Friday, 29 June 2007

10,000 strong....and growing

Remember that Flintstones commercial? We are Flintstones kids...10 million strong...and growing. Yeah, that's what's running through my head right now. Sorry if it's now running laps through your feeble brain as well, it just came to me as I was preparing this entry. And now I'm reflecting back to the time I ate an entire bottle of Flintstones vitamins as a kid and had to have my stomach pumped. Good times. They were so yummy - who didn't want to much on purple Bettys and yellow Freds? I didn't after the charcoal shake, that's for sure. Lesson learned. Lesson learned.

The 10,000 is in reference to the fact that as of today, my wee little bloggie here has exceeded 10,000 visits since I started counting on January 30. Not too shabby for five months, I'd say. I sure as shit ain't no Lainey or Perez, but you're still here, so I can't be doing it all wrong! So once again I'll thank you for journeying along with me during the past few months that have been my life. You've been there for the good, the bad, the super bad, and the fan-fucking-tastic. That rocks.

So let's see, what's been going on....

Busy days, but that's coming to a close for a bit and I couldn't be happier. Thursday morning we had to be at the clinic for 8am, and since we both needed to make an appearance, we hit the highway at 6:20. AM! Which means we were up at 5:30. So yeah. Long day. Then that evening we went for dinner at the new Milestone's near our house, then hooked up with a friend and her boyfriend for a few hours of jazz on the patio at our local art gallery. Her boyfriend is on the board of the gallery, and it was nice to sit back, relax, chat, and freeze our asses off on a chilly June night.

It's a relatively new building, so as we're chatting Hubs asks if he can see the mechanical room. He loves poking about to see who's got what. So Andy goes off to find the mechanical guy and we all truck down to the basement. Talk about your foreign territory! Pipes, pipes baby! Everywhere!

Sure enough Hubs knows his stuff and actually manages to solve a heating/cooling problem they've been having. Very impressive, my man. He sure does love his stuff, and he's damned good at it. He was so proud - it was kinda fun to watch him do his thing. I don't get much of a chance to see my boy in action! Too cute.

Then it was home to bed. We were both so happy that it was a local event, meaning a 10 minute drive from there to our beloved driveway and subsequently, bed.

Best of all for me? I got to sleep in until 8:25 today - absolutely beautiful for a Friday morning! Our offices close at noon on Friday's before long weekends, so I asked if I could work from home for the morning to save the commute time and money, and they agreed, which was fab!

12:01 arrives and I log off the network with glee and hit the showers. Working in your pj's is a beautiful thing. I think we should institute weekly pajama days in the workplace. Employee satisfaction would skyrocket, and people would get that much more sleep 'cause they don't have to change into their monkey suits before departing. Think of the benefits to corporate Canada!!

Yeah, not gonna fly, eh? Ah well, it was worth a try.

So let's see...after my shower I walked over to Tim's, got a coffee, then took the bus (yeah, you read that right - Hubs had the car, so what choice did I have? I slummed it up good) to my manicure appointment. Great place, kinda scatterbrained manicurist, but she did a reasonably good job so I can't complain too much. At least my nails are shorter now and I don't cause myself physical pain typing on this very keyboard. Silver linings and all that.

That's my surprisingly mundane rundown of events over the past few days. The weekend holds more of the same, so prepare to be bored to tears by my complete lack of hijinks. I know I will be. And I can't flipping wait!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Wednesday, 27 June 2007

High chairs are for babies, dammit

Once again, I'm a bad diva. I tell you, nay promise you, that I'll post again in the morning and, despite what the time stamp may say, we all know it's going to be well into the afternoon before this puppy hits cyberspace.

So I'm sorry. Mea culpa. Yep, all my fault, no one else's. Trust me, I've spent the past half hour looking for someone else to blame, all to no avail. There's 30 minutes of my life I'll never get back.

So kids - what's up? Everyone having a good day? I'm embracing hump day - even though technically it's not really hump day for me as I'm off on Friday. And Tuesday.

Yep, you read that right - I'm making me a five day weekend! Woo hoo!! I'm gonna sleep in, drink coffee and read a book in my backyard, get my nails done, tidy up some stuff, decompress...and I can't flippin wait. I'm already ready. Hell, I was born ready.

So we had a lovely Distraction Club meeting last night. Six of us arrived at the Bier Markt all sweaty and gross thanks to Toronto's smoggy humid summer day, but complaining quickly turned from the heat to the inane chairs we were forced to haul our butts into during our dinner.

Yep, we got stuck at one of those high tables places like to put in their bar areas. You see, high tables must, by their very construction, be accompanied by high chairs. And I hate high chairs, hate hate hate them, but it was that or nothing, so uh, yeah. We took that. It was so bad that I actually stood up for the majority of the evening. I just couldn't find a way to get my ass on the seat in a manner that did not cause ripple upon ripple of discomfort to my lower half. And I must say I really do prefer that my feet touch the ground whilst sitting. Unless I'm on one of those inverted roller coaster things. Then it's okay. But I was at Bierland, not Wonderland, so I wanted my damned feet on the floor!


Anyway, conversation flowed beautifully and no topic was taboo. I mean not a one. I thought poor CJ was going to fall off her very uncomfortable chair a few times. Not normally a huge deal, but man - that would have been a long way down!

Our Jack Handy moment of the night involved, if you can believe it, a conversation around Revenue Canada (don't let this info scare you other potential attendees away - it's not all about RC). The lovely Leanne was discussing a conversation she'd had with them about something, and we were all lamenting how complicated it can be to deal with some of these government agencies from time to time.

Which brought me to my question - man, if it's that hard for you (Leanne's a lawyer working on her Master's degree), how do not-so-smart people manage?

Now, we're all smart people. You, my reader; me; the gals around the table - we're smart folk. We really are. And if these systems are challenging to navigate for us, the smarties, I'm honestly concerned about the not-so-smarts out there that have to find their way through a similar maze when their time comes.

Please don't judge me too harshly here - I'm not proclaiming total world domination where my intelligence is concerned or saying that there are a huge number of not-so-smarts out there. I just truly feel sadness for individuals who, for whatever reason, may have a harder time eeking their way through.

So that was our deep thought for the night.

A few flatbreads, ciders, Pepsi's, glasses of water and wine and a poutine later, we all headed out in the sauna that is the great outdoors and headed home. Another successful Tuesday Night Distraction Club under our collective belts.

Then it was home to Hubs and the boys who were enjoying their game with vigor, as always. They were especially chipper this evening because Hubs had taken it upon himself to feed the brood, so they were all hopped up on burgers and chips and the like. I bore witness to more than one case of the meat sweats. Now I must stick a hot poker in my eyeballs.

And now we come full circle (well not really - more of a backwards convoluted figure 8 or something) and return to yesterday's entry. I was asleep 7 minutes after posting. It was heaven.

Tonight I actually get to go straight home after work. While I enjoy my work events and nights out with the gals, I must say I can't freakin wait to just plant my expanding ass on my cool, white leather couch and just chill the hell out with my Hubs this evening.

Ah, so much to look forward to.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Tuesday, 26 June 2007

I promise..

1 comments come back and write more tomorrow.

I'm just so tired (I know I say that a lot, baby but it's not you, it's me) and work has been so busy. I promise I'll make more time for you soon, like tomorrow morning. Yeah, tomorrow morning. It'll be just me and my computer and more bloggy goodness.

After I've had some muthaf'in sleep, yo.

Last night I got home from work at 11:25 p.m. Then I was up at 6 a.m. to catch the early train so I could make this morning's appointment. Tonight I got home from a lovely Tuesday Night Distraction Club at 9:30 p.m.

There just ain't much more I need to say, no? Me sleepy. Me go bed now. Me write more in morning.

Me promise.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Monday, 25 June 2007

Bumpy roads...

Greetings, all. I know it's been a number of days since I last wrote, and for that you have my sincere apologies. It's been a rather bumpy road we've travelled over the past two weeks, and it doesn't appear as though there's been any significant roadwork done on the territory we're about to cover, either.

This weekend was busy and quiet at the same time. I finished work early on Friday to be with Hubs on a hard day, and was forced to wait at the train station for almost an hour because of a pedestrian fatality on the line I travel home. I didn't feel too badly, mostly because it could always be worse. Yes, I'll be late to get home, but I could have been that pedestrian. Yeah, that would be worse. Way worse.

I then proceeded to pass out on the couch for an hour or two Friday night. I just couldn't keep my eyes open! Just knowing that there was nothing on the schedule for that night and that it was a weekend to ourselves (DeeDee free) was surprisingly blissful. Then I felt bad, because I knew that given a choice, Hubs would have DeeDee with us all the time, so I shouldn't be happy that it was just us. Then I cut myself some slack and realized we both needed a little time to ourselves.

Saturday saw me up stupid early for a clinic appointment. There's some follicular growth which is good, but it could also be a cyst, which isn't good. At all. I'm told to wait to hear back from the clinic with the results of the blood work. Yippee.

I make the trek home, and my wonderful husband has vacuumed the main floor. I almost cried when I walked in the house and saw that.

You may wrinkle your forehead in a 'whut?' kinda reaction at that last statement, but I gotta tell you - vacuuming is my job around the house. Hubs HATES it with a passion. Like, really super duper hates it. And all week long I've been saying I have to vacuum this weekend because our floor looks like crap. Not that I want to do it, no - it was pure need at this point. But I was dreading it just the same.

So to come home and see the one thing that I was really dreading already taken care of by the person who hates it waaay more than I do was a surprisingly significant moment for me in my day. Again, can I just say how much I love this man? That he would choose to do something he abhors just so that I don't have to? It was a beautiful thing.

That night a friend was having her housewarming party and while neither of us were in a festive mood, I thought it was really important to be there for her, see the new digs, give her the lovely pressies I'd purchased for her, and wish her well. That, and I wanted to make sure I saw my friend wannabefrenchie (as she calls herself - one of my BFFs since high school and a bridesmaid in my wedding) before she leaves on Friday for a month in Europe. Both of them have been so supportive of me, from helping to paint our new house (a sacrifice that will be remembered forever) and making the trek out to the 'burbs for our housewarming a few weeks ago. I really felt this was something I needed to do.

So Hubs and I hop in the car and head back downtown - again. Twice in one day. Yeesh. Our poor Kia. At this rate I'll have to buy it out once the lease is over...

He drops me off at her building then goes and does some browsing in Indigo, HMV, etc, as he's not really up to being around people who will be asking how he is and saying how sorry they are. Which he of course would appreciate, but just didn't feel up to subjecting himself to. An hour or so later we arrange to meet at the car and make our way home.

As I'm pulling out my sparkly pink Razr phone to call him, I notice there's a voicemail. Ah yes, the clinic. This should be good. I dial into my voicemail, enter my snappy password, and hear my message - please return to the clinic tomorrow at 8am.

Fuck. There goes my one opportunity to sleep in.

That's about all I could think. Strange but true, but the thought of sleeping in on Sunday was truly the one thing that got my ass through the week that was. I knew of Saturday's appointment well in advance which is why Sunday had become all that more important. And then it was gone, off the table entirely. I'd have to set my alarm yet again and haul my carcass out of bed at 6:30 am. As usual.

Once I got over my disappointment at losing sleep in time, panic started to set in. What the hell could they possibly want me back for? It's kinda too early for anything to be happening, but could this be good news? Or could it be another cyst (yes, the other one is still there)? So many options, most of them not good, ran through my head.

In true 'this is my life' fashion, the news I got yesterday morning was somewhat hopeful. Then, of course, those hopes were kinda dashed when the bloodwork came back. Then dashed a little bit more after another test this morning. Who knows if there will be anything left in the hope tank to be dashed during tomorrow's appointment, but as always I'm attempting to steel myself for more bad news and to try not to be disappointed when it comes. I'm getting surprisingly good at it. Sad, really.

Hubs and I have talked and have decided that, for the next short while anyway, we're going to keep the minutia of our journey between us as we go through things. It's hard enough to go up and down five and six times a's even harder when you get friends and family all excited when it looks like there's good news, then you have to disappoint them all over again when it, inevitably it would seem, actually is not. I'll still talk in generalizations, but for the next few weeks anyway (unless everything comes crashing down and we're completely out, that is) you'll likely hear less and less about this follicle or that LH level, etc. I know you must be so disappointed - my hormone levels must, by this point, be such a key part of your day! - but I do hope you'll understand.

I'll still be here though, ranting about this, that, or the other Sludge, filling you in on the mundane activities of my day, and sharing with you any fab new things that may cross my retail path. 'Cause lord knows I just can't be a diva without my dear readers involved in the comings and goings of this ole gal's life!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Thursday, 21 June 2007

This is the week that never ends...

1 comments just goes on and on my friends! Sorry if you have that song in your heads now, but I thought it was fitting, given how this week is going.

This will be a super abbreviated post due to the late hour and the relative weight of my eyelids to my head (eyelids outweighing head at this point), but I did feel that I owed you all at least a wee hello to tide you over since I left you stranded yesterday too.

Okay, so, last night I had another event for work. Hubs was supposed to join me but after a brief appearance at his office in the morning to drop something off, he decided he couldn't stand another round of 'dude, I'm so sorry about your dad' at night too. Completely understandable, so I let him off the hook this time with nary a second thought.

He's such a great guy that he still came and got me. Drove 75 kms or an hour each way just so I wouldn't have a three hour trip home.

I so love this man.

Then today rolled around and there were many meetings, things to be done, calls to be made, emails to be sent, etc. Got done what I could, then headed to another event for work. This time the opening of a new lounge at the hospital, where a lovely lady with an interest in some of our projects was waiting to meet me.

Sounds so glamorous, doesn't it? All these events and cocktail parties and soirees. To be truthful yes, a good number of them are fun, enjoyable even, but keep in mind that whilst I'm attempting to have said fun, I'm also working the entire time. Talking to people that need talking to, etc.

And since I barely want to be at work during work hours this week, what the hell makes ya think I wanna be continuing to work into the evening?

Oh well, this week will be over soon, the clomid crazies will soon pass, and we can slowly eek our way back into real life on Monday. Hopefully.

Hubs went to see Evil Dead The Musical with my brother in law tonight, so after an appearance at the work event I met some WB gals for dinner (lovely gals - I really do enjoy those get togethers, especially when they involve flaming cheese that, not coincidentally, also flames on the way out), then headed to Chapters to buy some books (read:kill time) before meeting Hubs at the theatre downtown.

And now we're home. Finally. And I'm heading to bed. Finally. And tomorrow's Friday. FINALLY! All good things in my book.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Tuesday, 19 June 2007

No need to go knocking, drama finds ME

Yeesh. So after getting through the funeral and getting all hopped on on clomid-y goodness, I made my nothing-even-resembling-triumphant return to work today.

First person to say how sorry they are gets a mug full o' tears, lucky guy. Yep, that's right - three minutes into my workspace and I'm already blubbering like a lollipop-less toddler after a booster shot.

And the hits just keep on coming! In my line of work, you eat a lot of shit. You really do. The kind of job where you have to apologize even if what you're apologizing for had nothing to do with you. At all. But it's what you do and it makes everyone feel better and happy, happy, we all move on. So I have one of my shit ingesting moments first thing in the day via email if you can believe it just to make everything that much better. Awesome.

So I shuffle off into my boss' office to discuss it and as I enter, the phone rings and it's the person who I must eat shit for (for whom I must eat shit? Not sure of the proper grammar there - too tired). Fantastic. But then it finally gets better, because he tells her he's had time to think about it and re-read his emails and he now knows that it's not my fault. Thank-flippin-goodness.

And then I burst into tears. Again.

Have I mentioned that this time I do seem to have some side effects of the clomid? Uh, yeah. Total mood swings, hot flashes, tears at the drop of a hat...hopefully this means the junk is actually working!

A busy day flashed by - so much to do - but I did manage to leave a bit early to come home to Hubs. I got on the 4:10 train and I meet my man at 4:52. I worried about him all day long and was just so happy to be back with him to see how he was doing. And I think he was pretty happy to have me home.

We take a bit of a nap, then the phone rings off the hook. Sludge is wreaking her normal havoc, then my sister calls and tells me she's been puking all day and had to go see the doctor.

And then we watch as a series of red and white lights flash past our door.

Yes, drama has found me yet again. Or it at least knows what street I live on.

It seems that a gentleman three houses down was on his upper balcony doing god knows what and he fell over the edge. Onto his car. Unfreakin real.

Like all good suburban 'hoods, everyone flocks to their front porch to find out what's going on. Turns out our next door neighbour was outside as the guy took his tumble and he and another 'hoodie who happens to be a nurse went out to help him. Hubs just shook his head and said no more tragedy... Wowzers.

I found out later that he's going to be okay, thank goodness. I can sleep well knowing that, as strange as it sounds. Hard to believe I could lose sleep over a perfect stranger, but these days, sleep is that elusive commodity that's constantly being jeopardized, and yeah, a neighbour who plummets into his own car is cause for disturbance.

Fingers crossed for an uneventful Wednesday.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Monday, 18 June 2007

I'm pure spent

Man, crying sure does take the piss outta ya. What a very, very hard for so many people involved.

But it was a nice service, no disruptions (as there well could have been), everyone made it through their speeches beautifully (I'm so proud of them - can't imagine how hard it would be), and everyone had a good opportunity to say their goodbyes.

The only hiccup occurred when we first arrived and saw him for the first time. Um, let's just say that the funeral homes' record did not improve today. To put it mildly, CJS never, ever wore his hair modeled after Don King - until this morning. There was a flutter of activity as we noticed the resemblance and the poor funeral home girl scampered off to find some gel. So they could actually make him look like the many photos we'd given them to use as reference.


These guys are getting one hell of a strongly worded letter in the next few days.

Then it was off to Hubs' sister's place for the gathering of the clan. We had a few laughs, a few drinks, a few sammies, then there was nothing left in the tank, and we headed home. Drained, spent, completely empty. I started feeling feverish and crappy, so have attempted to nap on the couch to little avail. It's now 8:52pm, and I'm mere minutes away from bed. For the night.

Please, let us sleep tonight. Me yes, 'cause I have to return to work in the morning, but more for Hubs so he can finally get some much needed rest. He's hopefully going to take the remainder of the week to just be. My poor guy.

And with that I'll leave you tonight. Not much else to say, really. And if there was, there's not enough fuel to keep me typing. Hope you all have a good night, and if your dad is still around, I hope you spoiled him rotten yesterday.

JBJ, I got your message today. Thanks so much - it was very sweet. The funeral was at 11:30 which is why I couldn't take your call, but I wanted you to know how much I appreciated the sentiments. And to CJ and my sister, Camilla and Matthew - thanks so much for being there to support not only Hubs, but me too. Means so much.

Be at peace, CJS.

Sunday, 17 June 2007

How do you prepare for it?

For the funeral of someone so close to you, but also removed? How do you steel yourself mentally for the emotional onslaught you know is only 12 hours away? And how do you try to stay strong to support your husband while you're hopped up on fertility drugs that do nothing but make you emotional?

Poor guy - he hates seeing me upset. Hates it. Just like I hate seeing him upset. There's nothing on earth like seeing him cry. I feel so completely helpless, so sad for him, and I'd do anything in my power (or beyond if I could figure out how) to remove from the picture whatever it is that's making him sad.

Now, I can't do that. I can't take away the pain of losing his father, the pain of watching his sisters and mother and niece grieve their collective loss. I'm completely powerless to do anything but sit back and watch him go through it, moment by painstaking moment.

And to top it all off, I really love his family so much that it's all compounded, 'cause seeing them sad and broken just amplifies my feelings of powerlessness and sadness. So someone says something, and another starts to get a bit teary, and I can't help myself - call it the drugs or just my lack of ability to hold back tears in the best of situations - I'm bawling too.

It's all just so sad. Losing someone so close, saying that final goodbye, scouring through decades of photos and re-living the memories that inevitably float to the surface as you review the photographic history of your intertwined lives.

This is as close as I've come, really, and it's not even me. I can't even begin to imagine life without any of my parents (I have lots - it's complicated) and all of the sudden, I'm so close to it I can see exactly what it does to a person. Sure, I've lost people close to me before (grandparents, an aunt) but I've never been right there in the thick of things. I've never lost a parent. Most of my experience in this realm has been, quite honestly, lived vicariously through friends and family members.

But my husband...someone I know so intimately, whose eyes tell me everything I need to know about how he's feeling, who's trying so hard to keep it all together...this is something I've never encountered in my entire life. It just breaks my heart time and time again.

And now it all comes down to this - the funeral service tomorrow. The details are all worked out, the CD is burned, the collage is together, the package of everything we need to bring with us is at the front door, the outfits are picked out, the speeches are written, the flowers have been ordered and delivered, the kleenex has been packed in my black purse.

Now all we have to do is get through it. I'll do my best to keep it together but I know the situation and the clomid (fyi - the cyst is still there but is smaller and isn't making estrogen, so I'm back on the clomid as of yesterday - awesome) will work against me, and many a tear will be shed by yours truly.

Thank you my dear readers for your kind words and thoughts over the past few days. They're greatly appreciated, I can tell you that. And they're just what I'll need to get through a very sad, sad day tomorrow.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Friday, 15 June 2007

I'm in the wrong business

For my next career, I'm going to be a funeral director.

This shimmering glimpse into my professional future came during my collision course with the industry due to my father in law's recent passing.

Yeah, there are right ways to do this, and then there are wrong ways. But no matter how you do it, this whole funeral biz is a license to print money.

Talk about having people by the short and curlies. What other options do they have, really? It's their loved one, someone they cared about deeply, and they've barely begun to scratch the surface of the grief they'll experience at their loss. They think back to their wishes, to all of the conversations they'd had or thought they remembered and with that, they cobble together the minutia of their husband's/father's final rite of passage.

All for the low low discount price of $6,000 and change. Ballpark of course...that's without flowers or other personal touches. Or a real casket - this is just the rental package *shudder*. But fret not - it includes a limo to come to your home and pick you up. Gee, that makes me feel swell.

And it would be one thing if you had to pay for all this, and were fortunate enough to have a really wonderful person taking care of your loved one, guiding you through the minefield that is saying goodbye. I swear, there's more paperwork involved in death than anything else on earth. How sad is that? So many forms, details, sign here's, geez. And heaven forbid you miss something, 'cause it'll certainly come back to bite you in the ass later on, you just feel that.

We weren't that lucky. We ended up with a dick.

Not to go into all the sordid details, but really, this guy should honestly think some more about what he wants to do with his life. You really do have to be a compassionate people person who can walk grieving people through one of the toughest times of their lives. It should be your sole mission during your work day to make the process as painless as possible for everyone involved - or else get the fuck out of this business.

It's really easy to be angry (that five stages of grieving and all that) at a time like this, and lemme tell you, nothing will incur my wrath faster than some stupid asshole that tells you, right after he assumes out loud that no one wants coffee, that our appointment was at a really inconvenient time so no, Hubs' father isn't ready for viewing yet and we'll have to come back and do that later.

Wow, the I know the cockles of my heart are ablaze, thanks to this guy. NOT.

We were all getting frustrated as the meeting went on, and the second he left the room to check on something we all turned to each other and agreed - he was a bona fide dick. Almost a big enough dick to make us change funeral homes.

So in my next professional career, I'm gonna be a funeral director. Having looked at the price list I know I'd make a very reasonable living, and as god is my witness I would go out of my way to ensure that no other family felt the way we did while sitting in that tiny room today. 'Cause dealing with the death of a loved one is hard enough without having to deal with a dick who can't even spell the word junior properly.

I wish I was kidding.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Thursday, 14 June 2007

Sad day

Short post today - nothing really funny to write about. Sorry about missing yesterday - was just too tired and hormonal to come anywhere near a computer. Best for all of us concerned, really.

But back to today. Hubs' dad passed away this afternoon. Yeah. Really.

Wow. The phone call you knew was coming but were never really prepared.

His dad has been sick for a number of years - heart problems, lung problems, you name it - but he's beat the odds for 22 years, and despite everyone knowing this day would come, no one thought it would be today.

The entire family was together on Sunday as you know, our anniversary and his 76th birthday. We got together to celebrate those two occasions and many others (remember the fantastic cake?), and now more than ever are we all so glad that we did. He was in great spirits that day, and everyone got to see him (except for DeeDee, but we all know whose fault that is).

He went peacefully this afternoon at home with his wife of 49 and a half years by his side.

So far Hubs is taking it very well, but I know that will all come crumbling down. They had a tumultuous relationship, but there was much love there too. So now I'll do everything I can to just be there for him and hope it's enough.

The next few days will be kinda busy so I may not be back for a bit. Between all this and a 7:15 am clinic appointment on Saturday, we've got a pretty packed and emotionally charged couple of days ahead of us. Thanks to all for reading, and if you have a moment and are so inclined, think a kind thought or two for Hubs and his family. They're all wonderful people and I know they'd appreciate it.

I know I'll appreciate it too.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Tuesday, 12 June 2007

The word of the day is swass

Swass. That fantastic smushing of the words sweaty and ass to form the perfect descriptor for the puddle of liquid that inevitably seeps into your shorts/skirt/pants while seated on a plastic chair enjoying summery cocktails on a crowded patio on a bitch-hot summer day.

Not sure if that's how Webster's would define it, but sure does work for me.

And boy, does it ever happen to me!!

Tonight was, of course, the second installment of the Tuesday Night Distraction Club. Ceije from WB stopped by with a friend, JBJ joined us a bit later, and Madame Monkey Kiss (MMK for short) made five.

Yet again, I believe a good time was had by all. We did very well in our six degrees of separation game (Ceije's friend works at the same company as my sister and Ceije knows of JBJ's husband via school) and even better at making fun of our waiter's ridiculously sculpted do.

And we swassed - boy, did we swass. So much so, that I was relatively nervous to rise to a standing position as it came time to leave. I was in jean shorts, primarily because I'd been at a retreat today in a building with no air conditioning (must be the universe getting me back for something bad I've done lately) and had spent the day in a mildly swassy state. It was so bad that I even went back to my office for an hour or two once we were done, just to cool down.

And to give my swass a chance to dry before I hit the patio.

That mission was most certainly accomplished but as we all know, once you've swassed, there's really no recovering, no going back to that blissful, pre-swass state. You're just destined to live with it until you get home and can change or shower or, at the very least, wring out your panties.

Aw come on, you know you were thinking it would if you could! 'Cause yes, sometimes it DOES get that bad.

Blech. I really feel like taking a shower to remove the swass of the day, but I'm honestly too tired to even contemplate the whole soaping thing, much less endure the rigors of the toweling off process. So instead, I will make my way upstairs, strip down, hop into bed and prepare myself for Hubs' arrival - if he ever kicks the boys out.

Yes, the D&D geek patrol are still here. Still. Here. As in, not gone.

Methinks a little swassy spooning is order. Maybe that'll teach him to have them gone before 10.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Monday, 11 June 2007

Facebook is the devil...

...and I'm a proud, card carrying member of his merry band of followers.

Yes, a few weeks ago I kinda laughed about Facebook, talked about being a passive user, just going on from time to time, all that jazz.

Yeah, that was before the addiction took root and started spreading throughout my cyber self. Now I'm all a twitchy if I have to be away from it for an hour or two...I get the shakes and my left eye develops this strange tick that I can't seem to stop until I log on.

Just what I need - another online crack supplier.

I gotta say though, I'm getting a real kick out of reconnecting with the ghosts of friendships past. People that I've often wondered about but simply have had no way to reach out and say 'hey there - remember me?' Facebook is my portal to the past, the time machine that allows me to fast forward everyone from my various yesterdays into my right-this-very-minute, thanks to photos and that ever evolving status thingie. Not only can I figure out how many (if any) kids they have, if they're married, where they work, or where they went to school, I can also instantly become aware of how they're feeling at a recent moment in time. All this, of course, providing that they hold up their end of the bargain and keep mainlining the smack as well.

I recently rediscovered a friend from over 20 years ago, a gal from a group of about seven of us who were inseparable for a few key high school years. We went our separate ways as some high school friends do, but I tell ya - some of my best formative years were spent in her basement or backyard, listening to INXS or George Michael, eating sour cream and bacon chips from the individual sized bags, hoping to get one of our favourite stars of the day on the enclosed cello wrapped sticker. Remember those? Oh yeah, that was livin' it up, grade nine style.

She's married now with two kids, and it was hilarious to look through her pictures. Not just to see her husband and daughters, but to see how her sister and brother have grown up to be married and have kids of their own. And then, of course, there are the pictures she posted from all those years ago. Who can forget the glasses that threatened to eat your face, the pale pink frosted lip gloss, hell - the frosted hair! Damn we thought we were hot back then.

This of course has made me want to do nothing but sift through old photos all night. I managed to pull out some goodies - Facebook friends beware!! But no need to fret just yet - I still have to scan all the buggers in before I can post them anywhere, and that will take a good long time given the stack of photos just awaiting their conversion into pixelly goodness. So you high school friends have just bought yourselves a reprieve. But remember, it's merely a stay of execution - there ain't no clemency here.


And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Sunday, 10 June 2007

Hard to believe it's been a whole year...


365 rotations of the earth ago (aka one trip around the sun), Hubs and I tied the knot.

That's right - today is our first wedding anniversary. Quite surreal, I must say. An entire year has passed, and so much has happened since June 10, 2006, a date that is now permanently ingrained in my memory. At least it's for a good reason!

We had a beautiful wedding. It was cold that day, only like 17 degrees, but Hubs loved it because he didn't overheat in his tux. It was also windy, so much so that my veil simply had to come off after the ceremony, 'cause I couldn't see two feet in front of my face depending on how the wind was blowing.

But the sun came and stayed out. The weekend before was a torrential downpour which totally would have sucked for us and our outdoor wedding, and the weekend after was insanely hot and humid - Hubs would have melted!!!

So here we are, one year later. We've been to Collingwood, Sudbury, Waterloo, Germany, Italy, Cuba, and Cobourg since we became man and wife. We've bought a house, and taken on the biggest debt of our lives. We bought entirely new furniture for our bedroom, and acquired a snake as Hubs' pet. We've signed on with a fertility clinic to try to expand our family, and have ridden the multitude of roller coasters that come with being a member of such an emotionally charged club. I've been diagnosed with PCOS, anemia, and type 2 diabetes - but I'm getting better. I've gotten a raise, Hubs has been laid off and has started a new job at a much better company. DeeDee turned nine, my nephew turned two, and my sister got pregnant again. One bridesmaid ended a long term relationship on our wedding day, while another saw hers with an on again/off again beau solidify and take root. CJ ran a half marathon, I lost 30 pounds (or thereabouts - haven't been on the scale in a while), and maybe most importantly of all - I got to be Mrs. S for 365 days.

I'm a very lucky gal, all things considered. If you read the paragraph above, you'd see that there are definitely somethings I could, and indeed have in the not too distant past, complain about. But come the end of the day (and the end of the blogging session where I puke it all on to the screen so I can put things behind me and move forward) I know one thing - I'm lucky to have so many good and positive things in my life.

Friends and family kinda laugh at us, 'cause we truly are in the running for Cheesiest Couple in the Universe. We're silly together, we're mushy together, we kiss in public, and yes, I'll even try to pat his butt every once in a while - providing I can find it first. Yes, my husband has no ass - have I mentioned this before my dear readers? I have a no ass man. But I love him and his no ass like nobody's business. Plus, I have more than enough ass for both of us. :)

I totally love that about him - not his lack of ass, of course, but his ability to let his guard down and be a complete and utter softie when it comes to me. He can most certainly be hard headed and more stubborn than the proverbial mule at times, but by and large he's one big teddy bear of a guy with a heart of gold. That belongs to me.

To celebrate, we went to an Inn in Cobourg. We didn't want to spend a lot of money given that whole Cuba thing and really didn't want to drive too far, so this place completely fit the bill. And hey, spending my anniversary in the Presidential Suite sure does appeal to the diva in me. In fact, she'd expect nothing less!

The weekend was amazing weather-wise - couldn't have asked for better. Sunny with a breeze and no humidity - Hubs' idea of heaven. Sure did make the weekend more enjoyable for both of us! We got into Cobourg around 12:30 and just explored for a bit. Walked along the beach, found a place for lunch, browsed the shops, had some ice cream, and enjoyed the 'quaintness' of small town Ontario.

And then we checked into the hotel. Woo eee what a place! The living room was a bit outdated but still quite nice...and then we saw the bathroom. Now, I love our ensuite at home, but this put us to shame! Two person airforced tub, slate floors, incredible glass shower....spectacular and brand spanking new. Allow the photo to speak volumes for me if it's possible...sorry that you can't see more of it, but you'll just have to imagine things from here.

The bedroom also had recently experienced a makeover, and the king-sized canopied four poster bed had 'jump on me' written all over it. Well, not literally, but you catch my drift. All fluffy and high and covered with useless throw pillows that ended up on the ground before they ever stood a chance...perfect anniversary sleeping quarters.

Once we got into our suite, we had a really hard time leaving. So we didn't until dinner! We watched some tv, snuggled on the immensely comfortable leather couches, and slowly but surely got ready for our 7:30 reservation.

The restaurant was - interesting. Not quite was I had expected, given the reviews from my WB guys, but once we got over the decor (southwestern kitch and beer umbrellas on the patio) and focused on the menu (not to mention one another) it all got much, much better. We ended up having a lovely meal, then meandered back to the hotel for the rest of the evening's entertainment.

I'll skip over most of that for obvious reasons, but I will say they involved chocolate covered strawberries (courtesy of the hotel), champagne, a viewing of one of our fave movies (Serendipity, you pervs - nothing dirty) and a dip in the tub for two. And then we passed out.

This morning we slept in, finished the rest of the movie, then headed out for brunch in our hotel. Fully stuffed, showered, and all checked out, we made the 40 minute trek home to prepare for the second part of our anniversary celebrations - the return to the scene of the crime.

By 3pm we were right there, where it all took place those 365 days ago. A rush of emotions came flooding back to me, spurred on perhaps by the fact that we'd been playing the cd our dj make us with all of our wedding songs on the way up to the house. Our song always makes me bawl (see Cheesiest Couple in the Universe above) and today was no exception.

It was so nice to just be there, surrounded by so many familiar and friendly faces (all of Hubs' family and my sister/brother in law/nephew made the trek). And there were so many things to celebrate!! Our first anniversary, Hubs' father's birthday (that day), two of his nephews' birthdays (last Friday and this coming Friday), his niece's promotion, and the visit of his aunt, who wasn't able to be at our wedding for health issues. Man! So needless to say, this is the cake that was brought out to celebrate:

Have I said how much I love this family? Awesome...

In addition to this cake, we enjoyed the top layer of our wedding cake, recently thawed from our freezer after its one year slumber. Amazingly enough, it was incredibly tasty and was enjoyed by all. We even brought the cake knife and lifter we used at our wedding...awwww....I know you want to barf right now, admit it. It's okay. I would too if I was reading this about someone else's life! Honest!

We cut the cake yet again shortly after a beautiful impromptu speech by Hubs' mom saying I was the best thing that had ever happened to him (tears!!) - and then Hubs proceeded to smush cake into my face. Buttercream frosting up my nose...not a pretty sight or experience, I'll tell you that! Guess he decided that since he couldn't do it last year at the wedding proper he'd take his chances where he can get them. Bugger.

Wow. I've blathered on forever it seems...and now, there are but a few minutes remaining on this, our anniversary day. As I type Hubs is snoring beside me and I can look over at him and do nothing but smile. He's been such an incredible addition to my life, so much so that I can't even begin to imagine my world without him in it.

And so today we paused and celebrated the fact that 365 rotations of the earth ago, we took that leap of faith and joined our lives together forever. Man and diva, 'til death do us part.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Thursday, 7 June 2007

The lesson of the day is...

...stay away from movies about babies when you're having trouble getting pregnant.

Okay, so the adds for Knocked Up came out a few months ago, right in the height of all our fun and bad news. At the time I kinda snickered, hehe, looks funny, Hubs wanted to see it (he loves that 40 Year Old Virgin stuff - like, watches it once every few weeks - seriously), and that was that.

Then all of the sudden, June 1 was here, and it was out in theatres. Having just come back from our nice restful trip in Cuba and hearing great reviews about it, we of course elect to go see it as soon as we can.

Now, I actually wasn't worried about how I'd react prior to entering the movie theatre. Surprising, eh? But nope, knowing it was a comedy with funny folk and a good writer was somehow enough for me to keep the anxiety butterflies fluttering around someone else's flower.

So Hubs picks me up from the train, we go for dinner, then decide to share a nice dessert at Demetres. This dessert ceased to be nice the minute we discovered a big black hair in our banana split - ewwww. And since neither Hubs nor I have black hair...yep, wanted to puke on the spot.

Needless to say the conspicuously black-maned manager came to see us shortly after we'd returned our hair split to the kitchen and offered us $15 worth of hand packed ice cream. Uh, yeah. Thanks. Can you make this one follicle free, pretty please? Thanks so much.

Since we were off to the cinema, Mr. Prematurely Shedding Into Our Whipped Cream promised he'd keep our bounty safe in the freezer while we watched the movie, then we could pick it up on our way out. Excellent - just be sure to store it in the no hair-ing section.

Enough about hair. Yucky.

So the movie. Funny - check. Great one liners - check. Excellent cast - check. More than one laugh out loud moment - check. Will it be watched again - check. Was I bawling my face off once we finally made it to the car - check.

I was pretty ticked off at myself and my reaction, actually. I was doing SO well, only two episodes in the whole movie threatened to derail me. First was a scene where they're all shopping for cribs (no worries - I'm not giving anything away here) and on the faux wall behind this beautiful white crib there's a fabric wall hanging with a monkey on it. In and of itself, no big whoop. But when it's the very same object you were staring at as you fought back tears in a similar shop five minutes after hearing your sister was pregnant again, it comes as one hell of a sucker punch to the system.

The other super hard part was the birth itself. All those things that I picture for Hubs and I - that moment when we first get to see and then hold our baby (man, I'm crying again as I even type this)...I'm just so worried we will never get our moment like that. And here it is played out so beautifully before me, taunting me, reminding me that moments like this happen for other people all the time, every minute of every day all over the world.

I'm going to try to stop feeling sorry for myself now. The movie's over, I had my good cry (or two), Hubs has hugged me 'til I squeaked and tried so hard to make it better...I'm just gonna chalk all this up to the extra progesterone that's coursing through my veins in an effort to move this process along.

Hormones are a bitch.

So now I will bid you all good night and go upstairs to snuggle with my husband, who somehow always knows just what to say and do to make it better. And who never gets hair in my food.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Wednesday, 6 June 2007

My rage has a first name, it's S-L-U-D-G-E...

7 comments rage has a second name it's B-I-T-C-H.

She's at it again. It's always something, isn't it? No getting away from it, she's always there, she's always stupid, and she's always selfish. Despite her many protestations to the contrary, 'cause she really believes she's a nice person who does good things and only wants to make people happy.

Now that's a master manipulator - she's so good at it, she's even fully convinced HERSELF! Impressive.

Same old same old, really. It all starts with family bbq's. Every year her family, multi-branched and trailer parked as it is, gets together to celebrate, get this - the date her mother purchased the house the entire family lives in. Her mother passed away two summers ago very suddenly (yes, that was very sad. I did then and still do feel sorry for her to have lost her mother, her only real parent, so quickly and at such a young age) and apparently she loved this house, so they have this bbq to celebrate the day she bought it and they also make it a memorial day for said mother, as well as a birthday celebration for DeeDee and Sludge's sister since they're both born close to the house-buying date. Talk about your multitasking party!

But alas. This is something they've done for a few years now...the family comes from near and far (far being St Catharines but whatever) and they all eat stuff. I guess. DeeDee enjoys herself because she gets to see her cousins, etc, that she doesn't often see, and hey - what kid doesn't want another birthday party?

The problem - the damned stinkin bbq always falls on Hubs' weekend. Always. Blech. Let the squabbling begin!

Now, here's the thing. Hubs knows this is a big deal for Sludge's family, so of course he agrees to change weekends around, whatever. He understands that family stuff isn't going to fit neatly into your weekend/my weekend kinda rules. Sensible, I'd say.

So this Sunday, her weekend, there's a Hubs' family bbq happening at his sister's place. All the family will be there, including Hubs' aunt that no one's seen in years - she couldn't make our wedding last year because she wasn't well enough to travel. So this is a bit of a big deal.

Sunday is also Hubs' dad's birthday, and our first wedding anniversary. So a lot of significance on a lot of levels, wouldn't you say? I mean, any of these alone or in combination don't hold a candle to the anniversary of a house purchase, but still... ;)

So Hubs, knowing full well that this is Sludge's weekend, asks for a few hours on Sunday so DeeDee can be at this family bbq. He's giving up an entire weekend for her to be with Sludge and the family, so he's hoping that a few hours of her weekend so DeeDee can enjoy something similar with the other half of her family might not be too much to ask for.

Yeah, you pretty much know where I'm going with this, dontcha...

She said no. Apparently she has to work on Saturday so really has her heart set on spending time with DeeDee on Sunday. Now that she has to work (which she blames Hubs for - since he left she now has to work to try to support herself) she doesn't have as much time with DeeDee so she doesn't want to give it up.

Now, a part of me can see this, understand it even. But when Hubs points out that he gets to see her four days a month and Sludge gets to spend time with her for the other 24-27 days, maybe she could see her way clear to sacrifice a few hours of time for an important family gathering.

But that's only what rational people would do. And Sludge is a lot of things - rational sure ain't one of them.

Poor Hubs. I just hate sitting back and watching him bash his skull against the brick wall that is her fat head. 'Cause no matter what happens, he's the one that walks away bloody.

So they had another one of their monster truck jam, smasher derby conversations. I know this for a fact, 'cause as with most of the convos they have - he had her on speaker phone.

I know I know...not the nicest thing to do, but hear me out. One, she talks for so long his flippin ears would fall off and his arm would perma-cramp if he had to hold the phone up to his head while she prattles on. So even if I'm not around, he has her on speaker.

The other reason is that Hubs and I talk about all the stuff that happens during a conversation, so it's always a great time saver for me to just hear what she says so we don't have to waste subsequent precious time recounting the conversation that was. We already devote too much of our time and energy to discussing her - no need to add to it if we can avoid it, ya know?

So tonight she's on speaker and they're having a lovely tete a tete. In a nutshell, Hubs is detailing how he is looking forward to the day that they formalize their agreement via the family law process. And she just laughs, saying, 'yeah, me too. I can't wait to get full custody, 'cause I will you know. No judge will take her away from me and you'll have nothing.'

Yeaaaah, I lost it.

In one of those I'm-hovering-over-my-own-body-watching-myself-do-something-stupid moments, I actually yell out, loud enough that she can hear me, 'get over yourself! Are you really that naive to think you stand a chance?'

To which she yells back, 'shut up, diva'. Well, she didn't call me diva of course - she used my real name, but I'm sure you get the point.

So I obviously have to backtrack a bit - heaven forbid she thinks I've been listening the whole time (tee hee), so I yell out something along the lines of me just coming into the room and hearing this and I just had to comment. That placated her and she never mentioned anything again...just goes to show how inane she really is. Yeesh.

I just felt so badly afterwards. Hubs wasn't mad at me or anything, or so he says, but I just was so pissed off at myself for completely losing control. Like the poor guy doesn't have enough to worry about with her - then I jump in a make it all that much worse for him. Blech. Oh well, at least in this instance her stupidity actually pays off - it didn't seem to add any extra fuel to her already raging fire.

Ah, it's times like these when I totally dig the virtual dumping ground that is my blog. I can barf all this crap onto the screen and just let it goooooo. Beauty.

And now I'm spent. Trashed. I'm coming down from my latest rage-orama and am sleepy. Just plum tuckered.

And to top it all off, it looks like the Sens are out of the running for the cup. Hope is fading, Sens fans...sorry for your loss. Or should I say sorry for your four losses.

Eek - that might have stung a bit. Guess it was the die hard Leafs fan in me roaring back to life. 'Cause hockey's over now so we're all on a level playing field, we've all got just as much of a chance as the next team. So say it with me, gals....GO LEAFS GO!!!!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Tuesday, 5 June 2007

Last time I had the smite bonus...

I tried so hard, I really did.

We went out, I took the 8:13 pm train, I got home at 9:30, I went upstairs to change...

And they're still here. All of them. Talking about tentacles and crossbows and damage points and, as above, the beloved smite bonus. All of the wonderful work that was done over yummy martinis is slowly fading into a distant memory.

Must cling to thoughts of alcohol.

Yeah, that'll get me through this, sure it will.

And this is going to happen every Tuesday? I'm gonna have to take a later train.

Rest of the day was pretty good, I must say. I got a beautiful bouquet of lilies and lupins from my boss in celebration of me actually staying at my job. I got that five year pin today (plated in 22k gold and made by the manufacturers of the Order of Canada - not too shabby) so she thought it was about time to reverse the trend and not only give presents to people who leave but reward those who stay. Nice! Gotta love feeling appreciated!

Then came the inaugural meeting of the Tuesday Night Distraction Club. A smashing success, if I do say so myself. We were small in numbers (five gals in total) but mighty in our drinking prowess and desire to chat about testicles, not tentacles. Prava was a funky place (snaps to Camille for suggesting the location) and we all had yummy martinis, high fallutin' appies, and to perfectly round out the evening - straight vodka shots. Let the games begin.

Then Ruth and I headed over to the train - how delightful to have company! - and chatted all the way to her stop. An excellent end to an excellent evening.

It's funny - as much as I lament Hubs' participation in this, uh, hobby, I'm actually quite grateful that it's come to pass. It gives him something to do on his own (forever and ever on his own) and gives me the push I need to set aside dedicated time for myself and/or my friends.

I've always known how important it is to have 'me' time, and the planner in me is enjoying the regularity this Tuesday thing brings, while the crazy social chick is totally diggin the spontaneity that doing something new each week affords. A great mix - I can live in the burbs and truly enjoy my existence here, but can hold on to the city gal persona I so lovingly honed during all of my years as a downtown-dwelling single gal. Not too shabby.

Funny how sometimes things just work out for the best. I do subscribe to the 'everything happens for a reason' school of thought, and I guess this is just another example of why the theory works for me.

And hey, if it all goes terribly wrong at some point, I still have that smite bonus to fall back on. I loves me a good smiting.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Monday, 4 June 2007

Turn down that blasted stereo!

Yeah, it's Monday. I'm feeling really tired lately. Not sure if it's the rain or the drugs I'm on or both but man, when you fall asleep on the GO train not only on the way into work but on the way home, you know your ass is sleepy.

I was actually smart yesterday, or so I thought. I got up around 9:30 ish to ensure that I'd be tired around 11pm (our normal bedtime) and sure enough, come 11 these eyelids were drooping. Excellent! No more getting behind the proverbial eight ball where my weekday fatigue was concerned.

Didn't work nearly as well as I thought it should if my public snoring at 7:52 am is any indication. Bugger.

So before I start in on the Monday that was, allow me to do a Wayne's World dream sequence (doodooloo, doodooloo, doodooloo) and bring you back with me to yesterday. Oh look - it's Sunday! I'm at home! It's almost raining...annnnd you're there.

In an earlier entry, I questioned my diva status thanks to my impending yard work/seeding. Sunday saw all of those activities come to fruition - the lawn got raked and seeded, the plants got watered, the weeds got pulled, and the hose was cranked out of its tangled slumber to water said lawn. Not all that diva-esque.

But man oh man did I make up for it shortly thereafter. I went on a smidge of a shopping spree and came home with four new pairs of shoes and 10 summer tops. Yes, four and 10, you're reading that correctly.

Ah, shopping does a body good. Maybe that's why I was so tired - I was coming down from the rush of my retail pursuits. Kinda like a sugar crash - but without the calories or diabetic shock to my system. And with some pretty new things in happy bags to show for it as opposed to another slab of cellulite globbed onto my thighs. Dag...I've got to remember this theory next time I want some Timbits or something - a new top would give me the same high but no more thigh. That's my interesting hypothesis for the day. A little mental snack, if you will. Enjoy.

So back to today. It was Monday. It was raining. We had DeeDee this weekend, so I had to take the bus to the GO station this morning while Hubs drove her home. I walked to the bus stop. In the rain.

I don't do well in the rain. Maybe it's all that extra sugar in my system and I'm worried I'm gonna melt. Sigh...

The actual workday went okay until the afternoon rolled around and my blasted left ovary reared its ugly head and started giving me grief. Bad enough it's eating my food and racking up the phone bill, now it's got the music turned up full blast and all the windows are shaking. Ouchie!!

This is my first experience with a cyst that has made itself known to me. Yes, there have been others in my sordid past (it would appear my ovaries are whores, entertaining all sorts of different cysts - sometimes more than one at a time!! - tramps, both of them) but none have been this vocal about their living arrangements. At one point today I was doubled over at my desk typing away as best I could.

At one point I asked what degree of pain should I be concerned? What, pray tell, should I be concerned about? Being a newbie to actually experiencing sensation from my ovaries, I had no idea what 'normal' was anymore.

So what did I do? Well, I googled it, of course!! Yeah, never do that if you're at all concerned about what you might find. If you're ready for it, giv'er. Fill yer boots. But if not....step away from the internet. Niiiiice and slow. Nothing to see here...

Fortunately the pain has since subsided, so I'm no longer quaking in my boots about what I read a mere few hours ago. I'm dumping it from my Tis gone. Yippee.

Now cyst, just calm down and take it easy. Turn the music down and go to sleep. Have a nice nap. Yes, that's right. That's a good cyst. Nightie night. Mommy hates you.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Saturday, 2 June 2007

Hot fun in the summer time...

Okay, is it just me, or is it unbelievably hot out there? Like as my mom would say, fry an egg on the sidewalk hot. Not sure why you would do that actually, especially with the mess it would make and the eventual smell, but I'm sure it's possible. She (mom that is) likes to recount that it was just that hot on the day that I was born. She then lapses into a now timeless story of how she went through 36 hours of labour, that they had to pull me out with the forceps and everyone was worried, 'cause for the first few weeks of my life, I had a conehead.

Yeah, thanks mom. Keep telling everyone that. Thanks sooooo much!

The again, I was stupid enough to type it all in black and white for you to read just now, so I guess I can't really complain anymore, eh?

But back to the heat...

Wowie, it's schteamy. Not just steamy, schteamy! Like, you can chew the air. Like getting hit in the face by a wall of hot when you open the door of your blissfully air conditioned home.

Thinking back, I guess I really shouldn't be complaining about the heat. For two reasons, actually. One, we have central air, so our indoors is blissfully cool. Sleeping is not a chore. Two, I bitched and complained for sooo long about the winter, how much it hurt and how I couldn't WAIT for spring/summer, that I honestly don't believe I have any right to dis dis heat.

Despite the high temps I spent part of the early afternoon with my sister in law, evaluating the front of our house for its garden potential. We don't have a huge front lawn, but since the previous owners seemed to want to do nothing more with the house once they were handed the keys upon its completion, we have a blank slate with which to work.

And can I say just how blank said slate is? There is NOTHING there...even the grass is crap. When the hell did I become the type of diva that obsessed about the state of her grass? This is total uncharted territory for me.

And of course it doesn't help that the folks directly across the street have the most beautiful lawn ever. I want a lawn like that. No, I'm not competitive at all - I just want my lawn to look that nice, nay better, than his - is that wrong? Okay, maybe it is, but all of the sudden I can see how this whole keeping up with the Jones' thing can really mess with your head!

All this energy on a lawn? That's right.

So tomorrow we'll go out and put the weed and feed on the front lawn ('cause hey, not that many people are privileged enough to see our backyard but everyone sees the front) as the weather might actually cooperate. If we get our way, Mother Nature will take care of the whole watering thing, and I can spend my day looking for summer tops and sandals.

Yes, I plan to spend my Sunday in more traditionally thought of diva-esque pursuits. Even shoe shopping, and this from a surprisingly non shoe-loving diva! But everyone needs the little buggers for their feet, I suppose. So off I'll go. Wish me luck - my tootsies need it!

The rest of today was spent at Canadian Tire, yet again, this time procuring a storage bench for our backyard (which doesn't fit our cushions, so we sold it to my sister), a weed wacker, placemats and plates for the new patio set, and something to plant my pink azalea in.

Can we pause for a moment and ask the question I know is on all of our lips - what the hell has happened to the diva of yore? Man, thank goodness for my Tuesday Night Distraction Club - methinks I need to have a few martinis with the girls in an urban setting so as to retain my diva status! That and a mani/pedi, and I should be back on track. Especially now that I'm playing in the dirt and kinda getting my hands dirty (only kinda, 'cause I have those great pink gardening gloves). this what it means to get older and more serious about life? Quick - someone dish out the shooters while I run to my room to put on a hoochie bar top! This is all happening too fast!

Nah, not really. I can still have my shooters and lawn too. It just means the pendulum has swung a smidge in the other direction.

Which in the long run is kinda good, I guess. I know my liver certainly appreciates the change.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?




This many divas have come to read my rants since January 30, 2007:

'Cause everyone has a dash of diva in them Copyright 2008 Shoppaholic Designed by Ipiet Templates Image by Tadpole's Notez