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'?

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 myself...at 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 memory.....now. 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'?

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).

Sigh...is 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'?