Platitude Paradise

//headpalm

2012-01-17T12:12:00.000-04:00

Alrighty … so I’m not starting the year off with an abundance of wherewithal or a great attitude, for that matter. This is why I haven’t been writing … well that, and the fact that I am tired of listening to me, so I thought I’d treat y’all to a respite from my crap.

Having said that, I guess dropping off the blogosphere completely may have been somewhat drastic. Sorry about that.

To bring you up to speed, I offer the following diatribe:

Narci is still … well … Narci. I guess that isn’t going to change and I need to either accept or decline that friend request already and move on with my life – right? He hired another mortgage agent before Christmas. I have never been a big fan of this guy. In fact, Hubs worked with him several years back and even my “wouldn’t say shit if he had a mouth full of it” husband doesn’t have anything really complimentary to say about this person. Oh – did I mention that this same person … I call him Tweedle Dumb … is being given a bi-weekly draw that is in excess of what I make? No? I neglected to mention it? Hm. Can’t imagine why … since this ass clown has no experience in doing the type of mortgages that we do here, I have to spend MY time training him AND I’ve been here for nearly eight years … but hey … my income certainly wouldn’t attract anybody to work in the seventh circle of hell – right? Wait. Did you (Narci) just openly admit I am under paid??? Uh … yeah ya did! I believe the quote was: “Nobody can live on THAT” … referring to the amount he ORIGINALLY told me Tweedle Dumb would be getting on a draw (which was only slightly less than I clear). **insert title here**

My mom is still behaving like a spoiled teenager and our “come to Jesus moment” is imminent. I have started the fateful letter that essentially states she needs to buck up and figure out how to pay her way – OR move on to another living arrangement. Needless to say (noting the obvious omission of a lengthy gripe session) I haven’t presented her with this document to date. Christmas was a challenge. I had hoped I would recover my sense of ha ha and be able to put a slightly hilarious spin on the telling of that tale, alas … sense of ha ha is still A.W.O.L, with no measurable improvement in sight. So … no hilarious tales today. **insert title here**

My nosey neighbor stuck her big fat ugly-assed head into my business last week regarding Stretch - which sent me into a homicidal spiral. I’m telling you, the fact that I did not go and earn myself an assault charge on her doorstep should count for something toward my level of restraint. Hubs actually had the unmitigated gall to get pissy with me because I got so angry … actually, I was mad - not angry … seething, smoke coming off my body, ready to tear someone limb from limb, mad. Her issue was that Stretch had threatened her precious little mama’s boy with the fact that she knew what ‘murder’ was. Now, I am not condoning the use of the word – no matter how ridiculous the source is (and Stretch had a ‘talking to’ over the incident) … but it was her follow up comments to Hubs that really set me off. She told him our child is an outcast, nobody likes her, she tattles, whines, nobody will play with her and she tells everyone in the school that we have no food in the house and that she needs to eat theirs. She went on to state that we “ought to do something” about these issues … and so on. He stopped sharing the contents of their conversation when my coloring degraded into a kind of greenish-scarlet. The whole thing boiled over into a few long winded emails and a telephone conversation with the principal of the school – but I’m still mad. **insert title here**

We got a bit of a wakeup call prior to the holidays. Hubs had finally gone and gotten the blood work I have been nagging him to have done for the past 4 years. Our doctor’s office wound up calling the house and scheduling him in for an appointment right away after receiving his results. Scared the bejeezus out of me. It turns out his liver enzymes were off the chart and there were a bunch of other readings that I couldn’t begin to explain. He had to make a few changes, have another round of tests and we went back just before Christmas to find out the results. The numbers had started to come down after a short time of changes (removing Tylenol from his daily routine being the most significant), but we were then told that his cholesterol was so high they couldn’t even give an actual number. (JEEZ!!) So – we have had to make some changes to diet, exercise, alcohol intake and the biggest one (which hasn’t happened yet) is that he has to quit smoking. He had another round of blood work this past Friday and we’ll go on Friday of this week to get the results of that. Hopefully, the levels are normalizing and we’ll remain in a state of monitoring. Otherwise, we’ll have to consider more evasive tests. I don’t think I have to say that I REALLY hope we don’t go that route.

This experience put me on my ass. It completely changed my perspective on pretty much everything. I mean, living my life and raising our children and just getting through every day is simply not something I want to (or even know if I could) ever do without him. He is my world. I was (and in turns, continue to be) scared out of my own skin. It appears as though we are headed in the right direction and I have managed to convince myself that it’s going to be okay … but it has put my head in a really morbid place. I find myself dwelling on death, illness and even the crazy Mayan calendar. (Yes, I know … I KNOW!!!) Living in crazy town is not as fun as it originally sounded. I need help!

On the positive side, the simple fact that he was okay(ish) over Christmas and that it wasn’t some horrid diagnosis we received from the doctor, made everything else (that would normally have been a big fat hairy deal) moot. Mom and Sissy sponging off us for meals and liquor – not a big deal to me... even when my sister drank most of my vodka and then took her own, unopened bottle home with her. The fact that I spent an inordinate amount of time and effort cooking meals for ungrateful people who couldn’t even be bothered to get off their arses and help clean up – seemed somewhat small in light of our ‘reality’ over the previous few weeks. Obviously, I am not so magnanimous that I completely let it go (heaven forbid) … but I did skate through a veritable laundry list of slights, comments and out right slams from my extended family without much incident. I guess that would qualify as a bright side – to a certain extent.

So - there you have it. Aren't you glad I haven't been sharing more regularly? In an attempt to finish off on a bright note, I was happy to learn that my neighbor couldn't have been more wrong about Stretch. In the ensuing conversation with the school principal, it was noted how impressed everyone is with the progress Stretch has made since starting her year - so YAY STRETCH!!

I hope to visit all of you over the next few days. It has been a little hectic here at Narci-henge ... but I do want to have a peek around and make certain everyone is okay.

Happy New Year, my bleeps!

Family Photo Sneak Peek

2011-10-27T16:26:00.000-03:00

Hey folks ... thought I'd post the half dozen "sneak peek" pics that the photographer posted on FB today. I should have my entire package in another week or so.

I'm pleased. She does really good work. Here goes ...


Stretch the Magnificent


Shorty the Manipulator

Time to "Mom-Up"

2011-10-19T09:46:00.002-03:00

Well ... nobody ever told me being a mother was going to be easy. In fact, most everyone I knew was adamant regarding the rigors of parenthood. I scoffed (quietly, of course). I figured bigger idiots than me have been raising kids for centuries ... I could handle it.

P'UH!

Yeah ... you heard me ... I said "P'UH!". I may or may not have been overheard saying things like "ACK!" ... "GULP!" ... "UGH!" ... and worst of all ... "Do you want me to give you something to cry about?!".

Nope, nobody said it would be easy ... but did I listen? Nope. *forehead palm* .... stupid-stupid-stupid-stupid.

We are muddling through Stretch's 'issues' at school. Really, it isn't so terribly bad. The school psychologist meets with her once a week for a few weeks and then we'll have another conference with her the first week of December. In the meantime, we are encouraging Stretch to be involved in various things. She has done incredibly well at Cross Country. Has even learned a thing or two about humility (which won't hurt her any). She continues with Dance - though they are so busy in that she doesn't have time to interact with the other kids. The biggest suggestion was for us to encourage play dates and the like.

So ... I decided I would throw a Halloween party for both girls and two (each) of their friends. To my immediate surprise (and pleasure) Stretch asked for one more ... so I increased the number to three each.

We have planned our little soiree for October 30th from 1 - 4pm. I have big plans for this bad boy. First, I will put the girls (and I insisted the guests be girls) through a quick assembly line. I have invited my sister and my 'sister from another mister' (who are both nut cases and love Halloween) to assist me with the festivities. I have sparkly purple fake eyelashes for each child ... along with face paint (with which, I will paint their eyes to look like butterflies) and I bought each of them a feather boa to wear. So first, they'll be outfitted and make-up'd. Then, after everyone arrives, I have a tee-shirt craft that we'll be doing. I already have T's for each child ... and Tee shirt paint. I have a great little idea for making spiders on webs. It's easy. It's messy. They'll love it! They'll (of course) be able to take their T's home ... and will have a reminder of the party for a long time. (<-- see what I did right there??)

Then, we'll break for some "horror deurves". I have some really cool stuff planned for this, as well.I have black cherry punch with a gummy bug laden ice ring. I have "spider bites" - which are tooth picks with a tiny plastic spider attached that skewer a chunk of apple and a caramel square. I have Spider cookies - which are made with chocolate covered chow mien noodles for legs and a round ball of chocolate rice crispies ... and little candy eyes. I have "Frankensien's Brain" cookies ... which are essentially sugar cookie batter - pushed through a colander and then scooped up to look like little brains. And finally, I have veggies stix cut to look like rotten teeth ... with dip.

After some refreshment, I have got some seriously cool games planned. I have "Pumpkin Bowling" ... which entails using 6 2 litre (empty) pop bottles and taking a small roundish pumpkin and pulling off the stem ... then letting the kids bowl with them. Next, I have "Guess the Monster Parts" ... so this is a blind 'touch' game. There are 11 items inside different boxes (with a small hole cut in the top). The kids put their hands in and guess which part of the monster they are feeling. I have cooked spaghetti for hair, peeled grapes for eyeballs, I actually found gummy brains ... they are truly disgusting, stewed tomatoes for hearts, dehydrated apricot slices for ears ... it goes on and on. I figure I'll give each kid cards with each part on it and that way, they'll at least know what they are looking for. The main idea is to gross them out.

Finally, I have a game of "Mummy Wrap" planned - where they are paired off in groups of two and one has to wrap the other up (in toilet paper) as a mummy ... and then unwrap them - without ripping the paper ... and then they switch. Whichever team finishes first, wins. I was having trouble with the idea of wasting all that TP ... so I decided we'd end the party with a quick little craft of stuffing the TP into white garbage bags and making individual ghosts for everyone to take home.

I went last weekend and bought most of the supplies. I am ready for the crafts, and all the games. Just a couple of baking items yet to get - but I'll do that with the regular grocery order. I also bought more decorations which (you will be so proud of me ...) I allowed the kids to decorate with the way they wanted.

I'm actually pretty excited. My sister from another mister is planning to spend the night on the Saturday so she can help me prepare. My kids worship her - 'cause she's bad ... and loud ... and so much more fun than I am. They are so excited for their friends to meet her - Stretch was actually talking about that this morning. That makes me happy.

It's going to be a lot of work, but it'll be fun work - so I don't mind. In fact, I don't know that I am not every ounce as excited as they are. Possibly even more.

All I can say is this: I will pull out all the stops to make this party loads of messy fun. That way, when I invite the same kids for the Christmas edition - they'll come. Maybe we can forge some relationships that way.

Not entirely out of the ball park, am I?

Other than party plans, we are having family photos done this Saturday by a really good photog. Her work is amazing... check her out! I am excited. We were supposed to go last Saturday, but it was too wet. Fingers crossed.

I am still losing weight - though it is slow going. I am down 113 lbs as of yesterday's weigh in. Still inching down - so all's good there.

Lastly, work is the same as always and if I make it through this week without either murdering someone or doing myself in - I'll consider it a success. ACK!

On that note, I'll bugger off.

Enjoy your Wednesday!

D-out.

Drama is My Middle Name

2011-09-28T12:47:00.000-03:00

Yeppers … Danica Drama Dragonfly … that’s me. It was a bitch, middle naming me when I was a kid. Perhaps that is why my mother is so intent on punishing me now, as an adult.

Wait – I didn’t name myself. GAH!

(Well … I guess for the purpose of this blog I did … work with me, here peeps)

Okay – here’s the poop:

Stretch is not changing classes. That whole shenanigan was just stupid. Not going into it any farther than that. Hubs and I are slated to meet with the school psychologist on the 5^th of October to discuss coping tactics and possibly make a plan for encouraging friendships where Stretch is concerned. Beyond that, I did speak with Stretch about the class, her year so far and her general level of happiness … and guess what? She’s okay. So – why the hell do I listen to people other than my child anyway? Argh! Bad Mommy … bad! Bad!

May I just say that the response from you, my beloved bleeps was wonderful … you know who you are. I just love you guys – truly I do. Thank you for your friendship. It means the world to me.

On another front, my mother and I are drifting into troublesome waters. I just don’t know what to do here. She still is not ‘contributing’ financially … it’s been four months now – about to be five. She hadn’t said a single word about it, either until about two weeks ago – when she informed me that since she has started having to buy her own food, she simply can’t afford to pay her rent … and in addition was feeling like a dead beat because she’s in this relationship and doesn’t have anything to contribute there.

So … what? You want me to pay YOU for living in my house? (I know that sarcasm isn’t going to help in this situation … so I’ll move on.) I did tell her that we were coming into the heating months now and she would need to contribute something. Perhaps not what she had been doing previously (though I can’t imagine where the woman could possibly expect to live for $400/month – with everything included – but whatevs…) but something. She said she couldn’t. I told her she was going to have to restructure her payments – to which she replied the financial institution for whom she works would not do anything to help her … and I said, well – you’ll have to contact your youngest daughter and ask her to reduce the monthly payment on that line of credit she has for you … you are paying three times what must be paid per month on that. Her response to me was that “Sissy” has just moved into her brand new house and shouldn’t be bothered with such things at this time.

Can you easily see what this translates to in Dani-language?

Let me spell it out for you:

You Dani, do not rate a high enough rank in my world to qualify as a concern. Your sister (who is a school psychologist making 6 figures a year, I might add) just bought a house! (and guess who she DIDN’T ask about mortgages? Did I mention I do mortgages for a living? For the past decade? No? Oh, well … I do!) I couldn’t possibly bother her with something so mundane as my own living conditions when you – clearly – can simply suck it up and deal with it.

So, what I am thinking is that I will send my sister the bill. Have her cough up some rent money for dear ol’ Mam. Holy fuck-cakes, people! Even Mom makes more than $20K more per year than I do. How in hells flames do these people think I can afford this shit? Just because my husband has had some success with his new business should not necessarily translate into him footing the bill for everything! That just isn’t fair! We deserve to be able to set some money aside – for the rainy day that is no doubt lurking around the corner … or buy a more reliable vehicle … or treat ourselves to an anniversary present of a barbeque – without the fear of my mother assuming she can comfortably live in my house without paying for anything.

Right?

I mean, we’ve earned it. It’s been a bloody rough few years – Mostly because I got it into my stupid head that I should provide living quarters for my mother. Not for free, mind you – that was NEVER part of the deal.

The problem is that I can feel the fabric tearing between us. If I can’t find a way to let this go – or resolve it somehow there is real, irreparable damage being done to one of my most important relationships.

Oh CRAP – THIS SUCKS!

Moving on … there has been another development in the Dragonfly household. I don’t think I ever actually posted the piece I had written on my hubs way back near the inception of my blog. So – it may be a little out of left field for some of you … what I am about to say here.

My husband was married previously. That marriage produced two sons. They are one day less than 11 months apart in age, currently 14 and 15. Hubs and his ex-wife did not part on what I would refer to as “civil” terms. They split long before he and I met (he was in another relationship when he and I started to develop … that’s another story for another day). To say that his ex-wife hated him, would not do justice to the level of vile, seething malice she felt for him. Suffice it to say, he has had absolutely no relationship with his sons.

This, in my estimation is a crime. He is “Uber-daddy” and those boys have missed out in a big way by not knowing him.

Three years ago, this November – his ex-wife (sadly) passed away as a result of a long battle with breast cancer. No – I have not written about this because I just couldn’t get the right perspective on such a tragic situation to properly express it. At the time, I was fully prepared to head out West (which is where she was living with the boys) and bring them home. I had lawyers involved and social services … you name it. Hubs wouldn’t have any of that (and he was likely right). Guardianship of the children had already been granted to her common law husband and that is where they have been ever since. I stood down and accepted his decision. After all, there is no “I” in “team”.

About two months ago, the younger of his two sons located Hubs on Facebook. They have been sending tacit messages back and forth ever since. Hubs is … like a thirsty deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming water truck. Yesterday morning, Hubs got a text asking for a phone number and also for the ages of our girls (which honestly, he had never mentioned to his son … so he’s been asking questions, obviously).

There has been no contact made as yet, but I think it is safe to say the excitement is tangible in my house right now. We have not told our girls about the boys – for the simple fact that I could not bring myself to have to explain how badly grown-ups are capable of fucking up their kids’ lives by being selfish, hateful ass clowns. I will wait to do so until I am sure there is good cause. I know in my heart that even if Hubs and I didn’t make it together, I would NEVER take them away from him … but I really don’t want to have to reassure them of that. I have to say that the thought process of how to approach them with this news has begun in my head … and for that, I am beyond grateful.

This is more wonderful than winning money (tenfold). To live in a world where my husband could be a whole person again is my dream in a bubble. I am brimming with tears, just finally putting this into print. See – I haven’t been able to think in terms of breathing this into the air for fear it would drift away. But we are so close, we can almost touch it.

So … if you could all say a little something into the universe to support this meeting and possible reconciliation … please? He’s a good man. He’s mine, and I want so badly for him to be fully happy, and complete. He deserves it.

Thanks. I knew you’d do that for me.

On a final note … I am going to throw in some pics. They are somewhat random … but I haven’t posted pics in a while. Some of you are on my FB and so some of these will be old hack … some of you are not … so SUPLIES!


Woody-Doody


Stretch - the Magnificent


Shorty


Let yer freak-flag fly

Shorty in a blanket


Me -n- mah gals


Dani -n- Hubs


Being eaten by a T-Rex skull

...and that's a wrap!

Happy Hump Day, All!

What To Do?

2011-09-26T16:29:00.000-03:00

I thought child birth was the hardest thing I was ever going to have to do.

I mean, there are things that happen that are hard – some things are harder than others, but honestly I thought the truly hard part was behind me where my kids were concerned.

I can hear all you seasoned mothers out there openly laughing at me. Not nice, ladies … not nice at all.

You know after you give birth for the first time, when you struggle with the universe for the first few weeks or so, trying desperately to fit back into it? Your schedule is a joke and you can’t remember what sleep actually feels like … your girly-goodies are in tatters, and your breasts have been chewed raw by the voracious little human you’ve been put in charge of … the simple act of sitting down at a table to eat a meal of some fashion has become the most decadent of activities … and the sheer idea of escaping the house - by yourself - to get groceries (of all things) is like someone handing you an all-expense paid trip to Disney Land (or perhaps somewhere less to do with little humans). You know the time I’m referring to, ladies … you would pay money just to be able to poop, much less do it in private – without those big, gorgeous eyes peering up at you from the car seat on the floor at your feet.

It’s hard … those first few weeks.

Or so I thought.

What I am learning – rather ungracefully, I might add – is that those are the easy parts. Back before socialization becomes necessary, before saucy mouths develop and independent personalities start emerging. In those glorious days when (baring some health emergency) you were in complete control of your child’s environment. I was a safety freak, too … my house was so well baby proofed, it was ridiculous! No way my baby’s getting hurt on my watch – nuh-uh!

Then … oh man … then you have the biggest, rudest awakening when you have to turn them over to the public school system. All of a sudden all control is lost. Other kids can hurt your child – and do. Not only physically, either – emotional slights are borne early on and can sometimes leave scars of their own. Teachers become the experts on everything – Mom and Dad no longer rate as even remotely intelligent beings in the face of the almighty teacher … and it isn’t that I don’t think kids should respect their teachers – they should … but I’ve met a few who really have no business acting as the sole compass for guiding young people along their path.

I mentioned last (school) year that Stretch was having some issues fitting in and making friends. I also mentioned that we were fortunate to have a principal in the school that genuinely cares. I am still grateful for that. I dropped the girls off this morning and that same principal stepped out of the office and asked could she speak to me. Seems Miss Stretch is having a rough time of things already.

I mean, I knew she was complaining … and neither of them wants to go to school. Considering the fact that I am apparently the meanest mother … like EVER, I can’t imagine they want to be home with me … but apparently faced with the choice between mean ol’ mommy and school … mommy wins out. Not sure if I should consider that a compliment, but either way – they are entirely too early on in their educational journey to be hating it already. What the hell am I gonna do when they hit high school and they have good reason to hate it. Still … it’s so early in the year – I never imagined things were so pronounced as to require a word with the principal already. She’s actually suggesting we move Stretch from her current class … which is presently split between two teachers into one that has a more stable one-teacher approach. You know, to help Stretch keep a more even environment. We are also going to be speaking with the school psychologist (which I have very mixed feelings about) in the next month or so.

I’m at a loss. Truly, I am.

I find it so hard to separate my own crap from this, too. Why the hell this has to be about me in any way, I am not really sure … but in my head – it totally is about me … and my glaring incapacity as a parent. It’s like wearing a billboard that says: Parenting Fail

I know, I know – let’s get over ourselves already, Dani … there are far more important things to consider. For example, my beautiful child is miserable. I mean she’s really unhappy and lonely and she struggles every day with just getting through the day … and I am not protecting her from that. How could she possibly trust me when I can’t fix this? It’s tearing my guts out. See … there I go again!

But what do I do?

Seriously – I know what qualities she has that make her a challenging companion. Do I encourage her to “conform”? Change her personality to “fit in”? Do I sit her down every time she whines or throws a hissy fit to get her own way and point out the fact that THAT very behaviour is most likely why other kids don’t like her? Because I can’t do that - It goes against every fibre of my being to try and change anything about her … annoying though she may be … she’s spectacular. And believe me, she is. Magnificent, even.

So what? We’ve enrolled her in Choir, Cross Country and Dance – in the hopes that she will bond with someone over a common interest. The first two are through her school, but the Dance is outside of school – so maybe there might be someone outside of her current circle. It’s too early to tell just yet – she’s only going to her second session tonight.

I have requested a meeting with her two teachers and the principal for as soon as possible – so we can determine if it makes sense to switch her. I’m not really in favour of that, but if it proves to be necessary, I’d like to do it right away. She was specifically placed in this class because of the group of girls she was chummy with last year. Apparently this is not so much the case this year.

Ahhh!!! I really don’t know what to do.

Seriously, peeps … I’m asking.

Hello, Mah Frens ... Hello

2011-08-31T11:58:00.000-03:00

Okay … okay – I know it has been a month. I’m sorry.Melinda - I really didn't mean to mess with your chi. I can only imagine the kind of karmic katastrophe I'll be facing for that one.

It isn’t that I don’t miss you all, nor is it that I don’t still pop in a read here and there … I haven’t been writing because I am depressing. Same ol’ same ol’ – you know? *Yawn*

Narci is still Narcissistic. Minion is still … Minionistic? Miniony? Minionesc? I’d like to photo-shop a pic of him wrapped up in bacon and title it “Filet Minion” *snort*... although really it would be a better representation of pig - wrapped in pig.

I have concluded that I am burnt out where my employment is concerned. Not sure if that may be partially due to the time of year … I do tend to start slipping around the Autumn … not that there aren’t myriad reasons why I might be burnt out here – at the phallic palace, Narci-henge … but my ability to flip ‘these feelings of stabbiness**’ off, has diminished substantially. I find when the alarm blares out its morning reverie, I am overwhelmed with a feeling of abstract dread … mixed with an overpowering sense of ‘couldn’t possibly care less if there was a reward for it’. It’s an odd amalgam of emotion – quite at odds with one another.

Mom is still causing me stress, but I am hopeful that this will dissipate over time. I’m just not in a place where I can have that “talk” with her right now. She is in her place and though there seems to be a fairly sturdy wall built between us just now, we are cordial. I am hopeful she will start contributing in the monetary sense again soon … we have gone a couple of months now with no money.

My weight loss journey seems to be somewhat stalled at present. I am down 106 lbs. Don’t get me wrong – I am so very – VERY pleased about this. I feel like a new person and even if I don’t lose another pound, this was still a raging success … it’s just that I want to get a little further away from where I was. Even just another 13 lbs would seat me firmly in “onederland” as they call it in the fatty-verse. I haven’t gained any weight … though there are days that I will fluctuate up and down between 1 and 3 lbs – but mostly I stay right where I am. So that’s good. I CAN NOT gain this weight back. I just can’t. I live in mortal fear of such an atrocity. *shudders* It is so effing hard to lose – even with the massive assistance of cutting out most of my stomach – I still wouldn’t consider this an easy task. Easier, maybe … well perhaps more to the point – doable … but not easy. Not by a long stretch. I am 9 months and two weeks out from my surgery and I certainly do not regret doing it – just wish I could get a little more gone. Now that Summer is coming to a close, I will lay off the weekend boozing a little (HA!) and maybe that’ll help.

Speaking of Summer – can you believe that school is about to start up again? MAN! This Summer went by in a friggen flash! I can’t get over it. I know some kids are back in today … mine don’t start until next Thursday, but holy crap!

We are taking the girls camping this long weekend. We haven’t been camping all bloody season! That’s pathetic! Mind you, the weather has sucked! And blown … and sopped. It has been a crappy one, that’s for sure. The plan is to hit “The Ovens” and do a little spelunking. I figure my science-minded offspring will think that’s pretty cool. There’s also a beach, a pool and a petting zoo … so I am hopeful the girls will enjoy their stay. We haven’t done quite so much ‘fun stuff’ with them this year as I would have liked. There’s just been so much to do around the ol’ homestead … still more to complete before Winter arrives.

Anyhoo … I must remember to snap a few pics of my kitchen reno to share with you. It’s been a long friggen haul with this kitchen of mine, but it’s almost complete.

I hope all mah bleeps have been enjoying the gentle season.

Kisses!

**Thank you to "The Management" (aka Doran) for coining this word. It makes me smile every time I use it.

OMFG!!!

2011-07-27T13:33:00.000-03:00

I am at a loss.

In fact I went to sleep last night in such emotional turmoil, I dreamed bizarre dreams – all of them centered on conflict. The one I was having when my alarm went off this morning was rooted in a physical altercation. A dream in which I kept swinging at my opponent, not making contact – but feeling every blow to my own body. I’m sure a shrink would have a field day with that little gem.

Let me back up a little. I was on a much needed vacation this past weekend. It was wonderful – it truly was … while we were away, that is. I plan to post something on this once I sit my rear end down and download the photos from the camera … and also once I am able to do justice to the mood of the trip. Stay tuned for that one.

Actually, I need to back up a little more … our tenants moved out of the apartment on the 12^th of July. We had decided it was time for Mom to move back into her place – I mean that was the original plan, right? We had to deviate from it for a while due to the massive financial strain the past three years has put on us … but thankfully to the universe, we are on more stable ground at present. Given the fact that she now has a new boyfriend whom she wants to spend every waking moment with, I would have thought this would come as welcome news to her.

Apparently, I was wrong.

This woman has been bucking this move for weeks. As soon as the other two were out, I immediately went out and bought the paint for the color scheme Mom had chosen (which I had to corner her to decide upon) … spent over $100 on it, I may add – in a month where I was asked to waive her rent payment, I might also add. I then went about spending the next three nights (after work) painting in there – to make it nice for her. Hubs and I spent half of the following weekend painting and cleaning her apartment.

Where was Mom, you may have asked? She was away … at the beau’s cottage.

The following week (the 2^nd of her vacation, I will point out … my, but there are a whole lotta barbs in this post) she came home on Tuesday evening, spent the next two days bipping about – doing her own thing, getting her hair done, taking my sister out for lunches and dinners (did I mention I was asked to waive her rent payment for July?). Then, on Thursday – she passed me on my way in the door from work, on her way out to the cottage. Tossed over her shoulder that she felt bad with me doing all that work in her apartment, but “I haven’t had this in four years and I’m GOIN’!”.

Really?

Then, the weekend after that … after I have the apartment not only painted – but CLEAN, too … we had planned a trip away. Had been planning said trip for about two and a half months, in fact. I rented an ocean front cottage for three nights, and it was located approximately 3 hours away via car. My dog doesn’t tend to travel well – but I had made a contingency plan to be able to include him, should the need arise. We have two cats, three degus (which, for those of you who don’t know are a chinchilla-type rodent), a fish and a dog. One of the cats actually belongs to my mother – not that you would know that upon any sort of inspection lately – since I clean both litter boxes, buy all of the food, treats and litter, make sure they are both in safely at night and insure they all have clean water and food. Mom has pretty much just lost interest.

I asked her if she would consider spending the weekend we would be gone, at home. Said she and ‘beau’ could have the run of the house and that way, she could spend some time organizing her kitchen, bathroom and other personal effects and we would move the furniture on Sunday when we returned. Up to this point, she had not even intimated the slightest interest in getting anything ready for herself. A little bit of a smack in the face to me, since I had busted my ass trying to get her place in tip top shape. In addition, I would be able to leave, knowing my animals were being cared for.

She said no.

No compromise, no discussion – just no. Then, promptly left Friday morning, not to return until Monday evening – with my sister in tow wanting to be fed. Later Monday evening, she came downstairs to pilfer more of my bathroom tissue (which we were almost out of because she’s been taking ours for months now, not purchasing her own) and had to stick her head into the living room and ask me if we had anymore toilet paper than what was left on the roll. I said we didn’t. She made a face, then turned to go, hesitated and turned back – “I don’t have anything. No Kleenex, nothing”. I was sitting next to a box of tissue and I picked it up and made to hand it to her. She said “no … I’ll just roll some off your roll and use that”. I said “fine, whatever” and left it at that. Just as an FYI – there is a grocery store less than a FIVE MINUTE drive from my house.

Now, I did pick up a small pack of tp last night on my way home, but what happened after I got there only further pissed me off. She had gone and bought herself some. Great, that’s fantastic! Scurried right upstairs with it, lickity split – didn’t have a square to spare for us. Didn’t offer to replace it, didn’t even check to see if we had any for cripe’s sake!

Do you need to ask me how I felt about that one?

Last night, I was informed that she will be away for the next two weekends. Fine. Not like I am not used to that – not like I would begrudge her a good time, either … but you need to take some responsibility for your own shit – right? RIGHT? I suggested that maybe she spend the next couple of evenings getting her personal effects sorted and maybe start moving her bathroom stuff into the apartment. I know that Hubs and I will have to do all of the heavy lifting – that is a given, but why should I have to pack her shit, move it and organize it, too? I don’t think that’s going to happen here.

She got pissed off at me and asked why I was in such a bloody hurry. Said she’d get to it when she got to it and that no, she didn’t want to spend her evenings after work, working on house stuff. What’s the big hurry?

*Loud snapping sound emanates from Dani’s ear canal* “What’s the big hurry? Mom, I did not break my ass over in that place painting and cleaning every night after work and for most of my weekend to make that place nice for you so that you could take two months to move into it!”. “Besides, I have a six year old child that has been promised a new bedroom, and since you painted said room ‘cock’s blood red’, I am now going to have to prime and paint it before she can have it … and in order to do that, I need your crap out!”

Know what she said to me? “Well … just move the stuff out of my sitting room and leave my bedroom and bathroom alone. There’s no hurry for that and I don’t want to stir that stuff up until I am ready to move … she doesn’t need the bathroom too, does she?”

I stood up and walked away at that point. I turned in the kitchen and said: “It is apparent to me that you are not willing to give up so much as an hour of your weekend to move your things – so you will need to spend your time through the week preparing for the move. I want this done. I would like to have my house back. Nothing personal, I just want it done. Is this so unreasonable?” I then picked up the phone, dialed a phone number – signalling the fact that this was a rhetorical question and needn’t be answered - walked into my living room and shut the door behind me.

Hubs said to me this morning that I was not to worry myself about this anymore as he can’t take what it is doing to me. He said he would take care of getting her shit cleared out of our house this weekend and she can deal with the consequences of that - whenever she decides to come home again. That I can’t keep banging my face into the concrete wall I have become such close friends with lately.

I honestly would have thought this conversation would have prompted some movement on her behalf to get some of her shit sorted out – but when I went up to put my children to bed last night, she was yakking on the phone with “beau” and not a thing done around her. I just don’t get it. I don’t.

I am yanking my hair out by the roots lately.

Is it unreasonable for me to want this done? Honestly – am I missing something here? I have broken my ass trying to make it as easy as possible for her. Why is she fighting me so hard on this?

Still Alive

2011-07-26T09:52:00.000-03:00

Good morning Bleeps!

I am still kickin'. Today is my first day back to the office in several as my family and I were on a muchly needed vacation. It was magnificent and I will be writing about it in the next few days ... and posting some photos as well, I hope.

I also have a bucket of angst that I will be needing to vent as soon as I can find some funny in it ... just a little too raw right this minute. I figure if I must unload, the least I can do is make ya'll chuckle.

To those few of you who took the time to email and see if I am alright (you lovelies know who you are) >heart squeeze< ... Thank you for caring about me. I have to say that my mood deteriorated somewhat upon discovering my desk in a state of disaster ... and those emails and comments have gone a very long way to saving a life this morning.

... you, too can prevent homicide.

Hugs to you all!

You'll hear from me soon... (that sounds a little ominous, no?)

Stretch Update and a Little TMI

2011-06-21T16:07:00.000-03:00

When last we chatted (and by chatted, I mean I spewed and you dutifully listened) we were in crisis once again, regarding Stretch and her social skills.

As an update to that story, I thought I would let ya'll know what I did and what the result was at the end of the day.

I emailed the principal of the school and relayed the scene that had occurred the night before for her. I emphasized the fact that we have asked for feed back several times throughout the past three years where Stretch was concerned. I also made a point of mentioning the fact that the birthday party invites were scarce for her, as well. I was very diplomatic, but also passionate about the situation.

It was late in the day when I sent the email and honestly, I wasn't sure she'd even read it prior to Monday - but within the hour, the principal of the school called me at work. She was horrified to hear that "hate" had been used at a school function and that she wished Hubs had come and found her ... that she would have "turned that scene upside down", had she witnessed anything even remotely that mean. She apologized many times, but insisted that Stretch had been doing very well, socially speaking, this past year.

We actually talked for some time, and during the discussion I realized (with little doubt) that she does, in fact, know my child - very well. The nuances of Stretch's personality (and she made a point to highlight the really positive stuff - like how artistic, articulate and intelligent she is) that she referred to put me right at ease, and I knew for sure that I wasn't being placated. We left our conversation with the understanding that she would speak with Stretch's teacher on Monday, and I would speak with Stretch over the weekend and we'd compare notes Monday afternoon.

Monday afternoon came, and as promised, so did the call. It was at this point that she confirmed that there are definitely two girls that Stretch tends to chum with - and that she was making every effort to place all three in the same class next year. There was some discussion about Stretch's inability to calm herself down when she gets emotional, and the suggestion was made that we possibly seek some help from our doctor ... perhaps get her someone to talk to ... you know, to learn how to self monitor/calm. So, I have made an appointment to discuss it with our doc ... although MY doc is taking the damned summer off - so this will be a new person to me (not really thrilled about that).

When I had spoken to Stretch over the weekend, she was pretty much oblivious to the slight where the whole mob scene was concerned. I asked her about the boy who was saying he hated her and she told me they were "arch enemies" and that she would be "dishing out some pay back" to him. Go Stretch! So ... I guess her ego is intact. Not that she honestly seems to have any issues with her ego ... which is why I often assume her tales of not having friends are a tool with which to "work" her parents. But then to witness something like that scene at the fair ... *shudders*.

From here, we move on to Summer Camp. At least one of the two girls she chums with will be going to the same camp - so that's a good thing. Hopefully with another Summer under her belt, grade 3/4 (because it is a split class next year) will be a little easier on her.

In other news ... it was a superb weekend at my house. My meds have kicked into full gear and my inner calm has returned. This keeps me in a much better head space both at home and at work. I was actually a fun mom this weekend - taking them shopping with me, allowing them to actually help cook the Father's Day brekkie. It was good.

Hubs had a good weekend, too and was even heard to exclaim: GAWD, Dani ... you are like going to bed with a 'strange woman' lately ... well D'UH! I have ALWAYS been a bit strange - you just catching on now? Though, that wasn't what he meant.

So ... uh ... er ... thanks? (I think) Not really sure how a wife of 9 years should react to a comment like that ... but I am choosing to take it as a big ol' compliment.

... and that wraps the TMI portion of our programming. Hope your week is clipping along at a good speed and everyone is happy.

D - out!

Hubs Said F*@k

2011-06-17T13:24:00.000-03:00

No, no ... you don't understand. My husband does not use profanity like I do. He's a good Irish Catholic Newfie boy. He says "shit" now and then ... but fuck? Nuh-uh.

I did the bi-weekly grocery shopping last night on my way home from work. I friggen detest the grocery store like the plague, but it has to be done - and apparently I have to do it. Hubs had agreed to take the girls to their school's Spring Fling. Aw ... pity, I was going to miss all the fun! (Suddenly spending two hours of my time and most of my pay cheque in the grocery store didn't seem quite so bad.)

Anyhoo ... when I got home, they were back and I noticed immediately that something was wrong with my husband. You need to know something about this man ... he has two moods: His usual patient, work-a-day self ... and horny. That's pretty much it. I have enough moods for all of us, so it really works quite well. But last night, he was pissed. Like, really pissed.

I asked him several times to spill it, and he just looked at me and said it had nothing to do with him and me ...

WTF?

So ... I began the quiz portion of the evening.

Me: Did the kids upset you?

Hubs: No

Me: Did you and Mom get into it?

Hubs: No

Me: Something with the business?

Hubs: No

Me: For the love of GOD, would you just TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG??

He takes me outside on the deck and in fairly hushed tones starts telling me about an incident at the Spring Fling. Our oldest, Stretch, had volunteered to sit up in the dunk tank. Apparently some little fucker from grade 4 showed up on the scene and after announcing to the crowd that "he HATES Stretch" starts pelting balls at the target and in the meantime, gets a group of children to start chanting that they "hate Stretch".

Now, I would be fibbing if I said that this didn't ruffle my fur, but there are a few additional pieces of info that need to be placed for you to get the whole picture.

We have been concerned about Stretch's socialization since she began at that school three years ago. We have had numerous meetings with both teachers and principals regarding this concern. Each and every time, we are told there is no reason for concern ... that she has found her niche group and seems happy in it.

Stretch is a highly intelligent ... but highly strung person. She's got a heart the size of Texas about some things, and is oddly cold about others ... more than anything (and God forgive me for saying this about my child, but) ... she's as annoying as holy hell. She is. I can see how she could grate the nerves of even the most determined child. She's constantly singing and doesn't often listen when someone asks her to stop. (Not that these are really great reasons to hate someone ... but some kids are assholes - maybe mine is seen as one of those.) The point, I am having trouble making here is this: We have expressed concern about Stretch and her ability to make (and keep) friends - on numerous occasions. Hubs and I want her to 'be herself', but if there are genuine issues with the way she is relating, maybe we can help coach her ... so, if we are continually being told there is no problem ... how does one proceed?

And yet - she repeatedly comes home telling us that everyone hates her (can't imagine where she'd ever get that idea) and that 'so and so' won't play with her and on and on. Add that to the fact that she was invited to only two birthday parties all year ... and you have yourself a real reason for concern.

This was the part where my husband started to use the expletive like it was salt in a shaker and he was eating french fries. He has a point. Why in the eff, after us repeatedly asking for guidance from the effing people who spend the entire effing day with our children - would we witness something like this, and nobody else has managed to see anything of the like in the previous 10 months (or 3 years, for that matter). And how in the eff, in a society so focused on anti bullying and respectful behavior, could a GROUP of children be chanting that they HATE another child - and NOT ONE staffer at the school notices?

I mean ... I got "spoken to" because my daughter was "bugging" one of the boys. Not hitting, or kicking or being mean in any way ... just hanging around and bothering him. Seriously. (This was the incident that cemented the relationship with my cow of a neighbor.)

Now, one could say that perhaps there was a small over reaction on my Hubs' part ... as stated, kids can be assholes, and often are. But, the more I think about it, the more I am tempted to march my ass into that principal's office and become "that mother". Why in the eff didn't they notice? It was pretty damned obvious. And I expect it is every bit as obvious on the play ground at recess ... aren't there people outside with these kids watching them?

What tha hell?

...and the Universe Speaks

2011-06-16T10:12:00.000-03:00

So I had a little rant yesterday.

Actually, truth be told ... the rant I had was quite extensive and its composition started on Monday, but not everyone was subjected to the full measure.

I got home last night to an empty house. Highly unusual. Hubs had taken Stretch and Shorty to town to do some shipping for his business, and were apparently running late. Mom was staying in the city with 'the man' for the night. I immediately began the process of preparing the evening meal.

A short time later, Hubs and the girls pulled in the drive and within moments, the girls burst through the door exclaiming they had brought home dinner. A lovely surprise! (Although I had started cooking already, it was easily refrigerated and saved for tonight's dinner) Yay!

Then, as we sat and consumed our BBQ chicken and tators, a knock came at the door. It was our tenant... giving his notice to vacate.

Can I get a WHOOT WHOOT!!

Soooo, Mr Mini Wheat, what that means is come the end of July, I'll have my house back. I could weep, I am so happy! This thing with my mom needs a change. I love my mom ... don't get me wrong - she was a fabulous mother and I owe her plenty ... but this relationship is bending under the strain. Better to make this change while we are still okay (at least on the surface ... because she is completely oblivious to the way I am feeling right now).

She is dragging her heels about the move ... and who could blame her, really? She's got a pretty sweet deal. I cook every meal, do the grocery shopping, cleaning and so on. Who wouldn't want to stay - right? I'm also going to be packing up my sister's crap and turning her room into a simple guest room. She can sleep there if absolutely necessary, but her crap is not going to be living there anymore. Then, Shorty will get moved out of Stretch's room and she'll be getting her own big room all to herself.

I've already started shopping for paint! Shorty's gonna get a sky painted on her ceiling. We're stoked!

It's good, too ... because now we'll have two spare bedrooms and the girls each in their own rooms. Not that we get a lot of company ... but in the event any of my bleeps decide to come East ... you know ... I'll have somewhere for them - and extra food and alcohol *sheepish grin*. (So - did I dangle that carrot properly?)

Now, all I need to do is actually get the job I am applying for today ... and we could be all set! It's a government job, so it's rather unlikely ... but I'm applying none the less. I'm so nervous applying anywhere because Narci knows nearly everybody (and now with the addition of Minion - he seems to know everybody else) - and any time I have actively started seeking alternate employment in the past, he seems to find out about it ... and then makes my life even more hellish than before.

I can't see how I can possibly keep at this as it is, though. I am miserable. So ... here goes nuthin'. Wish me luck.

On a different topic, I am sincerely disappointed with the fans in Vancouver last night. I mean, I would have liked to see the Canucks take the cup as much as the next guy ... but that sort of behavior is unacceptable! Shame on you!!

If You Give a Pig a Pancake...

2011-06-15T14:59:00.000-03:00

Anyone who has had the pleasure of reading regularly to a child, likely knows the story I've premised in my title. For those of you who do not have that pleasure, it is loosely based on the old adage: If you give an inch, they'll take a mile.

Is everyone tired of hearing me bitch and moan about my rather wonderful life yet?

Anyone?

Because I am about to bitch about my otherwise rather wonderful life ... and if you can't stomach it, you really should go now.

Run along.

Chickens.

So ... my weekend. I had a very lengthy purge typed out on this page regarding every slight perpetrated against me this past weekend. A very lengthy purge. I have opted to spare you, my bleeps, the eye strain.

You have AA to thank for this act of charity on my part.

Everyone take a moment and say "Thank you, AA ... for takin' one for the team". Seriously ... it was a long and painful rant. Thanks AA.

So that you don't feel totally left out of my pity party (heaven forbid such an atrocity) I have conceded to provide you with more of a Coles Notes version and hope that this format takes the edge off the scrimey, self pitying tone that my original post carried.

~My mother and sister pestered me into having a dinner party for my sister's birthday.
~When asked which day, I stated Sunday... they wanted Saturday ... Saturday, it was.
~Mom decided she wanted lobster, and when I wasn't on board for that, she got pissy with me (namely, because she wanted me to pay for them).
~Comments were made ... many, many comments that are grinding my soul and making my chest burn.
~Brand new boyfriends showed up ... prepared to spend the night ... and when both my husband and myself stated that they could not sleep "together" in the bedroom directly adjacent to my 6 and 8 year old daughters, there was an "issue" with our rules.

I could go on ... and did in great detail, but what I have learned is: It really doesn't help. I'm still every bit as mad as I was. And it doesn't end there ... nope - there is more.

Two days ago, Minion took a call pertaining to the private mortgage fund we have started up. He spoke to the client for about 3 - 5 minutes and then emailed me instructions to call this person back and take an application.

Perhaps this does not carry the impact on you, that it did to me. But WHOTHEFUCKAREYOU to be a) issuing orders to me, b) too lazy to take your own fucking application and, c) just in general - who THA FUCK R U? I have my hands full enough with Narci as a boss ... I do NOT need another!

THEN - after I called and left a message for this client to call me back ... Narci comes to me the next morning and is all over me about whether or not I had gotten back to this guy. Uh ... HULLO, arsehole ... I have worked for you for seven bloody years, here ... how often do I just simply NOT call clients? If it was so goddamned important that an application be taken "post haste", why in the livin' friggen fuck didn't MINION TAKE IT??? And I DID call the guy - he WASN'T AVAILABLE.

I can't do this. I can't. Ima break in half ... or possibly quarters ... or just fracture into splinters soon. I've been struggling with the whole medication issue, but honestly ... I just started taking my anti depressants again on Monday ... in the hope that I can numb some of this stuff. I'd have taken almost anything to make this stop. It hasn't worked yet. Nothing does. Not even self medicating (with alcohol).

I'm not sleeping, I'm not able to eat (and I can ALWAYS eat). It's like there is this giant ball of static electricity stuck in the pit of my stomach. I can't swallow anything - there's no room for food with all of this anger in there. Cripes almighty, I can't even poop, I'm so friggen uptight. I need sleep. If for no other reason, just to escape for a little while. My husband is starting to have that squinky "I'm getting scared for you" look on his face.

He even sent me flowers at work last week in the hopes of brightening my day ... but honestly, I need my mother out of my house (and my sister in tow) and I need a new job... and maybe a vacation away would be beneficial. Nowhere crazy ... just away. If our damned trailer was fixed, I'd be quite happy just camping - if the G-D rain would ever let the hell up!

Stop the world, people ... Dani needs a pee break!

I know there is no advice out there that is going to be any different than what I have said up there and what anybody has said to me for years ... get out of that job ... don't live with your mother .... DUH! I know ... but it just isn't so simple as all that. I am looking for jobs. I'm even willing to take less money than I make here - just to be free of the toxicity. Plus, we are trying to evict our latest set of "Bisitors" so that Mom can move back into her own place. Nothing seems to wanna work at this point ... certainly not fast enough to save me from fracture.

It's just so bloody frustrating and I feel so trapped - like a caged animal, I just pace ... back and forth ... back and forth.

Crisis

2011-06-09T16:26:00.000-03:00

I am having a crisis.

Oh ... I know what you are thinking ... what else is new, Dani? Right? I know ... I am a drama queen - they say knowing is half the battle, but I really don't buy that load.

Seriously, though ... I am - and here's why:

About two months ago, I stopped taking a medication that I had been taking for a few years - with moderate success where results were concerned. It was a fairly low dose, non invasive antidepressant that (in all earnest honesty) did not cause me any great hardship (other than cost) to take. The problem was, that I simply do NOT want to HAVE to take an antidepressant anymore. End of story. I shouldn't need one. I am not depressed.

Here's where it gets tricky ... though I may not be (what I have deemed to be the definition of) depressed, what I am is an angry woman. Or so it would seem, since I have come off these damnable pills.

I have anger issues.

What I have experienced over the past few years is that this antidepressant medication seems to quell the beast within. Tame the demon, if you will. This seems very odd to me, since EVERYBODY knows that depression is about being sad - right?

Yeah - not so much, apparently. It would seem that MY brand of depression is not about sadness and more about wanting to rip the heads off various people in my life and crap down their throats. Not just the people you are thinking, either (though I would be remiss to neglect mentioning Narci and Minion) ... nope - my husband, children, mother and numerous (quasi) innocent bi-standers have all experienced my wrath, of late.

***It is at this stage, that I must point out one small fact that may or may not justify some of the homicidal tendencies I seem to be displaying lately: THEY DESERVE IT!!! My mother is insufferable lately with her 'comments' and 'helpful parenting tips' OH! and the infernal pontification over when I should plan a dinner for my sister's birthday ... and my children are on a mission to have me fitted for a 'hug me' suit ... and the (quasi) innocent bi-standers ... well ... it is a free country ... they could stand just about ANYWHERE but right near me ... so ya'll takes yer chances ... that's all I'm sayin'...

But, here's where the crisis comes in (HA! you thought I forgot that I had a point, didn't you??)... am I depressed? Or does the act of medicating myself simply cover up the fact that I am simply a bitch? A bonafide, honest to goodness BITCH.

Should one, in all good conscience go screwing around with the baser personality of one of God's/Satan's/Godtopus' children? Or should one simply choose to allow the inner bitch to reign supreme ... go for a run in the surrounding countryside ... kicking small children and puppies along the way?

I dunno ... what do you all think?

Chronicles of Narcissus - Troubles with Minion

2011-06-07T10:26:00.000-03:00

So ...

My boss is at the Symposium for Mortgage Professionals today.

Just so we are all on the same page here ... let me point out an interesting factoid: I am the only mortgage professional that works in this company.

During this Symposium, there are numerous underwriters, fulfillment specialists and business development managers that are flown in from all over the country to rub elbows and play nice with the little cogs (aka - people like me) that make the machine called mortgage brokering run all smooth-like. It is an opportunity to meet these people - face to face ... and cement the relationships that have been growing over the phone and via email for (in my case) the past SEVEN YEARS (with this company - 2 with another brokerage).

Now, I will admit that this event does happen every year. It's called "CAAMP" (which is an acronym for Canadian Association of Accredited Mortgage Professionals ... and its name is a little on the 'campy' side, really ... especially when every second person you talk to asks if you are going to 'CAAMP' this year ... but I digress). I have never gone in any of the past 9 years within this industry. Mostly because I felt like a troll and preferred to be the sessy voice on the other end of the phone ... or the highly talented, sassy email composer on the other end of the computer to these people ... I felt much safer wrapped up in the mystery of imagination.

But this year is different. This year, I am 92 pounds lighter ... and feeling notably less 'troll-like'. THIS year, I WANTED to go. I even RSVP'd to an event that was being put on by one of my lenders. I had originally planned to attend, then my friend (who also works in this industry) and I were going to go splits on a hotel room and get up this morning (all hung over) and hit the rest of the day's events.

Here is a news flash ... I am NOT attending the CAAMP National Symposium.

Do you wanna know who is?

... and Eyeore McSooky-pants is.

Can I get a "Why, Bambi ... why would Narci, Minion and Eyeore need to attend a mortgage symposium with all of the people that ONLY I work with EVERY SINGLE WORKING DAY OF MY LIFE?"

Narci ... okay, he is the broker of record ... even though he wouldn't know how to put a mortgage together to save his life ... but Minion? He's nothing but a ... a ... MINION! W-T-F??? And Eyeore ... other than the fact that he, too, possesses the "Y" chromosome, has no reason to be at a MORTGAGE Symposium ... he is an INVESTMENT SPECIALIST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! W-T-F??!!! Not only that, but it costs nearly DOUBLE for them to go than it would for me. Because I am a bloody member of the Association, it would have been $180 for me, but it is over $300 for them. Yet, Narci declined to pay for me ... and declined to grant me leave from the asylum for the day to attend (if I wanted to pay for myself).

I reiterate: W-T-F?!

I told that stupid ass I wanted to attend.

I simply do not understand why I am not in attendance. And better yet, why in the hell THEY are.

Anger is not a pretty emotion... and rage is really not good for the complexion. I realize that in this office, I need to pick my battles ... but this is seriously corn-holing itself up my ass!

All of this on the heels of catching Minion forwarding MY emails to HIS in-box.

REALLY?

IS THIS THING ON???!!!

He's been here for FIVE FUCKING MINUTES and I have been here for SEVEN YEARS!!!

And, I caught him - RED HANDED! Forwarding my emails to HIS IN-BOX!!! Do you have any idea how hard of a bitch slap that was to me? I have given part of my soul to this god-forsaken den of Satan ... and this is how I am repaid for my loyalty? For my 'sticktoitivness'? SERIOUSLY? You are fucking spying on me?

I wouldn't be the slightest bit surprised if every keystroke I make is being recorded right now ... and you know what??? I CARE NOT!!

FIRE ME, MO-FO!! And ya better hurry hard, ass wipe - 'coz I am just about ready to tell ya'll to shove it where the sun don't shine.

Sooo CRONKY!

2011-05-25T13:47:00.000-03:00

I'm really not sure what crawled up my ass and died, but I'm hopeful the mushrooms growing out of it (my ass) push whatever it is (up my ass) - out! MAN-dasity, I am so cranky!

Actually, I guess that is a bit of a fib ... I can likely find a thing or two that could be contributing to my lack of patience where the other humans with whom I must share my air are concerned.

One big one would be the fact that my husband has taken up snoring as his new hobby. No, seriously! He almost NEVER made a sound when he slept in all the preceding decade in which I have been his bedfellow ... but NOW --- ARGH! EVERY FARKING NIGHT!!! SNORES!! With ENTHUSIASM!

I actually got out of bed at 4:00 this morning and started tearing my closet apart - looking for the set of earplugs that Jan gave me a hundred years ago, and I have never been able to throw out because I am pathologically sentimental. But do you think I could find them when I needed their help? NO! NO.I.COULD.NOT!

I need my sleep, people ... every bit as much as I need to be dry ... and have my space. These are inalienable rights where I am concerned. 'Cause when Dani does not get sleep ... Dani gets ugly, bleeps! Ugly ... and three headed ... with big, sharp teeth. So ... today on my way home from Narci Inc, I will be stopping by the ... er ... uh ... ear plug store? Okay - people, help me out here ... where the hell do I buy ear plugs? It's either ear plugs or AMMO ... one of those items are being purchased tonight on my way home from Narci Inc ... 'cause DANI NEEDS HER SLEEP!!

Then there is the little matter of the two seasons we have here in Nova Scotia ... Winter and Road Construction. *sighs* Mother of GAWD! What is the matter with the people who control the construction crews here in NS, anyway? I mean, what are the qualifications for THAT job - huh? "Opposable thumbs considered an asset"? I waited for TWENTY THREE MINUTES on a 100 series highway yesterday morning for these bumbling morons to get their poop in enough of a group to let the line of traffic through. I will direct your attention to this post which I did a couple of years ago. It sums up my over all feeling toward the entire concept rather tidily.

That all said ... I guess there is some reason I have been particularly cranky ... perhaps not good reasons, but reasons, none the less.

Soo ... Messers and Mrses ... Mses?? Miniwheats ... what's the 411 on those ear plugs, anyway ... 'cause I DO know where to find ammo ...

I'm From Nova Scotia!

2011-05-20T11:01:00.000-03:00

So ... I'm sure you are all wondering ... did Toronto survive?

Yes, I believe it is none the worse for wear. My big toe, on the other hand STILL has a GI-normous blister on it ... *sighs* ... AA made me walk ... A-LOT ... and IN THE RAIN!!

Jeez ... doesn't she know I am constructed primarily of sugar ... and perhaps a little cornstarch? Melllllting ...

Backing up, the trip out was fun ... I was the kind of excited that can make a person vomit right easy, so I was packin' Gravol. I never wound up taking it and (THANK GOD ... or GODTOPUS or whomever you worship ... in my house, we all worship me, but I don't feel right thanking myself ... even though I really am the one to thank ... oh, it's so confusing) managed NOT to do the techno-color yawn on the plane ... or any time thereafter. Yay for Dani!

I was so nervous to meet AA ... not that I should have been ... I mean she's all the fabulosity that a person can glean from what she shares on her blog ... and then a heaping scoop more. I figured we'd be okay ... but there is always that chance there would be awkward pauses and ... not ... knowing ... where ... to ... start ... the ... conversation. And then there is the paralyzing paranoia from which I suffer ... and I am thinking perhaps I am not so alone in that sufferage (yes - I am coining my own words now ... and yes, I know about suffrage ... SO-HO not the same thing at all) ... so there was that. Plus the fact that I have not only NOT flown in very close to 15 years, but (other than my surgery ... and let's face it, I was so stoned while in hospital, I wouldn't have known my family anyway) I have never been away from my entire family before ... not for two nights, anyway ... and certainly not in another province! My worry was all for not, though. After mere moments of "deer caught in the headlights", we were giggling like a couple of junior high girls on a class trip.

Let me say ... it's a good fuckin' thing that she was such super fabulous company ... 'cause it RAINED like we'd see Noah cruisin' by at any given moment. There was, in fact a rather suspicious looking ship on the lake that may or may not have had a male and female of each species on board.

Yes ... this was the scene on Saturday morning from our hotel room. Well ... I use the term "morning" rather loosely ...

Back to the flight in ... as mentioned, I was pretty excited. I snapped a couple of pics (a couple of the VERY few that I took) from the window of the plane. I actually filled up with tears at the fact that I could not fully share the experience with my girls. Stretch, in particular would have thought it was SO FREAKIN' COOL to see the world from up there. (There aren't that many areas where her interests and mine overlap in such a way that we aren't fighting with each other ... so it was more bitter than sweet in those moments of wanting her there to see.)

I believe we were over New England here ... I honestly don't remember ... the weekend was a lot to take in for my little bean.

Anyhoo ... I landed safe and sound and then followed the herd to where the luggage lords spat my belongings out onto the conveyor belt ... problem: I borrowed a suitcase from my mother (as I never travel and my set has been stored in basements for the past ... uh ... decade and smells very much like it has done just that) ... it was a navy blue, Air Canada wheelie-jobby. Any guesses on how many people have this same piece of luggage? Anyone? Anyone?

Thankfully, there was a nice man that had magically appeared beside me and was looking for such a case, himself ... when he saw me grabbing at one of the many that ambled by, he started pulling them off one by one so we could both look at them and determine if they belonged to either of us. Mine was the second one he grabbed ... a fortunate thing for me (especially since when I returned home, I wound up chasing my bag all the way round the stoopid loopdy-loo trying to catch it - like a doe-head).

Bag in tow, I made my way out to the 'public area' where AA had told me she would be waiting. I had a serious case of blond brain already ... and adding to that, a case of nerves the size of the city I had just landed in ... let's say I was ... frazzled ... yeah, we'll use that term... it sounds a whole lot better than "fuckin' stupid". But I scanned the crowd and quickly found a familiar and friendly face. Awkward as I was (and maybe we both were ... I couldn't see past my own discomfort) I counted (entirely) on AA to direct me toward whatever order I needed to be in ... mainly, we needed to get our tooshies on the shuttle to the hotel ... that's where the liquor could be consumed.

Simple enough ... yes? Uh ... no. AA found the ticket booth AND it was for the correct shuttle. (So glad she knew what she was doing) She instructed me to buy the return ticket at the same time, which I obediently did. The bus was approximately 9 steps from the ticket guy. In those 9 steps ... I managed to LOSE MY FARKIN' TICKET! How is this even possible? The driver was there and said: I JUST saw it in your hand ... what did you do with it? (I mean, really ... could I BE any more FROM NOVA SCOTIA??) ...and that became the joke. Everywhere we went: "I'm from Nova Scotia" said in an embarrassed whisper of exasperated explanation for my 'blond-ness'.

I eventually found said ticket and we boarded to bus ... and giggled and tittered our way through the downtown Toronto area. It was awesome. Once checked into our room, we had started to have a level of comfort and (from my perspective, at least) things became very easy between us from then on.

This was hanging in our bathroom ... freaky - no?

Sooo ... we set off to forage for mix, more liquor ('cause the 60 of wodka that AA was packin' was apparently not sufficient to cause the level of damage we required) and food. We wound up eating our dinner on the water front ... I snapped a couple of pics there:

This, right here is actually a pic of the top of AA's head

Our Hotel as seen from the lake front.

After eating, we settled into a night of drinking martinis and getting to know each other better. We shared a zillion stories ... I know I used at least twice as many words as were implicitly necessary to impart the info that I shared ... but then I am a wordy sort (sorry, dude).

The next morning, we were a little green around the gills and weren't moving really fast. Late afternoon, we got ourselves together and walked to the Eaton centre. I'm going to refrain from describing this, because aside from getting soaked to the damned bone ... there were eight hundred MILLION people shopping in that place! NO - REEEEELLLLY. I don't do crowds well ... (I'm from NOVA SCOTIA!)... AA got a taste of cronky-Dani. She told me I had "the face" ...

I have little doubt that I did, given the fact that my insides were boiling over and my outsides were wet and soggy. Blech! We caught a cab back ... and the giggles returned while we were sitting in the back seat, entertaining our very large Jamaican driver. <-- that was fun.

The evening was spent chit chatting and getting ourselves ready for the VERY early morning we had to face. No more martini's for us. We did venture across the street for some greasy burgers and fries and gravy. Just what the doctor ordered! Mind you, I think my system is STILL trying to figure out what to do with that.

These were actually taken as we waited (very early in the am) for the shuttle to whisk us back to Pearson to fly back to our respective homes ... thus ending one of the best weekends - EVAH!

Across the street from the Castle - cool sculpture

Harbour Castle ... what a super fabulous hotel!

All in all, it was a wonderful experience and one I would do again in a snap! AA has cemented herself into my heart forever and it is my sincere hope that we can do this again ... or some reasonable facsimile. Maybe the Hubs' and respective offspring can come next time ... hmmm ... a whole year to contemplate that one.

Thanks for the memories, Chiquita!

Travel Plans

2011-05-12T09:23:00.000-03:00

Soooooo....

Here we are, on the eve of my big trip. Tomorrow (Friday) I get on a plane headed to "The Big Smoke" to meet up with my long time bleep, AA over at The Lunch Hour. I.AM.SO.EXCITED! I've never met AA in person, and some may find it odd that I would get on a plane, fly to another province, and spend a weekend in the same hotel room with a veritable stranger (nobody on here, I'm sure ... but anyone else who has heard the 'plan', it would seem). Let me just say this: I guess one could raise an eyebrow at the thought of doing such a thing ... BUT - AA has turned into a very close friend of mine. We sometimes chat on the phone (when schedules and time zones allow). We email pretty well every day while on the Bosses' respective time ... it's a public service, really ... keeps both bosses alive and in relative good health. In fact, what I have learned over the past year or so, is that AA and I are so nearly THE SAME FRIGGEN PERSON ... it's just a tad on the scary side. If ya'll wanna be scared about something ... be scared of THAT! (Be very afraid ... 'cause we are about to join forces ... and I'm really not sure if any good will come from that)

For those of you who read both of us (and I guess I'm lookin' directly back at us, the man AA sleeps with and you, Brite), this is old news ... since AA actually posted about this the other day. I don't know if anyone else actually even still stops by - as my blogging days seem to be drying up and flaking away.

Moving on ... and back to the point of this post (see, some things never change) ... my trip. Did I mention I.AM.SO.EXCITED?! Like ... nearly sick to my tummy, excited ... like ... couldn't sleep LAST NIGHT (and can't imagine that I will tonight), excited. I am only going for two fricken days, but you'd think I was moving there - for the planning and prep work I have done. I'm talkin' hair, nails, new duds, (well ... these really had more to do with the fact that I have now lost 90 lbs and none of my old stuff will even stay ON my body rather than the actual trip) new shoes (that broke the first day I wore them, I might add ... stoopid eBay), new purse. Hubby will likely be happy to get me on that plane as I'll finally stop spending so much money ... yeah ... THAT'S gonna happen... I went nearly THREE YEARS without being able to buy a bloody coffee ... we have a little cash flow right now and I'm taking advantage, DAMMIT! *snort* I really don't know what I am going to obsess about once I get home ... aw, hell ... I'll think of something, I'm sure.

So last weekend, I realized it would make good sense to ask for Thursday off to get myself (and my house) ready for me to be gone for an extended weekend. Now, Hubs is pretty capable, but there is a very large amount of work that goes into running that place, cooking meals, feeding livestock, keeping the vermin to a minimum ... you know, the usual ... I wanted to leave everything tickedy boo for them. I asked Narci if I could add Thursday to my time off - bearing in mind that it is still so dead in this office, I could literally cry most days. He gave me a face and I told him he could let me know (meaning, do NOT say no ... think about it until you get to "yes" and THEN answer me). He never did answer me. Yesterday, when he was leaving the office (early ... to go home and spend some time with his dog ... yes, you heard me right), I said "... so ... will I see you next Tuesday?" And he said, "no - I need you here tomorrow." He couldn't even be a big enough person to come to me and say something like: Dani, I know you wanted the extra day, but I am going to be out of the office and I really need you to be there until I get back. I'm sorry about that, but if I can get out of my meetings early, I'll certainly let you leave when I get there. Oh, no ... he was simply going to leave and just not bother answering me. Man, he drives me!

I tried not to let it make me mad, but the more the minutes passed, the more pissy I got. I was standing at the front desk, waiting for a 27 page fax to send (because you actually have to do that if you want a fax to actually LEAVE this place) and he was there, talking to Bambi. He turned to me (and I was trying to be invisible) and started asking me questions about my trip ... who I was meeting, and where they were from, what we were doing ... you get the drift, he was trying to play nice after acting like the ass clown that he is. I really didn't want to be engaged in ANY sort of tete a tete with him ... but I didn't want to strain things any more (by ignoring him and walking away - like I honestly wanted to do) so, I answered the questions ... as simply as possible. When I told him where AA was from, he asked me the following:

Narci: How do you know her ... school?

Me: No ... I haven't actually ever met her in person before.

Narci: WHAT? JES-US, DANI what do you mean you've never met her in person before?! How DID you come to know her?

Me: I met her on line

Narci: JEEEEZUSS DANI - What are you saying? HOW?

Me: Well ... (and I don't know why I gave license to the little devil on my shoulder to answer this one ... but) actually, I met her husband first ... and then he introduced his wife to me (this is actually the truth ... but he has a dirty, dirty mind ... and I KNOW this already ... and purposely played on it.)

Narci: You met her husba... is HE going on this trip TOO?! JEEEzzzUSS CHRIST, Dani ... I learn something new about you every day ... does Hubs know about all of this?!

Me: Welll ... he knows I'm going to Toronto ...

Narci: Seriously ... how did you meet her?

Me: I seriously met her through her husband ... whom I met online. (I was pretty dead-pan here and sounded a little put out that he was asking, too ... 'cause I was pissed at him)

Then, the phone rang and it was for him and he got side tracked and left right after ... so I never did set him straight ... not that I honestly give a rat's ass ... but I think my boss thinks I am going to experience some wacky orgy while I am away ... *SNORT!* Good on him.

With that, I will clue up and start a rousing game of solitaire ... as I have nothing better to do today ... but I am HERE ... I guess that's the main thing. *sigh*

Hopefully we'll both have some fun stories to share when we get back to our respective homes ... and we don't end up in some Mexican prison or some such.

Until then, bleeps ... have a great weekend!

D-Out.

Chronicles of Narcissus: Bitch Alert!!

2011-05-03T10:44:00.000-03:00

I have started my week on a very sour note.

Narci and I were at each others jugulars yesterday ... plus he (in his infinite wisdom) turned the heat off in the building last weekend ... like OFF - off. Like ... you can NOT obtain heat anywhere in this office (short of setting your desk on fire). It was 3 degrees when I left my driveway yesterday morning. I was so cold all day that I could scarcely type, my fingers were so stiff. In addition to the freezing, he and Minion had treated the floors over the weekend with a vile chemical. I opened the door yesterday morning and the smell was so strong, it felt like someone had run a hot poker through my right eye. Instant headache... perfect working conditions for someone prone to fainting and dizzy spells of late. (I also didn't sleep at all on Sunday night ... I'm sure that went a long way to make my mood so light and airy)

THEN ... oh ... see ... here's where it gets good ... then I was sifting through an income tax nightmare for a self employed mortgage client - trying to save a quarter million dollar deal - and I have like three years of T1 generals at 30 odd pages each ... trying to calculate elligable add backs (you know, so I can show ability to service debt and thusly SAVE this effing deal) and he calls me from his SMART PHONE (with WIFI) and instructs me to go into Property On Line to play property bingo ... and then after several minutes screwing with that, he then wanted me to go snooping around in Joint Stocks to find the principles of the company that owned the property I FINALLY tracked down. I asked if I could call him back in a couple of minutes (as I was involved in something) and he bit my head off (because unless I actually "had someone right in front of(me) - what (he) wanted was more important" ... because I am obviously not capable of determining what is and isn't important). I think it is safe to say I was less than impressed. He also got pissed at me because the other set of tits in our office wasn't at his beck and call (because she had gone to lunch) ... this on the heels of the fact that he managed to screw me out of MY lunch break ... because if I don't go right at noon, I don't get a lunch (not that I usually TAKE an effing lunch to begin with, but I was so cold, I just wanted to go curl up in my vehicle with the heat on for an hour).

At the end of the day, I had managed to lose over $600K in mortgages due to agent screw ups and client dishonesty. I scrambled ALL FREAKIN' DAY to try and save these deals - to no avail. I was on the phone for close to 45 minutes with an underwriter BEGGING for an exception, when Narci started calling for me. I could see on the call display that he called like three times, but I knew it was for me because Bambi was sending me emails telling me he wanted me. Then ... I get an email from him. In this email, he has forwarded something to me from one of the agents he is trying to recruit to work under us ... I am actually posting the email ... just so you can see with your own eyes what I am dealing with over here.

Keep the following in your mind: 1) When it came time to do up the contracts, I was told to take EXISTING contracts from the company with whom we have just signed and CHANGE THE NAMES to ours. 2) I was NEVER part of the payroll negotiations (in my opinion, because I simply do not rank high enough to have been a party to these negotiations) 3) When this particular 'agent' was brought into the office, he was introduced to me (in passing) and I was referred to as "the mortgage person" on his way into a THREE HOUR meeting with Narci ... a meeting to which, I was not invited and the contents of which were absolutely not shared with me. And finally (and most pertinently) 4) I am not now, nor have I ever been (nor claimed to be) a lawyer, legal secretary or assistant and have no training in, nor business writing contracts of any kind, and when I did them up, I asked ... nay, beseeched him on a MINIMUM of THREE occasions (though I believe I could prove 5 attempts) to READ THE CONTRACTS prior to my sending them out.

Can you tell me the answers re the mortgage questions so that I can respond. Thanks.....

Sent from my iPhone

Begin forwarded message:

Hi (Narci),
Still looking at the contract, couple of questions.
Section 6 I need to clarify, what is it I’m not allowed to do for 2 year period?
Do my files remain my files in the event I leave Narci Inc.
Is it (Narci Inc) I belong to or (MinioNarci Inc).
No mention of the compensation on the investment side, or private lending.
I’m interested in obtaining my mutual fund license to sell investments (I use to have it in my banking days) can I do this and what would the cost be?
Can you give an example of what the compensation is now for firstnat, street cap, td etc MCap
(My current Super Broker) has me hired as a Broker ( not a subagent) can this remain as most of my marketing has this title on it.
Will there be reqular up dates on rate changes with the lenders we deal with?
Do you have lawyers on retainer if there ever is an e&o problem?

Sorry for all the questions.
Thanks for meeting with me on Friday.
Cheers

I must reiterate ... WTF??? Have I lost my mind, or does this seem like I have entered into an alternate dimension here? I realize, you wouldn't really have any insight into what these actual questions mean, but wouldn't you agree that the person who does all of the recruiting, spews all the BS that is meant to convince said potential recruits ... AND the person that keeps this particular set of tits at a far enough distance as to NOT have the answers to the previously asked questions NOT HAVE THESE ANSWERS FOR THEMSELVES??? I mean ... I would have at MINIMUM had the information regarding what everyone is going to GET PAID - BEFORE GOING OUT AND TELLING THEM WE CAN DO IT BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE- wouldn't you?

I Dunno ...

2011-04-18T10:48:00.002-03:00

I have no clue what this is even supposed to be, but I loved it so much, I just had to share it.

Hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Ahhh ... Spring

2011-04-12T15:05:00.000-03:00

It's like the contented sigh of the year ... don't you find?

After such a long season as Winter ... when teeny hints of life poke their delicate little selves into the world ...

...and just there ... if you look very closely, you see the quiet stirrings of Mother Nature's design (look closely)

Then, you can observe the 'other', not so indigenous wild life ... they don't seem overly happy with Mommy and her camera

It was a burry day, despite the strength of the sun ... Cooper dawg was less than impressed with the fact that I had recently sheared him.

I enjoyed a little quiet time before the natives got restless ... time where I sat and sipped, and immersed myself in a glorious early Spring morning ... and coffee ... and finished "Room"

Yes, I really was there ... see my foot?

Then, it was time for a little child labor.

I promised if they collected the sticks from around the lawn, I'd light a bon fire in our little fire pit...

This one speaks to me ... I don't know why

It was Mom's birthday on Sunday ... this was the brunch feast we had in honor of it (yes, I cooked it)

Shorty decided the tulips needed a little something extra...

Woody was beat out after his day of romping about...

So was Cooper, now that I think of it ...

All in all, it was a great day ... one that I will cherish (at least until the next glorious Spring day - maybe next weekend?)

It's Spring ... Time for a New Look

2011-04-12T12:40:00.000-03:00

Just a quickie for today ... I have some loverly photos I will be sharing of my Sunday in the "Out of Doors" from this past weekend.

For those of you who follow my Facebook page, you will already know that my camera (not unlike myself, now that I think of it) has an issue with personalities ... in that, it lives in the past much of the time and no matter what I do to correct this issue, it seems my photos continue to have incorrect date stamps.

What this means is that I will be needing to crop out the dates on the silly things before my anal retentive brain will allow me to post them on here.

I hope you are all enjoying your Tuesday!

D - out

Something Happened on the Way Out of the Shower

2011-04-07T11:36:00.001-03:00

Wednesday morning began much the same as any other weekday.

Alarm.
Snooze.
Alarm.
Snooze.
Alarm.
Groan. Get up. Disengage alarm.
Start shower.
Pee.
Enter shower.

This is pretty much how every weekday morning starts for me ... with very little variation. Hubs had left our bed in the middle of the night to go up with Stretch, who had been complaining of feeling sick. (She's Dad's girl, without a doubt, and when she calls out in the night, it's for him ... so I was left to snooze.)

Back to my shower, I had shampooed and had put the super-heavy-duty-all-soft-conditioner in my hair to soak in and had 'soaped up' all the parts that get stinky, when I felt a massive wave of nausea, followed by the feeling that someone had just punched me square in the nose. I realized that I was going to faint - and everyone was asleep ... upstairs (as I am the waker-upper-er in the house). If I went down in the shower, nobody would find me for at least an hour or so. I considered (briefly) rinsing my undercarriage, but knew I didn't have time. I don't remember turning off the water, but apparently I did. I grabbed a towel and booted out to the hallway, where I started yelling my husband's name.

According to what I was later told, I called out twice, walked four steps toward the stairway and collapsed against the wall - hitting my head, shoulder and hip against it, before landing on the bottom four stairs... naked and covered in soap and conditioner. I was (apparently) completely out for close to two minutes - eyes closed ... gone, but then I guess my eyes opened and were glassy, but I was no where to be found (according to Hubs). I started to 'come to' about 4 minutes after going down - or at least that's what I heard him say to the 911 operator he had on the phone as I was wading back into consciousness.

I laid on the stairs for several minutes, while he finished on the phone with 911. I was so sleepy, I kept falling asleep and he kept waking me up. After a bit, I started to realize how uncomfortable it is to lay on stairs - especially when you have no clothes on. I asked if I could move and he said no ... I started to get up on my own and my husband called me a name ... not a really nice one, now that I think of it. Something about stubborn and mule ... or pigheaded ... I dunno. Anyway, he helped me around the corner to the couch and then Mom (who had been on her way down the stairs to go to work when I did my little pirouette) got me a pillow and blanket and I laid down and tried to go back to sleep. Hubs kept waking me and within minutes, the fire department was there and right on their tail were the EMT's (considering the fact that we live in a relatively rural setting, it was most impressive how fast they got there). They checked all my vitals, noted that my blood pressure was very low ... but over time was coming back up ... hooked me up to a heart monitor ... but decided amongst themselves that I hadn't had any sort of attack that required emergency transport.

So, it was determined that Hubs would take me to the ER himself. This pleased me, because I had soap all up in mah hoo-hoo ... not to mention conditioner drying into my hair.

After the paramedics left, Hubs ran a bath and I was allowed to sit in it - albeit, supervised - but at that stage, I really didn't have anything to hide from anyone. (Didn't bother me then ... but NOW ... *shudders*) I was able to get rinsed off and de-itchy-fied ... and then I got dressed and laid down on the coach while Hubs got cleaned up to take me to the ER. I hadn't been feeling much of anything up to that point other than REALLY tired, but after my bath, I either started to get a headache, or became aware of it.

They took me right in to a bed when we got there. Within 15 or so minutes, I was being given an EKG. The technician that administered the test was really nice, but after she ran it, she turned and looked at me and said: "Are you currently experiencing chest pain?" I said ... "uh ... I wasn't until you asked me THAT question" ... "Am I having a heart attack or something?" She informed me that she wasn't qualified to answer that question, but that the doctor would review the results and come and talk to me soon. Next, a nurse came in and hooked me up to a heart, blood pressure and pulse ox monitor. She started an IV and a few minutes after that, there was another Tech jabbing my other arm to do blood work.

It's hardly necessary to say this, but I was scared shit-less at this stage. Nobody was telling us anything ... but everyone was at me for something - that is odd for the ER in Kentville. I had asked my nurse if I could go pee, and she wouldn't allow me to get out of the bed ... not even assisted. I wound up waiting close to two hours ... freezing, scared and needing to pee like a race horse. Finally, I sent Hubs out to tell this little chicky that if she didn't want to have to clean the bed, she'd better let me go void my bladder (I'm sure he said it much nicer than that) ... and she consented.

Finally ... after more than 3 hours in that bed, a student doc (who was a cute as a bug's ear, I might add) came in and did a full neurological exam, along with checking my lung function and asking me a gazillion questions. He told me that he wanted the ER doc to talk to me before I went anywhere, but that essentially, there were no signs of stroke, heart attack/failure, or any other 'emergent health factors' to explain the faint. He asked if I could be pregnant, to which I replied ... "well, if I am, I'll likely wind up divorced, since I had him (motioning to Hubs) neutered a year ago". He laughed and said ... "your sense of humor seems to be functioning alright". He went on to say that my heart rate was quite low, and that I needed to follow up on that with further testing with my own doc, but that he felt I would be discharged and sent home shortly.

The doctor came in about 20 or so minutes later, repeated a few of the neurological tests and chatted with us for a few minutes ... also asked if I could be pregnant and then told me I could go home. I promptly unhooked all of the monitors ... and pulled out my own IV (as nobody seemed to be coming to do it for me) and we left. We met my nurse on the way out and her comment to me was that I was 'very self efficient' and it didn't sound like a compliment.

I went home and slept for most of the afternoon.

Today, I am back at work. I am tired ... and my shoulder, ass and hip are pretty blackish blue from landing on them at drunk-weight... but other than that (and the lingering concern over what caused that to happen) there are no signs of anything being amiss. The ER doc said that sometimes, the simple heat of the shower can cause healthy people to faint. He said that at least 50% of the cases involving faints occur while the patient is either in the tub or shower. So ... I guess that is what happened. He said that if it happened again any time soon, that I should consider that cause for alarm, but otherwise, he felt I was perfectly healthy - aside from the low heart rate ... which could be due to a number of benign reasons.

For the entire time that I was hooked up to that monitor, all I kept thinking was: This it the IT, this is the thing that is going to go wrong, now that things seem to be going so well. I know that thinking that way is counter-productive, but I really couldn't help it. I am super grateful there was nothing to find (I sincerely hope that is, in fact, the case). Last night, while I sat in the recliner with my big black fur baby in my lap, I became teary (again) at the thought of not being able to come home. My girls had stayed at home yesterday and were a little stressed out by all the goings on, so they were also pretty clingy last night.

All in all ... unless I do turn out to be preggers - which would be somewhat funny at this stage ... I think all is well and this was just another reminder of how lucky I really am.

W.T.F?

2011-03-29T12:45:00.000-03:00

Have you ever taken a step back from a situation, and no matter how hard you try to put yourself in the other person's shoes, you just don't understand what they could have possibly been thinking? This little story (that will undoubtedly become long and drawn out in my depiction) started to unfold last Thursday when my cousin came for an over night visit with her two children.

Quick background: my mother has one sister (Aunt Donna) who has 4 adult children. Angela, the second youngest, was like my sister growing up and we were always very close (until we lived together for 4 months back when I was 18) but we still love each other, we're just not so close. Karen is the eldest of Donna's children and she has three daughters of her own - two of which had a competition in the city this past weekend ... which brought the whole clan over from the island.

So, Ang stayed with us on Thursday and Donna was supposed to come Friday evening and stay until today ... heading back into the city on Saturday to watch the other girls compete. Or at least that was what was promised to my children ... who have this unholy and totally out of character (mine, at least) desire for company and inclusion. A promise in fact, that I reinforced when it was time to drag my kids off Friday morning (kicking and screaming) to boring old school, while Ang and her kids stayed and got ready to leave.

I might have known better. I should have known better. It isn't like I haven't learned this lesson over and over again where my family is concerned ... ultimately, it is my fault for not insisting plans not be shared with my children until everyone is on board and actually ready to execute said plans.

Friday evening came and went ... no Gamma, no Aunt Donna. Bedtime was upon us and I said: They'll be here when you get up tomorrow, they must just be running late ... it's okay, you'll be included ... Gamma said she'd be home tonight sometime. Then, it was 10:45pm and I was headed for bed myself, when the phone rang and my mother was on the end of the line telling me they were staying in the city for the night and would be back the next day. Now, bear in mind that just 1 day before Mom was telling me she had plans to take both of my kids into the city to watch the competition and have a sleep over with their Aunti (my sister) on Saturday night (and Hubs and I had made plans to paint their playroom while they were gone for the night).

I wasn't so naive as to actually tell my girls that bit of news, because I know better ... but I did have the expectation that they would at least attempt to include my children in this highly family oriented gathering.

Saturday morning began with two very unhappy girls in my house when they realized Mom and Donna were not there. This quickly progressed to intermittent tears. I had gotten up and ready and headed out for groceries, returning around 1:00pm ... still no word from Mom. My girls, at this stage were beside themselves. So, I grabbed the phone, dialed Mom's cell and handed it to Stretch. No answer. Crap.

This went on until around three, at which point Hubs and I realized they weren't getting included in anything and we needed to step up. So, we packed them up in the van and took them to an indoor amusement place for kids at a nearby mall and then treated them to dinner at Jungle Jim's (their choice and fav). We came home just in time to participate in Earth Hour (where we played charades by candle light) and then they went off to bed ... but not before my mother phoned to say that they were on their way home ... Perfect, I thought. Just in time to stir up my kids for ANOTHER fight at bedtime. By this point it was 9:30 and my kids needed to sleep.

With more tears and more fighting and promises for the next day ... we finally managed to wrangle them into their beds ... and thankfully, Mom misjudged her arrival (again) and didn't roll in the door until close to 11:00. This, after telling one of them ON THE PHONE that she was on her way. *seething fury*

I doubt it is necessary to even say this, but I was at the point of melting the furniture under me by this point, I was so angry. Hubs didn't want a scene at 11 O'clock at night, so he mixed me a seriously strong vodka and ran me a bath. I got in the tub before they got home, and they were settled in upstairs by the time I emerged. Actually, Hubs joined me in the tub with a drink of his own, so my focus was diverted and the remainder of my evening was not so bad, after all.

The next morning, I contained my fury and channeled it into cooking a big brekkie for everyone. Mom was milling around the kitchen while I was cooking. As much as I don't really enjoy confrontation, I have to say it was quite a challenge to not go at her with both barrels. She was acting like nothing at all could be wrong in the world. I kept it cool. Simply informed her that she had made plans with my kids, and that they took them very seriously. I also relayed to her what Shorty had said to me the previous night: "Aunt Donna doesn't like me ... that's why she hasn't come, isn't it?" <--- I have to say, that one made me half homicidal.

Mom acted all mortified and defensive and I just went about cooking the meal. It was cold solace, but at least I told her that her actions had a negative impact on my kids ... kids she is supposed to give a crap about. We sat down to breakfast shortly thereafter. After a few minutes, Donna looks at me and says: Oh, how are you feeling? You look good ... and then immediately turns to my mother and says: YOU have lost a pile of weight ... you are looking fantastic! (Seriously, this is what happened ... my mother has lost maybe on the absolute outside, like ten pounds - without doing anything to change any of her bad habits short of having to sneak her cookies upstairs so she doesn't feel guilty eating them in front of me. I am down EIGHTY since the last time this woman has seen me.) WTF? I mean, I realize that should be so low on my list of complaints right now, but I am apparently self involved as well ... so I reiterate: W-T-F?! This, after Ang not even saying a word about the fact that I have lost nearly the weight of BOTH of my children put together.

It has gotta be something I put off into the world that keeps people from commenting. There is just no way you could not notice. Even Narci (of all people) said something a week or so ago that was so offhand and honest ... yet surprisingly very complimentary in a 'not uncomfortable at all' sort of way, that I must be incredibly proud of what I have accomplished so far, and how impressed he is with my resolve. How in the name of CRAP can these people that have known me my whole life and are supposed to have an ounce of give a shit where I am concerned, not think this accomplishment is worth a mention?

I know, I know ... my success is not dependent on others taking notice, but you have to admit ... it would have been a nice gesture if they had. It's like I just don't rate a response ... and that is precisely how I feel about it.

Then ... oh, boy ... this just gets better and better. Then Monday comes. Now, I had started a stew in my slow cooker on Sunday evening. I hadn't really earmarked it for any particular meal ... but it was a safe assumption that we would have it on Monday for dinner. Mom and Donna got up and left fairly early on in the day, according to Hubs. No mention of their plans ... just left. I was working, as was Hubs and we merely carried on with our usual routine. No word from them. I got home from work and proceeded to serve up the stew and sat down at the table with my family - sans Gamma and Aunt ... when the phone rings. It's Mom. She says to me that they are still out and will not be making it back in time for dinner, but instructed me to save them some.

Now, perhaps my hurt feelings from the past three days have corrupted my ability to think straight, but this struck (and continues to strike) me as awfully godamned presumptuous. Oh ... we can't make it on time, but do be a good little hostess and save us a knosh, wouldja? And ... I was wild again. We finished our dinner and tidied up the kitchen - leaving the stew in the slow cooker for them for whenever they decided to make their way home. I believe it was around 7:30 or so by the time they did. At which point, they ate... and went upstairs to retire in front of Dancing With the Stars.

What I didn't immediately realize was that they left the remains of the fucking stew in the slow cooker. Didn't put it into a container and stick it in the fridge ... and subsequently clean the mo-fo slow cooker and put it away ... as, you know ... a THANK YOU for fucking feeding us or anything ... just left it there - unplugged (so you can't even tell me it was because they somehow thought it still needed cooking).

I made this realization right on the heels of catching Stretch's bathtub just at the brink of overflowing onto the bathroom floor.

So ... I need a new slow cooker, if anyone sees them on sale.

To say that I blew a gasket would be somewhat understating it. Unfortunately, Stretch caught ~~some~~ most of the backlash, and she went to bed bawling (not that she was completely innocent, but admittedly - I would not have been nearly so angry and out of control if that whole kitchen scene had not happened). I did manage to speak calmly to her before she went to sleep about why I had gotten so angry, but that really didn't make up for everything that was said previous to that.

Today, I feel like one of 'those' mothers ... aw, hell ... who do I think I'm kidding? I AM one of 'those' mothers that can't keep their poop in a group long enough to direct their anger at the right target. I yelled and screamed and acted like a moron at that poor child. She was a mess and was blithering on about how I smacked her in the head (which I did not do, btw) and as a result, she had a terrible headache ... and I was nothing but a bully and she didn't want a bully for a mother ... this was happening next door to Mom and Aunt D, by the way. Super.

I'm not really sure why I felt the need to put this story out into the world. Not sure if I want someone to forgive me my sins, or commiserate with me, or turn on me and give me the kick in the ass I actually deserve for my behavior last night. Not sure if I can't honestly judge the actions of others anymore ... or if I am simply surrounded by self serving idiots. Weighing the odds, it seems much more likely it is me, rather than every other person that is involved in my life ... but I am asking for an opinion here.

W.T.F?

The Weekend in the Rearview

2011-03-18T13:19:00.000-03:00

We had a big weekend in the Dragonfly house last weekend. (I'll point out, I started writing this last Monday) Yup ... and now, it is the Friday before the following weekend. Man! Time sure flies ... even sometimes when you are not having fun.

Shorty turned SIX FRIGGEN YEARS OLD on Wednesday this week. (How the hell is that even possible?) Oh, and at 4 feet tall, I am not going to be able to get away with calling her Shorty for much longer, either. Eesh!

In honor of her birthday, we threw her a party last Sunday afternoon. It was a super hero party. Everyone came dressed up. I was Commander Cranky Pants (and I didn't even have to invest in a costume ...). It was great, we had them complete a superhero mission (which consisted of a series of dumb party games) and then they had to rescue my stuffed platypus, Otis, from the evil Dr. Gru (which was my hubs with a batman mask on and clothespins stuck to his ears ... I can't even type that without laughing).

All went very well ... especially considering the fact that I had stayed up drinking with hubs, Pauly and my mother until 4:00am. See, we had planned a dinner and small get together for my youngest sister who shares her birthday with Shorty. She left on a road trip to Alberta Monday morning ... she and her guy are moving there for a job and we likely won't see them back for several years ... so ... I thought it would be nice to put such a thing together for them so Mom and my kids (at least) could spend a fun night with them before they left.

Sounds reasonable, right?

I really don't know when I am going to learn with these people. In the interest of time, I'll glaze over the main points: Both sisters and the one beau could not attend the birthday party because it conflicted with the beau's parents' dinner plans on Sunday (don't even get me started on this ... I was asked to change the plans for the party to accommodate them - I refused). Anyhoo ... I suggested that the three of them come on Saturday and do something with the girls, then come back to the house and I would cook a turkey dinner and we'd have birthday cake in honor of the birthday girls. So, they arrived at around 2:00 pm, took the girls swimming at a local pool, came back to the house right at dinner time ... both of my sisters then proceeded to have showers (while I held the meal ... resulting in dry turkey, I might add). Then, when they were both clean and dressed, we ate. As soon as dinner was over, they both got up and proceeded to go and get ready for their respective evenings.

Now, I had invited Pauly to come and join us as she is friends with all of us and my kids love her, but she was running late and didn't make it until after the meal had been cleared. She got there in time for the other three to leave. I couldn't believe my friggen eyes! It just absolutely blew me away that they were in such a hurry to get the hell away from there. I mean, we had liquor and everything. (Yes, this is hard on my pride ... I mean, I'm no Martha Stewart, but my house is clean and welcoming ... and I'm funny ... right? WTF?) Even Pauly was left shaking her head. And my mother was downright crushed. I actually even felt bad.

Not to be doomed to feeling bad, we opted to start drinking. Vodka. Mmmm. The four of us actually had a fine time. The girls went off to bed around 9:30 and we stayed up until the wee hours ... laughing (and in my case even crying a little ... I'm gonna say I had a little too much to drink) and eventually playing cards. I rather enjoyed myself ... although I can't say for certain that I remember all points in the evening.

The next morning, poor Pauly was siiiiiiiick! Big time. In fact, from what I hear she stayed that way until like Wednesday. I broke her. I paid, don't worry ... 10 screeching 6 year olds burning around my house for 3 plus hours has got to count for some type of penance.

All in all, it was a successful birthday, and Shorty was (most importantly) very pleased with her bad self.

That said, I plan to have a pretty low key weekend this time.

I hope you all enjoy your respective break from the standard work week.

D-out

Chronicles of Narcissus - The Bitch is Back

2011-03-08T13:32:00.000-04:00

You knew it couldn't last long ... right?

Narci strikes again.

You may remember such posts as this, where I am gushing about all the happiness in my world and how Narci is finally recognizing my contribution to this organization and allowing me to be a part of something big ... and ultimately quite wonderful.

NOT!

Honestly, I knew as I typed that post - I was setting myself up for a fall. What's that definition of insanity again?

I write to you today, while lying face first in a partially defrosted mud puddle of disappointment.

Without further ado, I would like to introduce to you, my bleepy family... some fresh blood to the world of Platitude Paradise. Please welcome for your reading pleasure, my new boss ... a young and hip ... not to mention technologically advanced (so, he is likely reading this RIGHT NOW!!) version of Narci ... MiNarci. (<--- see what I did there? Mini + Narci = MiNarci?)

Color me excited.

Now, I have not yet begun to uncover the level of Narciness that awaits me in this new individual. He's a totally different breed of animal, of this I am acutely aware. He's quieter and seems like a benign presence ... until he starts taking control of things ... like my parking spot, for one. Oh, and the FIVE emails in my in box yesterday (Monday) morning when I got to work ... all of which containing tasks for me to complete for him. <--- WHATTHEFUCK??? Excuse me, MiNarci ... who died and made you the boss of me? Did I miss another memo? Or does the fact that I possess BREASTS just automatically mean that I should jump every time a man in my life snaps his fucking fingers?

I really think my husband needs to come in here and teach a fucking class for these knuckle-draggers.

I know I jump on the feminist band-wagon a lot ... but I assure you, my bleeps ... I shit you NOT! This place has issues with the roles of the fairer sex in the workplace ... and the home, for that matter.

Why, just the other day a conversation not unlike the following occurred between myself, Narci, MiNarci and Eeyore:

Narci: I bought some dish soap

Me: Great! So you can finally get to that sink full of festering dishes in the kitchen

Narci: Oh ... I do not do dishes ... not even at home - you are welcome to call Barbie and tell her to come clean the dishes

Eeyore: Yeah ... I'd like to see THAT - she'd eat you alive!

Me: Listen, you two ... there are no dishes in that sink or on that counter that have my DNA on them ... and I am NOT your friggen maid!

Narci: But you are so much better at those types of jobs <-- Yes, he actually SAID that

Eeyore: BURN!

Me: (over top of Eeyore) WHAT?! You are suggesting that I should wash the dishes because ... what? I am closer to them? I have some sort of degree in dish washing? Or because I am the only female on this floor?

Narci: Well ... you have more experience

Eeyore: *walks away*

Me: Okay, all kidding aside ... I'd sooner pack the lot of them up in a box and sit them at the curb than clean another load of dishes that YOU GUYS dirtied. It would be different even if it was because of clients (not that I would take kindly to the assumption that I would do it EVERY TIME) but these dishes came DIRECTLY from you guys!

Narci: *laughs ... and walks away* ah ... you'll do it ... eventually. *closes office door*

Me: *frantically sewing up the new/improved voodoo doll in Narci's likeness* ... *lifts darning needle*...

The sad thing is that I did do them. My office is directly next to the kitchen and the smell from those dishes was making me physically sick to my stomach. I hate him.

Meanwhile ... not two full days later ...

MiNarci is sitting in his new office - our board room, scarfing down a ragout of some such ... which, I might add, he had placed in one of the bowls from the cupboard. I walked past at one point and noticed he was using dishes and thought ... 'Oh GAWD! please, please please do NOT leave that bowl in the sink dirty when you leave here today ... I do not need any additional reasons to begin construction of a new voodoo doll just yet'.

I know you'll be gob-smacked to learn that he didn't leave it sitting in the sink ... he left it sitting on the board room table, along with the accompanying cutlery. Do these people think that dishes tend to themselves? Do they all fuckin' live with their MOTHERS still?

I'm gonna tell you, my kids are 6 and 8 ... and they are spoiled rotten - but they do not just leave their dishes laying around for the dish fairy. I mean ... it isn't really about the dishes, per se (well, yeah ... I guess it is about them, too) - it's about the complete and utter confidence with which these stupid mother fucking Cro-Magnon bastards risk their health and safety with so little regard. I know that many could view my obsession with this as 'small minded' and 'petty' ... but the infractions do not end at the dishes.

Oh, and I'm gonna go on ... even if you stop reading ... I need to vent.

When the whole idea of the Mortgage Investment Corporation came about, I knew only the bare basics of how they operated. I do not like not understanding how something works ... I mean, I'm okay not knowing the Caramilk secret ... and I can accept the fact that toothpaste just IS inside the tube without knowing for certain how it got there and why I can't put it back ... but when I am (seemingly) being asked to be a part of something, I want to grasp the concept with both hands, so to speak. To that end, I began reading everything I could put my eyes on regarding this investment tool. In doing so, I subsequently started amassing a fair bit of literature (most of which was comprised of my notes) in a word file.

As it happens, Narci saw this file. (Okay - I showed it to him like the pathetic lap dog that I can be ... sitting up and begging for him to praise me for my fore thought and initiative.) <-- I am so ashamed of myself for this. Since that time, this has grown to become sort of a sales and marketing tool that now includes Bio's of the various parties involved and such. I still consider this to be my intellectual property. So, I didn't exactly take it graciously when MiNarci demanded an electronic copy of it so he could "revise and convert it to a PDF". I gave it to him, because if I did not, Narci would have made a new burrow in my posterior, but I was less than happy about it. It ruined my day yesterday, in fact...

Left me smacking my lips together, contemplating the exotic flavor of ass in my mouth.

To be clear, when all of this began, Narci sat me down and explained what MiNarci's role was to be in all of this. He comes with a powerful family and Narci needed the clout (this is what he told me ... I have no idea if it's actually true). I was not threatened by any of it because he wasn't going to have any impact on my day to day life within Narci Inc, because he had not one single thing to do with it. Now, suddenly, he is out attending meetings with potential hires, having a say in who and how we hire for a company of which he is not a part.

THEN, to ad insult to injury, I was instructed to add his bio to a sales manual I am creating for Narci Inc.

May I reiterate; WTF?

Not only that, but Bambi came in my office last Thursday and asked me if we had a new boss. So, it aint just me that has been given to understand a change is afoot.

I think it is unnecessary for me to actually type the following, but in the interest of posterity, I am not amused.

Leave it to Narci to finally get me to believe things may actually change for me after all these years ... and then yank the rug. Thus, my puddle-faced plea.

Please find me a job ... or a winning lotto ticket.

Damn That Groundhog

2011-03-02T16:57:00.000-04:00

I was watching the tele last night, and a news break for one of the US stations came on blaring the question: Could the groundhog have been wrong?

I'll give you a moment to process this question ... *hums Jeopardy theme*

Really, US News show? Do you think? Should we now spend a gazillion dollars on an inquiry into the culpability of large rodents everywhere and their ability to predict the likelihood of an early Spring?

I think Groundhog Day is a ridiculous tradition anyway ... I mean, wouldn't it make more sense to bury a bunch of weather people in a burrow/den under the snow for a number of weeks and then pull them out into a freezing February 2nd morning and see if they can see their own shadows ... wouldn't that have a higher entertainment value? I'd pay to see that.

Don't misunderstand my level of "blond" this morning ... I don't really think anyone (over the age of say, twelve) buys into this tradition, or the highly scientific method of calculating Spring's arrival... but when I heard that last night, I couldn't help but jump on it like I was a hungry puma and it was a severely wounded gazelle.

Having said all of the above, I know I am awaiting Spring's arrival with baited breath ... well, actually it is more like decaffeinated coffee breath just the noo ... but, you know... and any indication, no matter how ridiculous is a bright spot in my world.

Just this past weekend, I was helping Hubs shovel snow in the driveway (and by "helping" I mean standing in my sessy winter boots, holding a shovel while directing him where to put the snow) and I noticed a small section of brown grass-like area by the concrete wall under our deck. In this tiny alcove in the snow, there were three crocuses huddled together ... within the protection of a three foot bank of snow. It lifted my spirits so, that I just had to share with all you bleeps.

So, I am thinking, if we all get together and wish it real hard ... maybe that stupid rodent can be proved right ... and we'll get our early Spring anyway.

Friday, Friday ... So Good to Me...

2011-02-18T12:50:00.000-04:00

You know ... I am having difficulty holding down two blogs. It's been 3 weeks since I last posted here.

None the less, I thought I would take a moment and revel in the fact that it is, in fact, my favorite day of the week ... or it will be by round about 4:45pm. That's when the anticipation of the coming weekend will hit a high note. (Plus, tonight I am getting my hair cut and colored ... something I have been wanting to do for like 6 months!)

Last weekend was so nice, I wanted to cry Sunday night, when it was over.

Just to catch ya'll up ... the year is cruising along at such a pace, I haven't really had much time to get too depressed. This is pretty fabulous news, no? 'Course, it helps that I have lost 71 lbs and my husband's new business venture is doing very well. (It actually scares the living shit outta me that these two areas of our lives are showing such promise ... makes me fear the drop of the other shoe...)

Narci is working on putting together a private lending corporation and I am getting a Directorship to the management company ... which means I will be an integral part of this thing ... it is the opportunity of a fricken lifetime, and I find myself constantly waiting for him to pull the rug out from under me. (You say pessimistic, I say realistic) Even if I didn't stay with him, this experience could put me in line for a pretty rockin' job with a Trust or some such ... it makes the last seven years of suffering suddenly worth while. It also means I will be able to own shares as well ... which means I may not have to work until I drop dead ... that could be cool.

Also ... I have been invited to meet the coolest of cool chiquitas in Toronto this coming Spring ... which means I get my very first "girls weekend" like ... ever ... well, since birthing kid-lets, anyway. I am so excited, I could openly squeal like a new born piglet.

So ... all in all, since I have little to complain about other than the crappy weather, not much blog fodder, really. I guess that's why the slump. Though, I could write a novel based on how crazy my eight year old is driving me ... I just don't want the admissions board at the psychiatric hospital to have anything in writing when they come to take me away ... ha - ha ... come to take me away ...

Until next time, bleeps -

Have a spectacular weekend ... do stuff I wouldn't do ... I'm still pretty boring

D - out

The Mom Files

2011-01-25T13:32:00.000-04:00

Note to self:

When 'lux-ing' up the girls beds to entice them to go to bed on their own without one or both of us lying down with them for an hour every night, please bear in mind there are two sides to the same equation. If the bed is so comfy, they can't wait to get in it ... chances are, prying the little monkeys out in the morning will be that much more of a treat.

We are terrible at putting our kids to bed. What I mean by this is that we are spineless ... or we have been. We'll do whatever ritual will make them "just-go-to-sleep-already". Now, if this means we have to spend nearly two hours every single night of our existence on prepping them for sleep ... well so be it. Bed time in this house starts at roughly 8pm every night with "bath time". Now, in recent months, we have had to stop bathing our girls together (as they either soak the bathroom, flood the basement, wind up screaming, bleeding or both OR they do entirely weird shit while in there together) ... so, now it is double our pleasure at bath time.

I know that on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being "Uber-Mom"; Marion Cunningham and Carol Brady could take pointers from you ... and 1 being "Guber-Mom"; There is a letter writing campaign underway to the Super Nanny ... and possibly Social Services) I rate somewhere around 3.7 ... I know this mostly because my mother is inevitably standing around the corner, shaking her head in silent dismay after witnessing some parenting failure I have recently perpetrated. I know that we have spoiled our children ... that we baby them too much and haven't dug our heels in on matters such as going to bed on their own. There are many reasons for this failure ... one reason is because we know this is it - no more babies for us and we want to savor every drop of baby-hood we can ... but mostly (at this stage) it is because it is easier to give in, than it is to fight about it - and at least they are getting the sleep they need - right? If we insisted on them going to bed on their own, they'd be up half the night and then tired the next day and, not behaving in school - or heaven forbid, they are at home the next day, so we have to deal with them ... and on ... and on ... with the excuses.

The moral of my story? Well I am so thrilled to report that after "lux-ing up" their beds/room, and with some ingenious bribes dropped at just the right intervals ... we have SUCCESS! Gimme a WHOOT! WHOOT! Oh yes, boys and girls ... that's right ... I, Danica Dragonfly have ~~bribed~~ trained my children to go to bed on their own ... IN THEIR OWN BEDS!!! at the tender ages or 5.823 and 8. That's almost as impressive as getting them (and by them, I actually mean Stretch ... as Shorty is giving this shit up 26 months earlier than her big sissy) to give up the 'sookie' at the age of 5 (YIKES!) ... but you just don't understand this child and her determination to keep the status quo.

When she was just about 3, I was trying to potty train her. She was incredibly bright and was speaking in lengthy paragraphs using multi-syllabic vocabulary ... but she did NOT want to potty train ... and she provided me with a list of reasons why she did not subscribe to my desire for her to poo in a pot rather than her didi. How can you argue with an articulate rebuttal of this nature without simply reverting to the tried and true "because I said so" routine? Well, you can't.

So, after 8 years and three weeks of living with this child, Hubs and I FINALLY adopted this very mantra: Because, I said so ... and that is FINAL.

Much to my surprise and delight, it WORKS!

One small step for Dani and Hubs, one giant leap for push over parents everywhere!

How to Be the Bigger Woman...

2011-01-14T15:51:00.000-04:00

...when every instinct you have is screaming at you to just stoop, already!

Alright, I think I am calm and flu free enough to finally share my tale from Stretch's birthday party.

To catch you up (just in case you really care to hear about the intestinal tracts of my various family members ... no? Really? I thought this would be riveting blog fodder), Stretch came down with the plague about an hour after returning home from her birthday party, Saturday night. We each dropped like hair-sprayed flies after that ... with me falling last (on Tuesday). Today, I am thrilled to report that I was able to eat FIVE spoon-fulls/spoons-full? of vegetable soup and two bites of a tea biscuit ... and they ALL stayed where I put them, ~~on my shirt~~ in my tummy - SCORE!!

To celebrate this seemingly impossible milestone, I'm going to bitch about something that happened at my child's party that, given my full attention to ~~evil~~ detail, would have been dealt with long since.

Remember Trigger and Jane? Well ... I wrote a post last year regarding these two. You kinda have to have read that post to really grasp my rage, here. Anyway ... it turns out that it was Clarke's youngest sister, "Rae" that stirred that pot up into the froth it became at the time (and there was more fallout from that mess ... but it just isn't worth the page space to delve into). Yes ... little Miss Shit Disturber, herself. Needless to say, I promptly canceled my membership to her fan club after learning about this betrayal. I mean, we were all like family (or so I thought) when I was growing up in our little teeny community. I babysat this little piss-ant! There is no accounting for some people's children!

Anyhoo ... fast forward to last Saturday. We had planned a bowling party to mark Stretch's eighth birthday. The invites had been sent out to 8 little girls from her class ... also on the guest list: her sister, both Aunties, (plus one Auntie's spouse) Gamma, Hubs and me (the last two really only to pay for things and wrangle kids back and forth). Simple enough, really. (Oh the stories that begin with that line ...) Turns out my sister had been staying at "Rae's" apartment for the previous week ... and by "Rae's" apartment, I mean the apartment that "Rae's" politician father keeps in the city at the tax payer's expense and she lives in for free - year round. (See, now I am starting to stoop ... and perhaps even hiss a little.) Yeah ... so before my mother spoke with my sister, she asked me how I felt about Rae being invited to come along to the party ... I was incredibly clear about this point: "Mom, I am seriously uncomfortable with that woman being anywhere near me, or my family ... and I certainly do NOT want her present at my daughter's party. She has lost her right to spend time with my children by publicly attacking their mother." Mere moments after this conversation, my sister asked if "Rae" could come along ... and because my mother figured Rae was sitting directly in front of her, she said that would be fine.

Not that anything about this really surprises me ... I mean, why make Rae uncomfortable when, clearly, it is much more socially acceptable for my mother to throw ME under the bus, instead. On top of that, she didn't bother to tell me about this little development until AFTER we were already at the damned bowling alley. Not like I could step in and rectify the situation at that point. (So spare me your empty apology, Mom ... it's leaking water faster than you can bail.)

I, much to my inner chagrin, took the high road and acted like everything was fine. NOT because I was afraid to hurt "Rae's" feelings, but because it was my daughter's birthday party and I'll be damned if I was going to let her baser stupidity affect my family ever again. As Murphy's Law would have it, she acted like a cat in the presence of a severely allergic person ... she stuck to me like stink on a turd. (ARGH) My mother informed me once we were in the van on the way home that I deserved an Oscar for my performance (I really felt like backhanding her, but there is actual legislation against elder abuse now... stoopid meddling government...)

My husband was FURIOUS. Like 'I took a wide berth around him', furious ... he doesn't get like that very often. He held his tongue while we were there, but after we got home (until Stretch started puking) he had a few words with Mom about it. THAT right there N-E-V-E-R happens ... he always just bitches to me and then says nothing to her (leaving me to deal with the rift). I was surprised, honestly. Mom, of course defended herself by stating that "Rae" was like a 'third daughter' to her when 'her girls' were young (you'll note that I actually HAVE two sisters ... which would give the woman THREE daughters already ... clearly demonstrating that I don't even rate as one of her children, for the sake of this argument) and whatever petty crap was alleged over 'the incident in question' had nothing to do with her relationship with Rae and her family. Translation: "I will not apologize to you for disregarding your wife's (my daughter's) feelings and express wishes, because it is more important to me, to save face to these people who don't even keep in touch with me anymore (unless, of course they spy a good opportunity to spread malicious gossip) ... and this, as with everything else, is about ME ... not Dani ... or Stretch, or YOU - hubs of my first born ... so stuff your self righteous attitude " ... "MOMMY - DADDY ... STRETCH JUST THREW UP ALL OVER THE FLOOR!!!" ... and, scene!

Then the plague of 2011 took over my house and all argument died.

Honestly, it is par for this course. I'm over it ... so is my hubby. He'll bring it up again at a later time ... 'cause he's part woman that way ... I love that I married a bigger bitch than me ... it just makes me happy in my pants!

I'm all good (I think), now that I have gotten it off my chest.

Thanks for that!

Hope you have a spectacular weekend ...

D - OUT!

You Just Never Know ...

2011-01-07T09:46:00.000-04:00

I got an email yesterday that has kinda turned me on my axis a little.

First, a little background:

Back in my somewhat wilder days (and by wilder, I mean my version of college days), I used to hang out with a couple quite a lot. In fact, I came as close to being a member of said couple as you really can. We'll call them Jon & Tawny (or J & T). I was particularly tight with her. She was like my long lost, female soul mate. We spent so much time together, I might as well have moved right in to their apartment. They used to live on one of the worst streets in Halifax, right across the street from a funeral parlor.

She and I would lay on our bellies, on their bed and look out the window at all the various "goings on" on that street. We saw some pretty freaky stuff, too. We'd be munching on chips and sour cream dip and usually fried right outta our minds ... helped with the hang over. Then, Jon would come home from work (which incidentally, was across the street at the previously mentioned mortuary) and we'd fix him something to eat, smoke and drink and then the party would start right back up from the night before. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

During my foray into this world of things I knew nothing of, I was introduced to Jon's cousin, Darren (this is his real name). Darren was a different sort of guy, but he grew on me after a while and we wound up going on a date. I have never been a "dater" and thus, did not really know how best to conduct myself on a date. We wound up in a downtown bar for the entire day, and after drinking a small fortune in alcohol, he opted to drive me the 50 odd Kilos to my home. (Not one of my more brilliant moves, and I am very lucky I am still alive to tell the tale.) From there, things got progressively worse, and under different circumstances, I would goof all over what happened in the ensuing 12 hour time frame ... but I can't, and in a moment, you will understand why.

Darren and I did not ever 'date' again ... in fact, after the one call I actually returned, I never really spoke to him again (yes, it was THAT bad)... other than what was absolutely required at J & T's wedding the following summer.

I fell out of favor with Jon and Tawny not long after their wedding. I guess three was a crowd, and it was time for me to move on. I had also gotten back together with "Trigger" and was pretty busy with him and all his excellence.

Fast forward a couple of years to when my step father died (as a result of his own drinking and driving), my mother's friend had suggested a certain mortuary to handle the arrangements (she knew someone there) ... low and behold, but who is the funeral director of this place? Darren. My mother, knowing the story of what had transpired between us, opted to hire the services of a different company. That was the last time I spoke to him... it was 16 years ago.

I can't tell you I have thought about him a great deal over the years. He crosses my mind now and then. I had rekindled a friendship with Tawny after she and Jon divorced. It was short lived, but intense. We are on each other's facebook, but really don't keep in touch anymore.

So, it was a shock yesterday when she sent me a message asking had I seen Darren's obituary. I hadn't (as I NEVER read obituaries) and asked her what had happened ... this is where this story gets pretty sad. She told me that he had been diagnosed with esophageal cancer and when they did a further scan, there was a cancerous node located in one of his lungs. He was apparently given 2 years and was due to start his treatments this week. (I did not ask for further details ... just accepted this at face value)

Apparently on Monday, he took his own life. According to Tawny, his reasoning was to "avoid putting his parents through a lengthy battle". I have my own opinions about that rationale, but even in my own blog - it is not the place for such opinions to be voiced.

His funeral is today. I will not be attending, but he is in my thoughts and the sadness of the circumstances weighs heavy in my heart. He was 42 years old - no wife, no children. Nothing of him remains on this earth but the varied memories of the people who's paths he crossed. It's likely that he thought he had all the time in the world to follow his bliss ... maybe he did, I would never know ... but I suspect there was lots more living for him to do, even if he had to do it in the next two years.

I'm really sorry that you chose this end for yourself, Darren. I hope you find peace in whatever the afterlife has to offer you. I say farewell to you with what I remember as your favorite singer. Adieu!

Humbug!

2011-01-05T10:12:00.000-04:00

Okay, not really ... I still love Christmas. It's my family that shat in my porridge this holiday season.

So, for the few of you that did not know, I had surgery in November to remove 85% of my stomach. No cancer or anything scary like that ... I opted for this - willingly. If you want more details, click here - otherwise, I'm just gonna move on ...

I'm sure it won't shock you to learn that after having 85% of your stomach removed, thus leaving a stitch line down one whole side, you have to be very cautious about eating for quite some time afterward. The first 4 weeks was liquid only ... then for the next 4 weeks, I moved on to mushy foods like eggs and well cooked, easy to digest veggies, fish and ground chicken. I'm almost finished this stage, (one week from yesterday) and then I will be able to (carefully) ingest most types of food - taking special caution with hard to digest items like red meats and raw veggies. Yes, it is a little hard ... but I have lost 55 lbs and near on 30 inches overall in 7 weeks <--- that's certainly nothing to scoff at, and really the point of this exercise at the end of the day.

Yes, it SUCKED over Christmas ... NO alcohol, NO chocolate, NO Christmas brekkie, OR dinner, NO cookies (and I baked about 9 dozen), NO pie, No carbs to speak of, NO alcohol (oh ... did I already mention this?) ... just to catch you up ... FAMILY, but NO ALCOHOL!!! ARGH!! What kind of sick fuckin' joke is this?! Oh, and my sisters and mother were super about this, too.

NOT!

Not only did they line my counters with candy and chocolate and glorious liquor, but they also brought in bags of chips and ate this shit right under my nose. They used my good martini glasses as candy dishes (I will also point out, they broke one of 'em, too ...grrr) and left the carnage of their candy assassination all over every flat farking surface in my house ... and whom do you think got to clean that shit up?? Hmm? Yup, me. Then, to add insult to injury, every time any of them saw me put ANYTHING near my mouth, they were all over me about it ... I poured a glass of cranberry juice on ice (so I wouldn't feel quite so left out) and two of the three of them asked to smell my glass ... REALLY? Are you SERIOUSLY asking me to consent to you sticking your nose into my glass? Am I the one acting like a spoiled child here?

Then on Christmas day, my sister and husband were supposed to be cooking the big dinner. My husband came to me at one point early afternoon complaining about the breakfast she had cooked ... 'it was cold and broken up and bladiy blah blah' ... (okay - you had fucking bacon AND TOAST, asshat ... SUCK IT UP!!) So, he was bitching about her cooking the dinner. To which, I replied ... well, YOU go and cook it then (muttering under my breath that I can't handle the two kids I passed through my birth canal ... I don't need 4 more!). It was at this point that he informed me she was already cooking it. They had JUST finished breakfast and she's got veggies and shit on for dinner already? (I had put the bird in first thing in the morning)

I wound up going out to the kitchen and suggesting she hold off on the veggies for a bit as nobody would be hungry for a couple of hours ... she got pissed off at me and stormed upstairs - where she stayed until I had finished cooking the G-D meal. I coulda schmucked her upside her head. Mom was involved in the cooking, too ... which is never a good idea (she gets pretty cranky when cooking) and by the time dinner was served, I was pretty well at the end of my ability to be civil. I made myself pretty scarce for the rest of the evening.

The next morning (boxing day), I awoke to find chocolate wrappers all over my dinning room table and floor and jelly beans in my martini glasses ... plus an empty bowl that had had chips in it. I LOST MAH SHIT! I did ... I freaked right out of my mind. I was slamming and smashing around that kitchen like a deranged fish wife. My hubs came out and got both barrels. Then I locked myself in the bathroom for an hour and a half and cried (in the bath tub) for most of that time. Nobody else knew I was upset ... just poor hubby, but I was incredibly disappointed in my family's lack of "give a shit" for their behavior toward me. I turn myself inside out attempting to accommodate their various likes and dislikes at any function or gathering ... couldn't they have been just slightly respectful of my situation this year?

At the end of the whole thing, I can say that my children had a very nice Christmas. Of this, I am very grateful. We had to cut way back this year due to the fact that I haven't gotten a pay cheque for nearly two months (you know, because my financial planner boss that SELLS group plans to OTHER companies doesn't offer one to any of us ... so no short term disability for me ... and EI STILL hasn't paid me a dime!). I was super vigilant about finding 'just the right things' ... and I was successful! Which makes me very happy. Plus, I have seen them play with everything we got them this year - so, BONUS!

All in all, it was a success. I am now back to work (second day) and really not enjoying that very much. I had such a great time while I was off. I even refinished my kitchen cabinets between Christmas and New Year ... and they are DONE and look awesome!! I actually miss being home, quite a lot - who'd a thunk it, right?

So, to the few bleeps that still cruise the blogisphere - a Happy New Year to you ... 2011 is gonna be MY year! I can just feel it! I wish fabulosity to all of you, as well!

D-out.

Who You Callin' a "Ho Ho"?

2010-12-24T15:33:00.000-04:00

The trees are trimmed, the groceries are bought, the house is clean(ish), the pressies are wrapped ... the eggs've been nogged and the sweets are baked - I guess now all I need is for my errant family members to get themselves home and Christmas can begin.

To all of you, my bleeps ... and everyone who loves you - hope you have a magical Christmas - full of everything yummy and wonderful!

Take care!

D - Out

Pussonality

2010-12-01T10:49:00.000-04:00

I have a bad-assed cat.

Had you heard?

Yeah ... he is a B.A.D.A.S.S.

He ignores, without prejudice, each of the following names he's been called: Woody, Woodster, Woodstock, Woodrow, Stinky-Stinkerson, Black Head, Guts and Pig-Cat. (Along with the ever popular, you tubby little shit!)

A few things I have learned about this animal are:

His shit stinks worse than any other animal I have ever had the pleasure of being near whilst it shat ... seriously, it smells like he ate the arsehole out of a skunk.

He has absolutely no manners whatsoever and parades around on the sacred ground of counter tops and tables without shame.

You can't so much as pour a bowl of cereal for the children without a black cloud descending upon it from what seems like every direction.

If it is liquid ... he will drink it. Even if that means he has to stick his paw into the container and lap it up a pawful at a time. His absolute favorite beverages? Anything milky, my meal replacement shakes, Hub's tea, hot chocolate, coffee and my water. Note ... if in my home and have anything you plan to ingest, DO NOT leave it unattended for a millisecond, unless of course you have a fetish for cat saliva.

His cuddliest hour of the day is between 4:15 and 5:15 AM ... and he is aggressive about getting his cuddle on ... so be prepared to awake and administer some lovins if you don't want to be bitten repeatedly.

He eats the other cat's dish of food first and then goes to his own dish to devour his.

He slaps my bum when I walk by him. Seriously ... it happens every time I walk by him ... he just reaches out and smacks me.

He does the same thing to the other cat.

He sleeps on his back with his legs spread-eagle and his furry belly exposed to the world ... but for the love of all that is good an holy - DO NOT PAT THE BELLY! Not if you value the flesh of your fore arm.

When carving poultry for human consumption ... if you look directly below the counter, you will notice a tubby black shadow patrolling for an opening to get into.

He will eat ANYTHING. I've never seen anything like it. This crazy cat ate baked beans yesterday... half a bowl of them (left sitting on the counter unattended).

If a can of tuna is opened in the Dragonfly home ... be prepared to defend it with your life. That's all I'm sayin'.

He is brazen enough to try to bully the dog out of his meal ... to this point, he has not been successful as Cooper has made it clear no cat will be eating HIS food. (But it is funny as hell to watch)

When on a table or counter and threatened with the (normally) dreaded water squirt bottle, he will merely close his eyes and await the spray. It's absolutely hilarious.

He is a two potty cat. There is a litter box on the main floor - which is his, and another on the upper floor which is for Mato-Cat (Mom's cat). He loads up both of them ... systematically.

...and finally, I love his furry little self with my whole heart.

The 7 Dwarfs of Abdominal Surgery Recovery

2010-11-21T12:23:00.000-04:00

For those of you who do not know already, I had abdominal surgery last Tuesday. It was laproscopic, which means it is much less invasive than a fully open procedure.

This would fall under the category of good news, in light of how miserable I have been since having this heinous procedure carried out on my body.

I have discovered the 7 dwarfs of this recovery:

Gassy

Painful

Nauseated

Hungry

Itchy

Bitchy

& Bored

I figure I must be on the mend given my level of boredom today. I am lounging around in my fluffy jammies ... looking at all of the things I could be doing with this time I have off to recoup ... except that I am not even allowed to strip my own frackin' bed. This makes me owly ... oh, okay ... BITCHY ... and HATEFUL ... because I am resenting the fact that my share of the work is simply not getting done. I know it is a heavier load than anyone really wants to admit, but my part of this equation is somewhat sizable. It's not really fair for me to feel this way ... I know that ... but I do.

I tried to wake up with a renewed attitude this morning ... it isn't exactly working out for me just yet. I need a project. Even sitting here to type this is making me dizzy and nauseated ... but I'm not so stoned I don't know my own name anymore - so I guess that's real progress.

Patience ... my old nemesis. I guess that is what I must employ.

So - hope you all are enjoying your weekends. I'm going to go supervise the stripping of my bed.

D-out

PS ... Shorty just announced here moments ago that she misses the usual old get-mad-mom and wants her back. Suhweet ... kick mommy while she's down, puddin' - good for you.

Chronicles of Narcissus - Karma's a Bitch, No?

2010-11-12T11:38:00.000-04:00

Narci's had a bad run.

First ... we've had a shit pile of rain. Like over 200 mm over just one weekend - that's a lot of rain.

Last weekend, Narci was driving along a back road (in said rain) and smoked a deer. He was likely driving too fast for the conditions, but none the less ... he was somewhat put out by the fact that a) he wrote off his vehicle, and b) he was in the middle of nowhere with no cell reception.

Then, to add insult to injury ... his multi-unit apartment complex (which had previously been tied up in a confirmed sale and was supposed to close next week) had some most unfortunate flooding from the sewer ... spewing raw sewage 6 or more inches deep into numerous units. This has left dozens of his tenants homeless (and none too pleased) and necessitated his donning his rubbers and wading into a miasma of shit soaked splendor everyday for the past 6. Not that this isn't bad enough on its own ... but this event has also stalled the sale as the purchaser can no longer secure insurance on the site. This has been bad. Really, really bad.

I can't help but feel bad - I am a nice person at my core (don't tell anyone).

I can't help but look around for a maniacal smile sneaking from the lips of the lovely Karma.

I'm about to be off work for the next several weeks... today is my last day here. I'm having a little procedure done on Tuesday and am supposed to be out for 4 - 6 weeks. Not sure if I'll be able to afford being off that long ... but if I can, I'm planning to take it.

I'm supposed to be spending the day with ol' Narci today, but he is still not here and it is just about lunch time. Oh well ... I guess learning what it is that I do here isn't all that important. Since I will actually be in the hospital for most of next week ... with no phone and no way to be reached ... well ... I guess it is a good thing my job is 'so easy a monkey could do it' ... 'cause one will be. (burn!)

D-Out

Cause and Effect

2010-11-04T09:59:00.001-03:00

Last Saturday evening, my girls and I were seated in the family/living room watching a Halloween type cartoon jobby on one of the kids' channels. I believe it was the Flintstones' special. (I was reading and feigning interest in what the kids had to say about various parts of the show.)

Getting on in the program, Shorty was beginning to get restive. She was sitting on the arm of my chair and Stretch had pulled the hassock/humpty/foot-stool over next to us and was sprawled across it. Apparently (and rather suddenly) Shorty found her proximity to us an affront, and proceeded to turn her little self sideways and start kicking Stretch and pushing her off her perch.

This, of course, caused the very natural reaction on Stretch's behalf of whining her freakin' head off ... which caused me to raise my voice to Shorty ... which caused Shorty to begin kicking harder ... causing Stretch to wail ... and onward ... until I reached over beside me, grabbed Shorty's pants (at the legs) and lifted her legs up and around and sat them on my lap - while I was scolding her for harassing her sister.

At this stage in the proceedings, Shorty sprang from the chair, stamped her little foot, and pushed her balled up little fists down against her thighs ... she then turned on her heel and marched (Military style) out of the room and stomped her way up the stairs ... where she stayed for roughly 15 minutes - until I conned Stretch into going up and talking her into coming back down, she didn't right away, but when she eventually did descend the stairs, she had an envelope for me ... and inside was this:

(For anyone who does not speak or read '5 year old' this means "I don't love Mom" ... which is only written this way because there is no symbol for hate of which she is aware ... next I'll be getting a swastika through my picture or some such thing...)

I honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I did neither. I thanked her for the lovely artwork (at which point she scowled at me and huffed off to another part of the room to finish the show) and then eventually, I sweet talked her into getting back up on the arm of my chair to cuddle with me again.

I am in so much trouble ... oh boy!

Memory Lane

2010-10-29T14:07:00.000-03:00

Yeah ... so I took a little trip down memory lane via You Tube today.

My first stop actually happened on my drive to work this morning with The Dream Academy's Life in a Northern Town. I don't know if it is the kettle drums, the oboe or a combo of all of the wonderfully melodious sounds emitted from this talented group ... but this song gives me goose flesh. I just love it! (I didn't include it as you are perfectly capable of You Tubing it yourself should you have the urge to walk with me).

I then stopped by some Pink Floyd. Oh how I love me some Floyd! Time, Wish You Were Here, Comfortably Numb, Mother, Hey You, Learning to Fly (just to name a few) ... I couldn't decide which one I liked the best ... so I didn't include a clip for this either.

Nor did I include any of the Paul Simon I was listening to ... but 50 Ways to Leave a Lover is a CLASSIC!. Though, the Muppets' version of this one was pretty darned funny - I must say.

Yes, I am all over the map in my musical taste ... really, is this a surprise given how I am all over every other map ... well ... except for an actual map, I suppose.

Nope ... what I opted to share with you fine folks today is something that struck me so funny when I found it, that I felt I should. This is also a classic song ... but it is set to a sock puppet show. (Oh GAWD ... I just snorted ... OUT LOUD) I do hope you enjoy - I sure did. This is a special kind of whacked, the folks that put this one together.

So, with that said ... happy Friday!! D - Out

A Few of My Favorite Things, Autumn Edition

2010-10-28T12:15:00.001-03:00

I am in a crabby mood ... no ... "bitchy" better describes it. I am not premenstrual, not suffering from insomnia and don't have any good reason for feeling so rotten in my core. I have been avoiding my blog for this very reason. I thought you all could do without my sharing.

I guess my opinion regarding sparing all of you my bitchy-ness has been overruled by my desire to be cheered up. Sorry.

In an attempt to bolster my own spirits, I am looking to you - my bloggy bleeps to partake in a survey of sorts. You aren't required to participate, but you will make my day a happier place if you do. (No pressure)

Fall is a bit of a mixed bag for many of us ... I am certainly not exempt from that list. I could go on for hours about all the negatives associated with Fall for me ... but the purpose of this exercise is to find the positives. So - without further ado, I give you:

A Few of My Favorite Things, Autumn Edition

1) School goes back in... and the "Boo-Bus" starts making its rounds once again - carrying my little darlings off to ~~be someone else's problem for 6 hours~~ learn new and exciting things with which to regale us all at the evening meal.

This also stirs up my desire to learn ... go back to school, take some wonderful new course and spice up my world.

2) Fall is a retina searing kind of gorgeous (at least in Nova Scotia). With the leaves changing and how perfectly blue the sky looks in the back drop. Never has death been so beautiful as in the autumn of the year.

3) The mornings are so crisp and fresh. It's like an enema for your senses. Nothing can compare to getting out early on a fine Fall morning for a walk or drive, or whatever. It is invigorating to the soul.

4) Evenings in Fall are also crisp and you can smell the woodsmoke in the air. For me, this is a homey and comforting smell. (Wow - Fall has quite an effect of my olfactory sense, no?)

5) There is a desire to snuggle in the Fall (for me) that simply does not exist in the warmer parts of the year. This pertains to physical contact, but also from a mental perspective, too ... snuggling in, battening down the hatches against the onset of Winter. I find a comfort in this.

6) Even though Fall signifies the end of something ... death, perhaps ... it also holds the promise of the rebirth in the Spring of the year. It's like an opportunity for a do-over every year - or maybe just a chance to do better ... I like that.

7) Photo says it all:

8) Photo can speak here, as well...

9) The promise of that first few snow flakes that no matter how much I cursed the winter the year before ALWAYS lift my spirits like a child, flooding my chest with the warmth of excitement.

10) Christmas is right there ... peeking around the corner with its gaudy decorations, folky music, beauty and magic ... have I mentioned how I love Christmas?

There! I did it. I came up with 10 whole things that I love about Autumn/Fall. And hey - I actually feel better for having done so. I invite you to join in ... but if you don't wanna, I'll understand ... someday.

D - Out.

From the Mouths of Babes...

2010-10-26T16:51:00.000-03:00

So ... we are sitting down as a family Saturday night past, watching a movie: Ice Age 3, Dawn of the Dinosaurs - or "Donna, the dinosaur as my children call it). For any of you familiar with this franchise, Scrat finds love (of sorts) in this installment. My youngest child, 'Shorty' (who isn't very short these days ... she's taken quite a spurt since starting school) pipes up at one point and says (and I quote): "NOOOO, SCRAT!!! DON'T DO IT!!! WIVES CAN BE VERY FRUSTRATING!!!

I thought sure there would be a wet spot under my husband (or me, for that matter) when he stood up, he laughed so hard.

Then, last night she was playing a game on line and my mother was watching her. Mom pipes up and says: "Geezzzz ... I have a hard time following this game of yours." To which, Shorty replies: "Well ... of course you do, Gamma - this web site is for K-I-D-Z (yes, she spelled it out) not adults!"

This kid makes me laugh.

The other one ... on the other hand is trying to see if it is possible to actually make my head explode - no doubt just for the enjoyment of the experiment. I've never seen anyone who could push me the way she does ... unreal.

Happy Tuesday!

D-out

No Intro of Mine Can do this Justice...

2010-10-24T14:27:00.000-03:00

I know I have said many a time that I am not a fan of organized religion and I have difficulty buying the whole "Jesus Christ, Our Lord" scenario ... but listening to this song this morning shows me how desperately my soul cries out to believe.

This lady is from PEI.

Give a listen.

The Week That Wuz...

2010-10-22T14:10:00.000-03:00

Ahh Friday. I do love the Christmas Eve of the week!!

This has been a very long week. I'm not entirely sure why ... well except for the fact that my tenant hasn't paid her rent for the month of October yet and it is almost November ... and she lost her job ... which I found out only because I tried hunting her ass down through her employer and stumbled across this fact quite by accident. She's been dodging us since the beginning of the month ... coming home after midnight and leaving before I do in the morning. Sneaky little bitch. We wound up locking her out last Thursday night and posting a note to her door that she needed to speak with us. That's how my husband came to be talking to her at 12:20am ... and when she promised she'd have our rent by the next day ... which came and went with no call and no appearance of cash. On Saturday, she stuck an envelope to our door with $190.00 (of the $550.00 she owes) and a note saying she'd get the rest to us by the following Tuesday. (That would have been 3 days ago)

Guess what? Oh c'mon ... you know what happens next here. No money. No call, note or contact of any kind ... AND she is back to coming and going when we are asleep. So, I listed the apartment for rent again. We are not in the financial position to be able to let this go. If we are going to have a loss, it needs to be now - before heating season really kicks in. I need to get this girl out of my life ... this is entirely too stressful.

On Wednesday morning, Stretch stood up on stage in front of her entire elementary school and sang the Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World remix by Nora Jones. I have embedded the Youtube link to it, in case you are unfamiliar with the version:

My husband was as nervous as hell about her doing this and made her sing it to me the evening before to see if I could give her some pointers. He is uber afraid of one of the girls experiencing public ridicule ... which I get, as I do not like to thin of them in any sort of discomfort ... but she chose to volunteer for it ... we could hardly keep her from doing it - right? I tried to straighten out a few of the verses for her, but she is as stubborn as a rock and opted to do it her way.

I didn't get to go as I was the only one in that morning (and we had all of 14 hours notice of this event) - so hubs went in my stead. She ROCKED it!! He said he was bursting so much with pride, that a tear escaped. He also said he felt terrible for having doubted her. He said she looked so little on that great big stage all alone ... no musical accompaniment ... she stood there and sang it A Capella. He said there was a lady there (another parent) that remarked to him that Stretch had some raw talent and suggested we should give her vocal training.

I am 'as proud as Lucifer' as they say. My baby!! I can't get over her bravery. Man - I couldn't do that without peeing my pants.

Shorty also got an award at the same assembly, so it was a good day for the Dragonfly girls!

Okay - I'm done bragging now. I figure since I spend so much time complaining about them ... I had better brag them up a bit too - right??

Hope everyone has a stupendous weekend!

How Do I Love Thee ... Let Me Count the Ways...

2010-10-18T09:38:00.000-03:00

I love your furry little tootsies that sound like wooden pegs on the hardwood as you trot down the hallway in your heavy-tootsied way.

I love how you purr so big, it's enough to wake the dead.

I love your velvet soft exterior coating.

I love your melodious singing voice ... ahem caterwauling.

I love that you talk to us ... all.the.time.

I love that you 'don't "take no shit" off no dumbass dawg' (sorry, Cooper ... you know you are the dog in my heart).

I love that you are so gentle with the children.

I love that you love everybody in the house ... but love me the best.

I love your GREAT BIG puss-onality.

I love (secretly, of course) that you terrorize Mom's badass cat like she used to do to my precious Chloe.

But most of all, I love that when I get ready for bed and look up the stairs to the upper landing (where you are perusing your kingdom) - all I have to say is: "I'm goin' to bed, buddy ... you comin'?" ...and you do. Then I get the bestest cuddles ever until I fall asleep to your great big purrin'.

What more could anyone want? I'm so very glad we found each other, Woody.

There's a New Man in My Life!

2010-10-16T10:11:00.000-03:00

No wonder I feel so hopeful.

New love is exquisite... and all powerful.

It makes so many unpleasant things seem so much less important.

He's pudgy, black, furry ... and a badass of epic proportion. The quintessential "Tom-cat" ... or "Thomas Pussy" as my eloquent mother would say.

His name is Woodstock ... or 'Woody' for short (I didn't name him or it would be Jocko ... he looks more like a Jocko than a Woody).

I adopted him last weekend and he is the new love of my life.

My camera is suffering a psychotic break right now and I can not get it to hold a charge long enough to snap a pic ... but there will be pics of my booful new kitty-man... you just hang in and there will be plenty snaps of the most recent "thing that poops" to call our funny farm home.

Welcome ~~Jocko~~ Woody.

Perspective ... That's About the Size, Where You Put Your Eyes...

2010-10-15T10:36:00.000-03:00

That's about the size of it.

Anyone familiar with the Sesame Street that I grew up with in the 70's would know this little ditty well. Of all the lessons I learned (or chose to ignore ...) from that iconic program, THIS one is, by far, the most pertinent and poignant. It's a song about perspective. .

Even as a child, I found this meaningful. I mean there is no way I could fully grasp the enormity of the concept at the ripe old age of 7... but I knew it was important.

This year, I am finding this to be particularly pertinent. After the past year and a half or so, what with going bankrupt, limping through last winter, the adventure that is Narci and a few other tid-bits that have not necessarily been shared - I see life a little differently than I used to.

Normally, I would find Autumn somewhat depressing. By October, I would start feeling that sense of an ending. A time to crawl within myself and hibernate for the long, cold winter. I am someone that suffers from the whole lack of daylight thing and I have been clinically depressed since I was a teen ... so, no ... I was never a fan of the gateway to Winter. Not that I don't love Christmas ... because I do, but it has its own baggage, too ... especially for economically depressed budgets such as my own. But this year ...

Dare I boldly state that I am experiencing a feeling that is somewhat alien to me? Could it be? Hope. I feel hope. We are still having issues ... and Hubs was laid off again last week ... (but is still working and still getting paid, and that asinine place he works for couldn't tell its asshole from its appetite, so it's business as usual for now) and my tenant has lost her job (which I found out about after trying to track the little twit down) and is 15 days late paying rent and dodging us ... but, I think we are okay.

We've come through the worst and are out the other side ... we've taken steps to solve our heating issues from last year and I have already started shopping for the big toy haul. Heck ... once I can refinance my mortgages into one ... we'll even be able to get my mom outta the house and back into her place. That'll be suhweet! Then - life will be good(er?) ... (est?)... I'm even starting to bond with my house!

Until then, I continue to work on making us better. Me, in particular ... Danica 2.0, if you will. The next 8 - 12 months are going to be quite a journey for me, both personally and (hopefully) professionally. As long as the caterpillar's shoes have all dropped ... I am blissfully hopeful we are gonna be okay, after all.

Authentic? Possibly. True? Absolutely.

2010-10-12T11:34:00.000-03:00

--An actual letter from an Austin, Texas woman sent to Proctor and Gamble regarding one of their feminine hygiene products. She really gets rolling after the first paragraph. This was PC Magazine's 2009 "Editors' Choice award-winner" for the best letter sent via e-mail.

Dear Mr. Thatcher;

I have been a loyal user of your 'Always' maxi-pads for over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core or Dri-Weave absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts.

But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants.

Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? I'm guessing you haven't. Well, my time of the month is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call 'an inbred hillbilly with knife skills.'

Isn't the human body amazing?

As Brand Manager in the Feminine-Hygiene Division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customer's monthly visits from 'Aunt Flo'. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women.

The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants... Which brings me to the reason for my letter. Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: 'Have a Happy Period.'

Are you f-----g kidding me?

What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness - actual smiling, laughing happiness, is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable?  Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak, there will never be anything 'happy' about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local WalMart armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory.

For the love of God, pull your head out, man!  If you have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like 'Put down the Hammer' or 'Vehicular Manslaughter is Wrong'.

Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere.  And though I will certainly miss your Flex-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bulls--t.

And that's a promise I will keep.

Always,

Wendi Aarons Austin, TX

(Insert frowny face here)

2010-10-06T13:01:00.000-03:00

I got a bad back.

I think I wound up with the flu this past weekend ... I am not entirely certain. I was sick ... yes ... but that may have started with my whole "party like it's 1999" idea for Saturday night. I drank a lot of vodka that night ... ah-lottt!

I woke up Sunday morning and could hardly move (and no ... it wasn't that good of a night). This got progressively worse as the day went on and my tummy insisted on rejecting my previous vodka consumption. By Sunday evening, I couldn't get up ... or down for that matter, without major assistance from that poor soul that married me. Not good.

Monday morning came on the heels of my youngest throwing up all night (which is what made me think I might've had the 24 hour rather than ounce flu, after all) resulting in my getting next to no rest either physical or mental ... and I realized that there would be no heroic measures taken by Dani ergo, work would simply have to survive without me for a day ... and then two.

So ... now it is Wednesday and I am back to Narci-henge. You would think I was gone a month for cripes sake .... grrr. Honest to GAWD! I was here for an hour and was ready to leave ... screaming. At present, I am taking my lunch break (dammit!) and completely ignoring the phone and emails ... FOR-A-WHOLE-HOUR!!! (insert frowny face blowing raspberry here) I am hurting still ... though muchly (yes, I make up words when ranting) recovered from earlier this week. Of course, the fact that I want to bust some heads isn't helping. I'm lookin' at you, Narci.

On a side note, I just watched a Freddy Mercury/Queen vid over at Brite's and no sooner turned my radio back on when Vanilla Farking Ice's one hit wonder "Ice Ice Baby" came on ... in which he sampled Under Pressure ...oh forget it - if you don't know this, the jab will be lost on you anyway ... ARGH!!! My brain just rolled over in it's head. Great - 'cause I wasn't dizzy enough from the cornucopia of drugs I have ingested today.

So, to recap ... I am no longer stomach sick, but still hobbling around like I'm 107... stoned and cranky. Not a great combination, really ... would only be worse if I was on say ... a 1200 calorie per day diet enforced by a minion of medical professionals ... oh, wait ... there's that, too.

Poor Dani ... poor, poor Dani ... what a sin *strokes own hair*

I'm done now ... for a few minutes, anyway.

Getting rid of unwanted hair--One woman's story

2010-09-30T15:51:00.000-03:00

I did not write this, but I so wish I had. This is the funniest thing I have EVER read!

One of the dilemmas of womanhood: Getting rid of unwanted hair--One woman's story

All methods have tricked me with their promises of easy, painless removal: the Epilady, the standard razor, the scissors, the Nair, the EpilStop, and now . The Wax.

My night began as any other normal weekday night. I came home, fixed dinner for my family and got everyone settled for the night. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next couple

hours: maybe I should use that wax in my medicine cabinet.

I made sure no one would need me and I could head for the bathroom in peace.

It was one of those cold wax kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the clear strips in your hand, peel them apart, press it on your leg (or wherever). No muss, no fuss. How hard can this be? I mean, I'm not the girliest of girls but I'm mechanically inclined so maybe I can figure out how this works.

You'd think.

So I pull one of the thin strips out. It's two strips facing each other, stuck together. I'm supposed to rub it in my hand to warm and soften the wax. I go one better. I pull out the hair dryer and heat the SOB to ten thousand degrees. Cold wax, my ass. (Oh, how that phrase will come back to haunt me.)

I lay the strip across my thigh. I hold the skin around it and pull.

OK, so it wasn't the best feeling in the world, but it wasn't bad. I can do this!

So with my next wax strip, I'll move north.

After checking on my beloved family again, I sneak into the bathroom forThe Ultimate Hair Fighting Championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I then apply the wax strip across the right side on my bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching up into the inside of the right ass cheek. (Yeah, it was a long strip.) I inhale deeply. I brace myself. RRRIIIIPPP!!!!

I'm blind from the pain! . Vision returning. Oh crap. I've managed to pull off half an inch of the strip. Another deep breath. And RIIIP! Everything is swirly and tie-dyed. Do I hear crashing drums?

OK, coming back to normal again. I want to see my trophy -- my wax covered pelt that caused me so much agony. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold the wax strip like an Olympic

gold medalist.

But why is there no hair on it? Why is the wax mostly gone? Where could the wax go, if not on the strip?

Slowly, I eased my head down, my foot still perched on the toilet.

I see hair -- the hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I feel. I am touching wax. I look to the ceiling and silently shout Nooooooo!!

I peel my fingers off the softest, most sensitive part of my body that is now covered in cold wax and matted hair, and make the next big mistake -- up until this point, you'll remember, I've had my foot on the toilet.

I know I need to move, to do something. So I put my foot down on the floor. And then I hear the slamming of the cell door. Vagina? Sealed shut. Ass? Sealed shut.

A little voice in my head says, "I hope you don't have to shit anytime soon. Your head just might pop off." I penguin walk around the bathroom trying desperately to figure out what I should do next.

Hot water! Hot water melts wax! I'll run the hottest water I can stand and get in. The wax should melt and I can gently wipe it away, right?

Wrong.

I get in the tub -- the water is slightly hotter than is used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment -- and I sit.

Now the only thing worse than having your goodies glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of a tub. In scalding hot water. Which, by the way, does not melt the cold wax.

So now I'm stuck in the tub -- literally!

I call my friend, Liz, because she once dropped out of beauty school so surely she has some secret knowledge or trick to get wax off skin.

It's never good to start a conversation with "So my ass and vagina are tuck to the tub." She wants to know exactly where the wax is on the ass. "Are we talking cheek or hole, here?" she asks. She isn't even trying to hide the giggles now.

I give her the run-down of the entire night. She tells me to call the number on the side of the box, but to have a good cover story for where the wax actually is. "You know that if we were working the help line at XXX Wax Co. and somebody called with their entire crack sealed shut we'd just put them on hold then record the conversation for everyone we know.You're going to end up on a radio show or the internet if you tell them the truth."

While we go through various solutions, I have resorted to scraping the wax off with a razor. Boy, nothing feels better to the girlie goodies than covering them in wax, sticking them to a tub in super hot water and THEN dry shaving the sticky wax off!

In the middle of the conversation (which has inexplicably turned to other subjects!) I find the lotion provided with the wax to remove the excess. I rub some in and start screaming "It's working! It's working!" I get hearty congratulations from Liz and we hang up.

I successfully remove all the wax and notice, to my dismay, that the hair is still there. So I shaved the damned stuff off. Hell, I was numb by that point anyway.

I put the box of wax back in my medicine cabinet. Never know when a mustache might start to come in.

Tonight, I attempt hair dying.

Friday Funnies

2010-09-24T11:29:00.000-03:00

I thought perhaps due to some general malaise in the bloggy world this week ... some mine ... some belonging to other people that matter in my world.

I was going to write about stuff today, but I think this might be a better idea for Friday.

Without further ado ... I give you Friday Funnies:

Creation:

A little girl asked her  Mom, "How did the human race appear?"
The Mom  answered, "God made Adam and Eve and they had children,
and so was all mankind made.."

Two days later the girl asked her Dad the same question.
The Dad answered,
"Many years ago there were monkeys from which the human race evolved."

The confused girl returned to her mother and said,
"Mom, how is it possible that you told me the human race was created by God,
and Dad said they developed from monkeys?"
The Mom answered,
"Well, Dear, it's very simple. I told you about my side of the family
and your father told you about his.."

New Study:

A study worth sharing with friends both male and female:

A study conducted by UCLA's Department of Psychiatry has revealed that the kind of face a woman finds attractive on a man can differ depending on where she is in her menstrual cycle. For example: if she is ovulating, she is attracted to men with rugged and masculine features. However, if she is menstruating or menopausal, she tends to be more attracted to a man with duct tape over his mouth and a spear lodged in his chest with a bat up his ass while he is on fire.

The hypnotist…

I feel sorry for the hypnotist I saw last night.
He hypnotized 7 men, then dropped the microphone on his foot and yelled "F#@K Me"......

What happened next will haunt me forever.

If Facebook Had Always Been Around

2010-09-23T00:01:00.000-03:00

K - I totally lifted this from my friend's FB page. It is just so funny, I had to share.

Blush

2010-09-22T11:08:00.000-03:00

I was all set to continue the "evolution of a grumpy mood" today in my post ... but then I read this post over at Grasshoppa's place and now I can't seem to locate my cranky.

I am totally ripping this idea off from Tiffany at On The Verge who is so incredibly cool and writes the best stuff ... I just love her ... you should go have a peek.

Where was I? Oh ... yeah ... I was thieving her word: Blush ... that's a Blog Crush. I have a whole lot of 'em. Some who post all the time ... some who post once in a blue moon ... and lots in between. But today, I am going to concentrate my affection on The Grasshoppa. She is a mom to a teenager, 5 yr old triplets and a baby dumplin, and the wife of a pirate.

She is all kinds of awesome and I just absolutely love her.

You don't need to go all crazy reading a zillion brilliant posts (though I've no doubt there are that many to read) but I encourage you strongly to go over and read this. It isn't a long post ... will take only a few brief moments of your time ... but it will make your heart happy ... and your mood light.

Worked for me.

Go on ... right here ... I've made it all easy ... just click here.

Slowly Crazy Going Am I ...

2010-09-21T11:11:00.000-03:00

My baby started school this year.

Had I mentioned this?

My B.A.B.Y.

The last ... fruit ... from.my ... loins ... That just seems wrong to put into print, somehow.

I can NOT believe that this same itty bitty puddin pop is all growed up enough to attend public school.

Look at the two of them ... traitors!
They BOTH grew up on me!

It seems an impossibility that this adorable little diapered bottom could possibly be turned out into the world

... all by herself ... no safety net... gulp.

Though, this one has moxie ... it can't be denied.

But she done grew up on me ...

Here's proof right here ...

Look at how confident she is. She's got the world by the arse.

Now, she's coming into her own.

Apparently this is code for "Mommy knows nothing and I don't have to listen to her anymore". Yup. My gorgeous little Boo-Bear has learned how best to hone her 'tude. Everyone tells me she is simply testing her boundaries ... just trying to figure out where she belongs in her newly expanded world.

I have a few suggestions ... like perhaps a priest hole ... or storm cellar for an hour or two to cool her heels.

I had grown accustomed to her older sister's aggressive and loud ways. Had made as much peace with the fact that she was going to have disciplinary issues as we moved through her schooling and subsequent social growth. Stretch is very intelligent, and I am learning this comes with a certain price where her general attitude is concerned ... but my babe ... she was going to be the easier child. She promised me .... with an unconscious consent ... when I whispered it into her little blond curls.

It's like having my heart ripped out of my chest ... still beating with that unfettered adoration of early motherhood ... only to have it dropped to the floor into an un-swept pile of dust bunnies and dog hair ... discarded for a video game, or a match of torture-your-sister-for-shits-and-giggles.

Such an important part of me longs to weep ... and wept, I have. I finished the 7th book in Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series last week and, not all that far from the end, a major character dies. It is sad ... don't get me wrong - but I wept openly for well over three hours after reading it.

Three.Hours.

My husband kept walking past me with a look of abject fear on his face ... I'm sure he was thinking I had finally flipped my bicky and was frantically trying to remember where I filed the life insurance policies.

I'm a little better now ... well except that right on the heels of my morose mood ... a vile and evil one moved in. Poor Dani's Hubs ... poor poor Hubs. Send him beer ... and possibly a club ... for protection ... and some kleenex ... and maybe a map to the file cabinet.

You, too can prevent ~~forest fires~~ divorce.

Send help!

...and Captain ... or Wodka ... or Valium ... do it NOW!

Pffft

2010-09-20T16:50:00.000-03:00

I am in an evil mood.

Well, let me rethink that.

I am in an evil and volatile mood.

Kinda like vitriol in a blender ... on high speed ... that someone carelessly lit on fire ... near a fire works factory.

Boom.

My family is jumpy.

I called out to hubs last night and he didn't hear me the first time, so I had to call a second time.

He apologized at least twenty seven and a half times.

I told him it was alright ... not to worry. He seemed a little shaky. I've no idea why...

...may have had something to do with the fact that I resembled this lovely fella while calling.

I think it is possible to sum up my current state of mind with the following:

It's the Most Wonderful Day of the Week...

2010-09-10T12:05:00.003-03:00

I love Friday.

No, really - I do.

It's kinda like looking at a present before all the pretty wrapping is torn off.

This is a cake!

Yeah ... I really do enjoy the anticipation, don't you?

The last day of the work week ... looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow ... making the impossible lists of things to accomplish in the next two days of freedom. DAMN! I love this day!

Well ... until Saturday afternoon comes. Then I am all OMG! Where is the weekend going? I haven't got anything done! I'm gonna have to do double time tomorrow! It's at that point that your beautifully wrapped pressie is, in fact...

An ugly pair of socks

Or in my case ... six baskets full of dirty, ugly socks ... and face cloths, towels, stained kids clothing and drawers with varying degrees of filth.

Good times.

Yeah - Friday is like a mini Christmas Eve ... every week... which, in turn, makes Sunday like the day you get all the credit card bills. It's a roller coaster ... wheeeeeee!

So, that said ... I wish you each a happy Friday and a painless Sunday with good points in between.

D-out

Hurricane Earl Update

2010-09-03T11:57:00.002-03:00

In light of the fact that our weather forecasters aren't even close to agreeing with each other currently on the path and ferocity of this impending storm ... Hubs and I have decided to utilize an old Cape Breton weather forecasting method.

That oughtta cover it.