I've only tried to update my blog for three weeks now but every time I sit down to do it, the phone rings, the door knocks, a dog throws up or something is burning. (Usually the coffee from boiling over) It seems as Christmas nears, my time gets less and less. Its even worse now that I'm rehearsals for Wizard of Oz. Not that I'm complaining, it just seems to be.
Today for example, I am decorating two trees, one of which is fibre optic and the other I just got the lights on last night. They have been standing for three days. I also have to house clean, attack dog nails with a machettee, laundry plus Hubby will be coming home for lunch to disrupt what ever rhythm I have going. It feels like for every hour I am out of the house, it takes me three to catch up. But I think that just goes with the territory of this household. Did I mention the theatre stuff too? I'm not quite sure what will get done today but something will. Even if its the dishes and I beat Hubby's time at Mariokart.
My delete button has decided to quit. I'm pretty sure it's a silent protest as the poor thing lately has been ignored. That and one of the dogs mauled my glasses and now they sit crooked with teeth marks in the upper corner of the lens. Not any where that impairs my vision, but just detectable enough that it pulls at my attention. Never mind...I just cleaned my glasses, apparently it was dirt.
So I am going to step up to Scribble's Soap Box and have a little vent. You see we have been watching TV lately. Hubby has found a four channels that are English and not religious. On these channels they sell everything from diet food to case law suits. But I think the automatic egg breaker was the one that sent me for a loop. I was insulted as a cook. They show hands and people smashing eggs like they are spastic. Then they show people pulling egg shells from their food. Of course they add the hard to peel boiled egg. First what kind of idiot, smashes an egg into to the frying pan and only fresh eggs are difficult to peel when they are hard boiled. When was the last time anybody got a fricken fresh egg from the grocery store? And somebody thinks this was a good idea.
Then the "Shaker" comes on. This is a dumbbell weighted with springs and you shake it to help reduce those problematic arm flabs. It only takes six minutes a day. One twit comments how she can see the definition the first try. So how stupid are we or is it just the camera that turns people into morons? Ladies, you want to reduce the arm flab, hang your clothes on a clothes line, make bread instead of buying it, pound cabbage into sourkrout, beat muffins by hand rather that using the mixer and if you really feel the need to work out, wash walls. Have people really become this sedentary that we need dumbbells with springs to do it for us? I'm really worried about the average person. At least its not a pre stuffed turkey or meal in a bag.
Although the diet meals were pretty bad. They send you a month's supply at a time. And the great thing is, all the prepared meals without the worry of counting or cooking. Okay...so what happens when you have lost all the weight you want and you have to eat and cook regular food? I'm a kind of thinkin, all that weight is going to find you again and fast. Instint weight loss, instint weight gain and then harder to lose later on.
Everything is so instint. Kids get impatient when their not text messaged right away. All these prepared foods is killing, good old fashioned cooking, because we want it now. And we wonder why stress is the number one killer. We fret and stress because we want it now but we have to wait that minute or two for what ever we are waiting for. Am I the only one who sees the stupidity in this. At least Algerian TV only sells Persian Rugs.
I'm off the soap box and staring at the walls that need to be vacuumed. It's the problem with textured walls. They collect dust bunnies that bungie jump. Its the Christmas dust bunnies I like. They have icicle tinsel from God knows where, (as I haven't used icicle tinsel ever) all intertwined with the hair. Personally I like the red and green glittered ones. They reflect the lights from the Christmas tree as they roll by my feet begging for the broom and dust pan.
I guess I know what I am doing today
Monday, December 06, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Coffe Break #1835
So Hubby comes home the other night and announces he bought a hot water heater. An electric hot water heater. We just put in the one that we had stored for five years in a couple of months ago. One can imagine my surprise at another one coming in the door. His plan now is to convert the house to electric power only. Great idea Einstien but what happens during a black out? My idea was to have an alternate heat source like...say...maybe...Wood that is renewable and I can cook on. Silly me, I forgot, there's the fire pit in the back yard. And if it happens in the winter there is all the snow we can melt. I'll probably play it safe and avoid the backyard for snow collecting.
I've had to do it before. But getting water from snow is like making ketchup. Your canner will be full of snow and the end result is a quarter of what you had before. But it was a good thing I had listened and learned to boil every flake of snow for more than five minutes. Why? I'm not sure but its what my Gramin told me to do and I did it.
I compare snow to ketchup because ten pounds of tomatoes resulted in two pints of Ketchup. Now the taste is worth it. The exploding jar, the not so right ingredients, completely ignoring the recipe and having to learn how to actually can a jar was all worth it. Except for the fact it took me all day making two little batches resulting in two jars to show for my effort. Hubby only reinforced the feeling of defeat when he looked at the ketchup and said "That's it? You look like there should be more." Isn't he a darling.
I will be glad when this play is over. I can feel my brain wanting to have its rest. I just have to keep going until next Saturday when it last curtain call. Its been very hard work this play for the main characters. Mine was only a bit part, thank God because sitting in the president's chair for the next two years is going to be grueling enough without the added stress of a production.
I've already managed to tick of three other executives in my over enthusiasm to get things done and have rethought packing it in, at least twice and I've only held the chair for little over a month. Its that retoric in the back of my head "What the %^&$ was I thinking?" I wasn't. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But I took it on and so forge ahead I will. Tally Ho and all that crap. My English ancestors just flipped in their graves. The Italian side is cheering me on. I think I'm worried.
I've had to do it before. But getting water from snow is like making ketchup. Your canner will be full of snow and the end result is a quarter of what you had before. But it was a good thing I had listened and learned to boil every flake of snow for more than five minutes. Why? I'm not sure but its what my Gramin told me to do and I did it.
I compare snow to ketchup because ten pounds of tomatoes resulted in two pints of Ketchup. Now the taste is worth it. The exploding jar, the not so right ingredients, completely ignoring the recipe and having to learn how to actually can a jar was all worth it. Except for the fact it took me all day making two little batches resulting in two jars to show for my effort. Hubby only reinforced the feeling of defeat when he looked at the ketchup and said "That's it? You look like there should be more." Isn't he a darling.
I will be glad when this play is over. I can feel my brain wanting to have its rest. I just have to keep going until next Saturday when it last curtain call. Its been very hard work this play for the main characters. Mine was only a bit part, thank God because sitting in the president's chair for the next two years is going to be grueling enough without the added stress of a production.
I've already managed to tick of three other executives in my over enthusiasm to get things done and have rethought packing it in, at least twice and I've only held the chair for little over a month. Its that retoric in the back of my head "What the %^&$ was I thinking?" I wasn't. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But I took it on and so forge ahead I will. Tally Ho and all that crap. My English ancestors just flipped in their graves. The Italian side is cheering me on. I think I'm worried.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Dear Randy
It's coming up to a year now Randy. The impact of your life hasn't left us, nor has the pain of losing you. It has become my husband's mistress. I know that Time is only an idea of Man, and that you are only a heartbeat away from the rest of us. It is the hidden doors of dimensions that keep us parted from you. Death is always hardest on the living as we tend to hold on.
Things are different down here now. Some of us have tried to move on and accept that which we cannot change. Some of us have found comfort in each other's arms as the link to you but there are the ones left behind like your brother who carries the pain deep and close. I was very angry at you for taking a part of my husband with you that can never be returned. But the anger has subsided with the knowledge that life is circle, it always continues. We see it in the faces of your nieces and nephews. We hear it in their laughter and the in cries of the newborn. The next genreation will know about their Great Uncle.
Trying to make sense of it all has been very difficult. There has been no words of reason and the question why we put this in the blueprints of our lives has only made things harder...
But somewhere between sun up and sun down I have realized we aren't supposed to make sense of your death. It was just part of your's and our's blueprint. And I realize that we are far from your thoughts as you have moved on into a world that we hope to join someday. You no longer feel aches, pain, saddness or even anger. You are getting ready, planning some future life in which we will all share with you again as we have in the past. You just beat us to the Hall of Records. Its our blueprints that hold us here to finish what we started.
Do me favour old friend, whisper to me the words to make this better for your brother. You know I listen to the wind. It carries the voices from afar. And should you chose to be silent, I understand, but I shall always be listening just in case.
This Hallow's Eve, I shall be lighting a candle in your name. Look for it if you can. We miss you. We love you. And maybe...just maybe...instead of the wind, we can meet in the dream state and have a conversation. You know my door is always open to you and there will always be a cup of coffee waiting at my table for you.
Things are different down here now. Some of us have tried to move on and accept that which we cannot change. Some of us have found comfort in each other's arms as the link to you but there are the ones left behind like your brother who carries the pain deep and close. I was very angry at you for taking a part of my husband with you that can never be returned. But the anger has subsided with the knowledge that life is circle, it always continues. We see it in the faces of your nieces and nephews. We hear it in their laughter and the in cries of the newborn. The next genreation will know about their Great Uncle.
Trying to make sense of it all has been very difficult. There has been no words of reason and the question why we put this in the blueprints of our lives has only made things harder...
But somewhere between sun up and sun down I have realized we aren't supposed to make sense of your death. It was just part of your's and our's blueprint. And I realize that we are far from your thoughts as you have moved on into a world that we hope to join someday. You no longer feel aches, pain, saddness or even anger. You are getting ready, planning some future life in which we will all share with you again as we have in the past. You just beat us to the Hall of Records. Its our blueprints that hold us here to finish what we started.
Do me favour old friend, whisper to me the words to make this better for your brother. You know I listen to the wind. It carries the voices from afar. And should you chose to be silent, I understand, but I shall always be listening just in case.
This Hallow's Eve, I shall be lighting a candle in your name. Look for it if you can. We miss you. We love you. And maybe...just maybe...instead of the wind, we can meet in the dream state and have a conversation. You know my door is always open to you and there will always be a cup of coffee waiting at my table for you.
Sunday, October 03, 2010
It's Sunday
Aaaaaaand now heeeeeereee's Mania. So of course I can do eighty thousand things in a day. I figured out that Wonderwoman and the other female super heroes, were all bipolar and stuck in manic mode. At least I'm a little more productive in the mode...not that the house is showing it.
The dynamic of the house has shifted from two to three. To make a very long and traumatic story short, our sixteen year old dog sitter needed a place to live. Within three hours Hubby had the study cleared out and a bed room set up for her. She is lovely, bright and has a razor sharp sense of humor. She has a part time job and is educating herself by correspondence through the school system. We got to know her this summer, as she is Miss S's younger brother's girlfriend. He would come here to visit with his sister as Miss S is always here.
Its funny having a teenager in the house again. There were so many things that I had forgotten about. The noise, the friends, and the boyfriend. Its a good thing they are really good kids even to the point of where they understand and work with me when I'm having a rough day. She tends to on those days (only two so far) make me laugh.
The weather finally turned nice although it keeps threatening to dip in a few days. We've been taking advantage of the weather and I've been watching Hubby rake and re-rake the leaves. Its great fun, he will just have gotten a lovely pile together and the Beagles will come rampaging through it. Its so much fun to watch. Especially when Hubby has piled the leaves into a large mound that can be plowed then trailed. Autumn is the best time to be a Beagle.
So I auditioned for a part that I don't expect to get just because the last one I auditioned for I thought I had a fair shot at. So when I got dumped on my ass, I learned like I did in dog shows, just because you think you have a chance to prove your breed/talent doesn't mean it will happen. I hate the lessons of humility. They suck big time. So we will see what happens. I did audition my mom's Australian Terrier. I think he has a better chance at a role than I do.
The dynamic of the house has shifted from two to three. To make a very long and traumatic story short, our sixteen year old dog sitter needed a place to live. Within three hours Hubby had the study cleared out and a bed room set up for her. She is lovely, bright and has a razor sharp sense of humor. She has a part time job and is educating herself by correspondence through the school system. We got to know her this summer, as she is Miss S's younger brother's girlfriend. He would come here to visit with his sister as Miss S is always here.
Its funny having a teenager in the house again. There were so many things that I had forgotten about. The noise, the friends, and the boyfriend. Its a good thing they are really good kids even to the point of where they understand and work with me when I'm having a rough day. She tends to on those days (only two so far) make me laugh.
The weather finally turned nice although it keeps threatening to dip in a few days. We've been taking advantage of the weather and I've been watching Hubby rake and re-rake the leaves. Its great fun, he will just have gotten a lovely pile together and the Beagles will come rampaging through it. Its so much fun to watch. Especially when Hubby has piled the leaves into a large mound that can be plowed then trailed. Autumn is the best time to be a Beagle.
So I auditioned for a part that I don't expect to get just because the last one I auditioned for I thought I had a fair shot at. So when I got dumped on my ass, I learned like I did in dog shows, just because you think you have a chance to prove your breed/talent doesn't mean it will happen. I hate the lessons of humility. They suck big time. So we will see what happens. I did audition my mom's Australian Terrier. I think he has a better chance at a role than I do.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
It rains when Change comes to town
It's a quiet Sunday morning and the sun is even gleaming through my front window. We have had one of the worst summer's ever here as the ground never fully dried out from the rain. The only bit of a break we got, we were under siege from smoke billowing from the British Columbia forest fires. We couldn't win. My back yard is like a great big mud puddle. I know we needed the water, but for the past three weeks, we never got three days in a row it feels like, without one of them being wet. I only watered my garden twice this year as mother nature did the rest.
But now the leaves are changing. Soon our little town will be an Autumn spectacle of golds, reds and even a smack of purple as the green retreats. The air will be that little bit crisper and the nights grow longer. Its seems this year, we are not the only ones with leaves falling, as usually our trees are bare by the end of September. When I look down the street, I see the colours starting in other yards. Change is all about.
Its hard, when I look down the street and I know that Artist is no longer five house down but twenty minutes and several stop lights away. It feels empty on that side of the street. Soon my other neighbours will be leaving, one this November and another this spring. I realized as Artist was moving that I am not good with changes as much as I would like to be.
I do not greet it with a sense of adventure, its more like a streaming of tears with the urge to run away and avoid it. The problem with that, is when the change hits, I'm fighting it twice as hard and losing all the way down. I have always spouted that without change we cannot grow...well...I wish to remain stunted until the last possible minute so the growth spurt is painful. I do not accept it gracefully, its usually with a runny nose and red puffy eyes. I have since a child hated changes as they meant for me, my whole world was rocked. (We know why now) And that was even if the change was for the better.
Hubby just got up and we checked the weather as he wants to go fishing. Yup, more rain. For the next two weeks we have three days without it. I'm going to go look for my umbrella now... after I finish my coffee
But now the leaves are changing. Soon our little town will be an Autumn spectacle of golds, reds and even a smack of purple as the green retreats. The air will be that little bit crisper and the nights grow longer. Its seems this year, we are not the only ones with leaves falling, as usually our trees are bare by the end of September. When I look down the street, I see the colours starting in other yards. Change is all about.
Its hard, when I look down the street and I know that Artist is no longer five house down but twenty minutes and several stop lights away. It feels empty on that side of the street. Soon my other neighbours will be leaving, one this November and another this spring. I realized as Artist was moving that I am not good with changes as much as I would like to be.
I do not greet it with a sense of adventure, its more like a streaming of tears with the urge to run away and avoid it. The problem with that, is when the change hits, I'm fighting it twice as hard and losing all the way down. I have always spouted that without change we cannot grow...well...I wish to remain stunted until the last possible minute so the growth spurt is painful. I do not accept it gracefully, its usually with a runny nose and red puffy eyes. I have since a child hated changes as they meant for me, my whole world was rocked. (We know why now) And that was even if the change was for the better.
Hubby just got up and we checked the weather as he wants to go fishing. Yup, more rain. For the next two weeks we have three days without it. I'm going to go look for my umbrella now... after I finish my coffee
Friday, August 20, 2010
Just getting stuff out of my head.
So last post we were heading out camping with our huge tent and the dogs. Well, the littlest one went into shake mode as the camping stuff came out. Another dog hid so we decided to take Winston (the Airedale) and the two beagles. It was a good weekend but not so much for Hubby. To sum things up...Hubby bought a 1972 tent trailer that is in great condition and very comfortable. And now he is much happier to go tenting. We took it out for a weekend and did nothing but just sit inside and look around enjoying the trailer. I will admit that it was much more comfortable than sleeping on the ground in a tent. Must be that age thing settling in.
My garden has taken off and this year I will finally get produce. We have been munching on snap peas and lettuce. My potato hills are looking more like mountains. Every time I commented to Mom on my potatoes at the various stages, she would respond "Just keep hilling." I have no more dirt to hill with so I gave up and decided to just weed the terrain rather that keeping stealing dirt from other locations. The beets are getting bigger and my tomato plants actually have tomatoes on them. Not just one or two like last year, this year there is lots and they are a good size. My corn even looks like I might get an ear or two. Its a little more satisfying when looking out on to it. I would have pictures but, there was a little episode one morning that involved me, a room with a closed door and my determination to destroy everything within sight. It didn't last long but long enough there was a few things lost. My camera was one of them.
My therapist explained that it was my Bipolar kicking in and some people go through that on a daily basis. For me it was a total overload of emotions that was triggered. I could never live with that on a daily basis and its only ever happened three times before in my entire life. Hence the high functioning....but I'm beginning to wonder what it would be like to go through life without having to watch triggers, stimulation and trying to cope in a world that I do not understand nor does it understand me. Hubby tries but I can see it some days, the strain it puts on him.
She also explained to me that Bipolar is in the central nervous system and not necessarily the brain. When an overload happens as such that morning, my brain shuts down and the nervous system takes over. I don't remember what happened, I just remember going upstairs, removing Patches from the room and shutting the door. My last sane thought was getting myself isolated so the dogs would be safe. My next sane thought was calling Hubby. I may not trust the man with the last six inches to be done but I trust that man whole heartedly when it comes to having to handle situations like the one I just described. And I trust what he says or thinks is best for me.
We still need to have a discussion. Its there and in the air but we aren't ready to face it yet. I don't know how to approach the subject. Hubby said to me not to long ago that we hadn't really done anything between us to deal with the Bipolar side of our marriage. We both live with it. I said at the time that we had made some changes. But I got thinking and realized he was right. His words that morning had triggered the episode, he knew as he had said to a friend that he thought he triggered it. As wonderful as the man is, he also has a little bit of baggage that rears up once in a while. Unfortunately that morning had been the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back and I snapped. Literally and physically. So once again we are redefining things.
Everybody who is in my life on a daily and social basis is exposed to my mental illness. I'm very lucky to have these people in my life. Some days are harder than others, but then that's why I love my garden. Its my spot that I can escape into and forget there is a world I have to cope in. Its very lonely at times because others don't understand I can't deal with things like I used to. Its not that I don't care, because I do, its just that one thing more that at the moment my brain can't deal with. In my thirties, I would try to deal with it then get mad and bitchy when I couldn't. I was very unhappy back then. At least now, I don't feel like I'm wearing a mask and trying to live up to how people saw me. I can't be bothered now. Its kind of a take me as I am attitude. Some days I can be there for you, other days I haven't got a clue as to how to cope with a dustbunny.
What has not been helping the past two days is the haze of smoke that the winds have brought us from our neighboring province B.C. (British Columbia). Yesterday I was watching it billow and roll off the rooftops. Its blocked the sun so the days are cooling and there doesn't seem to be any rain in sight to clear it away. Its like walking around in a burning mist that moves slowly through air. The moon was blood red and the sun hitting the ground is a fiery orange. It made for a very disorienting day. Even the dogs were off kilter.
Speaking of which, I should get my butt out the door and poop scoop. Its the glamorous side of six dogs.
My garden has taken off and this year I will finally get produce. We have been munching on snap peas and lettuce. My potato hills are looking more like mountains. Every time I commented to Mom on my potatoes at the various stages, she would respond "Just keep hilling." I have no more dirt to hill with so I gave up and decided to just weed the terrain rather that keeping stealing dirt from other locations. The beets are getting bigger and my tomato plants actually have tomatoes on them. Not just one or two like last year, this year there is lots and they are a good size. My corn even looks like I might get an ear or two. Its a little more satisfying when looking out on to it. I would have pictures but, there was a little episode one morning that involved me, a room with a closed door and my determination to destroy everything within sight. It didn't last long but long enough there was a few things lost. My camera was one of them.
My therapist explained that it was my Bipolar kicking in and some people go through that on a daily basis. For me it was a total overload of emotions that was triggered. I could never live with that on a daily basis and its only ever happened three times before in my entire life. Hence the high functioning....but I'm beginning to wonder what it would be like to go through life without having to watch triggers, stimulation and trying to cope in a world that I do not understand nor does it understand me. Hubby tries but I can see it some days, the strain it puts on him.
She also explained to me that Bipolar is in the central nervous system and not necessarily the brain. When an overload happens as such that morning, my brain shuts down and the nervous system takes over. I don't remember what happened, I just remember going upstairs, removing Patches from the room and shutting the door. My last sane thought was getting myself isolated so the dogs would be safe. My next sane thought was calling Hubby. I may not trust the man with the last six inches to be done but I trust that man whole heartedly when it comes to having to handle situations like the one I just described. And I trust what he says or thinks is best for me.
We still need to have a discussion. Its there and in the air but we aren't ready to face it yet. I don't know how to approach the subject. Hubby said to me not to long ago that we hadn't really done anything between us to deal with the Bipolar side of our marriage. We both live with it. I said at the time that we had made some changes. But I got thinking and realized he was right. His words that morning had triggered the episode, he knew as he had said to a friend that he thought he triggered it. As wonderful as the man is, he also has a little bit of baggage that rears up once in a while. Unfortunately that morning had been the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back and I snapped. Literally and physically. So once again we are redefining things.
Everybody who is in my life on a daily and social basis is exposed to my mental illness. I'm very lucky to have these people in my life. Some days are harder than others, but then that's why I love my garden. Its my spot that I can escape into and forget there is a world I have to cope in. Its very lonely at times because others don't understand I can't deal with things like I used to. Its not that I don't care, because I do, its just that one thing more that at the moment my brain can't deal with. In my thirties, I would try to deal with it then get mad and bitchy when I couldn't. I was very unhappy back then. At least now, I don't feel like I'm wearing a mask and trying to live up to how people saw me. I can't be bothered now. Its kind of a take me as I am attitude. Some days I can be there for you, other days I haven't got a clue as to how to cope with a dustbunny.
What has not been helping the past two days is the haze of smoke that the winds have brought us from our neighboring province B.C. (British Columbia). Yesterday I was watching it billow and roll off the rooftops. Its blocked the sun so the days are cooling and there doesn't seem to be any rain in sight to clear it away. Its like walking around in a burning mist that moves slowly through air. The moon was blood red and the sun hitting the ground is a fiery orange. It made for a very disorienting day. Even the dogs were off kilter.
Speaking of which, I should get my butt out the door and poop scoop. Its the glamorous side of six dogs.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Breaking the Block
I guess it's been noticeable that I haven't updated the blog lately. Gardening, housework, visitors, and the theatre have been my life as of late. But there is also the writer's block thing happening again. I sit down in front of the screen to write but its like trying move a brick wall out of your sight. Its just not happening. Could be I'm just to preoccupied with everything else to be able to concentrate on the writing.
It pouring buckets outside which really doesn't inspire any creative thoughts and the fly buzzing around here is going to meet with a shoe in a bit if it doesn't go find a window soon. Then there is the fact that the dogs are really protesting against going outside. Six dogs and this is my daily schedule on a not so wet day. My mother has the sign but I've added to it:
Let dogs out
Let dog in
Let two in
Let dogs in
Let dog out
Let dog out
Let dogs in
Let dogs out
etc...
So you can see, I'm really not needing any cardiac exercises with the jumping up and down all day. It would also be noteworthy to say here its not the best for focusing either.
We did have a few lovely hot fish pond days but it was to hot to think those days. That is when I hide under the canopy of our maple trees and melt. Daught brought her new fellow over on one of those nights. He has the most genuine smile of anybody I have ever met and smiles so easily. He laughs easily and seems very playful. Definitely a refreshing change from the last few. The dogs loved him and even Buster who gave a growl when he entered the house. But then a strange male with Buster's girl is call for letting him know that Buster is watching him.
Hubby's banging on the roof this past week hasn't helped with trying to focus on my story. He has to replace the shingles on the roof. It's almost done. The last six inches needs to be finished and according to Hubby will be once the rain has stopped. So we will wait and see. Artist thinks he will because it is something that has to be done...well...I'm still in wait and see mode.
Hubby also bought a new tent. We had been looking for a new one as I wanted something with more room as we have six dogs. So we are now the proud owners of a thirteen man, four room tent. This is not a quick set up so where ever we take it, we are planting our butts down and not moving for five days. Apparently in two days we are going fishing. Okay so I'm not but GB and Hubby are going to give it a whirl. Miss S and I will be back at the campsite hopefully lounging. I have assured the kids they do not have to help with the dogs as the four old ones will know what the trip is all about to help reassure the two Beagles. (I hope)(I pray)
I'm bringing a camera. I figure I should be able to get some good shots of Camping Hell. At least its a total break from Solar Hell for a bit.
As it is still a shower outside I think I will concentrate on my next chapter for a bit. Its seems the block has been lifted for the moment and I must take advantage.
It pouring buckets outside which really doesn't inspire any creative thoughts and the fly buzzing around here is going to meet with a shoe in a bit if it doesn't go find a window soon. Then there is the fact that the dogs are really protesting against going outside. Six dogs and this is my daily schedule on a not so wet day. My mother has the sign but I've added to it:
Let dogs out
Let dog in
Let two in
Let dogs in
Let dog out
Let dog out
Let dogs in
Let dogs out
etc...
So you can see, I'm really not needing any cardiac exercises with the jumping up and down all day. It would also be noteworthy to say here its not the best for focusing either.
We did have a few lovely hot fish pond days but it was to hot to think those days. That is when I hide under the canopy of our maple trees and melt. Daught brought her new fellow over on one of those nights. He has the most genuine smile of anybody I have ever met and smiles so easily. He laughs easily and seems very playful. Definitely a refreshing change from the last few. The dogs loved him and even Buster who gave a growl when he entered the house. But then a strange male with Buster's girl is call for letting him know that Buster is watching him.
Hubby's banging on the roof this past week hasn't helped with trying to focus on my story. He has to replace the shingles on the roof. It's almost done. The last six inches needs to be finished and according to Hubby will be once the rain has stopped. So we will wait and see. Artist thinks he will because it is something that has to be done...well...I'm still in wait and see mode.
Hubby also bought a new tent. We had been looking for a new one as I wanted something with more room as we have six dogs. So we are now the proud owners of a thirteen man, four room tent. This is not a quick set up so where ever we take it, we are planting our butts down and not moving for five days. Apparently in two days we are going fishing. Okay so I'm not but GB and Hubby are going to give it a whirl. Miss S and I will be back at the campsite hopefully lounging. I have assured the kids they do not have to help with the dogs as the four old ones will know what the trip is all about to help reassure the two Beagles. (I hope)(I pray)
I'm bringing a camera. I figure I should be able to get some good shots of Camping Hell. At least its a total break from Solar Hell for a bit.
As it is still a shower outside I think I will concentrate on my next chapter for a bit. Its seems the block has been lifted for the moment and I must take advantage.
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
P.S.
If anyone has any good sites for Canine Epilepsy, or knows anyone with any information please let me know.
The block has lifted.
It's finally a nice day outside. We have had crappy weather, a mix of cold, rain and snow. I don't mind rain, and we really need it here, but I much prefer a warm rain. Battling with six dogs was fun. The only two that were good about going outside without Mommy was the Chihuahua's. We had to wait until the Beagles started to rampage to get them out. Even then, it would last maybe a minute or two then they would be under Hubby's make shift work table seeking a dry corner of the yard.
Hubby was grumpy because the road to Solar Hell was temporarily washed out. I was grumpy because I couldn't go play in the dirt in my garden. (I made up for it yesterday). The dogs were happy because we were locked in the house with them and couldn't escape or we would end up wet. It was hard on my brain as well. I had to fight the roller coaster, and the two extremes of mania and exhaustion from one day to the next. I did warn several people that I was at my extremes and not to intentionally press my buttons. The hardest part of all was keeping it all calm for Buster.
Buster the latest edition has had two seizures, not unlike what my sister's epileptic dog used to have. (She passed on). A phone call or three to the vets, hours of research and an in depth picking of my sister's brain (and it's big) we have found out a lot of information that still leaves us in exactly the same spot. Helpless. Because of the fact, he was a rescue and we have no medical information of him or his lineage, his age or his history. So we are waiting to see if he out grows this. We will know in approximately a year. We are only guessing he was about 9 or 10 months when we got him. If he doesn't out grow them, then we are faced with trying to determine if it is epilepsy or a brain tumor. At this point we are told, to keep a journal of his seizures, everything that led up to and everything after. I'm to include things life vacuuming and hand lotions if used because anything could be a trigger. My sister had to quite using a certain cleaner because it triggered her dog. From all the information gathered, anything from stress, loud noises, TV or radio to cleaners could induce a fit.
Good thing Hubby and I have been working with each other in dealing with our "relationshit". We argued for two days and nobody knew it because we kept the language soft, the tones quiet and the discussions short with long breaks in between. Here's the kicker, we resolved more in those short talks than we ever have raising our voices. The four old dogs weren't stressed or in hiding like they have in the past. This little factor really made us rethink our way to resolve differences.
I think back now to the way I used to behave and I shudder. If I say certain words, our Airedale leaves the room thinking there is an explosion following. The minute there is any frustration in my voice, his tail is ducking and his head is low. He becomes wary of me and my actions. Can you blame him? I can't. Not when I think of the monster he lived with. The side that nobody saw or heard except those that lived with me. Winston, is my daily reminder that I have to change the way I react to situations. So now instead of frustration, I just cry. It's easier, albeit messier, but not has hard on the system as anger or frustration. Less damage I find too, and tissues can clutter but you can't break an ornament when you throw tissue. And the Beagles think its a whole new game.
At least now I have my garden back. I spent the afternoon yesterday getting nice and muddy. It was great fun. It felt very satisfying to have gotten it turned over, weeded out and planted. I still have a couple more things to get into the ground and I really don't care that it's late either. It's more for therapy than anything else. Its my little area of the yard that I can go into without the dogs and escape into the dirt. Smudge hasn't figured out that it's Mommy's space yet but for a cat, I'm quiet impressed with the fact that the only time she is in the garden, is when I'm with her.
And don't worry Scribble, Smudge is very respectful of my garden. She went into it once the first time she was outside. I tossed her out telling her no and she hasn't ventured into it alone since. She is a very smart cat. I don't mind sharing my solitary space with Smudge. She stays by my feet and doesn't do anything but chase the odd bug or climb the tree above me. When I leave, she follows and then torments the Beagles or runs to under the shed for protection from the Beagles. I noticed yesterday she was actually following the paths after I told her to stay out of the dirt. I'd like to think my kitty is physic but today the little witch will probably prove me wrong just because she has a warped sense of humour.
I've been fighting writer's block on all levels. It isn't for lack of wanting, its the lack of words that really ticks me off. Even with the blog, I'm finding some days there is nothing there. Everything is blank. It's like my creative side decides to shut down. Those days its even hard to come with a meal, let alone a sentence. It can even be a good day and I'm not on the roller coaster and I'm stuck. Even my private journal will go without an entry for weeks because I can't seem to put anything down. Then if by chance there is a spark, I get easily distracted or worse, interrupted. I have learned from past experience if I push it, the struggle makes things harder and prolongs the block. Today is obviously a spark and so far the distractions have been the odd snoring dog and the desire to sate the need for coffee.
These are the mornings I love. I had a good sleep; a soft wake by a wet nose and soft face; coffee with cream and a serene quiet. Its sunny, birds are jumping outside the window. The air is sweet and warm, and thanks to the rain, the trees are greener and a little more lush. My garden is waiting for my walk around it and just to tip my morning to almost perfect, I get to poop scoop.
And I wonder why I have writer's block most days.
Hubby was grumpy because the road to Solar Hell was temporarily washed out. I was grumpy because I couldn't go play in the dirt in my garden. (I made up for it yesterday). The dogs were happy because we were locked in the house with them and couldn't escape or we would end up wet. It was hard on my brain as well. I had to fight the roller coaster, and the two extremes of mania and exhaustion from one day to the next. I did warn several people that I was at my extremes and not to intentionally press my buttons. The hardest part of all was keeping it all calm for Buster.
Buster the latest edition has had two seizures, not unlike what my sister's epileptic dog used to have. (She passed on). A phone call or three to the vets, hours of research and an in depth picking of my sister's brain (and it's big) we have found out a lot of information that still leaves us in exactly the same spot. Helpless. Because of the fact, he was a rescue and we have no medical information of him or his lineage, his age or his history. So we are waiting to see if he out grows this. We will know in approximately a year. We are only guessing he was about 9 or 10 months when we got him. If he doesn't out grow them, then we are faced with trying to determine if it is epilepsy or a brain tumor. At this point we are told, to keep a journal of his seizures, everything that led up to and everything after. I'm to include things life vacuuming and hand lotions if used because anything could be a trigger. My sister had to quite using a certain cleaner because it triggered her dog. From all the information gathered, anything from stress, loud noises, TV or radio to cleaners could induce a fit.
Good thing Hubby and I have been working with each other in dealing with our "relationshit". We argued for two days and nobody knew it because we kept the language soft, the tones quiet and the discussions short with long breaks in between. Here's the kicker, we resolved more in those short talks than we ever have raising our voices. The four old dogs weren't stressed or in hiding like they have in the past. This little factor really made us rethink our way to resolve differences.
I think back now to the way I used to behave and I shudder. If I say certain words, our Airedale leaves the room thinking there is an explosion following. The minute there is any frustration in my voice, his tail is ducking and his head is low. He becomes wary of me and my actions. Can you blame him? I can't. Not when I think of the monster he lived with. The side that nobody saw or heard except those that lived with me. Winston, is my daily reminder that I have to change the way I react to situations. So now instead of frustration, I just cry. It's easier, albeit messier, but not has hard on the system as anger or frustration. Less damage I find too, and tissues can clutter but you can't break an ornament when you throw tissue. And the Beagles think its a whole new game.
At least now I have my garden back. I spent the afternoon yesterday getting nice and muddy. It was great fun. It felt very satisfying to have gotten it turned over, weeded out and planted. I still have a couple more things to get into the ground and I really don't care that it's late either. It's more for therapy than anything else. Its my little area of the yard that I can go into without the dogs and escape into the dirt. Smudge hasn't figured out that it's Mommy's space yet but for a cat, I'm quiet impressed with the fact that the only time she is in the garden, is when I'm with her.
And don't worry Scribble, Smudge is very respectful of my garden. She went into it once the first time she was outside. I tossed her out telling her no and she hasn't ventured into it alone since. She is a very smart cat. I don't mind sharing my solitary space with Smudge. She stays by my feet and doesn't do anything but chase the odd bug or climb the tree above me. When I leave, she follows and then torments the Beagles or runs to under the shed for protection from the Beagles. I noticed yesterday she was actually following the paths after I told her to stay out of the dirt. I'd like to think my kitty is physic but today the little witch will probably prove me wrong just because she has a warped sense of humour.
I've been fighting writer's block on all levels. It isn't for lack of wanting, its the lack of words that really ticks me off. Even with the blog, I'm finding some days there is nothing there. Everything is blank. It's like my creative side decides to shut down. Those days its even hard to come with a meal, let alone a sentence. It can even be a good day and I'm not on the roller coaster and I'm stuck. Even my private journal will go without an entry for weeks because I can't seem to put anything down. Then if by chance there is a spark, I get easily distracted or worse, interrupted. I have learned from past experience if I push it, the struggle makes things harder and prolongs the block. Today is obviously a spark and so far the distractions have been the odd snoring dog and the desire to sate the need for coffee.
These are the mornings I love. I had a good sleep; a soft wake by a wet nose and soft face; coffee with cream and a serene quiet. Its sunny, birds are jumping outside the window. The air is sweet and warm, and thanks to the rain, the trees are greener and a little more lush. My garden is waiting for my walk around it and just to tip my morning to almost perfect, I get to poop scoop.
And I wonder why I have writer's block most days.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Morning and I'm not awake
So its one of thos mornings where five hundred thoughts are going through my head at once. Everything from my bike to the garden, then from a head line I've read to thinking about how I need to declutter the house and especially the study. Its hard to stop. And with each little thought comes a little emotion and that's when I know I'm on a manic day from hell. This means I have to take things a little slower and think before I speak or everything comes out garbled. In one way, manic days are more creative but yeild little result. If I really really focus, and some days that's extremely hard, I will get house work done. But that is only if I don't get diverted by a piece of fluff.
I'm hoping Hubby brings out my bike today. He is off and its supposed to be nice warm day. I really can't wait because I have a sporty new wicker basket for the front. The cool thing is I can remove it to take shopping. I'm still wanting a cup holder for my coffee. I still want a wagon for the back to haul dogs or groceries.
Speaking of which, I have decided that six dogs and camping are not going to mix. I know how sometimes my brilliant ideas go awry and its usually more often than not. So in light of reviewing my former ideas and the results, I'm thinking this year is a good year to stay home and work on the yard. Six dogs and a tent with all wanting to be with Mommy and Daddy on the bed made of flimsy plastic, is just screaming chaos.
The most recent addition, Buster, our brawny Beagle doesn't like it outdoors unless its sunny. He will only go out at night if one of us is standing at the door and all the other dogs are with him. Buster runs for the door at the hint of smoke from the firepit and we found out he is afraid (I do mean afraid) of bubbles. Now if its sunny and warm with no bubbles in sight, he will play, sniff and sleep for hours. As soon as a cloud appears, he is scraping and whinning to come in. Some how I don't think this dog and camping is going to go well together.
We know know his story as it came out while I was in the hospital. He was taken from a deep sleep, driven out to the country and dumped in the middle of a cold winter night. We know it roughly happened at about ten at night. Hence why I stand outside at ten with the dog.
Well, if I don't get my bike today, there is always laundry. Can my day get anymore exciting? Yes actually it can, I see the road to solar hell looming ahead. Although I must say Hubby is happy with his new inverter. All I know is it takes the electricity and makes it usuable. Maybe if I hide in the ditch I call my garden he won't find me. Unfortunately the Beagles will when they want food.
I'm hoping Hubby brings out my bike today. He is off and its supposed to be nice warm day. I really can't wait because I have a sporty new wicker basket for the front. The cool thing is I can remove it to take shopping. I'm still wanting a cup holder for my coffee. I still want a wagon for the back to haul dogs or groceries.
Speaking of which, I have decided that six dogs and camping are not going to mix. I know how sometimes my brilliant ideas go awry and its usually more often than not. So in light of reviewing my former ideas and the results, I'm thinking this year is a good year to stay home and work on the yard. Six dogs and a tent with all wanting to be with Mommy and Daddy on the bed made of flimsy plastic, is just screaming chaos.
The most recent addition, Buster, our brawny Beagle doesn't like it outdoors unless its sunny. He will only go out at night if one of us is standing at the door and all the other dogs are with him. Buster runs for the door at the hint of smoke from the firepit and we found out he is afraid (I do mean afraid) of bubbles. Now if its sunny and warm with no bubbles in sight, he will play, sniff and sleep for hours. As soon as a cloud appears, he is scraping and whinning to come in. Some how I don't think this dog and camping is going to go well together.
We know know his story as it came out while I was in the hospital. He was taken from a deep sleep, driven out to the country and dumped in the middle of a cold winter night. We know it roughly happened at about ten at night. Hence why I stand outside at ten with the dog.
Well, if I don't get my bike today, there is always laundry. Can my day get anymore exciting? Yes actually it can, I see the road to solar hell looming ahead. Although I must say Hubby is happy with his new inverter. All I know is it takes the electricity and makes it usuable. Maybe if I hide in the ditch I call my garden he won't find me. Unfortunately the Beagles will when they want food.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Is that a turn off I see?
So the sun is shining, the birds are chirping and the seasonal journey down the road to Solar Hell is back upon us. Oh wait, there is a turn off up ahead. Could be...can it be...wait...wait for it...Oh of course...(big heavy sigh)... it's not a turn off but another wind tunnel. Lucky me, not only to I have spend hours listening to the new navigational directions of Solar Hell, I now get to spend hours of imagining headless birds as Hubby finds away to capture the wind. I'd tell him to use a kite but he would some how have it connected to wire and running on solar power.
I'm not sure what is worse, the actual road itself or the diversions he likes to take. They range from wind power, to how I can cook in a solar over and my personal favorite, the solar clothes dryer that involved a turn crank and a fan. The turncoats in my life don't help. They are the ones sympathizing with me but secretly keeping an eye on what Hubby is doing, and this includes my own mother. I feel so abandoned. Its lonely on the passenger side. So I'll console myself with culinary delights that I can torture Hubby with. The man does love me, he told me so...once...I think...pretty sure he did somewhere in the past eleven and half years of marriage.
Actually Hubby was amazing during my week of bed rest. He cooked, did dishes, and tried to control the household. Tee Hee... but then really how much control does one have of six dogs, a nagging guinea pig and a cat that sees you merely there for her own pleasure? The four old dogs were the easy ones, they just laid around and snoozed. The Beagles on the other hand, were a completely different story. The cat found entertainment by trying to trip Daddy as he carried dishes. Somehow I get the sense her rubbing up against our legs is merely a ploy for her to take over the household. Fine by me, she can have it.
Daught thankfully has given up the talk of Roller Derby and has wisely decided to concentrate on her schooling. That and she was too late in getting her application in due to exams. She did announce that she could still join next year. I'm really hoping that it was just a threat. She rarely comes through with them. Doesn't mean she won't if the notion took her but for now my visions of steel meeting plastic coated teeth are laid to rest.
I'm not sure what is worse, the actual road itself or the diversions he likes to take. They range from wind power, to how I can cook in a solar over and my personal favorite, the solar clothes dryer that involved a turn crank and a fan. The turncoats in my life don't help. They are the ones sympathizing with me but secretly keeping an eye on what Hubby is doing, and this includes my own mother. I feel so abandoned. Its lonely on the passenger side. So I'll console myself with culinary delights that I can torture Hubby with. The man does love me, he told me so...once...I think...pretty sure he did somewhere in the past eleven and half years of marriage.
Actually Hubby was amazing during my week of bed rest. He cooked, did dishes, and tried to control the household. Tee Hee... but then really how much control does one have of six dogs, a nagging guinea pig and a cat that sees you merely there for her own pleasure? The four old dogs were the easy ones, they just laid around and snoozed. The Beagles on the other hand, were a completely different story. The cat found entertainment by trying to trip Daddy as he carried dishes. Somehow I get the sense her rubbing up against our legs is merely a ploy for her to take over the household. Fine by me, she can have it.
Daught thankfully has given up the talk of Roller Derby and has wisely decided to concentrate on her schooling. That and she was too late in getting her application in due to exams. She did announce that she could still join next year. I'm really hoping that it was just a threat. She rarely comes through with them. Doesn't mean she won't if the notion took her but for now my visions of steel meeting plastic coated teeth are laid to rest.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Coagulated Musings
I'm in bed, not because I want to be but because I was told to be. It started with my right side blowing up and causing a whole lot of pain. I looked like I was eight months pregnant without the boobs to show for my efforts. My profile looked like flat long oval pancakes flopped over a beach ball. It resulted in my gallbladder being removed and Hubby in control of ...(gasp in horror) everything.
Firstly I'd like to say I hate jello. Its not really a food is it? Its a hard rubbery lump of coagulated chemicals and food dye. What's even worse than jello, is lime flavoured jello. I like lime in some things, but apparently not my coagulated chemmies and dyes. There is a flavour I have discovered is worse than hard rubbery institutionalized lime jello, it is green apple. It lies wiggling in cubes looking the colour of cow's urine and smelling just as bad. Hubby makes the best jello in normal flavours like cherry and strawberry. I still hate jello.
Hubby is finding out what its like to have be in charge of six dogs, sick wife and household. He is being amazing and I'm not the easiest of patients. They put a manic on bed rest for a week then sent me home with Hubby. I swear they were chuckling. He's trying to find me projects to keep me in bed and constantly monitoring me. That was up until yesterday when Artist babysat then turned the reigns over to Daught who in turn handed them to Miss S and GB. Hubby thought he could relax and play a game of frisbee golf with GB leaving me in the hands of Miss S. It worked at first but then I got the giggles. Of course Miss S gets the giggles which just complicated matters as I'm laughing but hurting from the pain. I was just very thankful that Daught wasn't there or I would be back at the hospital staring at lime jello.
The whole episode was a little hard on the dogs especially the new additions. When I got home from the hospital all six dogs and Smudge were not speaking to me. It was Hubby they wanted. I would like to say that it could have been the hospital smell and the fact that I was in pain so they instinctively stayed away but nope. They wanted Hubby and supper.
Things are settling back to normal...unfortunately for Hubby. The poor man is stepping into my shoes. He is getting a little sick of playing nursemaid. I can hear it in his voice. We will both be happy on Wednesday when I no longer have to stay in bed.
Firstly I'd like to say I hate jello. Its not really a food is it? Its a hard rubbery lump of coagulated chemicals and food dye. What's even worse than jello, is lime flavoured jello. I like lime in some things, but apparently not my coagulated chemmies and dyes. There is a flavour I have discovered is worse than hard rubbery institutionalized lime jello, it is green apple. It lies wiggling in cubes looking the colour of cow's urine and smelling just as bad. Hubby makes the best jello in normal flavours like cherry and strawberry. I still hate jello.
Hubby is finding out what its like to have be in charge of six dogs, sick wife and household. He is being amazing and I'm not the easiest of patients. They put a manic on bed rest for a week then sent me home with Hubby. I swear they were chuckling. He's trying to find me projects to keep me in bed and constantly monitoring me. That was up until yesterday when Artist babysat then turned the reigns over to Daught who in turn handed them to Miss S and GB. Hubby thought he could relax and play a game of frisbee golf with GB leaving me in the hands of Miss S. It worked at first but then I got the giggles. Of course Miss S gets the giggles which just complicated matters as I'm laughing but hurting from the pain. I was just very thankful that Daught wasn't there or I would be back at the hospital staring at lime jello.
The whole episode was a little hard on the dogs especially the new additions. When I got home from the hospital all six dogs and Smudge were not speaking to me. It was Hubby they wanted. I would like to say that it could have been the hospital smell and the fact that I was in pain so they instinctively stayed away but nope. They wanted Hubby and supper.
Things are settling back to normal...unfortunately for Hubby. The poor man is stepping into my shoes. He is getting a little sick of playing nursemaid. I can hear it in his voice. We will both be happy on Wednesday when I no longer have to stay in bed.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
It's morning, what do you expect?
When you look at a list of ingredients, and it includes additives with numbers, is this a good thing? I mean when your cat attacks Coffee-mate like it's the evil incarnate, does this not imply there is something wrong with it? And why we must add a glutening agent to help the gluten of the processed flour in perogies, is there something wrong with this scene? And why has the Country that makes the plastic bags that we throw into our landfills banned them? Is this not a screaming message? Or is this just all me? Its like there is a big sea of invisible chemicals out there and the Governments financed by the Corporations are saying its up to you to avoid what we do.
I made the mistake of looking up a food additive. All I can say is ignorance is bliss. The less you know the better off you are. I miss the days of Big Macs and Shakey's Pizza. I miss the days of blindly tasting things and not knowing where they came from or how they were farmed. Those days were great. I was ignorantly happy. Yah well, somewhere along the way I became unhappy but healthy and informed. Stupid, stupid me. I ate my first veggie burger to avoid feeling guilty. It was okay but if we go vegetarian, I'm making the veggie patties.
Now there is an up side to all of this. My mother finally threw away her coffee-crap. She was the motivator behind looking up the toxic additives. Then she introduced me to organic cream in my coffee, the Witch. When we tasted organic coffee, it was what convinced us to make the switch to organic, well, the organic cream has only solidified that choice. And I only bought one bottle. What was I thinking?
Mind you, I wasn't. I was in the middle of trying to find my parents in this large store. Now I'm wearing the bright pink jacket so they can see me. But they weren't looking for me. I was looking for them which poses a problem. They are in dark neutral colours. So as I am looking around trying to find my "mommy" I start to head into panic mode. Then the thought that they left me behind because...you know...they are old...hit my mind and the shakes started. I found my mother and told her, next time she is in the bright pink coat so I can find her. When I explained I had been wandering around the store looking for she and Dad she replied, "Oh, you can't see your father, he shrunk. And I knew would find me." I turn back to glance for Dad and she is off again. I'm seriously thinking of getting one of those leashes and harnesses for her. Just to make me feel better. I'd attach it to the cart but she might run me over.
Speaking of running over, Daught announced she had found a new hobby she and some friends are teaming up to do. Roller Derby! The first image that comes to mind is eight thousand dollars worth of teeth being greeted by a steel post. Then she says, "Don't worry Mom, I'll have a mouth guard." Like that makes the image any better. The teeth are now coated in plastic. Of all the sports my daughter would have to show interest in, Roller Derby was one I would not have guessed. Then she informs me that she doesn't think I should go to the meets as I would be a vibrating mess. Now, I am rather hoping this is a talk thing and not a do thing. The talk things are ideas that Daught is exploring and building courage to try. Sometimes it happens sometimes it doesn't. If she follows through and they actually do end up in a rink roller derbying, then I will be one in the corner, as Daught so aptly put, a "vibrating mess" holding a sign saying "A Bomb's Mom. Protect her teeth!"
I made the mistake of looking up a food additive. All I can say is ignorance is bliss. The less you know the better off you are. I miss the days of Big Macs and Shakey's Pizza. I miss the days of blindly tasting things and not knowing where they came from or how they were farmed. Those days were great. I was ignorantly happy. Yah well, somewhere along the way I became unhappy but healthy and informed. Stupid, stupid me. I ate my first veggie burger to avoid feeling guilty. It was okay but if we go vegetarian, I'm making the veggie patties.
Now there is an up side to all of this. My mother finally threw away her coffee-crap. She was the motivator behind looking up the toxic additives. Then she introduced me to organic cream in my coffee, the Witch. When we tasted organic coffee, it was what convinced us to make the switch to organic, well, the organic cream has only solidified that choice. And I only bought one bottle. What was I thinking?
Mind you, I wasn't. I was in the middle of trying to find my parents in this large store. Now I'm wearing the bright pink jacket so they can see me. But they weren't looking for me. I was looking for them which poses a problem. They are in dark neutral colours. So as I am looking around trying to find my "mommy" I start to head into panic mode. Then the thought that they left me behind because...you know...they are old...hit my mind and the shakes started. I found my mother and told her, next time she is in the bright pink coat so I can find her. When I explained I had been wandering around the store looking for she and Dad she replied, "Oh, you can't see your father, he shrunk. And I knew would find me." I turn back to glance for Dad and she is off again. I'm seriously thinking of getting one of those leashes and harnesses for her. Just to make me feel better. I'd attach it to the cart but she might run me over.
Speaking of running over, Daught announced she had found a new hobby she and some friends are teaming up to do. Roller Derby! The first image that comes to mind is eight thousand dollars worth of teeth being greeted by a steel post. Then she says, "Don't worry Mom, I'll have a mouth guard." Like that makes the image any better. The teeth are now coated in plastic. Of all the sports my daughter would have to show interest in, Roller Derby was one I would not have guessed. Then she informs me that she doesn't think I should go to the meets as I would be a vibrating mess. Now, I am rather hoping this is a talk thing and not a do thing. The talk things are ideas that Daught is exploring and building courage to try. Sometimes it happens sometimes it doesn't. If she follows through and they actually do end up in a rink roller derbying, then I will be one in the corner, as Daught so aptly put, a "vibrating mess" holding a sign saying "A Bomb's Mom. Protect her teeth!"
Sunday, March 07, 2010
Quiet Sunday Morning....Not!
It's a beautiful sunny morning promising spring warmth to rid of us the snow. I have a morning coffee that is just the right strength and the clutter of the house reminding me I can't keep ignoring the house work. The four old dogs are snoozing while the two Beagles are rampaging and the kitten has discovered how to fire projectiles down the stairs. My idyllic visions for my Sunday morning as been shredded, growled, snarled and hissed into oblivion. Gone are the quiet mornings replaced by elephants running up and down the stairs. (And that's the cat)
Going for a walk is nothing short of hell. By the time I'm finished, I'm ready for a shower and a nap I'm sweating so much. Taking the Beagles for a walk is like trying to walk seventy pounds of bounce, sniffs, bays and tugs. Thank God the ice is gone now, I didn't need skates with the two of them on leashes. I leaned back and let them pull me. The nice thing is, by summer's end, I will have biceps that Arnold Swartzenager would envy. And they hurt too. Trying to beat an egg yesterday resulted in my taking out the electric beater to scramble it. Didn't spray too badly all over the kitchen but the frying pan is definitely not made to handle electric beaters.
Hubby is happy as the sun is out and days are getting longer. His lighting in the shop is all on solar power. And the road to Solar Hell just got a whole lot longer. I'm nagging him to start a blog so he can explain all the doo-ma-hickey things and the stuff that I can't wrap my head around. All I know, is the amount of saw dust for a box is a lot. Especially when I am the one sweeping it up from the house. He keeps asking me if I want to come out and help.
His father asked his mother that once. Two years later she emerged from the work shop and said that was it. It was about thirty years later when he emerged from the shop. I already warned Hubby, that if his wood shop starts to interfere in things like "Life" then I'll most likely go into a mode and burn it down. Just to make sure he gets the message, I'm not happy with the amount of time spent in the shed. Good thing the man loves me...or its separation anxiety. There is a fine line you know.
Smudge is turning out to be quite the cat. She truly is a "familiar" in every sense of the meaning. No matter what I am doing, she is with me, getting into what ever trouble possible. If I'm baking she is covered in flour, if I am sweeping she is chasing the broom and if I am scrubbing the brush or cloth is great fun to tackle. The neatest thing is, she gives me warning of my bad days. I will wake up to her purring beside me. The first day it happened I didn't take note but when she did it the second and third time I noticed. So on those days she gives me my warning that I'm susceptible to my modes, I work extra hard at containing the triggers. Its been a little easier and Smudge's help is most welcomed. Even if I slip, and a swing hits, Smudge will be around me purring, helping me out of the mode. When I asked above for a little help dealing with stuff, I didn't expect it to be in the form of a little white kitty.
But...I can say for sure that Smudge is an organic kitty. My mother was over for coffee the other day and I brought out her container of Coffee-Mate. I will make it clear here, I do not use the stuff, I do not like the stuff and the only reason why it is in my house is my mother. After she left I hadn't cleared off the table but instead sat down at my lap top. Smudge jumped up on the table and sat down beside my computer. The next thing I knew, was Smudge jumping backwards and hissing with her paws in the air. I watched for what had her started but couldn't contain the laughter when she attacked the Coffee-Mate. She was smacking it on the lid and down the sides. She stepped closer for further inspection with her nose. One sniff and the cat's hackles were up and the hissing followed was short bursts as if she was trying to get it out of her nostrils. It was a good four minutes Smudge let her opinion known. Mom claims it was because the Coffee-Mate was low-fat. But Smudge and I know better.
Going for a walk is nothing short of hell. By the time I'm finished, I'm ready for a shower and a nap I'm sweating so much. Taking the Beagles for a walk is like trying to walk seventy pounds of bounce, sniffs, bays and tugs. Thank God the ice is gone now, I didn't need skates with the two of them on leashes. I leaned back and let them pull me. The nice thing is, by summer's end, I will have biceps that Arnold Swartzenager would envy. And they hurt too. Trying to beat an egg yesterday resulted in my taking out the electric beater to scramble it. Didn't spray too badly all over the kitchen but the frying pan is definitely not made to handle electric beaters.
Hubby is happy as the sun is out and days are getting longer. His lighting in the shop is all on solar power. And the road to Solar Hell just got a whole lot longer. I'm nagging him to start a blog so he can explain all the doo-ma-hickey things and the stuff that I can't wrap my head around. All I know, is the amount of saw dust for a box is a lot. Especially when I am the one sweeping it up from the house. He keeps asking me if I want to come out and help.
His father asked his mother that once. Two years later she emerged from the work shop and said that was it. It was about thirty years later when he emerged from the shop. I already warned Hubby, that if his wood shop starts to interfere in things like "Life" then I'll most likely go into a mode and burn it down. Just to make sure he gets the message, I'm not happy with the amount of time spent in the shed. Good thing the man loves me...or its separation anxiety. There is a fine line you know.
Smudge is turning out to be quite the cat. She truly is a "familiar" in every sense of the meaning. No matter what I am doing, she is with me, getting into what ever trouble possible. If I'm baking she is covered in flour, if I am sweeping she is chasing the broom and if I am scrubbing the brush or cloth is great fun to tackle. The neatest thing is, she gives me warning of my bad days. I will wake up to her purring beside me. The first day it happened I didn't take note but when she did it the second and third time I noticed. So on those days she gives me my warning that I'm susceptible to my modes, I work extra hard at containing the triggers. Its been a little easier and Smudge's help is most welcomed. Even if I slip, and a swing hits, Smudge will be around me purring, helping me out of the mode. When I asked above for a little help dealing with stuff, I didn't expect it to be in the form of a little white kitty.
But...I can say for sure that Smudge is an organic kitty. My mother was over for coffee the other day and I brought out her container of Coffee-Mate. I will make it clear here, I do not use the stuff, I do not like the stuff and the only reason why it is in my house is my mother. After she left I hadn't cleared off the table but instead sat down at my lap top. Smudge jumped up on the table and sat down beside my computer. The next thing I knew, was Smudge jumping backwards and hissing with her paws in the air. I watched for what had her started but couldn't contain the laughter when she attacked the Coffee-Mate. She was smacking it on the lid and down the sides. She stepped closer for further inspection with her nose. One sniff and the cat's hackles were up and the hissing followed was short bursts as if she was trying to get it out of her nostrils. It was a good four minutes Smudge let her opinion known. Mom claims it was because the Coffee-Mate was low-fat. But Smudge and I know better.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Coffee Break #874
It's been a little hectic around the house lately. Hubby has several projects on the go as well as being sound tech for the latest production. The house is in a pickle because I haven't had the wear-with-all to get my butt in gear and pick up after the dogs. Mainly two of them. The two Beagles.
Yes I said two. We had one and then came Buster Brown. He had a very traumatic twenty-four hours before coming to us. He was dumped on a co-worker's property (of Hubby) and went through another two homes before we got to him. Hubby was adamant that this dog needed us. And after forty-eight hours in our home, after watching Buster's reactions to a few things we decided to stop the search for his owners in his best interest.
So the house is much livelier than before. Buster and GiGi are bonding which is good. The old dogs just clear the path when the Beagles get rampaging. I guess Bullet figured one wasn't enough to fill the void and sent another just in case.
Change seems to be all about. Daught and Artist are talking of moving by Summer's end. It will seem empty by the fish pond without them. Its hard some days to hear them talk or encourage the choices but then without change we cannot grow and then we become stagnant. Both of them would become stagnant in this little pond we live in. Its the end of a chapter for the both of them and they need a clean page for a new adventure. I, apparently am content enough to stick with the Road to Solar Hell as my adventure. The nice thing though about the two of them moving is, in following years, we have another destination other than North to visit.
Don't get me wrong, I love it up North but when it's the only place you go, you get a little tired of the scenery. At this moment with all the snow surrounding us, the last place I want to go is North. I'm really hoping one of them might consider going tropical South. Hubby would have to get on a plane then. (He hates flying and especially over water. I think he was a WW2 pilot in a past life and died in an ocean crash or something) At least then the scenery would be different.
Everything seems to be going up in price. No matter what I go to get its been upped by thirty to forty cents minimum. That really adds up. And trying to compensate for it means more work for me. Bread used to be under a dollar. I checked prices the other day, for the same loaf that once cost seventy-nine cents, now is a dollar and twenty-nine cents. That's a fifty cent hike. The pasta I buy went up forty cents in the last two months. And the cheaper stores carry nothing and cost more for the products I do buy. It's getting absolutely insane. I went twenty dollars over-budget again because I didn't allow for another increase in our food prices.
I understand that the global economy is causing prices to go up for Corporate Canada/______(insert your country here) to meet their agenda's. But when we are growing corn that could not only be engineered into foods that people to buy, but also help feed not only our own poverty stricken but twenty-five thousand poor of another nation; instead of that we are putting it towards bio-fuel. A so-called greener alternative for those eco-conscious yuppies out there. Not only is it taking away farm land needed for food, but it is having a direct effect on the economy.
To make matters worse, all these hybrid cars/trucks are now robbing us of precious earth minerals that cannot be replicated or replaced. The quest for a greener earth is only making the cause worse unless these corporations start thinking with their brains and not the wallet. Argh!!! Nobody is using common sense. Its so frustrating and it honestly feels like I am the only voice out there.
Okay, off the soap box now. Thanks for letting me borrow it Scribble. I need a coffee after that. I think I'll add soap box to Hubby's list of things to build with his shop.
Yes I said two. We had one and then came Buster Brown. He had a very traumatic twenty-four hours before coming to us. He was dumped on a co-worker's property (of Hubby) and went through another two homes before we got to him. Hubby was adamant that this dog needed us. And after forty-eight hours in our home, after watching Buster's reactions to a few things we decided to stop the search for his owners in his best interest.
So the house is much livelier than before. Buster and GiGi are bonding which is good. The old dogs just clear the path when the Beagles get rampaging. I guess Bullet figured one wasn't enough to fill the void and sent another just in case.
Change seems to be all about. Daught and Artist are talking of moving by Summer's end. It will seem empty by the fish pond without them. Its hard some days to hear them talk or encourage the choices but then without change we cannot grow and then we become stagnant. Both of them would become stagnant in this little pond we live in. Its the end of a chapter for the both of them and they need a clean page for a new adventure. I, apparently am content enough to stick with the Road to Solar Hell as my adventure. The nice thing though about the two of them moving is, in following years, we have another destination other than North to visit.
Don't get me wrong, I love it up North but when it's the only place you go, you get a little tired of the scenery. At this moment with all the snow surrounding us, the last place I want to go is North. I'm really hoping one of them might consider going tropical South. Hubby would have to get on a plane then. (He hates flying and especially over water. I think he was a WW2 pilot in a past life and died in an ocean crash or something) At least then the scenery would be different.
Everything seems to be going up in price. No matter what I go to get its been upped by thirty to forty cents minimum. That really adds up. And trying to compensate for it means more work for me. Bread used to be under a dollar. I checked prices the other day, for the same loaf that once cost seventy-nine cents, now is a dollar and twenty-nine cents. That's a fifty cent hike. The pasta I buy went up forty cents in the last two months. And the cheaper stores carry nothing and cost more for the products I do buy. It's getting absolutely insane. I went twenty dollars over-budget again because I didn't allow for another increase in our food prices.
I understand that the global economy is causing prices to go up for Corporate Canada/______(insert your country here) to meet their agenda's. But when we are growing corn that could not only be engineered into foods that people to buy, but also help feed not only our own poverty stricken but twenty-five thousand poor of another nation; instead of that we are putting it towards bio-fuel. A so-called greener alternative for those eco-conscious yuppies out there. Not only is it taking away farm land needed for food, but it is having a direct effect on the economy.
To make matters worse, all these hybrid cars/trucks are now robbing us of precious earth minerals that cannot be replicated or replaced. The quest for a greener earth is only making the cause worse unless these corporations start thinking with their brains and not the wallet. Argh!!! Nobody is using common sense. Its so frustrating and it honestly feels like I am the only voice out there.
Okay, off the soap box now. Thanks for letting me borrow it Scribble. I need a coffee after that. I think I'll add soap box to Hubby's list of things to build with his shop.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Smudge
This is Smudge. She is all white with a smudge of grey on the top of her head. It looks like she got in the way of Artist while working on a canvas. She is very sweet, purring when you pick her up and once she stops hissing at the dogs, things will be even better. She adores Hubby and has him wound around her paw already. Its his shoulder she is sitting on in the picture.
She is not from the litter we helped save. The little one that I thought was meant for us, turned out to be Smudge. She was laying in the cage without so much as a peep. When I looked at her the image flashed again and I knew she was the one. Hubby wanted to know how I knew there was a white kitten at the pound and I could honestly say I didn't know, I just knew our cat was there. And she had been there since the beginning of December.
Smudge spent the night above our heads despite the run of the entire house. She seems to be moving in and find her niche. I'll just be happy when she stops growling at the dogs. GiGi is determined to make friends with the new kitty. I'm hoping within the week. (Its more like praying)
Things have definitely livened up with Smudge and GiGi in the house. It's been a good shake up for us all including the four old boys.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Update!
Hubby is not a happy hubby. He is...but he isn't. You see, we had to make a very hard desicion regarding our old cat. I have been fighting for months to get weight on him, so much so Hubby was getting upset with me for stressing about it.
We had both agreed that after Cocoa Puff no more cats. We were going to take a break. But he didn't see GiGi with Artist's kitten Nelson. She was beside herself in delight that a cat paid attention to her. Cocoa ignores GiGi for the most part and when she does try with the cat, his response is less than favorable. Luckily the claw only came out once.
Hubby made the mistake of joking with me by saying if we took Cocoa in to the vets we could keep a kitten. My response was the usual no without realizing he was not serious. Unfortunately for him, I had picked up one of the kittens and put it back down because it spoke to me. The other four were the noisey cute ones clamouring everywhere in the bathroom including the sink. I left the bathroom feeling guilty for wanting her and no matter how I tried I couldn't shake the image of her all grown up jumping from the window bench to the table as an adult. I was at that point remaining firm with the fight for Cocoa.
Well... a lot can change within forty-eight hours. The kittens left and I tried to ignore the panic of her leaving the house. I found Cocoa purring by himself. I picked him up expecting the weight that wasn't there and hadn't been for months. I realized he hadn't used the litter box again and when I put him down his hind legs winced. I scooped him back up and burst into tears. I have been only fooling myself. It was his time. I took GiGi to Artist's for coffee, where she tried to get as close as she possibly could to the cats. Artist said what I have been hearing for weeks from the girls, "Gigi needs a kitty."
I came home and called the vets. In a soft voice the vet asked me if I would want his ashes. I said with a very nasty sniffle for lack of tissue, that we would be bringing home a kitten. I explained we were the ones that involved in saving them and fostered them in our bathroom over night. I described the kitten that spoke to me and it has a tag that says its coming home on Friday.
Now here is the part where Hubby got a little upset. You see I hadn't realized he was making a joke in regard to the kitten and I went ahead without discussing any of it with him. And because he had been the one to make the suggestion I thought he would think it a good plan. Which he does, he just wanted to be included on the desicion as he is the provider for the household. Understandable and he thought we had agreed on no cats for a while. I did remind him that if a little kitten came along that spoke to me it would be coming home. I just didn't expect it to happen so soon. All it took was a look and I put the kitten down. I didn't cuddle it, pet it or talk to it. I just made sure it was alive under the blankets. If I had wanted one, the little black and white one was the choice. I also reminded him that GiGi was going to be alone within the next two to three years if not sooner considering the ages and medical issues our old boys have. She was going to need a companion. Now was the time while she was young and adapting into our home. I guess the way to tell him was not saying we were getting GiGi her own kitten.
We had both agreed that after Cocoa Puff no more cats. We were going to take a break. But he didn't see GiGi with Artist's kitten Nelson. She was beside herself in delight that a cat paid attention to her. Cocoa ignores GiGi for the most part and when she does try with the cat, his response is less than favorable. Luckily the claw only came out once.
Hubby made the mistake of joking with me by saying if we took Cocoa in to the vets we could keep a kitten. My response was the usual no without realizing he was not serious. Unfortunately for him, I had picked up one of the kittens and put it back down because it spoke to me. The other four were the noisey cute ones clamouring everywhere in the bathroom including the sink. I left the bathroom feeling guilty for wanting her and no matter how I tried I couldn't shake the image of her all grown up jumping from the window bench to the table as an adult. I was at that point remaining firm with the fight for Cocoa.
Well... a lot can change within forty-eight hours. The kittens left and I tried to ignore the panic of her leaving the house. I found Cocoa purring by himself. I picked him up expecting the weight that wasn't there and hadn't been for months. I realized he hadn't used the litter box again and when I put him down his hind legs winced. I scooped him back up and burst into tears. I have been only fooling myself. It was his time. I took GiGi to Artist's for coffee, where she tried to get as close as she possibly could to the cats. Artist said what I have been hearing for weeks from the girls, "Gigi needs a kitty."
I came home and called the vets. In a soft voice the vet asked me if I would want his ashes. I said with a very nasty sniffle for lack of tissue, that we would be bringing home a kitten. I explained we were the ones that involved in saving them and fostered them in our bathroom over night. I described the kitten that spoke to me and it has a tag that says its coming home on Friday.
Now here is the part where Hubby got a little upset. You see I hadn't realized he was making a joke in regard to the kitten and I went ahead without discussing any of it with him. And because he had been the one to make the suggestion I thought he would think it a good plan. Which he does, he just wanted to be included on the desicion as he is the provider for the household. Understandable and he thought we had agreed on no cats for a while. I did remind him that if a little kitten came along that spoke to me it would be coming home. I just didn't expect it to happen so soon. All it took was a look and I put the kitten down. I didn't cuddle it, pet it or talk to it. I just made sure it was alive under the blankets. If I had wanted one, the little black and white one was the choice. I also reminded him that GiGi was going to be alone within the next two to three years if not sooner considering the ages and medical issues our old boys have. She was going to need a companion. Now was the time while she was young and adapting into our home. I guess the way to tell him was not saying we were getting GiGi her own kitten.
Friday, January 08, 2010
Inspired by Scribble
Leading up to and during the Holidays, we were under a blanket from the Arctic. This blanket kept us in the deep freeze and only broke today. But in between Christmas and New Year's our little town looked like a Christmas card with all the hoar frost all over everthing. Our fence is made from wire in 1 1/2 inch squares. They were solid with frost. It was the first time our dogs could not see out to the street from the yard.
Walking down to Artist's house was magical. All the cars were gone, so time seemed to fade away into the backdrop of the old houses. The only sound echoing was the snow squeaking beneath my feet. The blanket of frost in the air and over everthing dampened the noise of the town and highway. It was surreal and very enchanting to walk through a winter fairyland.
We still had the frost up until two nights ago. I know because at midnight we got a call from friends. GB (short for Gamer Boy cause he kicks our ass at video games) walks back and forth from work. He was walking back to work from his lunch break at home(he works nights) when he came across a mother cat and her five kittens who had been dumped. They oringinally wanted Artist's phone number to help foster the kittens for a night. Of course Artist sleeps like a log and couldn't be roused when they called. In the mean time hubby and I started looking up numbers with animal controll and the police. Hubby answered the second call from them and took the address. When we showed up, all I saw was bright red pj's of Miss S (the young friend of our daughter who moved in when Daught moved out). GB was up the tree rescuing kittens. He shimmied up the tree a good fifteen to twenty feet up the tree, grabbing each kitten and handing them down to us to put in a warm box under a toasty blanket in the truck. His hands were the colour purple by the time we got all the kittens. Unfortunately the mother cat was up another twenty feet up and was not budging. She was frightened, cold and injured.
The rule of thumb when rescuing, is save what you can. It just really sucks when you can't communicate that you are there to help and they don't understand. How could they, another human just tossed them into a back ally. Animal Control is doing all they can to save the mother cat but...I'm all too familiar with winter rescuing and my optamism is minimal. I think she is now under the care of the Creator. And I know when Hubby and GB cross, they will be met by a little cat, thanking them for rescuing her kittens.
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