Back to 'normal' - whatever that is

So I'm home! Yep, back in Ontario, happy to be sleeping back in my same bed with my happy hubby.

Had a fantastic trip. It was very busy, very rushed, and somewhat frustrating at times, but I got to see/meet so many people and had an amazing time hanging out with some fan-fuckin-tastic women that I've been dying to meet for ages. Allllll good.

My only regret is that I never made it to Abbotsford to see my good pal who was a bridesmaid in our wedding. Sigh. Stupid weekend was so packed it just couldn't work. And that sucked.

Came in late Sunday evening and was met at the airport by a super smiley Hubs. We were both ridiculously mushy while I was away, and decided that five days is just too long for us to be apart. So lemme tell ya, every minute they made me wait for my luggage was one tick up on my Air Canada hate meter. Nobody keeps me away from my man any longer than need be!

The trip home was relatively okay, but a bit painful. I managed to wrench my back as I was checking out of the hotel on Sunday morning and hot daym did/does it hurt! I cried in the cab on the way to the airport....I just couldn't find a reasonably comfortable position. And the cabbie giving me advice on different yoga/stretching positions and their accompanying breathing techniques really didn't help much. I'm just not that kinda gal.

Worked from home yesterday 'cause I was just plum tuckered and my stupid back was still killing me. Thank goodness for remote connections and the ability to dial in to voice mail from afar!

Today I braved my twitchy back and headed back to the office. And I learned that my desk chair simply isn't suitable to strained backs. I found one comfy position and managed to hold it as long as was feasible. Only drawback? I was in super slouch position, facing slightly away from my computer, so it looked like I was slacking, surfing websites all day. But it was the only thing that worked!

Finally around 1 I went to see my boss who had, when I spoke to her yesterday, promised me Aleve upon my return to the office. I'd been taking Advil thus far and it seemed to take the edge off, but she swore up and down that nothing could touch Aleve where back pain was concerned.

Now, you can't buy this stuff in Canada.

That should have been my first clue.

So I hobble down the hall to get my expense report signed and fetch the good drugs. She greets me with a smile as always, and pulls out the container of magic pills. I've never taken them before, and she suggests that I take two to get started.

Happy white and yellow pills in hand, I trudge back to my office and slurp down my bounty with a swig of diet iced tea.

An hour later a colleague comes into my office and finds me almost asleep, sitting up in my chair. I could nap so hard at that moment...my eyelids were like lead weights! Simple words weren't coming to me and I was mixing up my syllables.

Methinks I'll stick to my Advil.

To make matters worse I had a meeting at 4 with two doctors and I had to keep it together. Fortunately (for me) only one could make it, so we chatted briefly and I headed on my merry way to catch the train home.

Where finally, without fear or concern, I could fall blissfully asleep. And did I ever. Slept all the way from downtown to my station. And am still so exhausted that as soon as this is proofed I'm hitting the sheets.

So that's my update. Maybe tomorrow if I have the energy I'll bring you up to speed on Sludge's latest hijinks. 'Cause rest assured, they are many, and they are outrageous.

Good times, good times.

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

Greetings from the west coast!

Yo.

It's me! I'm in Vancouver right now, typing this blog post overlooking the harbour. Boats everywhere, the mountains now invisible in the darkness. It's 11:13pm local time, but my body still kinda wants to believe that it's much, much later.

And to make matters worse, I have red wine teeth.

Yes, the dreaded grey pallor that takes over your teeth after a few too many glasses of red wine. Which is why I don't often drink the red. Well, that and the heartburn. But I digress.

Tonight was our conference banquet and there was wine on the table. They were serving beef (which makes perfect sense to me - everyone comes to Vancouver for the beef) so red seemed like the perfect choice. After the dinner itself a bunch of people bolted, so like the good scavengers we are, my colleague and I grabbed any bottles left on tables and made it our mission to ensure no bottle went undrunk.

Well come on - who wants to let good booze go to waste? Certainly not me. I mean, that has to be one of the advantages of not being pregnant, or even in the throws of trying to GET pregnant...me and booze can be friends again.

Last year at this time I was in Halifax for this same conference. I was right in the midst of our first medicated cycle at my first fertility clinic, so there was little to no drinking (and huge heaps of stress) for this diva during that conference.

I'm happy to report that I'm righting that balance this year.

It's weird...I remember being in Hali last year and seeing the booth promoting this year's conference in Vancouver. I took one look at the booth and thought, too bad! I love Vancouver. But I'm sure I'll be pregnant by then - or hey, might even have a child and be on mat leave! - so I won't be able to attend.

Every time I remembered that moment I topped up my glass.

So yeah, like I said, I've got red wine teeth.

It's been a good time so far. I had a fantastic dinner last night with two of my virtual 'friends' that I hadn't met before we chowed down together. Now, I'm increasingly saddened that these very cool women don't live closer to home, 'cause daym are they fantastic women. Sigh. But alas, despite the fact that we can't get together for cocktails more often, I'm so happy we did have the chance to connect while I was here. All good things...all good things.

The ride hasn't been smooth though. I got here yesterday morning and they didn't have my room ready. Fair enough - it was only noon and check in time is 3pm. Even though I had requested an early check in, I knew it wasn't a sure thing so I was relatively okay with it. I hauled my suitcase into the bathroom, got changed, and went to my first session.

I came back out at 3pm, the aforementioned check in time, and you guessed it...my room wasn't ready. Boo-urns. Me and the Westin were not getting along so well.

I return again at 5 and finally, my room she is ready. I haul my bags up, unpack my stuff, plug in my laptop...and nothing. It doesn't work.

Grrr. I had numerous conversations with the tech support folk and of course, they couldn't fix it. Double grrr.

Fast forward to today, and again...internet still not working. So I go to the front desk and they decide to switch my room. I get 'promoted' to the Starwood preferred floor with a king sized bed, a view of the ocean/mountains and, eventually, internet access.

Soooooo....I hope that explains my absence of the past few days if nothing else. I'm very happy to be back online...red wine teeth and all.

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

Free at last...

...free at last, thank gawd almighty I'm free at last!

That's right - she's gone! Waahooo!

Saturday night at 7pm we finally reclaimed our home as solely ours. Well, us and our remaining four legged kitty cat creatures, but they're no pain in the ass, ya know?

Let me backtrack a bit before we come to the end of our silly story...

Friday. Last weekday. Last sleep. All good things to come.

Until I stepped out of the shower.

Shooting pains in the general vicinity of my left ovary. Every breath hurts. I feel every bump in the road. I can't even bend over to put lotion on my legs.

Fuck.

I get on the train, go to work, hope it gets better. It doesn't. I send a physician friend of mine a facebook message asking for advice. She suggests I contact my fertility clinic to see if they can get me in for an ultrasound. Which I do as soon as I get to the office.

Sure enough, the clinic thinks I should get it checked - at the emergency room. They can't do the bloodwork necessary with the turn around time that's required, so they make the suggestion that I go and get it looked at. Now.

So off I trundle, book in hand, to the ER at Mt. Sinai. I arrive at 1:05 pm, and six hours later I'm discharged.

To summarize those six hours, I sat, I waited, I had blood taken, had my blood pressure taken a gazillion times (and it actually hurt and left bruises on my freakin arms), I waited, I finally wrangled an ultrasound, and sure enough, my physician friend was right - a ruptured ovarian cyst. Nothing they could do but give me pain pills, which I elected not to accept.

By now I know I'm not going to make the next train and I really don't want to wait another hour to get home. I'm tired, I'm peckish, and my feet hurt since I chose that day to break in new sandals. So instead of heading to Union and waiting forever, I took the subway up to Yorkdale and hooked up with Hubs and friends who were having dinner there.

Despite all the crap of the day it actually worked out quite well, 'cause I didn't have to spend a second with Sludge! By the time we got home they were already in bed and it was blissfully quiet.

Saturday we slept in a bit, but were awakened by a knock at the door. It was DeeDee, saying that Mom had asked her to ask us if Hubs was going to make breakfast.

Whu? I just laughed it off and shrugged...why change now? Yeesh.

Anyhoodle, the day went by rather quickly, all things considered. My sister in law came by to help out and was a huge huge help. She's the freakin energizer bunny - never stops for anything. I guess you could give some credit to the Red Bull. No one can pound one of those bad boys back faster than she can!

UHaul called and told us that the truck was ready early, so we made our way there and before you know it a 14' truck was in our driveway. Leaking oil. But whatever - it was my chariot of freedom...drip away.

So yeah - truck gets here at 3, load it all up, drive over to the new place, interrupt some kids playing with water balloons, unpack the truck, sweat to death, take the truck back. By 6pm. What a freaking fantastic feeling.

As we drove away from their new place I let out a whoop that even I didn't think was in me. Seriously - window shattering. Good thing ours were rolled down!

By 7 that night Hubs and I were all showered and clean, the pizza had been ordered, and Juno was popped into our DVD player.

Yes, despite the drama of the week, at that very moment I was actually mentally okay, ready to sit down and watch Juno for the very first time. We liked it - lots of laughs - but Hubs kept looking at me to see how I was doing, especially during the ultrasound scenes. But I managed...I mustered through.

Despite our intentions to run around the house naked and make out in every room we were both plum tuckered and headed to bed rather early that night.

Fret not...Sunday morning did not disappoint.

How blissful it was to sleep in without anyone knocking at the door and demanding food.

We still managed to get up in decent time and decided to treat ourselves with some breaky at Denny's and a flick. We are fortunate that our local movieplex only charges $6 for movies before noon on weekends, so we decided to take in Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Good times - great flick! Laughed out loud a thousand times - highly recommend it.

The remainder of Sunday was spent doing small errands and just enjoying our home back to ourselves and the beautiful weather. We had a bbq for dinner and I extra splurged with a cooler or two to wash down my burgers.

Bring on spring. What a fantastic weekend.

Today was crazy busy. I leave for a business trip to Vancouver on Wednesday morning but will be staying near the airport tomorrow night since I leave so early, thus requiring me to pack tonight. All plans to head to the gym flew out the window thanks to just too much to do. Blech. Oh well...I'll hit the gym again when I get home.

So there ya go! I survived. I made it. Our home is intact and relatively free of damage. It's like a giant mental weight has been lifted from inside these four walls...you actually FEEL a difference.

And I couldn't imagine a more welcome feeling. Dats right - my house, bitch. See ya!

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

The times, they are a changin'

***weird. I wrote this Thursday night, clicked 'publish post' and everything, but it never showed up...so here it is, better late than never I suppose!***

Well well well. Despite having to be around her almost the entire day, today wasn't too bad.

I'm kinda shocked. I feel like I should be knocking on wood or something, but here we are.

The day started off kinda awkward. She came downstairs shortly after I'd completed the morning's post, and we didn't really know what to say to one another. I informed her that I was heading out to pick up a few things for dinner, and just as I was getting ready to walk out the door, she said she'd walk with me, 'cause she was heading to WalMart to check on her job application status anyway.

Lucky me!

So I said fine, let's go, and off we trundled.

Thank god it's a short walk.

We parted ways at the lights - she on her way to WM and me to Timmy's to get my morning fix. From there I headed to Payless (ah yes, proof of the budget crisis at casa de diva) to procure a much needed pair of brown shoes so I could actually wear more of my wardrobe. I've been subsisting solely on items that work with black shoes for so long now, I decided the $23 investment was one worth making.

This is what's become of my life.

New shoes in hand, I kept on walking to my neighbourhood Superstore, procured the last few ingredients needed, and walked home blissfully alone.

I beat her back to the house, so I cranked open the windows, put on a pair of shorts, and popped Colbie Caillat's CD Coco into the player for my listening pleasure. The diva highly recommends this album, btw. Then I browned the meat for tonight's dinner, popped it and the other ingredients into the slow cooker, and let'er rip.

It was everything a mental health day should be. Fresh air, coffee, sunshine, a walk, good springtime tunes, and even a pair of shoes thrown in for good measure. I grabbed my book and a beverage and even had time to sit on the front porch basking in the sun and reading. Awesome.

I spoke to my sister and suggested we get together at some point, maybe go to the park with her kids since it was so nice out, but she and my nephew weren't feeling great so we decided to hold off a bit. She called later in the afternoon and asked if I still wanted to go out, and since DeeDee was home from school and she LOVES my nephew (and going to the park) we said sure.

The appointed time rolled around and we started putting on our shoes, but Sludge didn't move. She decided she wanted to stay here - she was going to vacuum DeeDees' room since there's cat litter dust all over the carpet thanks to their cat Rosie having to be cooped up in there for the week.

I think she was just terrified of meeting my sister, but who am I to judge? hehe

We got home an hour and a half later and what to my wondering eyes do appear....she'd vacuumed not only DeeDee's room, but the whole house! Except our room of course - she didn't want to go in our room. Fair enough.

My jaw darned near hit the floor when I noticed. Now, it'll pretty much take an act of God to make me not hate her with the firey passion of a thousand white hot suns, but I will say that anyone who vacuums my house is entitled to at least a snap or two.

But no more than two.

She even emptied the dishwasher.

I wondered if I was in the right house.

But then it all came rushing back to me when I went to use the phone and it said Line in Use. Hmmm...no one was actually on the phone though. Sure enough, she somehow found a way to hit the button on the phone, thus engaging our line for god knows how long. Just one more example of being completely clueless when it comes to being mindful of her surroundings.

Not that our phone rings like crazy but still - we did miss at least two calls during whatever time the line was tied up.

Sigh.

I suppose that this is nothing compared to the other crap we've had to put up with this week, but all in all I can't really complain too much.

Which actually scares the hell outta me. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop, ya know?

Well, only two days left to go. We can't get a truck to move her until 3pm on Saturday, but once that's all done...we's home free, baby. But at least it hasn't been as bad as the past few days, and I'll take my small miracles wherever I can find them.

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

The dawning of a new day...

Well, it's Thursday. Only two more sleeps and she's outta here!

Not actually all that much to report from yesterday's festivities. Fortunately I got to spend the evening with some great gal pals who really took my mind off all the crap - and got me out of the house for pretty much the entire evening.

I'm off today - decided to take a much much much needed mental health day. Had a mini breakdown yesterday when I found out, on top of everything else, that my raise, which should have gone through LAST pay cycle, didn't go through again this pay cycle. So yes, I opened my pay stub and bawled in my office.

The straw that broke the camel's back, that's for sure.

So I decided that since it's 20 freakin degrees outside and is going to be cloudy tomorrow and I had no meetings scheduled today I would keep myself away from the office, sleep in and enjoy the sunshine.

Sludge is upstairs and hasn't left her bedroom.

hahahahahahha.

I've had my shower and my bowl of Mini Wheats, and once I'm done this brief entry (but fret not, I'll be back tonight - I'm sure there'll be much more to share after an entire day under the same roof) I'm walking over to the Superstore to pick up the last little things we need for dinner. I can't wait to get outside, enjoy the sunshine, and not be this close to her.

'Cause if I see her and she says anything to me, I swear, I'm gonna snap. I came down this morning and she's upstairs, but three lights are on. Lights that are totally unnecessary thanks to all the sunlight that comes in. And at some point yesterday she must have hit something on our programmable thermostat, because it was set to 73. We usually have it at 68.

Somehow she hit something that changed the setting from heat to cool. We keep our house set to 68 for heating and 73 for cooling...

Since the cooling was engaged, the air conditioner came on. And had been for a while. The same air conditioner that's in our backyard, still covered for the winter.

Yes. Still covered, but running.

I go to bed last night and mention that there's a weird noise...oh, it's the air conditioner. Hubs freaks, jumps out of bed, and says the compressor will explode if the cover is on.

Holy shit.

Not only is she running up all our bills, now she's done something that can blow up our freakin house.

I hate her. Hate hate hate.

Thank diva I commented on the noise and Hubs was able to take the cover off. Geez. I don't even wanna THINK what would have happened if we didn't.

So there ya go. Another little glimpse into the fun that has been this week.

Back later for more! I'm sure you can't wait!

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

A shift in the time/space continuum

Yeah, so I normally post at night before I go to bed. But tonight, I'm just too damned tired. Went out to dinner with 17 girls and had a blast...now I'm just too sleepy to type.

But fret not - I am taking tomorrow off as a much needed mental health day, and after a good night's sleep I'll be back to regale you with all the joy that is the continuing saga of Sludgefest 2008.

Same channel, just different time. Unfortunately, it's the same kinda story though.

Yay me.

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

Adventures in stupidity

Welcome to day three of our continuing coverage of Sludgefest 2008.

We invite you to grab a beverage of choice, sit back and relax. We're about to begin.

So it's Tuesday. Pretty much a good-ish day in a normal-ish week. But there's nothing normal about this week, you say. How right you are...how right.

The festivities at my now-crowded home continue. In some ways, the situation actually has shown some improvement. There was assistance in dinner prep this evening (albeit because Hubs told her exactly what she should be doing, then left to come and fetch me from the train station) and she even helped put some dishes in the machine once it was all said and done. I consider that some progress.

The day started off in a particularly craptastic fashion, however. Hubs had to be somewhere downtown for work at 8:30, which meant that Sludge had to get on the bus and take DeeDee to school. They left when we did so we could drop them at the corner to ensure they were at least headed in the right direction.

As some background, let me first say that public transit is not necessarily a cheap way to get around. But since she has no money and we wanted her out of our house during the day, Hubs caved and gave her money to buy 10 tickets for her to travel the local bus system. She and DeeDee went to pick them up last night but didn't/couldn't buy single child tickets there, so they would have to pay DeeDee's fare on the bus as they boarded this morning.

Okay. Back to the present.

We all pile in the car (cozy!) and as we're approaching the intersection where they will get out, she asks 'well, what about money for DeeDee's fare? It's $1.75 for her.'

I started swearing under my breath and madly grabbed the requisite coins from the cup holder piggy bank to get the poor kid on the fucking bus. Like she doesn't even have $1.75? Seriously?

This makes me especially angry not because it's $1.75, but because last night when I got home, they weren't here...they were at WalMart. They came home with four bags of stuff, all kinds of snacks, etc, THAT THEY PROCEEDED TO TAKE UP TO THEIR INDIVIDUAL ROOMS AND HOARD AWAY SO THAT THEY COULDN'T BE CONSUMED BY HUBS OR I.

Sorry to scream that at you, but it just makes me fucking apoplectic.

She has no money to live, it's here or the streets, she needs to save every penny for her new place and what she'll need to get started, she's eating all our food for breakfast, lunch and dinner, using all our hot water with her 20 minute showers, leaving lights on in her room ALL NIGHT LONG because she's a fucking two year old who's scared of the dark...and she spends her money on snacks and junk food...and doesn't even offer to add her goodies to the communal food pantry. Where she's free to snack as she sees fit.

Worse still, she spends her money on snacks and junk food that she won't share...then doesn't have $1.75 to spend on her kid's bus fare.

Whut the fuck.

And don't even get me started on the fact that she didn't even take their dog out to pee this morning before we left. The poor thing hadn't been out since 8:45pm the night before, and didn't have a chance to go outside until she got back well after 9:30am today. Disgusting. What a vile way to treat an animal. Lazy, selfish bitch.

Rest of the day was interesting. Hubs and I navigating our new (temporary) world. We promised one another that nothing she did would interfere with us, cause us issue, and we slipped a bit today. It sucked. Big time. But I'm happy to report that we've talked it through and are back to good.

As good as we can possibly be under the circumstances.

The best news of all is that DeeDee started at her new school today and things seem to have gone well. She has a new best friend, and I think it's fabulous. She's adapting remarkably well, this poor kid who's gone through so much upheaval. Good on her. Let's hope school life just gets better and better for her.

I'm exhausted. Plum tuckered out. Guess it's time to head up to bed and lock ourselves in our happy isolation chamber...I mean master bedroom. The other two have long since gone to bed. Although they in actuality left us alone hours ago. As soon as dinner was done, Sludge decided she wanted to spend some time with DeeDee so they once again retreated upstairs and away from us to have their special time.

Too bad said special time included spilling nail polish all over the comforter in the guest bedroom. Yep, an entire bottle. Of dark purple/black nail polish. All over my predominantly white comforter. Upon which she subsequently poured an entire bottle of nail polish remover in an attempt to...well...remove the nail polish. To no avail, of course.

So now she's run yet another load of laundry, probably in hot water and with our soap, in an attempt to get the thing clean. Which it won't be. Sigh.

Thanks to her I now have a permanent record of her stay here. I wish she would have just signed the fucking guest book and went on her way.

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




PS HUGE thank you shout out to my fantastic sister in law for sending me flowers at work yet again today. Totally totally totally came at the exact right moment. You rock! Thanks again.

PPS JBJ, I LOVED your prayer for me in yesterday's post. Snaps to you, baby!

PPPS Marlene, I got your blog taggie thing and will endeavour to fulfill my duties next week when Sludgefest has drawn to a close.

PPPPS 420grrrl, you were looking for the nutritional information on the Simple Pleasures...sorry for the delay, here ya go! This is for the chocolate ones:

Nutrition Facts

Per 4 cookies (26g)
Amount	% Daily Value
Calories 140
Fat 5g	8%
Saturated 1 g	5%
+ Trans 0 g
Cholesterol 0 mg
Sodium 140 mg	6%
Carbohydrate 14 g	5%
Fibre 0 g	0%
Sugars 8 g
Protein 2 g
Vitamin A	0%
Vitamin C	0%
Calcium	0%
Iron	4%

Well, you'll never guess what...

Okay.

So I've waited a while to talk about this 'cause I wasn't really sure how much I wanted to put out there, but now...I needs ta vent something fierce.

Let's make a very long story short and say due to circumstances, Sludge and DeeDee are living with Hubs and me for a week.

Under the same roof. Our roof.

For a week.

I'll give you time to re-read those few sentences.

Now some time to let it allllll sink in.

Welcome to the hell that is my life.

I've kept it off the blog for a while because there are so many things that have lead to this moment that don't really need to be discussed here in my little corner of the blogosphere. I could really give two hoots about Sludge, but I've hesitated out of concern for Hubs and DeeDee. But since Hubs has seen how fuckin stressed I've been over the past few days, he's green-lighted me to speak about it, albeit as minimally as possible, here.

It was either here or a shelter for Sludge for this week. DeeDee was a no brainer - she could stay here no problem. Part of me, the nasty part, was of the mind that Sludge had to accept the consequences of her actions - why should I be the one to bail her out for fucking up yet again? Then the not-wanting-to-hurt-my-husbands-child part of me spoke up and asked how would I be able to look DeeDee in the face and tell her her mother had to go to a shelter and couldn't stay in our guest bedroom because I didn't want her to be here?

And you see my dilemma.

The good news is this is temporary. Seven days. Seven long days. I can survive that, right? I've faced more than three years of infertility, all sorts of other drama - seven days should be a piece of cake, especially when those seven days are spent on my turf.

Yeah right. Today is day two and I am in complete and abject hell.

She's not a terrible person. This is what I have to keep telling myself. She's not a terrible person. Say it with me, boys and girls...it'll help, really. She's not a terrible person.

But dear god is she socially inept and just a few sangwiches short of a picnic.

I can't even begin to itemize my litany of complaints. They're small, they're petty, sure...but they're mine. They're how I feel about the whole situation. And try as I might, I can't change them.

My biggest beef? Nothing new to you loyal readers, I've even dedicated an entire post to it months back. What I can't stand is people who refuse to take responsibility for their actions and actually do something to help themselves instead of expecting the world to just do things for them.

'Cause yet again, that's Sludge. Who found her her apartment and made all the arrangements with the landlord and shuttled her everywhere to drop of resumes - that he wrote, typed and printed up? Hubs. Who researched job postings and bus routes and school info and after school programs? Me.

Why? Because if we didn't, they'd be here for a helluva lot longer than a week.

Again I'm torn - part of me wants her to just fucking fend for herself. Find her own place. Find her own job. But the part of me that wants my life back will do anything - ANYTHING - to get her the hell outta here.

And the sad part is, all we're doing is feeding into her fantasy that people will do things for her. But I gotta tell ya - if it gets her out of my guest room sooner, I'll take up that battle later. When she's a safe distance away.

Sigh.

Breathe.

Two days down, five to go. I can do this....I can do this.

Welcome to your ringside seat.

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

Willpower, where art thou?

It's no real secret that I've been trying to get healthier, eat better, exercise more, and lose some weight.

Never really understood that term, lose. Generally when I lose something I want to find it afterwards. Weight? Not so much. Well, not that I want to find it, that is. But man oh man, it seems to have no trouble finding me and negating it's lost status.

I've lost and gained and lost and gained and gained and maybe lost a bit more for at least 25 years. Over the past year and a bit, I have managed to lose 27 pounds and keep it off.

Everything after that is a fucking struggle.

And it's not like I have a little bit of weight to lose. Quite the contrary. I won't go into specifics here and now 'cause a diva never actually gets that deep into the numbers, but suffice it to say that in order to get to a more healthy body weight, I need to shed over 100 pounds.

Crikey.

Whenever I think about losing precise amounts I always enjoy comparing them to real life objects. 10 pound bags of potatoes, 1 pound blocks of butter, that kinda stuff. My fave movie comparison can be found in the otherwise craptastic film America's Sweethearts, starring Julia Roberts. She is, of course, the newly pretty sister of Catherine Zeta Jones. When someone comments on her new physique, she says yes, I've lost 60 pounds. The response? Holy cow - that's a Backstreet Boy.

Still makes me snicker to this day.

And while I have more than one 60 pound Backstreet Boy to shed myself, I do what I can to take solace in the fact that I don't need to rid myself of the entire band. Nah, I'm more in the one of the Olsen twins realm.

As skinny as they may be, it still doesn't make me feel that much better.

My biggest challenge through all of this has been simple willpower. I want food, all too often I'll just eat it. My current physique therefore must come as no surprise to many then.

The flip side of this coin is that as long as I don't bring crap into the house, I can't consume it while I'm home. Add to this the fact that I'm just too fucking lazy to go to the store to pick up something, and you'd think all would be right with the world.

Alas...I don't do the grocery shopping.

Hubs is fantastic in so many ways, and is always doing little things for me to make me happy. He brings me flowers, makes dinner, calls just to say hello, and will pick up a treat or two for me while he's out. Thereby negating my game plan.

'Cause now the stuff is in the house. And I will consume it. Oh yes, I will.

Sigh.

We had a talk recently and I explained that I love that he wants to do things for me, but maybe instead of buying chocolate, he can pick up my new snacky faves...Simple Pleasures cookies from Dare.

Yummy.

Those Dare people sure are practicing truth in advertising when they say Simple, 'cause there ain't much too them. Plain and simple, but surprisingly satisfying. My two faves are Chocolate and Lemon Social. La di da. Here are two photos for your shopping reference:


I highly recommend them. I love that you get four cookies in a serving...that seems so decadent to me. And the lemon ones are super good when paired with yogurt.

Yes, this is the new regime, ladies and gentleman. I am now excited about pairing my yogurt with other snack foods. Wow. Mark this day on your calendar.

Bottom line, I'm trying to be better. I'm trying to shore up that willpower. I'm hoping that things will improve simply by virtue of the fact that spring seems to have arrived. That my dinners can be made at home on the bbq. That I can get outside and walk more.

Like tonight! We went for a walk after dinner. Who's proud of me? Hells yeah!

Okay, so we walked to Baskin Robins but come on - we walked!

Now before you go getting all disappointed in me, I'll have you know that instead of my traditional faves - peanut butter and chocolate and Rocky Road - I instead went with one of their low fat frozen yogurts. Not a spectacular choice, but still...I did manage to exert even a modicum of willpower, and these days I'll take my little victories where I find them.

Hmmmm....wonder if my lemon social biscuits go well with frozen yogurt as well....

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

Huh?

No, that's not a quizzical or rhetorical question tossed out into the universe...it's a nod to the fact that I have to go and have my hearing tested tomorrow morning.

Yee haw, bring on Wednesday!

To add to my lovely myriad of weird and wacky health things happening to me, for the longest time I've had trouble with my ears. I get dizzy at times, have a rushing/whoosing sensation at other times, feelings of pressure, and there's a certain exit ramp from the DVP that I always have to close my eyes for otherwise I slip into a massive dizzy fit.

Fret not - I only do that when I'm not driving.

So I finally decided it was time to get them checked out after our trip to Cuba. On our swimming with the dolphins extravaganza, I jumped into the ocean from a platform and as soon as my ears hit the water I thought my head was going to explode.

Now, before you ask, I'm a very good swimmer, very used to water. And despite my more than robust physique, I actually used to be a competitive swimmer.

Stop laughing.

I mean it, stop it. That's not nice.

Anyway, that experience made me realize just how reluctant I am to actually get my ears wet when I swim. I'll do almost anything to avoid putting my head underwater, just so I don't have to deal with the consequences (aka the frenetic canine-esque head shake as I try to set the water free from the prison that is my ear canal).

I wondered if I was one of those people with a hideous wax build-up, a virtual candle factory lurking inside my head despite my somewhat obsessive Q-tip routine. I thought I might go and grab myself one of those ear cleaning kits where you put liquid in there and suction it out with a freaky blue balloon thing.

Then I remembered that liquid and my ear is not a good combination, and decided to leave these important things to the professionals.

So off to my doctor I trotted.

Turns out there are no big, bad, ear wax deposits. Goodie for me. My aural hygiene has paid off. Tee hee. My ear drum looks good, and basically my doctor couldn't really see any reason for why I might be having all of these issues. So she did what any overworked, inner-city GP would do...

...she referred me away to someone else.

So now I have a hearing test tomorrow morning. Not really sure what that's going to accomplish, unless they try to gauge the volume of this ringing sensation I've become all too familiar with.

Meh. I guess time shall tell.

In the interim, I've loaded some new songs onto my old iPod so I can finally put it back into rotation. I'm so sick and tired of all the inane conversations on the GO train that I'm in need of some major sensory distraction.

Pfft. Who needs a hearing test? Every morning on public transit tests my ears, and unfortunately I can hear all their mundane crap just fine.

Guess we'll let the experts have the final ruling though.

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

Mommy, how come drama tastes so good?

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times - I am a 100% factory certified drama whore (queen, whore, close enough. Sad, google images had nothing suitable for me when searching drama whore).

Yep, I loves me some good drama. I think it's hardwired into my DNA, in fact. I have an over-expression of the drama gene.

And it suits me just fine.

Now of course I should clarify - this drama of which I speak, I much prefer when it doesn't actually directly involve me or, if it does, it has no real detrimental effect on my every day life. I don't consider having to put Pekoe down as drama, for example. That was downright heartbreaking.

No, the drama I refer to is a good old fashioned girl fight. Being the electronic age, it's now easier than ever to virtually bitchslap some bad ass bitch from the rival high school in record time - and with a crowd of thousands backing you up. Sure, you don't get that oh-so-pleasant sting in the hand that comes from doling out a good smack, but the back and forths and the freaking out by the holier-than-thou's gets my heart pumpin enough to almost qualify as cardio.

The internet is a vast place. Thank you Captain Obvious, you might say, but bear with me. Yeah, so the internet is a vast place, populated by all sorts of folk. MOST of whom have at least a modicum of intelligence/tech savvy (enough to at minimum get them connected to that cyberweb thang). I say most. Just most. Definitely not all.

Some of these people find their way to any of a gazillion message boards/forums/chat rooms whatever you want to call them and suddenly find themselves members of a whole new kind of community.

Some of those people are women.

And some of those women are bitches.

That's right, I said it. There are bitches on the internet - lock your doors and hide your tiaras, they're coming after you next!

Personally, I'm not too concerned about my tiaras going missing. I've managed to find myself a fantastic online community, maybe two, where the women are warm, friendly, welcoming, and chock full o humour. They come from every ethnic background, every education level, every socio-economic status, and from across the country - hell, even beyond. And I can only think of one or two that might come after my tiaras.

But oh the drama that ensues when these thousands of diverse women are thrown together. There are the mean ones who say anything to get a rise, the totally daft ones who, unfortunately for all, can't put a sentence together. Don't forget the passive aggressives, and of course, there's the pink fluff posse - the ones who prefer to be 'nice' in both the style and content of what they put out there. I fully admit I am a card carrying member of the PFP. I think we're getting jackets made...

Anyhoodle, as much as I am some days loathe to admit it, I love the drama that can arise when these forces of nature collide. The ominous thunder that sounds when a know it all gets snippy with a wide eyed innocent. When a passive aggressive misinterprets a rather innocuous musing.

Most days I roll my eyes, carefully select my words (wouldn't want to have to turn in my jacket just after I get it) and chime in on behalf of the party I choose to side with that day.

What's been extremely interesting of late is to watch rival communities attempt to tear each other to shreds. Gone are the days of interfamilial bickering - oh no, we've taken it to the streets now! The Sharks and Jest ain't got nothin on this rumble.

And woe be she who has pledged an allegiance to both sides by claiming dual citizenship! Torn between two lovers, two homes, two totally different groups of women. Forced to defend their presence on one in the other. Sad, really. Truly.

Sigh.

At the end of the day, I'm overjoyed that this drama, as entertaining as it may be on a daily basis, well and truly ends for me when I close my iBook and head up the stairs to cuddle with Hubs and drift off to sleep, safe in the knowledge that my tiaras are safe for yet another night.

And that there's always going to be more to enjoy tomorrow *laugh*. Wink!

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

I take it back...

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I said I was going to write tonight about what not to say to your infertile friend.

I will write the piece, oh yes, I will, just not tonight.

I'm gathering some stories from my fellow "I can't believe I used birth control for all those years just to end up like this" gals and will be using them to fully round out whatever I write. So if you're one of them and you've responded to my requests, thanks so much! I hope to do you some kind of service with whatever it is you've provided me.

And I promise to make the writing better than the abomination that was my last sentence.

Blech.

Other than that, it's been a pretty quiet day/week. I'm stoked as all hell for the weekend to get here, mostly because it's actually supposed to be spring like. How sad is it that I'm actually looking forward to getting outside and picking up those random pieces of garbage or errant recycling that's been buried in the massive banks of snow all these long months?

Yes, I, your diva, am eagerly anticipating the weekend's garbage picking.

What has become of me?

Oh well, at least I keep getting comments on my beautiful new pink bag. That helps keep me balanced.

In other news, I'm going to have lunch with the Minister of Health tomorrow. Well, we'll be in the same room, and lunch will be served...that's close enough, right? Double dog dare me to rub that balding head of his? He's surprisingly diminutive, our fearless man with the health money.

And I hope to get to the gym tomorrow. Oh yeah, big day in diva-land this Thursday.

Before I jet to bed, I want to wish the best of luck to two of my gal pals who will be getting important news tomorrow. Hope all goes well!

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

No fool so far this April

Well, no one tricked me. Thank goodness. I don't think my fragile self could have handled it today.

Instead, I got a lovely bouquet of flowers delivered to my office courtesy of my fabulous sister in law. She had heard about having to put Pekoe down and wanted to cheer me up. So sweet, and very much appreciated.

Had a relatively quiet day otherwise, then met a former colleague for a quick bite, came home and hit the gym. I wasn't sure if I was going to make it or not, but after reading a super inflammatory comment directed towards women with fertility challenges, I decided I needed to get the hell outta dodge and pump some iron.

Hehe...I sound so butch when I say shit like that, eh?

For now I'm just tired and really need to get to sleep. Tomorrow I think I'll write something I've been meaning to put together for a while...the average woman's guide to dealing with a fertility challenged friend. I'm just so sick of all the crap that people can spew (most of them with no malice, I will note) and if I can give even one person the tools they need to not make their friends and/or family members feel like complete crap when dealing with infertility, I'll be more than satisfied.

So watch this space tomorrow for another rant from this reproductively challenged diva!

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