Scrubbing

I scrubbed the bathroom floor yesterday. Not that it was a big job but one that had to be done never the less. Our bathroom is where the old pantry used to be hence the size. So it has room enough to fit a bathtub, sink and toilet. The bathroom is small enough you can multi task without any effort. But that is not the point.

While I was on my hands and knees with a knife attacking all the corners and the dead dust bunnies glues to the corners, I recalled sitting at a desk, answering phones, monitoring shipments and orders for the plant that I worked for. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy some aspects of the job but it wasn't what I wanted. Believe it or not, I got more satisfaction from my sparkling (okay maybe not sparking but mildly shiny) clean floor than I ever did from that job. Or from any job now that I think of it. (Except being a Mom but that goes without saying.)

The money was good. But at what expense? My daughter, my family and my relationships. I slowly figured it out that that the money was not worth it. I never wanted to be a working mother. I never wanted to be a working wife. My mother was an at home mother and I very much admire her for her choice. Before I continue I will explain something about my family, especially on my Mother's side.

The women left a legacy of not really giving a damn about what society set as the rules for women. For example, my grandmother was one of the few married school teachers of her day. She taught while she was a wife and mother as well. Her sisters, also were not lumped in with the generalization of the day. One wrote text books and another was a Professor of Education. On my mother's side, her grandmother was a single mother with nine children. She drove the mail and put the last spike in a provincial railway line.

My own mother stayed home when working outside of the house was the thing to do. Now no offense to the feminists out there, but I do ask the question who is the stronger the ones who swim with the tide or the ones who decide to against it. Personally I like it when a man treats me as a lady and holds the door open for me. I like to be called Mrs. Men and woman are different. Science has proven that but so what. It is my choice not to be a feminist because I do not feel the need to go out and prove something. I believe in equality for all despite the differences. I took a composition course for writing once. I could not believe how this turned into a male bashing session for the two hours I was there twice a week. I paid money for this?

I digress. I will save this for another rant another day. My point was I had felt more satisfaction in that clean floor than I ever had for any other task I had been paid to do. That felt so good. So good in fact I turned my attentions to the kitchen. Hubby came home took one look at the bathroom, kitchen and washer ('cause that got scrubbed too) He checked my temperature.

Here's the scary thing. I got right into cleaning out all the grubby hard to get spots. Its like I became obsessed with removing all the grime and dirt. It became addictive. One spot led to another and then to another My vision tunneled and all I could think about was how was I going to clean the next spot and hoping nobody called to break my stride. The more I cleaned the better I felt but the more my hands protested. My eczema really started to complain. So I think today I'll just do the regular stuff and ignore the rest.

But there is the fridge....

The Last 24

Now I would love to write something chipper and happy but that is not going to happen. Its like the Creator decided my nice little quiet world needed a volcano erupting, earthquake and a hurricane all at once to give me a reality check.

Firstly our border is dating a creep way to old for her who can't seem to keep his attitude in check with me. She is 18 he is 23 turning 24. Now as I have previously stated I mean no disrespect to those who have children involve in this age gap and are in such a relationship or to those involved. But I must wonder why a young man of that age must go trolling for the younger catch. Could they not find anybody over 20 to date or have they run through the lot? I have never met someone who I did not want in my home. I have only ever banned one person from my home. He thought is was funny to kick my little dog across the room during a social gathering.

This guy though, not only sounded my warning bells and sent for the Calvary. I couldn't figure why he had my instincts screaming to push him out my door. I asked him his age and he told me 22. Like that is any better than 23. Its still too much of an age gap. Our border is very sweet and very naive. She came from a home where her curfew no matter what was 9 pm. She doesn't seem to think that lying, drugs and excess alcohol is a bad thing. Or am I just too old fashioned?

I have two hours sleep because I was mulling it over in my head until my eyes burned. But can I sleep, no because my exzema has flared up. I have been battling it for a month now and just as I think its better, it gets worse again. Now I could handle the exzema but now it has aggravated my arthritis. Not only are is my skin red, itchy, blistered, oozing fluid, but now my hands are aching from the arthritis. So this has only added to the fun.

In the middle of the hoopla with the Border, the Beagle decides to have a bad dog day. From getting on the table, to getting into the garbage and constantly nagging me for treaties. Like with his bloated freckled tummy he is going to get anything other than his soy milk.

In the middle of this, Hubby called to give me his new schedule. Ten on, four off. But of course for the first week he works eight days then one day off. Some where in there is a reason why he feels he must do this. I'm not sure that the insanity is all in my head.

So now I'm feeling a little punch happy. You know, like you have had that one bottle of wine too many. Laying down only leads to the world spinning faster and faster. I know in this house, there is a soft pillow and a comfy bed. I only have to shove five dogs over so they will let me share a corner of the pillow. They are generous that way. Well except for the Chihuahua. He doesn't play well with others.

Life's little Mysteries

I was bragging to Artist while she was here for coffee about how well I have been doing at keeping my house clean. Today after vacuuming and dusting I cleaned out a nook of stuff that was cluttering. Going more streamline. (Less to dust) I turned around to see the Beagle running around tossing somebody's sock like it was a toy.

Where do these things come from? I cleaned under the sofa and chairs a couple of days ago. You would think something like that, a sock, would get stuck in the vacuum. Its like this cat toy that I found a few days ago being eaten alive buy the dust T-rex under my sideboard. I have no idea where this toy came from. My walking carpet with a heartbeat (as one friend called it) of a cat has never played with a cat toy. Dogs are much better prey. Toys are beneath him.

He is a Ragdoll. Nobody warned me this was a cat with an attitude. I was told soft, cuddly and quiet. Not a bunch of hair skulking around waiting for the Airedale to walk by to release anger upon.

My daughter got the cat hooked on these Caribbean kitty treats. If the cat does not get his little fish shaped smelly kitty snacks, he gets mad. Not only will the cat not jump up to his food, he now demands his treaties. He will meow to be put up for his food and then meow at you again. If you walk away he jumps down follows you and meows at you until to do it right. He is a patient teacher to his dense humans. But every once in a while he gets a little miffed. That's when he either will take a swing at you or try to trip you. What happened to cute and cuddly?

We did have two female cats. One was my Hubby's and one was mine. They found little bits of paper more entertaining than a ball with a bell. Hubby's loved anything that would crinkle. I hating wrapping gifts with her in the same room. I never knew which angle the cat would decided the paper need to die a slow and shredded death.

My cat on the other hand found string a much more delightful way to pass the time. She never ate which I was thankful for. I was making a wreath with a string of lights that I was planning to give the neighbours. Each year they have a little get together for on Dec 23rd. We weren't able to make it this year but I wanted them to have something that I had made especially for them. I was working on the wreath trying to pull the string of lights through the branches when I could feel something behind me snag them. I turn around to see my little kitty with eyes the size of saucers as attacked the string of light like some snake slither across the floor. I removed her teeth from the wire and pushed her back telling her no. (Like that will work with a cat intent on killing) I managed rather quickly to get the lights woven in to the wreath. But then ribbon, it was decided by my sweet little kitty, could not live. I managed to finish the wreath after I put band-aids on to stop the bleeding.

So like I say they had no use for this toy. So I haven't a clue where this thing came from. Its just one of those little things in life that make it a little more interesting.

Oh Yeah, I read that Artist. At least I don't wolf whistle and say pretty girl. I just laugh.

Rainy Day Blues

It's raining today. Normally I don't mind the rain but today I do. I guess its because I had to go shopping. Or it could be the doggy tracks piling up. I'm not sure. Its not like its even a bad day really. I managed to get the majority of my running around done in a timely manner. I was able to go for coffee and a friend's on a whim.

I think it might be the clouds. You know, the smoky gray billowing clouds that cover the sky. Not one ray of sunshine can pierce through they are so thick. There is even a chill in the air but only a hint of it. Maybe it realizing that there is only so many days left before the trees start turning colour.

Even the dogs aren't as full of energy as usual. All are lazing about on any piece of furniture that is free. Except for the Beagle. The Beagle is by my feet. Now I would love to say, it is out of loyalty to me. Nope. Its in case I move off the chair and into the kitchen where he will nag me for supper or soy milk. (This is the one I have to specialty cook for. He loves his soy milk.) And yes I will admit he is spoiled. He is old. Hounds seems to age faster than other dogs. Or its just mine.

He will stand and whine at me by the hour while I sit and complete a task. He knows when I say "Let Mommy finish her coffee." He will go lay down. But the minute my coffee is done. He starts nagging me again. Like right now for instance.

Better go feed them or Artist might complain about the Beagle waking her up.

Cooking Thoughts

Ever have one of those days where you don't want to cook. You know, you go to the fridge several points through out the day, open the door and stare. Then you close the door and open the freezer and just stare. Then you close the door and walk away. Nothing popped out, nothing appealed to the senses. And you know you gotta cook because A) you can't afford take out and B) because only that morning you pontificated about your organic, unprocessed, granola crunching diet. Which means I'm cooking.

My Hubby, bless him, is very tolerant of my sporadic attempts at trying new recipes. Now for reasons, I had felt in the past, it needed to be justified as to why I am experimenting. I would always say I saw it somewhere or I read it. Now, I tell my Hubby its Surprise Night. Will it or won't taste alright? That's the surprise if tastes good. Now I say, I thought I would try this. It feels good not having to justify myself.

Last night we had a late supper. It was too hot to cook. Except that I had to cook the dog's special tofu stew. Hubby looks into the sludge filled pot and asks if that's for supper. I swear he paled as a bit of tofu bubbled up. I said "Yep, thought I would experiment." that's when I heard it. The under the breath prayer for mercy. So, after asking him to taste to see if there was enough salt, I blew the bluff. I started to giggle at him. He was quite relieved to see the neat little packets of tin foil we were BBQing when it cooled down.

Yesterday was a good cooking day. Not today. I can't decide between pasta or rice. Potatoes are out, their just too much work. Do we go vegetarian or meat? Then there's the egg issue? And that's just way too much thinking for me.

Most days, I really enjoy cooking. Because our diet is for health reasons and not because we were pre dispostioned to granola, I spend a lot of time cooking and planning meals. If we want pizza, I make it as with hamburger and Asian.

The last time we had Asian we were so disappointed. It was our anniversary and Hubby said he'll cook. As we were deciding the best choice for our diet we went with Asian. For the money we paid, I could have gone to the grocery store and bought the ingredients; came home and made it for a fraction of the cost. It would have tasted better too.

I have a fondness for Chinese cuisine. There is something about that I get a warm comforted feeling from it. I think it stems to my childhood when my parents lived next door to Mr. and Mrs. Lee. Their family owned the Outrigger in Prince George. I was two or three years old. I remember being in the kitchen of the Outrigger. My other memory of is of Mrs. Lee. She was a tiny Chinese lady that hardly spoke a word of English but with a pretty smile. I remember her smell. She smelled so good like spices and soft flowers. Her kitchen smelled wonderful too. I would sit at her counter while I babbled on to her incoherently and she would talk to me in her language while I tasted what she was cooking. I remember Mr. Lee having a long thin face with very kind features. I often think of them. I would love to tell them that they had an influence on me.

Sigh.

I still have to figure out what I am cooking for supper. Maybe if I shake the fridge something will fall out.

The Joyful Artist

I did it! I added a link. Now it only took me an hour and a half but I did it all on my own. I am lousy with computers and this kind of thing but I try very hard to learn stuff on my own so I do not have to continually nag Hubby. Hubby is a computer technition. He tried one night to make me a little more computer savvy. My answer was, stay out of the kitchen and I'll stay away from the computers.

I would like to tell you a little bit about the Joyful Artist. Firstly, I do not need to say she is a talented artist. I have a couple of her pieces of her work and I love to see what she posts next. I have watched her develope and grow with her skill. I have seen confidence replace uncertainty as she continually hones her craft.

When we first met we were complete opposites. I was uptight, conservative, and I would also add judgemental. I can hear her saying, "Your still judgemental just not as bad." She was ecclectic, almost bohemiem, and with a carefree nature. We were at opposite ends of the stick. She was open to new people, and I was desperate for somebody to like me. She seemed to like me. Artist and I started a relationship.

This is a relationship that not only grew but taught so much. I learned a lot from Artist, more than she will think. I learned courage. Not courage to face adversity but the courage to face your emotions. I have learned to be comfortable in my skin. I have learned to listen, not just to the words but the feelings as well. She has taught me its okay to cry in front of others. She taught me to be freer with my emotions.

She has these amazing blue eyes that dance when she is telling a funny story or she comes up with a new idea. Eyes tell you a lot about a person. Hers are warm.

I lost a twenty two years old friendship. The good that came out of it was, that I appreciate the friendships I have cultivated now. They aren't based on highschool hang ups and the way we were still viewing each other as fifteen. We failed to recognize that we grew up and that we change. We still held each other in the teen age mode. I would love to strike up a friendship with her now. I hear things are good for her. We each have bettered our lives. Maybe we needed to part in order to do that.

Artist understood and listened while I sorted some of the baggage out over it. Once I got thinking about it, her friendship had somehow superceded the other. She had become the one that I relied on to make me laugh when I needed it. She was the shoulder I wanted to cry on and it was her opinion that mattered to me more. It was Artist who had become my best friend. All during the last part of that dying relationship, Artist was the one that I turned to for my reality checks within one or two phone calls. And she thinks she leans on me. She is the one who has to put up with my insanty.

Yesterday Artist and I had coffee. Overhead was a slow moving storm. You know the type, the thunder rolls soft and lazy like. Rain comes down like a sheet of water. Inside I had candles going, Micheal Buble playing in the background while we had coffee. Thunder crashed while we laughed over something funny my Hubby did. It was one of those moments that just felt so right. It was one of those moments that create the bond of soulmates.

I'm very lucky she is one of mine

Dust Bunnies from Hell

My house is in a pickle. There is clutter, books waiting to be done(I do one set of books for a client), vacuuming, dusting needing to be done. In the mean time I am getting our freezer stocked for winter. Its all part of my little scheme to keep costs down during the more expensive months. I sit down with a cup and coffee, as I type a very large dust bunny rolls by my chair. Where it came from, I have no idea. I don't think what I have could be considered a bunny. Bunnies are cute and soft. I think I have Dust Hippopotami(Spell check hasn't a clue either). Large, lumber and anything but cute. This is my cue I need to take a serious break from the harvesting (from the farmer's market)(I'm scary with a sythe) and give the house a cleaning.

I hate dusting. Always have. I have a sister who loves dusting. I knew insanity run in my family but I didn't think it end up all in one place. I always liked the look of every thing when I am finished. I try to cheat. I have used the vacuum cleaner attatchments. That works well to a point. You are still left with a film. Then I redusted. So I wasted more time trying to cut corners. I have tried dry dusting with a cloth or duster. That didn't work. I ended up having to go over everything with an oil or polish to actually pick up the dust instead of it floating through the air causing one of the dogs (The big one of course.) to sneeze. So instead of being quicker I spent twice as long redusting and cleaning a wall.

Not that my house is neat and tidy at the best of times. When it is, nobody is around to see it. I guess the messier the house the more coffee you serve. If I know someone is coming over who has never seen the house, I can clean it from top to bottom. The advantage of having a smaller older home. The disadvantage, is there is no storage areas to stash the clutter. So I actually do clean out as well. Its a bonus I guess.

Time to attack the dust bunnies. I think one just ate my Chihuahua.

Dear Anonymous

"Anonymous said...
Wonderfully smug blog... Too bad you didn't bother to give any thought to those of us who have to wait on people like you. Working on the front lines for the public is no fun. thanks for making me feel like what I do is unneeded and unnecessary. I'll never be lucky enough to have a husband or baby, much less a socially accepted relationship."

Dear Anonymous
First of all I will say now for the rest of the time I write this blog. My apologies to anyone whom I offend. It is not done with any intentional slight. This is only a vent. An avenue of expressing my individual thoughts. This is not a slur on any nation, any race, any creed, any religion, any breed or of anyone else I have not listed.

On this though, how is my rant in any way connected to this person or in any way making them feel unneeded or unnecessary? Yes I did refer to the staff as hiding or grouping like Sharks. As a customer in my town it is very much like that. Getting bitched at by a cashier is just a great way to end my shopping trip. Having trouble finding someone to help me and having to walk across a 90,000 ft store thus leaving me crippled for the rest of the day. I think there is complaints on both sides of the counter.

Having been there I learned how to deal with a diversified clientele. From the one who treated my like shit because I was merely a cashier to the ones who would thank me for being pleasant. I would wait patiently for the little old lady to count out her pennies for a can of Dutch cleanser. I wouldn't autocratically decide every teenager was a hoodlum as they stood glaring at me while they paid. I did my best to handle the customer who was threatening bodily harm as my manager hid in his office. Yep, I got the scars to. My only point of the blog was, I was once the way other people reacted in the line up. My point was I know what's its like and I stopped myself from doing that. If that was not conveyed then again my apologies and henceforth will write with more clarity.

My point is this. You don't know me or have you walked in my shoes. You do not know what tradgedies or battles I overcome. My creed is this "Do not pronounce judgment on me and I shall do the same for you." And for the record smugness only leads to self doubt. I may be many things but smug is not one of them. I don't know you or your circumstances nor is it any of my business. But I do hope for your sake and your spirit, you seek help. Because the fact you signed yourself anonymous and the tone of your message means you already feel invisible. You must see yourself first before anyone else can see you no matter what kind of relationship you seek.

May the Creator grant you many blessings
Winbul

Grocery Shopping

I went grocery shopping today. I hate shopping at the best of times. My idea of a good shopping trip is sitting with my coffee and have a cigarette while browsing through eBay. I love eBay. Shopping in big store surrounded by families with screaming children or eBay. The scales just don't tilt the having to leave the house way. I get frustrated at having to hunt down every aisle for one freakin tapered candle. And the staff is no help. If they aren't hiding in the back they are grouping like sharks.

I remember going shopping as a young pregnant newly wed. I loved walking up and down the aisles pretending to make the right choices while not having the money to do so. I remember picking up a little extra something like a treat for the dogs, feeling like I had the extra to do so, coming home and being berated for four hours cause it could have bought something else that would have given him (The Ex!) an extra lunch. Yap, and I wonder why I hate shopping and my ex. Actually he not a bad guy. He is compassionate, tender and gentle. Unfortunately, it is also combined with a cowardice, avoidance, and single mindedness. If you met him, you would he is a really nice guy. Which he is. Just not with me. He'd be so freaked if he knew I said this on a blog. Right now, I'm really giggling to myself. This is some kind of therapy! I love it. I have just informed the entire world of a small confession and nobody really cares! But its out there! This is so cool!

I have digressed somewhat. I was standing in line waiting to pay for my items. Ahead of was a young mother who felt like I did. I must explain the crap in cart cause the only thing that might possibly have any amount of nutrition is the canned beans. I look to my cart which now is full of the organic. I was so happy the store had organic chicken. I mean, I was excited as my mother looks at the price in disgust. I'm looking at the items and comparing to even three years ago. I couldn't help but laugh. I was the woman ahead explaining the mac and cheese to lady behind who has nothing but soy and organic in the cart. My how time flies.

I now hold back some of the money for the farmer's market. Now, I have know idea how a farmers market in others cities are like but I'm pretty guessing they have the familiar ways. I have never met a group of more aggressive senior citizens. Even at Walmart they give way. Oh my God, if their not giving you that "I'm on pension look" to inspire guilt to buy their crocheted granny squares then their stomping on your foot to get into line. The ones with the carts are the ones to avoid. They can claim bad eye sight as they mow you down. Now I like senior citizens. They are a hoot. Just not at the farmer's market.

Shopping is like a tedious mundane task that must done every week. My hubby claims that at least I get to spend money. Oh yeah, trying to decided between the organic raisins which are twice the price for the regular raisins, is what I call fun.

Actually one of the things I will say here, I also appreciate the fact that I have the budget the decide if I want to spend the extra on organic. Years ago I was doing a household budget of $100 and $150 a month. That was for three people, four dogs, and three cats. That money also had to cover cleaning, bathroom, laundry and any extra like a prescriptions or gifts. I was making my own pasta because I could not afford the dollar to buy it but I could afford the thirty cents to make it. Why that extra fifty cents can buy you another tin of soup for another meal. Man did we struggle. Now I look back on it, I see it gave me the tools to be able to afford going organic. I plan meals, I shop on a weekly basis, I always double check pricing. Gee, why my grocery shopping isn't a fun chore. Hey Honey, I've got an intimate night of meal planning going on, care to join? Yeah somehow I don't think the hubby would jump right in there with even the sultriest voice I could conjure up.


My mother was looking at me like I had grown a second head when I told her about the organic sour cream and organic yogurt. She gave my cart a sweeping glance then gave me one of those "that's good Dear" looks. Hey its a good shopping trip if I can find a few more items organic. My husband thinks I'm going a little nutty because I describe going grocery shopping to him likes its a night at the opera. I will give him a detailed blow by blow of what happened and who I ran into. Never mind the job that with his company he can advanced to; that's hardly a discussion but the condition of cauliflower kept too long on the shelf, is some how pertinent to his life. For some reason who I ran into at the grocery store is important in his day to day functions. Why I can sit for two hours discussing why I choose the butter over the margarine and some how try to justify it.

My daughter once told me I seek approval for everything I do. From staying at home to the groceries I buy. Actually she was right when I stopped to think of it. So I stopped. I quit justifying why I do, and will do things when I turned 40. (That whole month and a half ago) It was all part of that baggage thing, I spent a year and a half discarding. I quit explaining. I started doing instead. If someone asks I sometimes say "because I wanted too." And it feels great saying it.

So now I shop and not care that the person behind me has no meat in their cart because they are vegetarian. I am the lady with the organic cart behind the young mother with eight boxes of Captain Crunch going through the till.

And oddly enough, it feels right.