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.

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.

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.

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!"