Monday, 23 June 2008

In a parallel universe...

3 comments
...I think I'd like to be an agony aunt.

I know that's a completely out there statement and you're probably shaking your head going 'huh?', but it's true.

And I also know that it's more of a British term than a North American one, but it's the best that I can come up with right now. So for those of you who don't know what I mean, allow me to explain.

An agony aunt is the person you write an anonymous letter to asking for advice. You see them in Cosmo and online and in the papers...all over the mainstream media. You read them with glee, happy that whatever's happening to said anonymous person isn't actually happening to you. And you wonder who actually writes these things.

You see, I like to believe that I'm pretty darned good at giving advice.

That's right, I said it.

No evidence other than anecdotal to prove my point, but I like to think that a) I'm a very good listener and b) I have a knack for sussing things out and coming up with potential solutions. Ones that could actually work. Improve a situation. Make you feel better.

And as I'm sure you can surmise, I enjoy writing, the clever turn of a phrase, so I wonder if agony aunt isn't actually the perfect career path not taken for little ole me.

Hmmmm....

I wonder where I'd even start researching openings for this kind of job. I can see my sarcastic self writing a letter to the editor that goes something along the lines of:

Dear Editor,

I've got a good job and a great husband and a nice house and a few kitties but despite all that, something's missing. More than anything, I crave an outlet, an opportunity to help those with seemingly inane queries make it through the day. Are you looking for me? Are you the answer to my mid-career crisis? Please help me figure out how to make my agony aunt dreams come true.

Signed,
(wannabe) Auntie Diva

Unfortunately, I don't think it would fly.

Snap.

It's funny, most of us are actually quite shite at taking our own advice. So when something comes up in my life that requires deep pondering, I often phrase the issue as a letter to a Dear Cosmo type folk for the answering.

Upon second thought, Dear Cosmo is a little out of my age bracket lately. Long gone are the days of my-roommate-macks-on-her-boyfriend-while-I'm-in-the-room-and-they-think-I'm-sleeping,-whatever-shall-I-do? laments. My personal blend of agonies have matured as I have.

Lucky me.

But seriously, sometimes phrasing whatever's got my brain a stewin' in a silly, advice seeking form really does help to put things into perspective.

Now if only I could find a way to translate my little hobby into something that paid the household bills.

THAT would be some super useful advice.

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

Wednesday, 18 June 2008

It just ain't fair

1 comments
Us infertiles of the world are often known to lament that life is not fair. It's not fair that we can't get pregnant when any garden variety crack whore seems to have more than mastered the process. It's not fair that some of our husbands will never be given the gift of fatherhood. It's not fair that our maybe-never-to-be-born children will never know the loving parents that eagerly await their coming into being.

And tonight, I've just faced another example of how it's just not fair that I'm not a fucking mom yet.

Thanks to the relocation of Sludge and DeeDee, Hubs now gets to spend much more time with his daughter. In fact, he sees her every second weekend, every Wednesday night, and every Sunday morning. Talk about your improvements!

This then allows him to take a more active role in her schooling and helping with her homework, something she so sorely needs. As is evidenced by her entire approach to homework, but that's a whole other story.

Tonight she was preparing her line for the play they're doing in French class. Tomorrow. So she jots it down on paper, says it out loud, and I know she has it wrong.

So we go through her line and I ask her if she knows what it means. Not a clue. So I break it down for her, word by word, and gradually she comes to understand it.

Then we start at the beginning of the play since she's never really read it and has no idea what the entire thing is about. She doesn't know what the most common words mean. It's just never stuck. Fortunately, the entire piece is all about repetition, so eventually she comes to recognize words more and more for what they are and that boosts her confidence. But I'm amazed at just how little she knows of what it is she'll be presenting tomorrow.

Once we've dissected every part of the play, we go over her line again. I help her with pronunciation. I break the hard sentence down into five pieces so she can remember them. I give her little devices to help her remember both the sentence and the pronunciation. And when she's got it down pat, I send her off to bed.

And that's when the unfairness of it all hit me yet again. This is one of the reasons I so desperately want a child of my own - to help teach them, to see that sparkle of delight and satisfaction in their eyes when they realize they've gotten something right. That they're learning. To be a part of that process just seems magical even now, and I'm one step removed.

I picture our child sitting at the table, Hubs and I helping with the homework. Fleshing out what they're learning in school with additional information and cool facts. Like we do now with DeeDee.

That's close, but it's not the real deal. As much as I love feeling as though I am having a positive influence on that girl's life, I'm not her mother. She has a mother, one I never can (nor do I want to) replace. So yet again, I feel cheated.

Nothing about infertility is fair. Nothing about glimpsing the potential of what would likely be if you WEREN'T infertile is fair. And it all really pisses me off.

Je suis desolee.

Then again, maybe there's no such thing as fair after all. Lots of people have things that they can claim aren't fair in their lives too.

Pfft. Reminds me of a great line I heard on wb...fair (fare) is something you pay to get on a bus.

Ain't that the truth!

So now it's off to bed where I'll try to slough off my anger at the unfairness of it all. 'Cause tomorrow is indeed another day, and I've got to make sure DeeDee still remembers her line in the morning.

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

Tuesday, 17 June 2008

Oh me aching heed

3 comments
Headaches.

I get them. A lot. Especially these days, when insane weather systems move through hour after hour. Never know what the next few minutes are going to bring. One minute the sun is shining, all is right with the world, my head knows no pain, the next, kablamo! The clouds roll in, the air changes, and my poor brain feels like it's going to explode.

Today was a particularly bad day. Woke up with a pounding between my ears. Never a good way to start the day. I finally broke down and took something for it around 11 am.

I was shocked and chagrined to note that I had failed to replace my trusty Advil Migraine supply in my purse. I'd used the last one at dinner last night to put that headache down, but never did restock. Silly diva.

I was pleasantly surprised to find a sample of Asprin's Expresspack or whatever they're called in my desk drawer. Ah, the benefits of trundling through Union station every day - you're inundated with samples of new and novel products.

So yeah, this Expresspack stuff is the size of a sweetener package that you rip open and dump a pile of granules in your mouth. Interesting concept. Even more interesting is that some genius bonehead decided to make the danged stuff cola flavoured.

Blech.

Cola flavoured or not, it did take the edge off for a bit. But sure enough, a few hours later the pesky pressure returned and I was right back where I started from.

Taking the train home was a boatload of fun. All that din and chatting and silly loud people really did a number on my already beaten brain.

Finally made it home and very first thing I did was reach for the aforementioned trusty Advil migraine. Did the trick about half an hour later, and I was able to function a bit more normally. Had coffee and a chat with a friend, got out of the house - all good things.

And here we are, just four and a bit hours later, and the freaking headache's back AGAIN! Is there no rest for poor me? I can't, in good conscience, pop another pain reliever. I think at this point the only respite for me is bed.

So now I bid you a fond farewell and ask that you all say a private word or two to Mother Nature to keep the danged flux to a minimum. It sure would be swell to have a prolonged period of static barometric pressure just to get some freakin relief, ya know? That's all I'm askin'!

Hope everyone else is faring well in this crazy pre-summer weather!

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

Monday, 16 June 2008

My PVR hates me

2 comments
It's true.

Not sure what I ever did to it, but all of the sudden it's got a massive hate on for me.

It all started a few weeks ago whilst taping The Bachelorette. I came home halfway through the episode and tried to watch from the beginning then boom - stupid thing froze and rebooted on me.

Huh.

So I waited for it to go through the reboot process, load everything all up again. Figuring that it was a fluke, I tried again.

Boom. Game over.

Well piss me right off.

A week goes by and Monday rolls around again. Once more, I'm forced to watch the show after it's original air time. I pull up my Recorded Shows List, hit select once I've landed on The Bachelorette....and you'll never guess what.

Yep. Won' t play.

Argh. Other shows play fine - what the hell is it about The Bachelorette? Is my PVR possessed with a Deanna Pappas-hating entity!? Just doesn't make any sense to me.

So tonight, here we are at Monday yet again. Hubs and I were out for dinner at my aunt and uncle's place and didn't arrive home until well after 10. This, therefore, means that in order to watch my show, I must brave the PVR once more.

I held the remote in my hand, scared of what might happen. Surely this couldn't happen three weeks in a row.

Surely.

Yeah. It sure can.

I'm just agog. Can't really understand how this is possible. Other shows on the same channel work just fine...how am I supposed to get my fix? I can't even find a slot to time shift it.

Woe is me. Guess I'll actually have to stoop so low as to look for online episodes. Oh the humanity.

In other news, it was an insanely intense, long week last week. We had our anniversary which was lovely, went out to dinner at a new restaurant and had a fantastic meal. It was also bittersweet as our anniversary is Hubs' father's birthday - and this is the first year he hasn't been alive to celebrate. Such mixed emotions for one day.

Wednesday was one of the longest days in ages. Worked an event in the evening that was frustrating from start to finish. And to make matters worse, the finish part didn't come until well after 11pm. Add the hour long commute home, and it was past midnight before I finally got my much needed sleep.

Me. Midnight. School night. Yuck.

Needless to say, 6am Thursday morning came way too early.

The rest of the day was a blur of meetings and other important work-y stuff. Thankfully a late afternoon meeting was cancelled and I was able to flee a bit earlier than expected. So flee I did.

Friday I took a much needed day off. Slept in, took it very easy, played Guitar Hero, then Hubs and I went to see a late afternoon showing of The Happening. I won't ruin it for you if you want to go and see it, but I will caution you to not expect too much. That way it's harder to be disappointed.

Saturday was busy as well. Had a 40th anniversary party from noon to three, then home to prepare for Hubs' family to be at our place for 4pm. Saturday marked the one year anniversary of my father in law's passing, a day that, of course, no one was looking forward to.

We ate a great meal, sat around, laughed, and toasted Jim. As only Hubs' family knows how. Have I mentioned recently how very fortunate I am to have become a member of this fantastic family?

Sunday was Father's Day. The final kick in Hubs' gutt. All that pain in a few short days. Poor guy. Can't have been easy.

But we had DeeDee with us so we made the most of Father's Day, the three of us. She'd made a nice card and brought a present for him, then she and I made a v yummy breakfast. He decided he wanted to go and see the Hulk, so back to the theatre we trudged. I have now seen the Hulk. Lucky me.

And all of the sudden, here we are back at Monday. Things are slowing a bit this week at work which makes me very very happy, and all the things I have to do in the evenings are personal/fun tasks, so I've no room to complain.

Now if only I could convince my PVR to release all of those episodes of The Bachelorette from its finicky clutches...

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

Monday, 9 June 2008

The many why?'s of diva living

6 comments
Hello my lovelies.

So long since we last spoke. So long since I last wrote. I could begin to tell you how ridiculously insane the week was, all the stuff that went on, how crazy work has been, but that's really not all that exciting in the grand scheme of things, eh? So no. Let's not focus on the insanity. Let's just agree that the week was busy and all be happy that I'm back.

I've been compiling this post in my mind for a while now. Every time I see something or hear something that makes me go 'huh?' I add it to my mental list and now happily present said list to you for your reading pleasure.

So.

My why?'s. Are you ready? Okay, let's begin.

Why? number one:
Why do some iPod users think we want to hear their disgusting taste in music?

I mean really! You know who I'm talking about....they're on the bus, the subway, the train, the plane, standing beside you at the stoplight....the idiots who don't understand that the entire purpose of earphones is so that the user alone can hear the music. Argh. Makes me mental, especially when I'm sharing the same audio space and am trying to read! Your techno dance party jams force me to read the same paragraph over and over again. Turn it the fuck down!


Why? number two:
Why hasn't anyone introduced you to a pumice stone?

It's summer. Calendar be damned, it is. It's hot and with the heat come the sandals.

Now, I understand that general foot maintenance is gross. I hate feet. I'm quite happy to pay someone else a tidy sum to take care of them on my behalf every month or so during the dog days of summer, just to minimize my own exposure. But still...that's only once a month, and there are three good weeks of upkeep that are all up to you.

Pumice stone. A few bucks at Shopper's, a few minutes in the shower every few days. Slather on some good lotion and you'll be good to go.

Please. Do these few tiny things. Make your feet better and less disgusting for all who have to view them this summer.


Why? number three:
Why do you think your bra is an accessory?

Gar. Summer. Tank tops. Bra straps. Bra straps way wider than tank top straps. Makes me mental. Not too bad when they're colour coordinated, but hells no, I don't want to be staring at the wee bit of material that keeps your boobies outta play, ya know?

Took me a while to get this one under control myself, mostly because I don't wear a lot of tanks (my upper arms rarely make public appearances). And the fact that given the ample size of my breastesses, the straps have to be rather wide lest they carve deep, bloody welts into my poor shoulders. My solution? I look for a thicker strapped tank. Crisis averted, spectacle no more.



Why? number four:
Why must you test out all of your new phone's ring tones in public?

I can HEAR the groans here. You've had this happen to you, haven't you? Be it public transit, the movie theatre, a restaurant, coffee shop....you've been sitting peacefully and all of the sudden your blissful grande latte tranquility is broken by the 1812 Overture, the Entertainer, Hello Moto, cosmic blips, the list goes on. Do people really think that's quiet? Or not annoying? Pfft.


Why? number five:
Why must you sit on the middle seat on the TTC bench?

Fuck this one pisses me off. Sorry for the profanity, but it does, it really does. So you get on the subway and you see the bench that has three seats on it. All are available. What on earth possesses you to plant your ass on the one in the middle? Greedy much!? Pick a side, pick a damned side! Otherwise everyone's going to go somewhere else and two perfectly good seats go to waste until the train gets too packed to sustain it and someone sits down on either side of you, squishing you right in after all.

Why? So many why?s.

I know there are more. I do. I just can't remember them at the moment. Feel free to share any of yours with me to help jog my proverbial memory. Tell diva what irks you. What makes your blood boil. What, with one mere glance, causes you to fall into a full body shudder.

It feels surprisingly good to get these out. Very cleansing, ya know? Ahhhhh.....I feel better already!

In other news, a few shout outs to do before I flee. First, big huge congrats to CJ and her man on their engagement! So very exciting! Woot woot! And a massive welcome home to our long lost gal Nat. We're just delighted to have you back. Bachelorette next week?

And finally, I likely won't be here to blog again tomorrow night. Hubs and I will be going out to dinner and yadda yadda yadda to celebrate our second wedding anniversary. Hard to believe, but two years ago tomorrow I became Mrs. Hubs and I have loved every moment of our married life.

I'm a very lucky diva, I tell you what. Not really sure what I did to deserve him but I'm very lucky that he tells me every day why he loves me.

Fortunately, that's one why I pretty much never need to ask.

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

Monday, 2 June 2008

Monday mishmash

8 comments
Greetings, diva friends.

It's Monday. I'm not a fan of Mondays, really. Never have been. Just too far away from happy Friday, I say. Poo to Monday.

The good news? It's almost over. And as an added bonus, it was a beautiful day here today.

In attempting to figure out what to write about tonight, I found myself tripping over all sorts of little stuff, but nothing really substantive enough to merit an entire post.

And so I've decided to throw it all into one big Monday mishmash of a post. Are you ready? Here we go!!!!

SATC:
Did you see the movie yet? So many things I'd like to say about it but it's still early so I don't want to spoil it for any of my loyal readers. But I will say this...I loved it. Really did. Maybe it's because I had very little in the way of expectations and was just so happy to see my fab four on the big screen that they could have sat there and read the New York Times and I would have left happy.

Well, okay. Maybe that's exaggerating a bit.

I was delighted to see it with CJ and another friend, Emma, both of whom were at my house for the finale of the series four years ago. It was wonderfully symbolic and a nod to great, enduring, female friendships.


My PVR hates The Bachelorette:
Grrr....it truly is the weirdest thing.

Three weeks running, my PVR won't let me play any recorded episodes of The Bachelorette. It records it, but as soon as I go to play it back, poof. The damned box shuts down and does a total reboot. It's the most bizarre thing I've ever seen. Truly. No other shows, no other times, just this one. WTF is up with that?

Hubs thinks it's because DeAnna bobs her head around like a chicken all the time and it throws off the delicate balance of the PVR. I tell him that's just plain tomfoolery, but at this point, it's as good an explanation as any other.

Weird.


We went for a walk tonight!!
It's beautiful out tonight so we decided not to waste it. We slapped on our shoes after a yummy dinner and hit the road.

Yeah, okay, so we walked to Diary Queen, but we walked! It's not THAT close to our house. But I do suppose that the ice cream more than negates any good work done by the walk.

Sigh.

It's DEFINITELY time to get back to the gym. Willpower, where art thou? Why have you forsaken me?

Double sigh.

Tomorrow night's a big step:
Hubs and I go for our IVF group information session. We learn all about the process and what it means, what it is, what the drugs are, all that delightful stuff. I go for my final test (yet another glucose/fasting test) before we get this process started.

And I'm totally scared shitless.

Honestly, I hate the fact that this is real. That we're actually inching closer and closer to this with every passing day. There's some excitement in this, sure, but the fear is pretty damned strong. Bees could smell it, no question.

It's just been this possibility looming on the horizon, the last fertility chance saloon way, way in the distance. And now? I can see the paint peeling on the freakin building.

And finally...

Three Years Ago Yesterday...
I quit smoking.

Yep, I did. Smoked for 17 years - can you believe that? And now, three down with nary a puff since I quit.

I even amazed myself just now. Snaps to me. Too bad I'd still smoke this very moment if Hubs wouldn't leave me over it. I exaggerate, of course, but still. He'd be right pissed. And there's just way too much going on right now to have him pissed at me, ya know?

So yeah. There you go. So much running around in my crazy head these days. Work is busy too - lots of events and meetings. And oh yeah, our second wedding anniversary is just around the corner to boot.

I had so much fun shopping for Hubs' birthday. What the hell am I going to get him for our anniversary?

Fuck.

Meh. I still have a full week to figure that one out. Must deal with other stuff first.

Yes. Solid plan. V. good plan. Will of course entertain any suggestions loyal readers have for said anniversary gift in the interim.

:)

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

Followers

 

Welcome

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