by the second day of snow. Shovels, too. We did manage to get our hand on an emergency shipment (five pallets) of salt on Friday which took a whole hour to go out the doors.

Then, this morning, we woke up to this:

December 21st.

Overnight two and a half inches of snow fell. We were thrilled. Oh, I really ought to qualify that. We, my family and I, were thrilled. Most of the other residents of the Valley were cursing.

I made it easily in to work. First, we have a killer 4X4 and the smarts to use it properly. Second, even if we had no vehicle at all, it takes me all of ten minutes to walk to work. The snow would have to be over three and a half feet before I could use the 'snowed-in' excuse. Sadly, I'm one of the two employees who are in this position. Of the usual Sunday building-centre-roster (eleven worker bees) seven of us made it in. By the end of the day, we were three. Within a few hours two were sent home. The snow was showing no signs of letting up and my Manager was concerned about their return trips home.

December 21st, lunch break.

December 21st, second coffee (two hours after lunch)

By the end of the day, three of us remained. We probably had about a below a hundred customers. The lumber yard stayed locked up all day. I took ten minute coffee breaks and a fifteen minute lunch. I was both cashier and paint department... I felt so popular. I was paged to the phone, to front cash and to paint... all day. One customer told me we should be getting paid double for our double duties... the owner disagreed, lol.

To see more fun pictures of our winter wonderland (complete with -18° C cold... -39° F) see this.

This is for anyone who thinks all of Canada is tundra-land.

2008-12-21T07:13:00.000-08:00

Last week I was listening to a weather update on my local radio station.

Announcer: Today there will be periods of cloud with temperatures dropping overnight. Tomorrow's high will reach (pause for dramatic effect) minus one.

For those not familiar with the metric system Minus one Celsius is equivalent to 30 degrees Fahrenheit.

So there you have it. We here on the southern section of our not so little island feel a little panicky about just below freezing temperatures. Knowing that, imagine how most feel about this:

...

.....

...

Well. Um, I was going to post a current picture of our weather drama but it seems our camera-computer cord has gone south for the winter. As soon as I find it I will add the photo documentation.

To laugh or to cry...

2008-12-13T14:25:00.000-08:00

Wolf called his Dad to see how his cataract surgery went. Dad was sleeping but Wolf's step-Mother informed him that he came out of the surgery completely blind. Seems the good doctors tore the lens in his good eye but left said lens in place to cause as much pain as possible before ER docs diagnosed the source of the pain and rectified it by taking it out.

He'll have to wait two months until the eye heals enough to have an artificial lens inserted.

What the hell is going on?!!

In other news, i should be taking Kitten and her friend to the movie store so they can pick movies and video games for this evening, her eleventh-birthday party.

Running away now!

I'm so stoned...

2008-12-09T15:37:00.000-08:00

I was sent home from work, yesterday. It would seem that my usefulness was deemed non-existent when compared directly to my obvious discomfort. This story begins this past Friday...

*cue flashback sequence*

I was closing the paint department on my own. The last few hours of the day had been so slow with nary a customer in sight. Deciding to make myself useful, I began down-stocking some stain. Most of this down-stocking was largely unnecessary as our staining season is over but we have no overstock of the paint that people actually want right now and I was bored. I began with a gusto, moving gallons of the stuff from the enclosed storage bay above the sparsely stocked shelves. You might think gallons of paint would be more challenging to move than quarts. You might, but in this case you'd be very, very wrong.

I learned that
(a) the perfect, compact quarts of stain were kept neatly organized in boxes of six
(b) I'm short, even when on a kick-ass ladder;
(c) standing tip-toe, I still sometimes have to work above my head and
(d) these boxes are bloody heavy!

And then my back said, "um, stop. kthxbye." By the end of my quest to cure boredom, I was sore and tired and had only managed to down-stock about 8 quarts.

Oh, I also learned
(e) sleep has the magical ability to make a tweaked back hurt like hell!!!

Saturday, shortly after beginning my shift I was talking to a couple of the women in or near my department about my back tenderness. They talked me into filing with first-aid which I did before returning to the floor. I went home at lunch to dope myself up on Tylenol and Advil so I could finish out my shift in an upright position. That night I loaded up on Robaxacet and slept like a rock.

Sunday was great. I felt no pain but I was aware of the centre of my back. It was distinctly there, you know? Everything was fine until I bent to pick up a receipt. I don't know if I moved too fast or what but by the end of my day I was getting waves of pain that were making it hard to breathe. To make matters worse, I'd taken my last two Robaxacet the night before.

Monday morning I had to use my both hands to get out of bed. I spent the morning gimping around like Gollum and waiting for the next round of pain pills to kick in. They still hadn't by the time I got to work. Hence the sending home.

I went to a clinic early this afternoon and was given a prescription for Flexeril which I can't afford to get filled, and instruction to stick with light duty at work for ten days. No ladders, no lifting. But standing all freaking day is o-tay, which is good because that is my job description.

"Oh, and what do you do for a living?"

I stand...

Good news? Wolf's on meds which have stopped his seizures and passing out. They leave him dead-dog tired but on his feet which is good because he can now take care of me for a couple of days.

:D

Illness, illness everywhere, nor any time to drink...

2008-12-07T06:44:00.000-08:00

My phone rang last night just before ten o'clock. I griped, silently, all the way to the kitchen wondering who in their right mind would call at such an hour. I even answered the phone with all of the sleepy voiced drama I could muster.

It was my dearest friend, Lynn*, calling with news about her son.

I'm so sorry I woke you but Cody* is not okay.

What does 'not okay' mean?

He's had a lot of chest pain and he's been passing out lately. He was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect.

Okay, so what does that that mean, break it down for me. Details.

It means that we're lucky he's alive. We're lucky he quit soccer-- the doctors don't know why he's been okay up 'til now. They can operate to fix it but Cody is terrified. He won't do it. He said he'll never do anything for the rest of his life; he'll hang out and not ride his bike and never take the stairs...

There was more conversation but it's all more than I feel needs to be here. Cody is going to be 16 next month.

I'm sending out a request for prayers and/or positive energy ... wherever you find your hope, dig in and send some their way, please.

My own update? Wolf's on a drug which has kept him either sleeping or wanting to be, since Wednesday. His next appt with Doc God is Tuesday and I'm hoping there will be honest account made of the side effects. True, Wolf hasn't passed out since he began this med, but it hasn't been a week yet, and that was his usual time between episodes. If he goes this week without falling down, then maybe they want to reduce the dosage? I don't know.

I'm tired. My brain is off in a million directions and I can't seem to keep a though long enough to get it typed out to completion.

*Names changed, of course, to protect the family's privacy.

The finish line...

2008-11-30T07:28:00.000-08:00

We made it! I can hardly believe that it's been a month already and at the same time, I'm looking forward to not having to set my alarm a half hour early, just so I have time to blog.

Over all, NaBloPoMo has taught me a few things.

I can create a new habit. I can do something every day, without fail, even when it isn't strictly necessary.
My moods have distinct cycles. Blogging has created a picturesque map of how my moods are directly related to incidents and quality sleep.
I love writing so much that I'm looking at book writing as a fun thing to do!
There are people out there who like to read what I write! Me! I never would have thought it possible.
There are also a lot of people who write stuff that I want to read!
I'm not so strange. I'm not alone.

I'm pretty sure I could go on... for hours, but I slept through my half-hour-early and have to get ready for work.

Thank you so much for stopping by during this month to read and to comment. Your presence has bee invaluable and I want you to know that I appreciate it so very much. (Gee, I don't usually make a speech like that without a drink in one hand and a rose from the wandering, bar flower-guy in the other! Are you familiar with the ones to which I refer?)

So, rest good internets. Enjoy the peace, the passing of NaBloPoMo '08. Congrats to all of you who made it and also to all who tried.

Have a good morning, and in case I don't see you, good afternoon, good evening and good night!
(Jim Carey - The Truman Show)

What I want and why I (tell myself) I can't have it, followed by the reason my reason is stupid...

2008-11-29T07:54:00.000-08:00

1. I want a more muscular physique.
a) I don't have time.
b) I wake every morning a couple of hours before my family so I can do my computer stuff without neglecting anyone.

2. I want to get a handle on my depression.
a) It is a mental disorder that I have no control over.
b) Spending hours online when I could be living makes me blue.

3. I want to be a better mom and wife.
a) I'm so tired when I get home, all I want to do is sit for a while.
b) Sitting 'for a while' doesn't constitute hours on facebook, getting annoyed when I'm interrupted. There's no reason I can't sit for a while on the couch with my daughter and husband while we talk about our discoveries of the day.

4. I want to go back to school, take a few courses.
a) I don't want to graduate from the institution with a huge debt hanging over my head.
b) Yeah, and living from paycheque to paycheque is a barrel of monkeys. Going into debt over the electric bill, with no hope of improvement is so much better than a student loan (and the potential job that will help pay it off).

Okay, I'm kind of stuck there. My shoulder hurts and I want to get ready for my day.
(can you believe it's been almost a month?!!)

Wishing you, yes you, a fantabulous day!

Pee-ess: I don't think I made a note yesterday or the day before so I will now. Wolf passed out twice on Thursday and once yesterday. it would seem to me that things are continuing to escalate. What else are you "almost positive" about, Doctor God?!

And so I decree...

2008-11-28T08:35:00.001-08:00

I've decided to write a book.

So there!

It's been percolating for about a week and I've just put the first few sentences onto virtual paper.

It's funny. I never would have begun a venture like this six months ago. Not having a whole lot of faith in what I can do (read: I'm a perfectionist so nothing I do is quite good enough) I would have let this fall by the wayside like so many other things. A quick change in thought process - I can psycho babble my way through anything, even with myself - and I'm good to go. See, I told myself that,, just because I'm writing it, doesn't mean I ever have to look for a publisher. Reverse self-psychology!!

God I rock...

This is a sorry excuse for a post...

2008-11-27T20:31:00.000-08:00

This entry marks my sixtieth post in this blog. That's kind of neat.

This entry is gonna suck, just to let you know. Wolf passed out twice today which is worse than 'usual' but he didn't seize which is better than the past two or three episodes.

I've begun another work week, whee.

Tomorrow is payday, (a more heartfelt) whee.

Three more days. Then NaBloPoMo is over. One less stressor.

And now I must go see if the glowing 'check gauge' light really means business. Will the truck make it to the store and back? Dun-duuuunnn (the suspense is killing me).

A demain...

Technological advancement, my icy cold ass...

2008-11-26T20:56:00.000-08:00

Is it just me or does this happen to everyone who has tremendous disorganizational skills and a habit of misplaced confidence, self or otherwise?

Here’s the situation. I decided, toward the end of my last weekend, that I would use this weekend to find all my drawings, scan them to my laptop, fix up whatever might need it and upload the lot of it to deviantArt. Well, this weekend is here and, of course, I waited until almost one o’clock to get started. Piece o’cake, I’m thinking.

Now, I’ve known me all my life which should be plenty of time to learn that any time I’m sure something will work, it won’t. Not easily, anyway.

Into the longroom* I go. That's where our desk top PC and printer/scanner resides. First and foremost, it’s absolutely freezing in there. We have electric heat and no money so unnecessary** rooms go without both. Second, the mouse is neither hooked up to the computer, nor is it in the same room for that matter. It’s a good thing I’m a whizz with keyboard shortcuts. Then it occurs to me that I really don’t want to sit in an icy room, keyboarding my way through various programs and why don’t I just hook up the all-in-one to my laptop? After all, I downloaded the printer drivers last month! Off goes the PC, which takes 10 minutes as it’s a dinosaur, and in comes my laptop for scanner hook up.

Back to drivers. Yes, printer drivers. My laptop recognizes the Lexmark printer (and fax, for some odd reason) but not the scanner. Not in my program menu, not anywhere. After spending 20 minutes looking for the correct download, online, my toes are numb and my hands hurt.

I go get the mouse.

It is now 3:05 pm and I’m praying. I‘m praying that the CD-RW in our PC will work for me just one more time. I have to be able to get the pictures off the ancient beast and onto my laptop. I’m praying that the disk with the pictures will be readable by my laptop.

* * * * * * * * *

Flash forward. After scanning all of my drawings, I attempted to burn the jpegs to disk. The disk went in and was read by the by the writer. The file folder containing the images dragged-and-dropped beautifully, but do you think the writer would write? No, it wouldn't. Well, it just so happens I have two MSN messenger (ooh, I must be old if I'm still calling it by that name) profiles. I signed in on each computer using the two aliases and sent all the pictures to myself. All 40 of them. One at a time.

The whole thing took just under an hour, by which time my hands were stiff, my toes were numb and my nose had a nasty case of winter-drip. I shut down the dinosaur with the same satisfaction one might feel when ridding the house of a destructive rat .

Then it happened. I realized that I had missed one drawing(my best piece, in my opinion) and became somewhat demonstrative in my frustration. Hearing my uproar, Wolf entered the room with concern and caution his in every movement. After I explained the situation, he smiled with relief and said, "Here, leave it with me. I'll hook up my lapto... Oh baby. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"What...?" It came out of my mouth, less as a question than a threat.

"Open your search - here..." at which point he showed me - on my laptop which was perched on one arm while I held in my other hand the file folder filled with my drawings. It would appear that typing 'scanners' into the search field (Vista) while connected to the scanner would have opened the magic and invisible door that divides the two pieces of hardware.

Hmm.

Imagine that.

Thankfully I was way too cold to be really miffed. I said 'thank you' and 'I know it for next time' and 'no, it's perfectly okay.'

So, I still don't have that last piece scanned but I did manage to get a few things uploaded, categorized and tagged, over at deviantArt. Nothing is 'sale-worthy' in my opinion, until I can correct the 'black=blue' language of my sensorily challenged scanner. Feel free to have a look anyway. That is what it's there for (as my stomach flips nervously).

Have I mentioned that I rarely show my art to my family, let alone the good people of the limitless interweb? Be gentle but please, please be honest. If I'm to make a go of this, I need honest reviews.

*Longroom: the 15X25’ room on the end of our house. It was supposed to be the studio/craft/sewing room but has become cold storage.

**The room had been made somewhat obsolete with the arrival of our laptops, last year.

Just a quickie...

2008-11-26T12:13:00.000-08:00

I'm whipping off this short, sweet post simply to say "Hi, it's still NaBloPoMo. If I don't throw something up here right now, I may just forget to do it later and that would suck because we are too close to the end to fail now!" I got lost in the interwebs again, eating up my art-finding-and-scanning time. In my aimless and distracted wanderings I found something that made it all worth while.

Read this. (Sidebar Content Warning: Rated PG13 )

Are you there? Can you see it, hear it, feel it? Amazing.

Off and running. If I don't post again let me say now that I hope you have a fantastic day!

Survival...

2008-11-25T09:27:00.000-08:00

It turns out that the difference between a lousy day and a good one can be co-workers. My first and second days in paint were spent with a couple of co-workers, neither of them teacher-types. Now, in all fairness, my supervisor is up to her ears in flooring stuff as we just lost one of our two flooring staff but her method if teaching doesn't fit well with my method of learning. Her sage words of advice can be summed up thus: "Take some time to walk around the dept reading labels. That's how I learned." And then, she left for the flooring dept.

...

The other staff person, also not teacher material, is quite quiet. She speaks only if necessary and, even then, comes across as having little confidence in what she's saying. I would get tiny snippets of 'how-to' and 'where.' I'm a touch dynamic by nature and neither of these ways of learning were even close to active enough for my brain.

I spent the day making sure the prices in our computers matched up with the bin label and sticker prices. I made sure that products were lined up with their correct shelf labels. I tinted a couple of gallons of paint... I did learn, but had no idea how much. I needed to be able to ask questions. I needed to learn more, not wander aimlessly, practising what I already knew. The days were long and I felt totally useless.

On day three my salvation walked in. In this case, it took the form of a down to earth, vibrant transplant from the UK. He's just as energetic of mind as am I. He welcomes me as I follow him around, learning from his dealings with customers. He showed me where we keep the overstock!!! Well, most of it. He gave me reasons why certain products were necessary, why the steadfast priming rules don't always apply and how to decided when to overlook them, and broke down the properties of specific products so it all made sense. I need the 'why,' not just the 'use.'

In that third shift I learned more than I had the two before. We even had plenty of head space to discuss spirituality, our 'past lives' and how we've become who we are, politics... It was so very awesome.

And this all brings us to my three-hours-by-myself-in-the-paint-dept-with-only-three-and-a-half-days-worth-of-experience shift, heh.

I won't lie. I was scared out of my mind. All my usual crutches (read: staff members who continuously bail my ass out when I have no idea the answer to a customer question) were gone and I knew I was likely facing three hours without a break. I've gotten kind of used to having a breather ever two hours. In fact, I have relied on it!

Well, I did it. I was overwhelmed a time or two and I made decisions and moved forward - without help. It was painfully quiet so I had quality time with the customers who did come in. I worked it out. When I couldn't work it out, I used the phone numbers that were left for me. I was calm. I tinted five gallons and two quarts of paint, helped a couple with their stain/varnish issue, found the right product for use with polystyrene... It was amazing.

And, suddenly, I quite love my job. I mean, to the point where I've decided to work part time even if my percolating ideas come to fruition.

I always find it amusing when my whole outlook changes,pendulum-like, in less than 12 hours.

A change of plan...

2008-11-24T21:22:00.000-08:00

I was going to blog about my alone-time-at-work shift. I was going to do it tonight. I've decided that I'm going to write about it in the morning and watch Heroes right now!

Check in with you tomorrow...

Things I saw, heard or otherwise experienced at work yesterday...

2008-11-24T08:28:00.000-08:00

I saw my new co-worker spend half an hour making two tins of paint look like two paint chips, by eye and with the the wrong base paint (need this last part to make more sense? Let me know and I'll explain), all at the customers behest.

I was asked what my interest was in the paint dept as I couldn't be pictured to (ever) have had a paint brush in hand. When I replied, citing my year of experience painting in a new-home construction setting, I was asked "was that before or after modelling paint products."

I saw a shrink-wrapped yard-man trying to look nonchalant when I unexpectedly interrupted their fun-time.

I had a brilliant discussion on spirituality and personal growth.

I said "SILENCE! I kill you!" into a speaker phone during business hours.

I helped a few people, by.my.self!!!, and learned so much more!

So, I will concede that this is not the job from hell, therefore I will not kill myself just yet. I will update after this coming shift, wherein I will spend the last 3 hours of the day completely alone in my department, armed only with far-too-little-knowledge and a list of phone numbers that I can call "If (I) need anything at all..."

Percolation...

2008-11-23T07:48:00.000-08:00

My new department shuffle has brought with it professionally inept scheduling. This has given me a fair measure of concern as, today, I am supposed to be in two places at once. Last night I was trying to work it all out. Kitten had said she'd read in bed until I arrived to tuck her in. After a half hour or so, while I was still absorbed in trying to decide my course of action, I heard a knock at my door. It was Kitten, coming to say goodnight. She was falling asleep and was tired of waiting. We did out night-nights right there beside my bed and she headed back to her room, a touch hang-dog.

When I left my room a few moments later, she met me in the bathroom, trying to hide her face. I asked her what was wrong, to which she replied, "nothing," like a good little member of my family. Now, I'm trying to break the cycle of poor communication so I said, "Okay," and began to walk away. She cut in, then, and poured her heart out.

She needs the connection of being tucked in at night. She is so sad that I no longer have early days. She says that it doesn't feel like home now that I'm not here. I added that I hardly feel like I belong as my role has changed so much and I can't be that which I desperately want.

We talked and talked. We cried and hugged.

I have a plan...

Be careful what you wish for...

2008-11-22T17:34:00.000-08:00

I'm bloody impossible to please!

I've been in the paint dept for all of two days and I don't want to be there anymore. It might have something to do with the lack of experience in selling people stuff. It just may be related to knowing that I'm spending the last three hours of my shift, tomorrow, alone. I might be effected by my sudden lack of early days.

Oh hell. Someday I'll figure it out.

Not the most graceful transiton.

2008-11-21T15:51:00.000-08:00

I applied at my place of employment with the hope of working in the paint department. The thing is, they needed cashiers and I needed a job. I told them I was flexible. Silly me. They had me behind a till within 48 hours of receiving my resume and that is where I remained for the next two months. Early last week, my zone manager stopped me as I was heading out for a break.

ZM: "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you have some paint experience, don't you?"

I held my smart tongue (neglecting to point out that my most recent job experience, right there on my resume which she has in her office, was as a professional painter) and simply answered in the affirmative.

ZM: "You have experience tinting paint." She stated this, her voice and demeanour both unsure.

Me: "No. I have experience prepping, sealing/priming and painting/staining most surfaces. I have experience with the clean-up of a myriad of paint/stain products."

ZM: "Are you interested in learning how to tint?"

Me: "Very interested!" I have to work on my poker face.

At that point, she walked away with nothing more than a "Hmm." Such is her way. Such is the way of the whole freakin' company!! But that's not the point of this telling.

Yesterday, as I looked at our front-end break schedule, I noticed that I had a half-hour in the paint dept, immediately before our Yard Tour. The paint training was great! The yard tour never happened. But that's more of the 'not this telling' stuff. The paint training let me know that I was beginning the transition, even if no one else deemed in necessary to tell me.

Last night, I went to sleep at about 10:30. It was a late bedtime for my scheduled 6:30 am start today but Supernatural was on. You' know how it is? I knew something was wrong before I awoke. I was dreaming about working, typing a list of numbers into the computer. I was feeling really ill and it was messing with my concentration. As the feeling passed, the dream would fade to black, only to return a bit later. Typing. Feeling sick. Mixing up the numbers. Fade out. That cycle continued until, during a semi-lucid moment, my consciousness clicked and I woke fully. Sure enough, I had to camp out in the bathroom for a while. I don't know what it was but I threw up. I never throw up! I guzzled water to aid in my body's betrayal. I took my temperature, twice, but had no fever. What the hell!? And then I went back to bed.

Today, I got up when my alarm went off and dragged my feet through my morning routine, leaving a few things out due to sheer exhaustion. My belly felt okay enough but I was really weak and shaky. I couldn't risk eating anything as I can't afford to miss a day of work. I did, however, drink a few sips of coffee - maybe a quarter mug.

Opening cash means pushing open the automatic, sliding doors, walking to the back of the store, climbing 21 steps to the staff room, swiping in, descending the same 21 steps back to the main floor, trudging back to the front doors but turning to the management office stairs. Up 21 more stairs (but these ones have a landing!) to get to the safe-room.

I was cashing in the first of two tills and my co-opener (and good friend Bou) cashed in the first of her two, when a third cashier (SM) walked in. Bou and I both asked SM why she was there, the answer to which was "to open." And then it hit me.

I left Bou and SM to their open and went to seek out the paint dept schedule. It turns out that I wasn't scheduled to begin shift until 9 am. In fact, I was there and punched in a half hour before my new team lead arrived.

Let me just tell you how much I heart my new team lead. She told it was perfectly alright if I continued my shift as I though it was scheduled. She was awesome about my lack of vigor and didn't once ask me if I had to go home. It's nice to work with another grown up. I was out of there at three, which was wonderful because I don't think I'd have made it to 5:30, and in the time I was there I tinted several gallons and one pint of paint. I learned how to change formula for tinting a 20L pail so it works in a one gallon tin (and vice versa). All in all a productive day considering the productive night before.

Let me tell you, also, that I now have 3.5 days per week in the paint dept. I have both pertinent schedules and I can no longer keep my horrible dyslexia under control... someday I'm going to type out an entry without touching the backspace key. That'll be funny... kind of.

Oh Lord, please let me sleep, tonight!

Comments and memories.

2008-11-20T08:44:00.000-08:00

I have a new favourite thing to do. Whether it's upon waking or when I return from work, I love checking my e-mail. Why? Because there's novelty, again. I get comments! Real comments! And that is totally awesome!

1991.

I'm sitting in the cafe. I always sit in the cafe. My one year old daughter is in her stroller, eating french fries and making a mess with of the ketchup while I drink my 7th cup of coffee and watch the family across the aisle. The Father Figure (who's name I no longer remember) is having a rousing game of toss-the-stuffy-into-the-ceiling-fan. Sometimes the teddy-cat makes it between the fan blades and falls back to the floor, but when it catches, we all watch with amusement and anticipation. By 'we all' I mean we 'adults.' The babies have no interest in his little game.

It gets tired pretty fast and I look away, bored. Not even a full five seconds later, the cat nails my table, knocking my coffee over. Thankfully, my open cigarette pack was there to catch most of the spillage. I pick said package up, looking over at Father Figure (I want to call him Koby?) and I pour tablespoon of liquid out of it, onto the table. He's howling. Laughing so hard his face is red. I set out the coffee soaked cigarettes hoping they'll dry and as I do so, FF says, "Think of it this way. I just saved you 15 minutes! Now you can have your coffee and cigarette all at the same time."

For the record, so not a tasty combination.

This trip down memory lane was triggered by Wolf, handing me back a cig which he's held with buttery fingers. MMmmm. Greasy smoke. The ultimate in decadence.

EARTHQUAKE! .... ... No - wait... it's just the spin cycle.

2008-11-19T17:54:00.000-08:00

Not one to point out the issues in my surroundings (HA!) but if our washer isn't perfectly balanced, the whole house shakes. Now I'm not talking a little vibration, here. I mean that everything, from one end of the house to the other, rattles. Mirrors, bookcases, dishes - you name it, it's-a-shakin'!

In other news, I have just had the single least productive (for me) weekend since I decided to use my days off, rather than lose myself in facebook for two days. I had my mind set on completing a few tasks. Of course, as I grump about wasting my time, I've come up with several other things that I would love to have accomplished. Maybe it's time to make a list. I've proven to myself that I am a remarkable forgetter so it makes sense that a list is the best, next-step.

So, here's my list.

Things to do on Tuesday and Wednesday:

1. Clean the truck, interior.

2. Gather and sort art work.

decided what is being posted, where.
complete incomplete pieces
upload drawings to deviantArt and/or Zazzle

3. Practice increases and decreases, knitting.

4. Check out Etsy

5. Snuggle and read with my girl... I miss her.

6. Continue with the de-fleaing process (friggin' cat)(friggin' me, for not wanting to go all chemical on her ass)

I'm sure I'll think of more things before next week but for now this'll do nicely.

Tomorrow, I'm finally getting the bit of training that I've been requesting for the past month. They have scheduled me (and another cashier) for a two hour walkabout in the lumber yard. Now, I've already figured out most of the stuff that comes out of the yard, but it will be nice to be able to direct inquiring customers to what they want, rather than to someone who can answer better than I. That's getting a bit tired in my opinion. Yes, if it bugged me that much, I could have gone in (on my days off) to walk around, find stuff and ask the yard guys about the things I was unsure of. I could have... I understand and live by a certain level of proactive behaviour. I mean, within my first month of this job I had management letting me know that I was already 'right up there' with the senior cashiers. I've heard nothing but kudos on my job performance. It's called work-ethic, and I have it. However, I am not paid nearly enough nor treated well enough to want to be there without seeing the results on my paycheque (ha, that word looks so funny. I love Canadian English).

And on all of these notes, I am off to vacuum Kitten's room and wash her bedding and bathe the cat (hehehe). I think I'll clip the wee demon's claws before I toss her into the tub.

Finally growing up…

2008-11-18T23:23:00.000-08:00

I grew up with the label “Wise beyond her Years.” I was a very observant child and because of that a lot of my knowledge seemed instinctive and rather like common sense. Whether it was relationships or life in general, it all just made sense to me.

I should qualify all this by saying that I was a font of sage advice but I was really lousy about using that knowledge in my own life. In fact, I made all the wrong decisions when it came to my own path. I dropped out of school. I had every intention of getting pregnant at sixteen and succeeded, brilliantly. I dated abusive losers and ‘dealt’ with it using alcohol. I grew into a career welfare-mom - which, for the record, I have no prejudice or bias against, but it was a cop- out for me. I didn’t choose stay-at-home mom-hood because that’s what I really wanted to be. I chose it because I was too afraid to try anything else.

Any time I have stepped outside of my comfort zone, I’ve let my anxiety eat at me until my only option was ‘disability.’ If wallowing were an Olympic sport, I’d have a trophy room full of gold medals. Never have I pushed through the intense ‘I don’t want to…’ until this past September. I think the difference this time was that I didn’t have a choice. There was no bail-out, no crutch, no magical way back to quasi-safety. My family was vulnerable and I was their salvation.

Transition is never easy. At first, I thought I was dying and then, when I didn’t die, I wished I would. I spent a few weeks there, in that hellish place. During that time, even when I had good weeks my days off were stressed by thoughts of having to go ‘back to that place.’ And then, without really noticing, I was okay. Not only that but my life was changing in ways I hadn’t even imagined.

Flip to today. I spent my morning getting Kitten to her swim lesson (it’s a 13-26 minute drive, depending on highway traffic) by 11, and subsequently chatting it up with home-schooling Moms until noon. Wolf was up sick most of the night so it was just me, today. At the lesson’s end, Kitten took her requisite 15 minutes to change out of her swim gear Then we drove 20 minutes back home to eat lunch and pick up Wolf so we could head back into town to do a “whack of running around” that he needed to get done.

During this time I had my first of two epiphanies. We had been walking for about two and a half hours when Wolf asked me if I was okay with being out all day. I replied that I was no longer thinking of my Tuesday/Wednesday weekend as ‘days off.’ After all, life doesn’t stop so it makes more sense to think of it as ‘days not at work.’ Wolf commended me on the overall mental health in that statement and I’ve been repeating it to myself ever since, hoping that I will feel better about it the more it reverberates through my head.

A couple of hours later we were eating dinner. Wolf had shovelled a forkful of piping hot food into his mouth. When he exhaled trying to cool his mouth, he shot steam worthy of a dragon from his lips. We all laughed and I tried to do the same thing but my food had cooled too much. I said, “If that had worked for me, this place would be way too cold.” That is the moment the second revelation hit. I realized that it wasn’t too cold in our house. That was the first time I had ever had that thought during winter months.

We do keep our house cool, about 15C - that’s 59F if you’re Imperial. This year, due to unforeseen growth, I have taken to wearing weather appropriate clothing. This means no more shorts and tank tops, even in the house. I wear slippers, with or without socks. It’s the wildest thing.

So, throughout this growth phase of mine, I somehow moved beyond a sense of entitlement I didn’t even know I had. Will the wonders ever cease?!

The anticipation is killing me... not really.

2008-11-18T20:09:00.000-08:00

Okay, I know it's late for a post but I've had one of the busiest 'off' days, ever. I am working on another 'history' post and have a little bit in a word document but dinner is ready and House is on.

More later...

Thank God It's... Monday?!

2008-11-17T15:49:00.000-08:00

What a magnificent day. Of course, my 'Fridays' usually are. Everything seems lighter and I bounce through the day, knowing I have but one shift left before my weekend begins. This Friday in particular was extra special, though. Not only did many children come through the store but I also got to help a lovely senior lady who left me with a smile that lasted the full hour I had remaining in my work day.

Now, I do have a slight damper on my perfect day. When Wolf arrived to collect me after work, he was wearing sunglasses and he seemed irritated. When I commented on his mood, he told me he wasn't edgy, he was sore. He passed out again this morning. He was feeling dizzy and had tried to make it to the kitchen where he could sit down at the table. "I didn't make it," he said. I guess he got halfway there but woke up in front of the closed spare room door with a very sore face. He couldn't help but crack a sheepish grin as he explained. Makes me wish I'd never fixed the latch on that door.

We made it home with no incidents and upon checking my email, lo and behold, I have readers. Two of them! That, in my opinion, is pretty darned cool. Thanks to you both, BeeDancer and Tracy!

And on that note, something occurred to me regarding the topic of my last post. Maybe, just maybe I could bring a bit of myself to this blog!?! It wouldn't be all that hard a task and it might just be a good thing. It's something to think about, if nothing else, although i can already feel me creeping in.

And like everything else, all I can really do is wait and see. Want to wait with me?

Realizations.

2008-11-16T07:17:00.000-08:00

We're halfway through NaBloPoMo and I have a bit of a problem. I don't want to do this anymore. Not just for the sake of writing... well, crap, really. I've looked back through the entries here and compared them with my Cheers blog (where everybody knows my naaaame...) and the quality of writing is so very different.

I created this blog with the purpose of starting over. I wanted to have a place where no-one knew me and where my old emotional crap couldn't find me. As a result, I'm not really here. The words in these entries are straight forward, calm and without any style whatsoever. Trust me, the stuff I've written this month is garbage.

Now, I'm going to finish the NaBloPoMo challenge. It's who I am. I'm one of those, "If you can, do!" people. This is hardly a challenge for me, to come here everyday and write something - anything. Writing is one of my favourite things to do. Writing is easy. Writing something worth reading, however, is another thing altogether. So, I will complete the challenge in the same way and for the same reason that I complete every a game of Algerian Patience Solitaire. Because I can.

"What about at the end of this challenge? What are you going to do, then?" you may be asking... oh wait. I have no readership!! No one's asking anything! Ha. Well, that sure takes the pressure off of me. There's no one here to disappoint or say good bye to. Phew!

Well then, I think I'll take that comforting thought with me as I grab a coffee and shower. I've two days left in this work week and I plan on using them as wisely as I possibly can.

Oh yeah, and I slept like crap last night. I'm facing this day on about 4 hours of sleep. I'm actually a touch bummed that it isn't raining. In fact, it's near cloudless and if it stays this way, the store just may be busy.

Sh*t.

Doom and discomfort... or not.

2008-11-15T08:55:00.000-08:00

My eyes first opened sometime around 5 am. I remember thinking that I went to bed late...

My eyes next opened sometime in the 7th hour. I remember being surprised that two more hours had passed.

My eyes opened finally at about 8:30. I remember a sense of foreboding, like something was very wrong. Too much time was spent sleeping. This day off is a special gift and I've wasted so much of it. Yeah, I'm pretty much over that, now. I slept. It feels good. So be it.

On a completely unrelated note... Last night while I faux-swiffered my bedroom floor, I must have jostled my bedside table because my tongue stud, which I had removed due to discomfort, rolled onto the floor, jarring Micky Mouse loose from his stainless steel bassinet.

Gotta go help with the learnin!

And the times, they are a'changin...

2008-11-14T17:38:00.000-08:00

You know what I love most about working? Punching out and leaving the store.

You know what I love most about my Hubby being home during the day? Being greeted after work with a big smile and a homemade, gluten free croissant!

You know what I hate most about working? When my daughter says things like, "Y'know what Mom? I always thought it would be easier to deal with you not being here over time. It's kinda not."

She has gotten really clingy, again. It's hard for me to be available for that when I'm sore from standing behind a counter all day, socializing. I'm working on it while trying to remember that it's okay for me to take some time to regroup and change gears when I get home. This is a particularly hard thing for all of us. Both Kitten and Wolf are extroverts. They need other people around them to recharge and feel energized. Neither of them understand that I am exactly opposite - it isn't personal, it just is.

And now, for something completely different... There's been one firing and several lay-offs at work over the past week. The firing was apparently due to violations of store procedure or some such. The Lay-offs, though, are due to the economy. I guess I should count my blessings. It would seem that it is the more experienced, higher waged/salaried employees who are in danger of being downsized. We peons are cheaper and will be slightly more willing to have more work heaped upon us (for the same money, though? I think not... maybe).

And again, I am reminded to keep my eyes open for more entrepreneurial methods of earning my keep.

Now, I've taken my moments and must 'put my face back on,' so to speak. Wolf has his usual Friday night company and I am rather expected to attend.

Freaking COLD!!!

2008-11-13T07:31:00.000-08:00

It's 7:32 am and I've had my coffee, checked my email, researched SPD, and read my favourite blogs. I even had a bath! Here I sit, outside on the cold front step, freezing my butt off, fingers aching... and I'm just about ready for work. The truly awesome thing about all this is I still have hours left in which to complete those things that remain undone!

I don't work until 11 but last night I couldn't keep my eyes open past 10:00. By my internal clock, I should have been up this morning at 6 but for some unknown reason I began waking shortly after 4 am. The third time my eyes opened I decided it must be time to get up. I brewed coffee and began running my bath right away and now I have all this peaceful alone time. Yum!

Seeing as everyone else is still asleep, now seems like a fabulous time to play video games!!!

I'm off.

Pride and accomplishment.

2008-11-12T19:01:00.000-08:00

On this day in mid-November, I completed my 2007 tax return! Better late then never, right?

This has been a better 'weekend.' No tests. No incidents. No work. A lot of bad, TMNT jokes!

I still haven't accomplished a weekend's worth of stuff like I wanted but I did complete the one, painfully important thing I needed. With my tax forms in an envelope just waiting to be weighed at the post office, I know that I'll have a bit of money soon. Back pay is always welcome!

I can't seem to keep my mind here and when writing is proving to be less pleasure than frustration, I take it as a sign to am-scray.

See you in the morning...

ZZZZzzzz...

My boring post... not about Remembrance day

2008-11-11T09:13:00.000-08:00

Facebook makes me laugh. I would be more accurate in saying that people on facebook make me laugh. When I first signed up and friended all my peeps, we all had a reasonable number of friends listed. As the weeks wore on, I couldn't help but notice that some of my nearest and dearest were gaining friends at a very rapid rate. Clicking through their lists I couldn't help but notice that many of these 'friends' weren't "real friends." I couldn't wrap my brain around it, feeling that the whole thing was like this ridiculous popularity contest.

Then, I began to understand. There were applications that I got hooked on. Suddenly I was spamming my friends with app requests and I didn't like that. It was then that my own friend list began to grow. It was then that I began accepting friend requests from those who I'm not really 'friends' with. I feel no guilt about spamming those I don't care if I piss off. Heh.

So, that which I didn't understand has now become my own common practice and my fb strength grows by the day. Power in numbers.

2008-11-10T15:57:00.000-08:00

My mother gave me some stuff to think about. I'm thinking about it.

My place of employment has a no-cell-phone policy. Not only do I blatantly disregard this policy, I told my team-lead, floor manager and store manager that the policy didn't apply to me. With Wolf's health the way it is and he being a house-husband and home-schooler to our kidlet, I want Kitten to have a easy way to reach me in case of emergency. I didn't want her to have to call work and have me paged to 'line 101,' so to speak. That's too much work for a panicked almost-eleven-year-old. Generally, the only incoming calls I get are from home so my phone has become 'for emergencies only!'

I didn't realize that my phone was off until almost half way through my shift today. When I saw the blank screen, I started to shake. I turned it on, all the while wondering if there was going to be a voice-mail waiting. I envisioned all the possibilities through the eyes of terror. Being the good employee that I am, I couldn't call home until my lunch break. And everything was fine.

Wolf's doctor said he's 'almost positive' it isn't Wolf's brain that's the issue. Almost positive. I told Wolf I wanted that in writing so I could sue his ass back to the stone age in the event that his confidence is once again misplaced.

And now I'm going to get to the business at hand. I'm home for the weekend and I've a family that I've missed terribly this week.

Something's gotta give...

2008-11-09T18:57:00.000-08:00

I overslept again. I only lost a half hour which is a good thing, and my shift didn't start until 9 am. A week of sleeplessness is beginning to take its toll and if I don't sleep tonight, I fear that I'll be totally useless tomorrow. I've a 6:30 am start time and the only happiness I can glean from this resides in the fact that tomorrow is my Friday. One more day, that's all. One more day and that day ends at 3 pm.

We need the break, all of us. Wolf hasn't had a decent night's sleep since last Sunday and his health is declining rapidly. I'm trying to avoid spending too much energy in fear but it's turning out to be harder than I can manage, right now. I am fearful by nature - anxiousness bordering on paranoid - and lack of sleep makes everything worse.

*Sigh*

I'm feeling a little bit tangled and unable to concentrate. My mother just left a message on my voice mail. I should probably return the call. It's been close to a month since we last spoke and that's not really okay.

Hopefully tomorrow will prove to be a touch easier...

Dreams and Sacrifice...

2008-11-08T06:25:00.000-08:00

I love the fine and the literary arts with a passion. So intense is this feeling that I would give up online gaming and all facebook applications (including the ones I actually like) for the ability to make either art a profession. I might even reconsider my ‘nicotine addiction.’

This dream for me holds such hope, such possibility! The ability to telecommute or to work from home in some way would open the door between my past and a future of which I actually want to be a part. I have left behind my stay-at-home-homeschooling-mom status for only two months and I still hate it. I thought it would get easier, that I would learn to accept it, if nothing else. All that has happened is that I've missed out on two months of doing and being what I love - oh, and personal growth/challenging old patterns and bad habits. My daughter continues to grow and mature. She continues to learn, though not necessarily what or how I would teach. I have put aside my values for ten lousy dollars an hour and none of us are happy about it.

Then, I have my husband. Wolf's health is such a challenge, right now. Yesterday, about an hour before I left for work, he passed out in the kitchen. It was the worst I've seen yet, complete with seizure, a full minute unconscious and about ten minutes of disorientation before he could pick himself up off the floor. I cannot tell you how much it kills me to still leave for a job that sucks the life out of me, knowing that the person I'm leaving in charge at home is five weeks away from her eleventh birthday. It's just not right. (Add to all of that the fact that I spent my last two hours at work, yesterday, without seeing a single customer, so dismal was the weather.)

So, I scour internet freelance sites, government job-posting sites, e-bay, hoping to find inspiration and the strength to bring that motivation past the 'I wish' phase. In between searches I love my family, sleep and work.

That which has made me the person that I am struggling to overcome.

2008-11-07T08:17:00.000-08:00

I am posting this "About me" in segments, linking each subsequent entry back to the preceding episode. This is the beginning of my story.

I am the baby, raised in an upper-middle class family. I grew up with the impression that we were just barely above poor. My Dad’s motto was “We can’t afford it.” In fact, it wasn’t until my own adulthood that I realized just how much money we had. I never went without necessities and almost always got exactly what I wanted.

The big tip-off for me was in how dissatisfied I was with my childhood, with how often I didn’t like my presents because I was already on to the next, greatest thing. I remember, one Christmas morning, getting a note in my stocking (we were allowed to open the things in our stockings, only, when we awoke in the morning. Everything else had to wait until after we all ate breakfast). The note, signed by Santa, informed of a “friend waiting in the closet” for me. Unable to contain my initial excitement, I was none-the-less disappointed to find that the ’friend’ was Cabbage Patch Kid preemie. I hated those things. They were “so ugly,” unlike their regular sized counter-parts. I knew how expensive they were, insofar as I understood the theory. It just didn’t matter as much as getting what I wanted and when.

I never had to work for anything. What I wanted, I generally got by using my mad debating skills. I can rationalize virtually anything, making it obvious that I absolutely should have my way. In the event of discussion failure, whining, begging or crying were generally as effective. What I didn’t get was rationally explained away, even if the logic was less than stellar. “I hesitate to buy you a Walkman when it will only cost you money in the end (battery replacement).” All of these things, coupled with a resounding lack of encouragement plus more than my share of discouragement, created a teenager for whom there was no point. Dreaming was fine, but empty. Motivation was useless - not that I knew what it was or how to get it - because I just couldn’t do it, anyway.

What does this mean for my future? How will I overcome the lessons I was taught in order to become a proactive character in the story of my life? Stay tuned for the next episode in which more will be revealed...

Ninja fast 2...

2008-11-06T15:35:00.000-08:00

Last night I made sure everything was set for my 'Monday'-back-to-work day. I brought my bedding and alarm clock back from the spare room, set it all back up. I even made my lunch and filled water bottles. Well, I cannot tell you how glad I am that I was so prepared. I may have made everything ready but I neglected one small but integral step in the process. I didn't switch my alarm on.

Something else I am tremendously grateful for, since creating a (heaven forbid) schedule, is that I sleep precisely eight hours a night. Although I went to sleep a bit late last night, I was only off by an hour. That gave me plenty of time to get out the door this morning... y'know, as long as you consider twenty minutes to be plenty of time.

I made it, though. I made it to work on time. I made it through my open-front-end tasks with almost 10 minutes to spare. I made it through my first day back. These are all milestones for me.

Part of my history, when I get around to typing it all up, includes a pretty black depression. Since I started working outside of the home, again, that depression (which I had very well in hand) has come calling. It doesn't stay for very long when it visits but it has been showing up more regularly, lately. And it doesn't even call first! Can you believe the audacity? Mental illness is so rude!

And now, a bath. Later, I sleep. Hopefully, in the not so distant future, I'll have less on my brain. My posts should be a little lighter under those conditions.

2008-11-05T07:09:00.000-08:00

Today, I learn all about sleep deprivation: the effects, the tests and the recovery.

This is one of those things that requires back-story. I really don't want to be sitting here, typing, for the next half hour so I'll give you the abridged version.

Wolf left work one day last March, feeling a little under the weather. He was tired and had had some dizziness but his drive home was uneventful. When he arrived, he found he couldn't quite get out of the truck. He made a few calls - one to his roommate and apprentice, a couple to me and one to 911. By the time the ambulance got there his heart rate had dropped to 34 beats per minute.

This event led to a week's stay in the cardiac ward (with heart rate dropping as low as 24 b/m), a transfer to the major cardiac unit on the island for surgery (which never happened) and, finally, release. He's been home on Medical Leave since and has gone through a battery of tests. All of them have been relatively easy, requiring little more than wearing monitors and whatnot.

The big issue with this whole situation, next to not knowing what the hell is wrong, is that Wolf's doctor is an ass. The man didn't set Wolf up with a specialist until last month. After more than a half-year and no answers, the good doctor finally said, "I'm just a GP. How am I supposed to know?" And thus rings in a new era. A week later, Wolf was in to see an Internist who ran one 24 hour test and said, "It isn't your heart. Your heart is doing exactly what it is supposed to do. I'm recommending that you be set up with a neurologist and I won't be seeing you again." And that brings us to today.

Last night I went to bed in the spare room just after eleven o'clock. When I woke at 6:30 this morning, I immediately returned to our room to see how he was doing. It took a few tries to wake him, at which point he looked pained and said, "Oh no, I slept half an hour." Not to worry, he'd been instructed to sleep no more than five hours to qualify for the test. When he told me about that I asked him if they knew that he generally slept less than that every night.

So, now we watch the election aftermath and logo wars on the news. We'll leave here at 9:30 am to arrive the hospital by 10:40. That's all I know. From that point on, I don't know what to expect. This whole experience is new to me. Wolf has been through it all, many times - that's more back-story which I will get to at some point.

Shifting gears...

2008-11-04T07:03:00.000-08:00

All my life I've run at two speeds. When I was a kid, the speeds were "full-throttle" and "park." I was either playing like a maniac or not moving (usually anaesthetized by TV). My teen years flew by all "hyper and manic" or dragged on, "morose and blue."

As an adult, these speeds continue to shift. A year ago, before I reentered the work force, my speeds were "peaceful and at my own pace/neutral" and "panic/freak out!" Apparently, even I cannot run at full-panic for very long, so something had to give. My speeds are morphing as I type. I woke this morning, my Saturday, at 6:30 am. I knew I could go back to sleep, but if i did, I'd lose useful hours. I got up and made a pot of coffee.

While doing my morning stuff, I became aware of my new speeds. Since I started work, my "panic/freak out" gear has shifted to "with-a-purpose". 'I have ___ much time; how long will it take me to get ready and how long can I sit?' I remembered how lousy I felt after my last weekend. I had two days and I did nothing!!! I didn't want another wasted break. Sitting on my bed screwing around on facebook and playing net-games for hours is not an effective use of my time.

I've used to have boundless amounts of time. As a procrastinating, stay-at-home, home-schooling mom, the only things I had to worry about were getting Kitten to her lessons and submitting my reporting semi-on-time. I could afford, in a way, to run idle; I never ran out of time and, because of that, I never really did anything. Suddenly, I find my time limited (almost) beyond hope. Now, I can't just say, "Yeah, I'd like to make a skirt/shirt/pair of leg-warmers." If I want to do something, I have two days in which to make it happen.

It seems that I have an opportunity to run in "with-a-purpose" gear more often. And, you know what's funny? I really kind of like it.

Friday, Friday bo-bye-day...

2008-11-03T06:08:00.000-08:00

What a perfect week. I closed my first shift and have opened the rest. Regular wake times are my friend. I thanked my team lead, yesterday at the end of my shift. She smiled, then looked uncomfortable before apologizing for not 'being able' to keep it that way. I smiled, sweetly back at her, saying that I was already aware that this week was to next week what heaven is to hell. Next week, my shifts are very bouncy. In this order I: open, close, open, close, open. That means Thursday I'm there at 6:30 am, Friday I'm home by 8:00 pm, Saturday I'm there for 7:30 am, Sunday I'm home at 6:00 pm, and Monday I'm back at work at 6:30 am.

And again, not looking forward to it.

Now, I must go. Work beckons.

Aw, crap!

2008-11-02T06:29:00.000-08:00

Imagine it. My alarm goes off this morning and I'm right on it. After yesterday, when I scared myself by shutting off the alarm and sleeping for another 18 minutes, I am not taking any chances. I shut it off and immediately get up to make coffee. I come back to the empty bedroom to turn on my laptop and light a smoke. Wolf vacated the room last night at around midnight. He was sick as a dog and didn't want to disturb my sleep so he relocated to the spare room. As he left, I asked him if he still wanted me to wake him in the morning. He said yes, he wanted to get up when I got up. I'm not sure if I've said before but I make a point of getting up two hours before my shift starts.

When my smoke is done and I know the coffee maker has worked its magic, I head back to the kitchen with my laptop. I want to get a jump on my morning so I can get a post out in good time. I pour a coffee, doctor it up with my cream and sugar and check the time on my computer. 5:45 wtf?!! The coffee maker says 6:45... ...wait for it... aaaaaand... [click]

F*ck.

This is the first year in a very long time that I've been employed during a Daylight Savings change-over. I was not paying attention. I'm so glad I didn't run right into the spare room and jump on the bed. Beside the fact that that would be a cruel thing to do to someone who was throwing up all night, it would have been an hour too early.

So, I have caught up with most of my outstanding facebook crap, have my post well under way, a coffee in my belly and it's only 18 minutes after the time I wanted to get up.

Nice. See, it's all about perspective. I could grouse about losing out on an hour of sleep but what good would that do? I'm up. I have an extra hour that I hadn't planned on. I used it and I'm happy about it. The "Chipper Monster" is rearing it's sunny face. It's all part of my history, which I was going to use as my NaBloPoMo topic. I guess I already forgot.

[Oh, good morning, Wolf. No, don't be worried, it's Daylight Savings... Yes, I'm sure... I did hear about it last night during the game, I just didn't think about it...] hmmmm, he loves me so much. I love him so much.

Well, I'm off. I'm tired of squinting at the screen. I will see you, good internets, by tomorrow. Have a smooth flowing, peaceful, perfect day.

Cleansing breath -- aaannnnd... write!

2008-11-01T16:56:00.000-07:00

It's Saturday... which means Wednesday (my work schedule' s like that).

It is also the first day of my first, ever NaBloPoMo.

Sadly, I should have written earlier. It is now dinner time and I'm one-hand typing because my other hand is covered with bacon, cheese-burger grease! After dinner we've a date with the TV for one of the precious few televised hockey games (that we want to watch) this month.

We all must set our own priorities and, as I've no readership of which to speak, the good internets will have to gracefully take a back burner.

Edited at 9:46 pm
We won!!! And now, bedtime. I will learn from this evening. I'm going to post first thing, tomorrow.

Halloween, kids, work and sleepiness.

2008-10-31T16:41:00.000-07:00

What a bummer. Not one kid came in to work today. No little ghouls. No Clowns. Nothing at all! I was looking so forward to interaction with children. The honesty they embody, whether happy or not, is so refreshing and pure. And when they have something cool to talk about, like trick-or-treating and dressing up, they enchant me.

In lieu of kids I got more or less grumpy contractors, frazzled parents and the occasional smiley customer. There were a lot of dressed-up co-workers, though. We had a snowman, a sailor, a fortune teller, a couple of cats, Esmeralda and Mulan. About half way through my shift my co-cashier donned an old-man mask, complete with straggly hair, moustache and beard. Belly laughing on front end is awesome - and helps to escape the onslaught of negativity from surly customers.

Now I'm home. Done. Complete for the day... or so I thought. After work yesterday, when Wolf picked me up, he informed me that we would be kidless as Kitten was to go to a Halloween sleep-over. After getting over my disappointment, I settled into the idea. Now, it appears that we're going to the party ourselves. I'm still working on how I feel about this.

I'm hungry. That's how I feel. Going to get some dinner!

New routines

2008-10-30T08:04:00.000-07:00

I have a wonky work schedule. Throughout my week I start work anywhere between 6:30 and 11:00 in the morning. I leave between 3:00 and 7:30 pm. Just for the record, I sometimes have a close shift (11:00 - 7:30) the day before an open shift (6:30 - 3:00). Close nights, I find it incredibly difficult to settle into sleep, thereby making wake-up the next morning a challenge.

I've decided to try something new. I'm setting a more regular wake up time for myself. Today, I have a close shift. Normally, I'd get up 2 hours before my shift, giving my self time to ease into my day. Translation: I would normally have gotten up at 9 am. Last night I set my alarm for 7:30 am. I didn't end up waking to my alarm, though. I got out of bed at 7, after a bit of a tossy-turny sleep.

I feel good. And maybe, just maybe the earlier wake time will make my transition to tomorrow's open shift an easier one. Here's to hoping!

Also, today I get to walk to work. Kitten has an early swim lesson so she and Wolf will be in town when I leave for my day. Thankfully, the weather is looking pleasant. It's cold but not rainy.

On that note, it's time to wake my sleeping beauties.

I wish...

2008-10-29T08:57:00.000-07:00

I want to be rich. I know, everyone wants this... well, except the rich, themselves who just want to be more rich. But I want it more, you see. I ~~almost~~ neeeed it!

This idea hit me this morning when I launched myself out of bed at 6:48 on this, the last day of my weekend. Why would I abandon my nest of cozy warmth, my haven of relaxation and peace, in such a manner if it wasn't absolutely necessary? Because it was. Absolutely necessary.

Last night, when Wolf and I snuggled in to sleep, we took up our usual sleeping positions. I rolled away from him while he curled up around me. It's a very comfortable set up until about four hours later when he's sleeping on his belly in the middle of the bed and I can't roll over because there'll be no room to bend my knees unless I hung my ass off the side of the bed. I find it much easier to doze with my knees over-hanging than my backside.I know, I'm so high maintenance, hey?

Then, a couple of hours later I notice the same thing, only now, I'm actually falling off the bed. Good wife that I am, I communicate my need for his repositioning by ramming my back firmly into him and grunting in semi-coherent quasi-English. He responds, accordingly, by giving me just enough bed to keep me on the edge but not actually falling.

By quarter to seven the tension in my neck from remaining immobile, perched on the very edge of our bed was so extreme that my head was throbbing.

Good Morning!

Now, you may be asking what this all has to do with untold riches. Let me tell you. A good bed is quite expensive. We largely rely on a freebie website for our new/recycled. In fact, that site is how we got rid of garbage bags full of out-grown clothes, an unused Wizard organ (which sounds kind of heinous, depending on how you read it), and our queen-sized bed. Yes, our sizable, comfortable (imho) well fitting bed. We currently sleep on a high quality double mattress.

I shouldn't complain. It is a very good bed. The issue is that Wolf and I are somewhat unbalanced in the size and weight dept. He's about two of me. Without the optional buffer zone between us, I just can't compete. He's bigger, stronger (even and especially while sleeping) and dead-weightier.

So, here I sit, thinking about how wonderful it would be to run out to the nearest furniture store for a big slab of post sunset bliss without going into debt. Debt makes me lose sleep which I would definitely find counter-productive.

Feel sorry for me, yet?

Delicious!

2008-10-28T17:46:00.000-07:00

I love it when my Husband runs into the bedroom and says, with urgency, "Open your mouth!"

I love it more when this is immediately followed by the introduction of my tongue to a chocolate cream puff. A gluten free, dairy free cream puff!!

What the heck were you thinking?!

Halloween Bust...

2008-10-28T15:27:00.000-07:00

I just found Kitten's base costume from last year. Being able to reuse old costumes is made far easier by buying adult sizes and throwing in a couple of stitches to make it workable on a nine year old body. It turns out that the dress still fits well width-wise - Kitten isn't much of a weight gainer - and she's grown enough that she won't have to worry about tripping on its ragged hem. Yay!

Not having much to do on the kidlet's costume started me thinking about my own. My plan was to be a dark/fallen angel. It's my Saturday so I thought I had plenty of time to tweak and perfect. Well, it turns out I have neither the time nor the expertise needed to make right my masterpiece. You see, I have an old pair of leather pants that I have only ever worn once... to the bar... about twelve years ago when I was twenty-three. As much as I have loved them, I've never had the right personality for leather pants. I'm a little bit too hippy-chick. For me, Halloween has always been the perfect time for hair experiments and leather. I have leather (which is not to say I have no hair. I have hair, I just need it to remain mundane for work).
So, I pulled the pants from their place on my closet shelf, slid them on and...

Swore. Loudly.

I forgot that I have lost a literal ass-load of weight. Black leather pants are not attractive when they are two or three sizes too big. Saggy is just not sexy.

So there you have it. My dream of a leather-clad Halloween is dead until next year. Hopefully by then I will have used my 'spare time' to experiment on tailoring pants. Maybe I'll be 20 lbs heavier and not have to worry about it.

For this year, I'm at a loss. I wanted darkness in my costume but nothing too freaky or scary. I work as a cashier and occasionally see children in my line-ups. My goal is to have fun, not to traumatize.

I would ask for ideas but I have only this evening and tomorrow to work on it before I'm back to work on Thursday... Oh yeah, and I have no readership. Seems a bit daunting when seen from this point of view.

Ninja fast...

2008-10-27T15:48:00.000-07:00

Today, I learned that I can make it from sleep to working in sixteen minutes. I also learned that I never want to have to do it again. Ever.

I do, however, want to eat Banana Cream Pie, a piece of which is still melting in my mouth. I am the luckiest person in the world. I never thought I'd be eating cream pies again, once I decided to avoid my allergy foods. I was fully accepting of a life devoid of dairy, most grains and anything processed (read: tasty). Then came Wolf (who is, at this moment, lighting wood chips and throwing them in our front garden - and no, there is no reason behind it, at all).

Wolf is my husband, my partner, my soul-mate. We've been together, this time, for six and a half years. Our first year together, he was a very meat and potatoes and cheese and cream sauce kind of guy. That first year was the second nastiest allergic time of my life. Our second year, I tried to abstain from the nasty foods, which meant two evening meals had to be made - don't think that I'm complaining. I don't cook often. That would be Wolf's domain.

Anyway, there was always such disappointment if Wolf made something so delicious that he needed to share it with me. "Just one bite," he'd say. Often, I would cave just to avoid his negative reaction to my refusal^*. That made our second year my worst regarding my allergies. Anyone who's familiar with 'playing' with an allergy knows that messing up now and again hurts more than going whole-hog for months.

By our third year in, his need to please paid off big for me. His kitchen prowess, mixed with his adventurous nature, created the perfect environment for learning. He now has years of trial-and-error, tweaking and practise under his belt and I now have pita bread, delicious lasagna and banana cream pie under mine!

See? I'm a lucky ninja.

*He and I both have issues with self disapproval. His negative reactions, which I always took on myself (thinking that he was upset with me), came from his disgust with himself for having put me in an uncomfortable position.

The beat goes on...

2008-10-26T19:08:00.000-07:00

I've done it. I signed up for NaBloPoMo.

*deep breath*

I've never been able to post daily and I've been blogging since 2002. I've found over the past few days that I'm looking forward to writing. If I don't write before work, I think about it until I get home. It's been therapeutic on a few levels and this makes me look forward to the month ahead. It has been a season of change and growth for me, so here's to another step away from my comfort zone.

Practice makes NaBloPoMo possible...

2008-10-25T19:58:00.000-07:00

I'm contemplating signing up for NaBloPoMo. Funny thing is, I didn't even know signing up was something one did. I just thought it was about personal commitment. *Sigh*, I'm such a dork.

I've made it half way through my work week. Sometimes I need to hold on to these thoughts. I miss my family, my old life. I realized recently that, even if everything were to return to normal, I still wouldn't be able to go back. My old life is over and it's no bad thing. I have learned so much about myself; I'm so much stronger than I ever thought I could be.

This isn't a news post either. It's late, as I've been up since 5:30 am and my contacts are bugging me so much that I would not be adverse to clawing my eyes out right this moment. I fear that might make the rest of my work week a touch more difficult, though, so I refrain. Go, me!

Yes, there's a story behind my extreme contact use. The problem with all these stories is that I have to start at the beginning. In order for everything to make sense and convey my reality of the situation I am in, currently, I have to begin with background. Anyone who's familiar with me knows that I'm a stickler for detail. I do so like to tell a story. So, in the name of "the good story," I will work on linear writing. Loop-de-loops are best saved for the fair-grounds.

Until then...

Phoenix rising...

2008-10-24T18:30:00.000-07:00

Today, I did not hate my job. I didn't love it, but I smiled again. I think much of my stress springs from me, myself. Funny that I say "I think" when I know. I've known this for years.

Soon I will post some news. There's a reason I've been absent - a long convoluted reason. I just don't have the time or energy to go into any detail.

Soon, and this time I promise.

This toast has spent a week in hell...

2008-10-23T09:12:00.000-07:00

I cannot tell you how much I hate my job. That's not true. I can tell you but the intensity of the feeling is so frightening, it makes my husband nervous. One side effect of this hatred is the ever shortening of my weekend, which arrives on Tuesdays. This most recent two day break had me in tears by Tuesday afternoon. My depression and anxiety disorders were well in hand and now I am cycling again.

I work at a building supply store. I spend my days with people who are unhappy and seem to be bent on making everyone around them just as miserable. I've been told I need to develop a thicker skin. What if I don't want a thicker skin? It just so happens that I really like who I am. For crying out loud - of which I do a lot these days - I'm thirty-five years old. I know who I am and I don't liek having to smile through thinly to completely unveiled insults. That's not right no matter where a person works.

Is it too much to ask for respect? I'm dealing with some of the most dishonest, ignorant customers out there and I'm asked to do it with a smile on my face. I'm held responsible for their lies ahile beign given no support to call them on their falsehoods. All of this I'm having to do with one month worth of on the floor training and no product identification training. It sure forces me to deal with my perfectionism issues.

Next, I am working with a lot of letters and numbers. I knew I was dyslexic but I had no idea how badly until now. I also have ADD which makes it really hard for me to focus, mentally. I'm good with the conversation aspect but looking at a reciept on which twenty items are displayed and having to identify each, both on the reciept and in the vehicle, is a particularly hellish experience for me.

I'm an introverted, dyslexic, ADD adult with depression and anxiety issues (read: sensitive artist). I have a tough time standing in one place for long periods of time. I'm helping to financially support my family - I know, I'll get a job standing behind a counter serving ignorant, unhappy people for eight hours a day and I'll do it for ten bucks an hour!

Me thinks my logic was faulty.

Tee-hee!

2008-05-15T14:19:00.000-07:00

Guess what I'm doing right now?

Done? I'm sitting on my front step, slowly absorbing radiation from my new wireless enabled laptop!

Yay.

Another day in another week of a home learner's life.

2007-10-04T15:45:00.000-07:00

Last year, at the age of eight, Kitten began the school year in her first 'real,' away from home school. It was a phenomenal, tiny little independent school with its curriculum based in bioregional sustainability. They believed in child-led learning and we loved it there - we fit. It wasn't perfect, nothing is, but it was the best of all worlds to our little family. A month after school began, our delightful landlord gave us six months notice. He was selling our house. Gee, thank god we'd redone the 30 year old flooring throughout and completely rebuilt the rotting bathroom! He might not have been able to get the $400K he was hoping for.

I digress. With housing being what it was in the city (read: nonexistent) we quickly discovered that we didn't have the option of sticking it out for the remainder of the school year. With that decision made for us, we discovered another positive point about the school. It had a great distance learning program. Brilliant. Me? Not so much. I really prefer to do my own thing. I don't like feeling like I've got someone looking over my shoulder. Not only that but I'm really lazy and easily overwhelmed. Not the best two characteristics when trying to... well, anything! So our poor DL teacher had to pull it out of her ass at the end of the year because my reporting sucks.

We're with a new program this year. My sister has been with this program for a couple/few years and offered to be my paper-worker as they require weekly reporting of a very detailed nature. She said, "You do the home learning and give me a general outline of what you've done, I'll put it in the form they want to see." Well, guess what? They seem to be less than pleased about the fact that Kitten is registered under my sister's name (as opposed to a parent) and they want me to register with the program. Yay. I'm f*ing thrilled. From 3x yearly reporting (which I sucked at) to weekly reporting... did I already say 'yay?'

Needless to say, my life has not exactly been what I'm used to. Kitten has swimming lessons 2ce/week, plus 'Library afternoon,' 'Park day,' and woodworking. Monday is the only day we're not scheduled out the ass. Whee. Yeah, I've been busy, not that it really makes a difference to blogging. Busy... lazy... it all ends up the same. No updates.

I'm updating!

Now, for the news. Wolf had a laparoscopic appendectomy on September 9th (Happy birthday to YOUUuuu!) He's doing well and only had to go back in once (due to refusing post-operative hospitalization for longer than 12 hours.) He's still tender which means kitten head butts him in the belly at least once a day. Yesterday, finally, we were painfully graphic about the procedure. Hopefully the abdominal abuse eases for a bit.

Kitten is doing well. She's in her element- busy, busy, busy! I'm ... me. I have good days and not so good days. I'm okay. I'm rolling with it. Sometimes I'm rolling under it, protecting my arms and legs from the wheels, but I'm still here.

Curses.

2007-08-20T17:24:00.000-07:00

I awoke at 4:45 this morning to the sound of a phone ringing. It was Wolf's cellphone and he launched himself from the bed saying, "No way." He returned in a huff with the announcement that one of his crew needed a ride to work as his previous arrangement was 'puking drunk.' The usual Monday-drive to work grew from one to two and a half hours. Wolf left at 4:58 and I promptly went back to bed.

I awoke at 6:08 this morning to the sound of a phone ringing. It was Wolf calling to say he was passing our house (having procured his passenger) on his way to work. He said he'd wave but I'd already taken the phone back to bed.

I awoke at around 8 this morning to the sound of a phone ringing. It was Wolf, checking to see if I was okay. He thought I'd sounded a bit 'off' when last he called. I told him that I had been sleeping, not 'off.' I told him I'd call him back.

I awoke at 10:30 this morning to the thought of calling Wolf back. I've had a headache since phone call number two. I opened my eyes and there it was.

God, I hate phones.

Once and for all, and all for what?

2007-07-30T15:13:00.000-07:00

My next door neighbour is currently going to esthetics school. A few weeks ago, while sitting around the bonfire (god, I love the country) we started talking manicures. I confided that I'd only ever had two (fie, for shame!) in my life, that both consisted of acrylic overlay to strengthen my natural nail, and that both had a life of about 48 hours before they began to lift off my natural nail. She scoffed at the poor workmanship of my previous Estheticians and offered to do my next manicure for $40 dollars, about half the price I'd pay in a salon.

Saturday, we finally got around to making it happen. Here's the breakdown.

The first hour was spent in preparation. There are powders and liquids, bonding agents and nail jewels, five different files - not to mention the pot that apparently needs to be smoked before the laying of product can begin... hey, I did say that I'm in the country now, and she did say that she liked to have a plan. Cannabis is said to aid in the production of creative juices.

Anyway, that first hour passed without incident. It took all of ten minutes to prep the nails of both hands so they were ready for acrylic. The next two hours was spent applying, shaping, filing acrylic to my left hand with a brief flurry of "Shit, you made me bleed!" **A short, two hour break followed so that Wolf and I could honour a dinner date at the local pub, then we were back at it.** It took another two hours to re-prep and complete the overlay on my right hand.

As I said, that was Saturday. Today, at least five of the overlays are pulling up. I say at least because much of my pinky nail is covered in a Superman Band-aid, protection for my raw and bleeding cuticle.

Summary:
I spent five hours with a pot smoking student (whom, I discovered, is only 2 months into her 8 month esthetics course,) having uneven, misshapen, bubbly acrylic nails applied, which have taken less than 48 hours to begin pulling up, for half price!

I am thankful, though. When we first began talking esthetics, her class was learning the art of the Brazilian Bikini Wax.

Creation: you are all gods.

2007-07-13T11:05:00.000-07:00

I, like most I'm sure, have favourite bloggers. Some earn this rank by the quality of their writing, some by their humour. If a person can shift my perspective - I appreciate that, as well. There are countless specific reasons that a blog might catch my eye but they all have one thing in common. They change me. For whatever reason and in whatever way, after catching up with my blog-list bloggers, I walk away from the computer seeing life (seeing myself) a different way.

This is a prime example. Jenny (from Mamadrama) writes about originality but she covers so much more.

So thank you Bloggers for taking part in my creation.

Alive and kicking, so to speak.

2007-07-12T11:19:00.000-07:00

Okay, I know that I've been gone a really long time and I generally don't like that fact. I haven't had the time or motivation to write lately no matter how I would love to do just that.

I want to be able to catch up just like that but I am so distractable and time runs a bit faster for me because of it. If only I had... there are too many things and none of them would actually help. If only I had a laptop... I'd still have to open it and use it without getting totally distracted. If only I had a laptop that wasn't connected to the internet... I'd still have to get my writings from it to the PC. If only I had a Mac... No, that one pretty much stands, lmao. I have to make the time, post the pictures... there's a lot to do and the list gets a little longer everyday. This is not a bad thing, it just is.

I'm very glad for the 'friend page.' It means that you will know this is here, rather than not knowing of the update until you happen to check in, like other (cough-blogger-cough) blogs. Ahem, I seem to have a tickle.

Anyway, I have already eaten butt-loads of computer time and Kitten wants to check on her blasted webkin. I must let her as she finally, finally cleaned up her room and it only took 3 weeks. (Truth be told, I didn't really institute consequences until this week. It works! It confused her a little bit after the 2 wishy-washy weeks - wait a minute, she's nine! - but I'm sure we'll both get the hang of this thing.)

I'm outta here, but maybe this entry signals the beginning of the Three Posts a Day part of my cycle? Ooh, suspense

Dead woman walking.

2007-06-20T22:17:00.001-07:00

I am so tired. I just can't seem to get any sort of spark lit under my ass right now. My sink is full of dishes, the only clean laundry in the house is stuff I can do in the sink (read: underwear). Dinner, this evening, was egg salad on toast... and chips and ice cream.

I'm already dreading this full week ahead of me... I don't know for sure but I'll bet setting a bedtime that's earlier that 3am might help a touch.

I'll let you know.

Overheard at my house.

2007-06-07T11:08:00.000-07:00

I love my family. I love my daughter. I struggle to let go of my need to control. Our cat (Kitten's cat) is particular and precious and patient. She will speak when she's less than pleased, but she almost never strikes out. She's not much for being carried and will say so, meowing once as if she's been startled.

Kitten comes from one side of the house, carrying her beloved cat. A brief conversation ensues.

K - There, I finally found a position where she doesn't meow!
Me - Oh yeah? You picked her up by the muzzle?
K - NO!

Kitten loves to make forts for her cat. She designs complicated tunnel and bridge systems, some of which remain upright long enough to be enjoyed. Sometimes Kitten will forget about their game, leaving the room. This morning, after having fed her cat into one such tunnel, Kitten returns to the kitchen to chat. She spits out a brief flurry of statements, some of which are even related to each other, before returning to her room.

K - I know how to find just where she is in the tunnel (giggling)
Me - You enter the room and suddenly scream like a banshee?
K - NO!

Yeah, she has to deal with my crap all the fricken time.

Because I am highly suggestible...

2007-06-05T17:49:00.000-07:00

You Are 72% Open Minded

You are a very open minded person, but you're also well grounded.
Tolerant and flexible, you appreciate most lifestyles and viewpoints.
But you also know where you stand firm, and you can draw that line.
You're open to considering every possibility - but in the end, you stand true to yourself.

How Open Minded Are You?

Thank you Jen for commenting on Chases post and introducing me to your blog and, therefore, this post by Stephanie.

Shine on you crazy diamond... and no I won't get nekkid. Don't ask again.

For more pointlessness, please refer to my most recent LJ post.

Road trip.

2007-06-05T08:38:00.001-07:00

Things I learned from Thursday to Sunday.

I learned (Thursday) that:

leaving late doesn't mean arriving late.
speeding is relative to the rate at which the traffic around you is moving.
manifestation works, at least in terms of catching a ferry in time.
eating more veggies makes one hell of a lot more stopping for gas... and then some.
making good time at the beginning of the day doesn't necessarily mean coming out on top at the end of that same day.
it doesn't matter how old you are when it comes to sneaking in to your dad's house without waking him, it still gets your heart pumping.
my sister is/was better at sneaking in than I was, which explains a lot...
it's easier to make my sister laugh when she's nervous... and she swears more (heh)
it's getting easier to fall asleep in a bed that isn't my own.

(Friday)

my dad gets up really early!
he loves his kids and pleasant surprises.
sixty four doesn't mean old.
prairie heat is gorgeous.
say what you want, no matter what you think others want to hear.
there's no such thing as perfect, and sadness is always an option.
it's really hard to fall asleep when I'm sad.

(Saturday)

success can be measured in smiles.
the older the people in my life get, the more amazing they become.
the people in my life feel the same about me.
I am fully capable of smiling and continuing even if I'm scared and overwhelmed.
my Dad has touched peoples lives and they're thankful.
if I am willing to accept it, there is immeasurable support out there for me.
I have a whole other family, really!
it is hard to go to bed the night before the road-trip home.

(Sunday)

there are no mountains like the Rocky Mountains.
Calaway park is still there, but bigger than it was 20 years ago.
it takes longer for my cell phone to realize we've changed timezones when returning home than when leaving home.
I don't need to take a picture to make a moment memorable. In fact, it can often ruin the moment, altogether.
that my sister is hilarious and amazing and loaded down with just as much baggage as am I. (When looking at a line of cars on the highway, trapped behind the slow guy she said, "Look. Pace car... in other words, 'Mom.'" and related to me a conversation she and Mom had had years ago. "Mom, you know that you're supposed to pass in the left lane but travel in the right, right?" "Yes" "Well, do you think that you should change lanes and let the people behind you pass?" "They're going plenty fast enough." You gotta love her! Well, I do, anyway.)
leaving late doesn't mean arriving late.
manifestation works, again, in terms of catching a ferry in time.
after 11 hours of sitting on my ass in a hot car there is enough moisture in the crack of my ass to cultivate mushrooms and moss.
that I am allowed to be a barefoot hippy and I love it!
no matter how badly I wanted a vacation, my favourite part was when my daughter launched herself into my arms at the end of it.

It's good to be home.

I hereby solemnly swear...

2007-05-29T22:42:00.000-07:00

(Cross posted to LJ)
Wolf is finally living his dream of returning to the country. While I cannot claim that I dislike rural living, I can insist on retaining certain traits I was brought up with, while denouncing certain others that I have witnessed of the local populace.

Now that I'm a country girl...

I will do my damnedest not to take it to heart when my good grammar and syntax offends my neighbours (I am not pompous, my mother was an English major.)
I will burn some of my garbage, occasionally - not all of it, all the time.
You will never hear me state that I've had 3 bottles of wine, then watch as I get into my 4X4 to drive my friend home.
I will not use the verb douche when referring to tidying up my home.

I will be adding to this list as situations present themselves.

Seeing God.

2007-05-16T12:59:00.000-07:00

(Cross posted to LJ)
I told him that I wasn't interested in watching his slow (or not so) decline and that I was struggling to be supportive in this, his time of illness. If he wasn't going to go see his doctor, so be it. He said he was just fine, that he'd been sick like this before and all has turned out just fine in the past. Then he excused himself to cough until he was sick. "Okay," Wolf said, "if I'm not feeling better by Tuesday I'll make a doctor's appointment." That was on Sunday.

Monday was a replay of Sunday but at a distance (he's back to living-out during the week).

Yesterday morning he called me sounding chipper, if somewhat raspy.

Wolf: Hey babe, (chokecoughsputterwheeze) -(strangled) hang-on (coughhackcoughchoke.......)
Me: Oh good! You're feeling better.
W: Hey, that's only my second today. Really, I'm waaaaay better.

The conversation concluded after whatever pertinent information had been gathered and given.

The morning carried on in the usual home-schooling manner, with sneaking and attempted subterfuge, and at about 12:30, Wolf called again. It was the usual lunch time call. He sounded more raspy, like he had the day(s) before. I asked him how he was doing. He said it was all good. 'Have a good afternoon; talk to you later; love you and all that'...

Less than five minutes pass when the phone rings, again.

Wolf: I'm gonna call the doctor and find out if I can get a walk in appointment. (click)

Five more minutes brings with it the announcement that the office is closed for lunch and no one will be answering until 1 o'clock. Shortly before 1:00 he calls to ask me if I can please set things up with Doc God as he's already on the road.

Reception says, "Doc God's not on walk in today and he's booked solid except for an appointment at 1:40." There was no way Wolf could get home (one hour trip) and we could get to Vic (another hour trip). We decide that we don't care. We're heading in to the city, appointment or not. Not a really eventful trip. Nice scenery, smooth highway, tearing cough. Just loverly.

Into Vic and down the Highway, left on Cloverdale and straight on 'til morning... Yup, booked solid. We had to wait a whole 8 minutes before Doc God himself calls Wolf back (you're the next contestant...). Even down the hall, through the closed exam room door I can hear the wracking coughs. Yum! Ten minutes pass and he's heading back down the hall, the grim expression of a man who has to spend a small fortune to regain some semblance of health. Not too bad, really. Turns out the good doctor was only willing to give him 2 days worth. Why? I'll explain that one with the following exchange:

Doc God: Why didn't you come in sooner?
Wolf: (grinning and coughing)....
Doc God: (scratching on his prescription pad with a vengeance)...

And if you didn't understand that then you either are or have That Guy.

that guy
n.

One who takes care of ones needs, usually medical.

personal idiom:

(I'm/you're/he's) not that guy
masculine judgment: Only pussies go to the doctor if they aren't bleeding from an artery and I'm not that guy.
sarcasm: Some people go see someone about coughing up blood but Wolf is not that guy.

The fricken guy has a bronchial asthmatic infection "that some might call pneumonia." Doc God gave only 2 days of meds so that, if it wasn't getting better, he could escort Wolf to the hospital on Thursday. If Wolf says it's getting better and goes in for more antibiotics etc, Doc God gets to call any possible bluff. See, there's a reason we call him Doc God. He is all seeing and all knowing, but I can't confirm possible claims of omnipotence.

A new place for my thoughts.

2007-05-14T22:08:00.000-07:00

I can't promise that this will always be cheery but I do promise honesty. I will be angry and sad and joy filled and wretched. It's all in here, waiting.