Merpy Chrismukah!

I can't freakin' WAIT for 2009!  The past few years have been so nutsy that I am dearly hoping for something that comes close to an average life in the new year. 

Lately my existence has been about the dog.  Phoebe has separation anxiety.  Badly.  She apparently barks insanely whenever I leave the apartment.  Which, needless to say, is pissing off the neighbours.  So, I am confined until further notice.  Well, that isn't entirely true.  I get to leave in increasing increments while I teach her that it is OK for mummy to leave - the world will not, in fact, end.  I *am* coming back. 

I also, when the vet's professional opinion concurred with my thoroughly not-professional but fairly Internet savvy opinion, made the decision to medicate her.  Yes, my dog also has The Crazy and is on meds for it.  Sigh.   But I was reassured that it was the right decision (and got a little warm, fuzzy feeling) when she told me that not a lot of people would go to the lengths that I am going to in order to keep this kind of dog.  Also that if I did have to give her up, she thought that Phoebe would be in and out of the pound for the rest of her life.  The vet may have had a hidden agenda by telling me this (i.e. keeping another dog out of the pound), but I actually believe her.  Phoebe is capital letters NOT EASY.  As much as I love her, she should never have been allowed to be adopted out to me based on her breed alone.  Every dog-related website in creation states that "Catahoula Leopard Dog is not a city dog".  But unless someone shows up and offers to give her a great home on a farm, there is no way I am giving her up.  

So, here I am.  Again.  Training the heck out of this dog and making adjustments to my life.  But as I am likely never to have kids of my own (yes yes yes ... I know I am "only" 34 and I still have years ahead of me for kids, but let's face it:  I got no man and no immediate prospects for a man, so kids could be a teensy bit difficult to create).  This dog, for now, is my fuzzy substitute for one.  My fuzzy, crazy, nutbar, lovable, hyper, ADHD-afflicted, totally endearing child substitute.

Holiday Cheer

I don't got any.  Holiday cheer, that is.  I wasn't expecting it to be this hard this year, but it really is.  Some days I'm just going through the motions.  Spending time with friends (that I love dearly and who are making this year bearable), making cookies, decorating the tree (and even remembering to turn the lights on sometimes) and braving the malls and shops to get that last gift or 6 knocked off my list.  But it feels hollow.  There is so much missing.  Christmas hasn't really been the same since my Mom died, and that is almost 18 years ago now.  Ever since then, it was a shadow of a holiday gone by (which may be why I like Charles Dickens' Christmas Carol so much).  After she died, the rest of us may have been in the same house most years, but that is it.  There was usually more TV than conversation or real enjoyment of the company we were in.  

I know I am not alone in feeling blah at this time of year.  On a pretty much daily basis I read the mental health columnists and bloggers that I follow and they are all saying the same basic thing right now:  when you suffer from depression, the holidays can be extremely difficult.  Part of me wants to bury myself in blankets and not come out until every last Santa and jingle is put away for the year.  But I know I have to find new ways to make the holidays fun for myself.  And by myself.  This will be the second year in a row that I will wake up to nobody on Christmas morning, and that sucks. It sucks huge.  I need to remember, though, that it is what you make of it.  If I choose to wallow, then I am going to have a crappy Christmas.  This year I choose to make the best of it.  I will be celebrating with an" interesting" bunch of people (some of whom I get along with better than others), but it will include my 8 month old pnefew, who always makes Crazy Aunt Leslie smile.  

You probably have 5 minutes to spare today

Why not waste it??? :)

A post about nuffink

I give up. Nature has taken her toll, and my hair has paid the price. I can't deal with the grey anymore, and am dying it back to blond at the first possible opportunity. I was trying desperately to grow it out, and have already paid a decent sum of cashola to get it darker (as in closer to my natural colour) so that it was easier to grow out, and I would therefore have healthier hair and all that jazz. But I can't do it. The grey is a constant reminder that I am getting old, and apparently I am not ready to face that. Plus, blonds do have an awful lot of fun. So there.

About to be really honest with you

The picture below was taken on October 10th by a guy (and his girlfriend ... this doesn't go anyplace good) who really liked the look of Phoebe and who, I suspect, was totally enamoured with his new iPhone.  He asked if he could take a picture of the dog.  This, while strange, is not the first time this has happened, so I said yes.  What harm is there in that?  Little did I know, until he emailed it to me, that he took a pic of the BOTH of us.  Yikes!  First off, this is NOT an outfit that I would wear anywhere but to walk the dog.  It is comfy and stretchy and the shoes are OK if she walks all over them or gets them dirty, cause they are old-ish.  

So, he took the picture and emailed it to me and I never heard from him again.  But I was so shocked when I saw it.  Is that *really* what I look like???  Aparently, it is.  Aside from the fact that I am chubby again (yo-yo anyone??), what shocked me was my posture.  That is not standing tall by any stretch of the imagination.  But this must be what I project to people.  

It was interesting to see this picture because it was a true candid. I had no idea that any part of me would be captured.  I was even standing with my feet apart so that they would not appear behind Phoebe's butt (in case you are wondering why I was standing like that). 

The email that I got with the pic has been sitting in my inbox since then because moving the email seems like an admission that it exists, and I don't like that. This is not a flattering picture! When I first got it, I was all "Oooh!  I have to lose some weight!!".  That was October 10.  What changes did I make?  None!  Not one.  Why? Cause I was packing and getting ready to move and it was too much to worry about at the time.  Then I was moving and unpacking, and it was too much to worry about at the time.  Then I was getting organized and starting to get really serious about training Phoebe, and it was too much to worry about at the time.  And now?  Well it is the holidays, and it is too much to worry about at this time.  See a pattern?  Bugger that!  I went last week and joined Curves.  And then yesterday I added some exercise at home for the days when I can't get to Curves (cause it really is not realistic when I have been at the office all day to then leave Phoebe again to go to the gym.  I *heart* teleworking, however, and will go on the days I work from home).  Cause there are always going to be excuses.  Always.  What there is never going to be is more time.  My family does not have a good track record for living long, healthy lives.  One grandpa died in his mid 60's, and the other in his early 70's.  My Dad's Mom died in her late 60's (I think).  My Mom died at 45, and Dad had a massive stroke at 63.  An uncle has died in his early 70's.  These numbers scare the shit out of me because they are well below national averages.  When Dad has his stroke, the research I did suggested he was young for that type of stroke.  

But instead of fixing the problem, I am continuing to wallow in my own bad habits.  Ask me how much holiday baking I consumed today.  Why? Cause I was bored.  Work is slow before the holidays, but I was tied to my computer nonetheless. So, I ate.  As I always do.  Ate, and read. 

As easy as it is to say "I have to make changes", making them is a completely different story.  I honestly don't know what is going to happen now.  But I will let you know. 

Posts like ...

.... this one are why I am really going to miss Torontoist when it shuts down at the end of the year. Boo!

How else I am going to get my quota of strange and wonderful Toronto goings on!?!?!? I ask you!!

(p.s. if you watch the video, I dare you to tell me that little guy wasn't the most awesome-est thing you have seen all day.)

Endorphins ... who knew?

I went to the gym this morning (did I tell you I joined a gym? I did. I joined Curves last week. Yay me!) in the crabbiest of crabby moods. Monday morning, raining, dark, icky and I want to be on holidays already! It is a about a 10 minute walk over and about half way there, a bus drove by and did not even pretend to slow down for the really large puddle on the road. Sidewalks in that area are right beside the road so I got drenched. Icky road water in my hair, my ear, all over my jacket and my gym bag. At this point the crabby turned into me swearing at the bus driver and shaking my fist in his/her general direction*. Not good.

But! By the time I was done my workout and heading to the bus stop (I had already walked the dog and worked out and felt I deserved to be dry on the way home), a funny thing had happened. I wasn't crabby anymore! So, I walked home. Even the drizzle wasn't dampening my mood (haha! rain jokes!). Course, then I got home and logged in and remembered all the BS that I would likely face today and some of the endorphins wore off ... Ah, well. Such is life.

Happy Monday all!!



* Yes, this actually happened. Usually I try to control my swearing out in public cause you never knowwhat little ears are listening, but this really got the better of me. I must have looked insane!

It's amazing what happens when your head comes out of the sand

"The Ex" called me just over a week ago and it freaked me out to the very core of my being.  

I am not even sure why I am writing about it now except to say that I am OK.  Which is kinda cool.   

When the phone rang, I was certainly not expecting it to be him and it took me a few sentences to clue in.  The reason he was calling is totally unimportant (especially as it was a load of hogwash).  The effect that it had on me is.

For the entirety of the conversation (which lasted anywhere between 4 minutes and 30 minutes  - I am still fuzzy about that part), I was composed and articulate, which pleases me because I didn't show weakness.  After I hung up the phone, I totally dissolved into spasms of body-wracking tears. It was horrible ... for about half an hour.  I called a good friend and she listened patiently while I recounted the conversation (as much as I could recall) and we walked through how I was feeling.  Truth is that while I felt broken again for a bit, I recovered pretty quickly.  I think it was just the shock of hearing from him that did me in.  It did throw off the rest of the day a bit, but I dusted myself off and went to the pub for a beer and a burger.  Getting in some Christmas shopping afterward helped too.  

Somehow in the last 16 months I have come to an understanding with myself about my inherent self-worth.  I have come to realise that, wow ... I have some.  (Please forgive the fact that this next bit is going to sound sappy out the wazoo.)  All my life, I had fake self-esteem.  Shy and geeky, I never had a lot of friends, and always had trouble keeping the ones I made cause communication was not a talent of mine.  Well, I overcame the shyness (no shit, eh??) and learned to have friends and life is sooooo much better now.  Yay!  

All this gave me the ability to speak to him with strength in my voice and words.  One of the things I do remember him asking is if I hate him.  Without pausing, I told him the truth. I told him that it depends on the day you ask me: sometimes I feel sorry for him, and sometimes I really do hate him. 

I am hopeful now that he will hear my new strength and that I will NEVER. HEAR. FROM. HIM. AGAIN.  

Straight No Chaser - 12 Days

Christmas is almost here!!! Wheeee!!!  Pretty lights, pretty tree ... time for some pretty music sung by some pretty men :) 

Strange beasts

I was assured, through the wonderful that is LOLCATS, that there are many cats out there that lurve broccoli. Being the skeptic that I am, I had to test this.  So, of course, I went to the fridge and extracted a small floret to give to the fatcat.  She dutifully sniffed at it, and then looked at me like I had grown a third ear or something.  The hound, however, was more than interested.  Since it had just recently been in close proximity to the carrots, she was greatly curious.  The result?  She happily took it from me, chewed it a bit, played with it a bit, and dropped it somewhere in favour of her beef knuckle. Sorry Ms. Townsend, but yes.  Beef Knuckle.  I am sufficiently grossed out myself, but what can I say ... I lurves my fatcat and hell hound!

Famous for being famous

I was doing my usual daily perusal of the news and whatnot today, and came across one topic a few times, in different sources (sources which may or may not rhyme with "meeple pagazine" and "hermezpilton").  Lily Allen is quoted as saying: 

"I have no intention of taking drugs again at the moment. But I can't say 'Never again,' because I don't know where I'll be in 10 years' time. And I will definitely drink in the future, just not for awhile."

I have to admit that other than being famous for being a famous party girl, I don't have a clue who she is.  I have seen clips of her very, very (really very) intoxicated at various events and awards shows, but that is all I know her for.  The comment above was made in reaction to some comic strip where she was depicted as some drunk clown, and it made her decide she didn't want to be seen as that person.  I am all for a good 'ol fashioned wake up call, and anyone getting sober is good in my books.  But!!! What I don't understand is how the above quote is getting so much play!!!  Does nobody see the harm statements like this do?  What she has basically said is that yes, she does/did drugs, and she does/did drink to excess a lot.  Great role model, eh?  It gets worse, though, because instead of seeing that this is not really a good existence and harmful to her health (um, Amy Winehouse anyone???), she is saying that "well, it isn't really all that good for my image, so I am going to give it up for now". 

This frustrates the bejeezus out of me.  

It should come as no surprise that I have been thinking about Christmas lately.  It would be more shocking if I wasn't, I think ... 

I lived in the same house from the time I came home from the hospital until I was almost 9, when we moved to a house in the same school district, but a newer neighbourhood.  I didn't leave that house until I moved in with my boyfriend (and future ex-husband) when I was almost 23.  Together we lived in that first apartment for about 4 years, and in our condo for another 4 1/2 years, when we split up in September 2005.  (I bet you are thinking "sweet baby jebus in the manger, get to the part about Christmas, please, before I fall asleep in my eggnog!".  Not to worry ... I have a point.)

What occurred to me today was that I have not spent Christmas in the same apartment/house two years in a row since 2004.  Given the stability that I had becomed so accustomed to, you can see why this is cause for pause and consideration!  I am dearly hoping that even though my new apartment is not the place I plan to live out my days in, I can be here for at least a few years and feel like I am home, not just "at my apartment".

I put up my little tree today (that isn't the same one as I used to have), with new decorations and new-as-of-last-year lights in my new little apartment while the new dog sniffed around and generally made a nuisance of herself.  

But for all that changes, some things stay the same.  

Almost before I was finished, Pixel was under the tree and lying down on the tree skirt, the same as she has done every single year since I adopted her in 2003.  It made me happy to have that little bit of the expected, when I least expected it.  I smiled as I watched her curl up and have a nap.  I turned off all the lights in the apartment and just enjoyed the twinkle of the tree and my sleepy, purry, furry, pudgy cat.  And then the hound make me laugh and the moment was over, but that was ok because I knew that there will be more.   

There are a sad little 10 decorations (plus the lights) on my little tree.  I am resisting the urge to go out and buy more to fill it all up and make it all pretty because I want to have ornaments that mean something to me ... so that next year, when I look at my little tree, I will remember where that 11th ornament came from.  I want to make new traditions, even if I am the only one that marks them or enjoys them.  

Politicky

As someone who lurves a good debate, I am having some fun with the recent political happenings here in the Great White North.  

Turns out that I don't agree with some of my good friends about the coalition government and the value that I feel it has in our political system.  I am not really all that happy that it has come down to the options we are now facing, because I think that the timing is disastrous.  But it has happened, and from what I have been reading, it is representative of what the majority of Canadians feel (which is the whole and entire point of this, isn't it??).  Not everybody is happy to see Harper facing the loss of the office of the PM.  But a lot of people are.  A lot of people, including myself, do not share his priorities.  That is not to say that I think he is a bad person or a bad politician.  I just don't agree with him.  

I am not a conservative (which if you have EVER met me should be totally obvious).  I never will be.  Are conservatives wrong?  No - they have the right to their opinions the same as everybody else.  But for some reason I feel like the people who don't support Harper are being ganged up on by those who do.  Like we are wrong in their minds. There is no right and wrong in politics.  There are opinions.  Every time you vote, you cast an opinion.  If you don't exercise your right to vote, you forfeit your opinion and, consequently, your right to bitch afterwards of you don't like the result. 

My Dad was a lobbyist for the latter portion of his career.  He spent a lot of time around politicians and spent a lot of time debating his position.  As a result, my brother and I are pretty good at expressing our opinion (just ask my ex-husband ... he almost never won an argument once I figured out his arguing style, the poor man) and we have a LOT of them (but I make a concerted effort never to force my opinions on people, and I hope I succeed).  Dad taught us that voting is an important part of both citizenship and adulthood. It was unforgivable to him to not vote, and I tend to agree.  Although I almost never see the person I voted for elected, I am always glad that I got that opportunity.  And I figure if I vote enough times, and debate my opinions clearly enough with people, maybe change will happen.  

... albeit slowly ......  

I don't even know how to intro this!

Other than to say .... watch it!!!  It is a little NSFW, however :)

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

That newfangled Canadian maths

I just need to get one thing off my chest .... 

Ok.  Harper is a goober.  I didn't vote for him and I would not be sad to see him ousted.  That is less of a care to me at this particular moment than clearing up the fact that since he has a minority government, that means MORE PEOPLE DIDN'T VOTE FOR HIM THAN DID!!! 

Aaaah.  I feel better now.   Hopefully all those other goobers who keep telling Layton and Dion that "people don't want you" will read this and get off their mathematically challenged high horses.  

Thank you for listening and good night.  

(P.S. will someone tell my brain that NaBloPoMo is over??)

My inner geek, she is happy :)

(courtesy of damomma.com)