And now, the exciting conclusion - with pictures!

In my last post (hahaha, I just spelled post like toast) I began telling of weather drama here on the wet-coast. Now, I shall complete the story with full colour pictures!

We here on the southern section of our not so little island feel a little panicky about just below freezing temperatures. Knowing that, imagine how most feel about this:

December 17th.

Not too bad... sort of. Our store ran out of salt on by the second day of snow. Shovels, too. We did manage to get our hand on an emergency shipment (five pallets) of salt on Friday which took a whole hour to go out the doors.

Then, this morning, we woke up to this:

December 21st.

Overnight two and a half inches of snow fell. We were thrilled. Oh, I really ought to qualify that. We, my family and I, were thrilled. Most of the other residents of the Valley were cursing.

I made it easily in to work. First, we have a killer 4X4 and the smarts to use it properly. Second, even if we had no vehicle at all, it takes me all of ten minutes to walk to work. The snow would have to be over three and a half feet before I could use the 'snowed-in' excuse. Sadly, I'm one of the two employees who are in this position. Of the usual Sunday building-centre-roster (eleven worker bees) seven of us made it in. By the end of the day, we were three. Within a few hours two were sent home. The snow was showing no signs of letting up and my Manager was concerned about their return trips home.

December 21st, lunch break.

December 21st, second coffee (two hours after lunch)

By the end of the day, three of us remained. We probably had about a below a hundred customers. The lumber yard stayed locked up all day. I took ten minute coffee breaks and a fifteen minute lunch. I was both cashier and paint department... I felt so popular. I was paged to the phone, to front cash and to paint... all day. One customer told me we should be getting paid double for our double duties... the owner disagreed, lol.

To see more fun pictures of our winter wonderland (complete with -18° C cold... -39° F) see this.

This is for anyone who thinks all of Canada is tundra-land.

Last week I was listening to a weather update on my local radio station.

Announcer: Today there will be periods of cloud with temperatures dropping overnight. Tomorrow's high will reach (pause for dramatic effect) minus one.

For those not familiar with the metric system Minus one Celsius is equivalent to 30 degrees Fahrenheit.

So there you have it. We here on the southern section of our not so little island feel a little panicky about just below freezing temperatures. Knowing that, imagine how most feel about this:

...


.....


...

Well. Um, I was going to post a current picture of our weather drama but it seems our camera-computer cord has gone south for the winter. As soon as I find it I will add the photo documentation.

To laugh or to cry...

Wolf called his Dad to see how his cataract surgery went. Dad was sleeping but Wolf's step-Mother informed him that he came out of the surgery completely blind. Seems the good doctors tore the lens in his good eye but left said lens in place to cause as much pain as possible before ER docs diagnosed the source of the pain and rectified it by taking it out.

He'll have to wait two months until the eye heals enough to have an artificial lens inserted.

What the hell is going on?!!

In other news, i should be taking Kitten and her friend to the movie store so they can pick movies and video games for this evening, her eleventh-birthday party.

Running away now!

I'm so stoned...

I was sent home from work, yesterday. It would seem that my usefulness was deemed non-existent when compared directly to my obvious discomfort. This story begins this past Friday...

*cue flashback sequence*

I was closing the paint department on my own. The last few hours of the day had been so slow with nary a customer in sight. Deciding to make myself useful, I began down-stocking some stain. Most of this down-stocking was largely unnecessary as our staining season is over but we have no overstock of the paint that people actually want right now and I was bored. I began with a gusto, moving gallons of the stuff from the enclosed storage bay above the sparsely stocked shelves. You might think gallons of paint would be more challenging to move than quarts. You might, but in this case you'd be very, very wrong.

I learned that
(a) the perfect, compact quarts of stain were kept neatly organized in boxes of six
(b) I'm short, even when on a kick-ass ladder;
(c) standing tip-toe, I still sometimes have to work above my head and
(d) these boxes are bloody heavy!

And then my back said, "um, stop. kthxbye." By the end of my quest to cure boredom, I was sore and tired and had only managed to down-stock about 8 quarts.

Oh, I also learned
(e) sleep has the magical ability to make a tweaked back hurt like hell!!!

Saturday, shortly after beginning my shift I was talking to a couple of the women in or near my department about my back tenderness. They talked me into filing with first-aid which I did before returning to the floor. I went home at lunch to dope myself up on Tylenol and Advil so I could finish out my shift in an upright position. That night I loaded up on Robaxacet and slept like a rock.

Sunday was great. I felt no pain but I was aware of the centre of my back. It was distinctly there, you know? Everything was fine until I bent to pick up a receipt. I don't know if I moved too fast or what but by the end of my day I was getting waves of pain that were making it hard to breathe. To make matters worse, I'd taken my last two Robaxacet the night before.

Monday morning I had to use my both hands to get out of bed. I spent the morning gimping around like Gollum and waiting for the next round of pain pills to kick in. They still hadn't by the time I got to work. Hence the sending home.

I went to a clinic early this afternoon and was given a prescription for Flexeril which I can't afford to get filled, and instruction to stick with light duty at work for ten days. No ladders, no lifting. But standing all freaking day is o-tay, which is good because that is my job description.

"Oh, and what do you do for a living?"

I stand...


Good news? Wolf's on meds which have stopped his seizures and passing out. They leave him dead-dog tired but on his feet which is good because he can now take care of me for a couple of days.

:D

Illness, illness everywhere, nor any time to drink...

My phone rang last night just before ten o'clock. I griped, silently, all the way to the kitchen wondering who in their right mind would call at such an hour. I even answered the phone with all of the sleepy voiced drama I could muster.

It was my dearest friend, Lynn*, calling with news about her son.

I'm so sorry I woke you but Cody* is not okay.

What does 'not okay' mean?

He's had a lot of chest pain and he's been passing out lately. He was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect.

Okay, so what does that that mean, break it down for me. Details.

It means that we're lucky he's alive. We're lucky he quit soccer-- the doctors don't know why he's been okay up 'til now. They can operate to fix it but Cody is terrified. He won't do it. He said he'll never do anything for the rest of his life; he'll hang out and not ride his bike and never take the stairs...

There was more conversation but it's all more than I feel needs to be here. Cody is going to be 16 next month.

I'm sending out a request for prayers and/or positive energy ... wherever you find your hope, dig in and send some their way, please.


My own update? Wolf's on a drug which has kept him either sleeping or wanting to be, since Wednesday. His next appt with Doc God is Tuesday and I'm hoping there will be honest account made of the side effects. True, Wolf hasn't passed out since he began this med, but it hasn't been a week yet, and that was his usual time between episodes. If he goes this week without falling down, then maybe they want to reduce the dosage? I don't know.

I'm tired. My brain is off in a million directions and I can't seem to keep a though long enough to get it typed out to completion.

*Names changed, of course, to protect the family's privacy.

The finish line...

We made it! I can hardly believe that it's been a month already and at the same time, I'm looking forward to not having to set my alarm a half hour early, just so I have time to blog.

Over all, NaBloPoMo has taught me a few things.

• I can create a new habit. I can do something every day, without fail, even when it isn't strictly necessary.
• My moods have distinct cycles. Blogging has created a picturesque map of how my moods are directly related to incidents and quality sleep.
• I love writing so much that I'm looking at book writing as a fun thing to do!
• There are people out there who like to read what I write! Me! I never would have thought it possible.
• There are also a lot of people who write stuff that I want to read!
• I'm not so strange. I'm not alone.

I'm pretty sure I could go on... for hours, but I slept through my half-hour-early and have to get ready for work.

Thank you so much for stopping by during this month to read and to comment. Your presence has bee invaluable and I want you to know that I appreciate it so very much. (Gee, I don't usually make a speech like that without a drink in one hand and a rose from the wandering, bar flower-guy in the other! Are you familiar with the ones to which I refer?)

So, rest good internets. Enjoy the peace, the passing of NaBloPoMo '08. Congrats to all of you who made it and also to all who tried.

Have a good morning, and in case I don't see you, good afternoon, good evening and good night!
(Jim Carey - The Truman Show)

What I want and why I (tell myself) I can't have it, followed by the reason my reason is stupid...

1. I want a more muscular physique.
a) I don't have time.
b) I wake every morning a couple of hours before my family so I can do my computer stuff without neglecting anyone.

2. I want to get a handle on my depression.
a) It is a mental disorder that I have no control over.
b) Spending hours online when I could be living makes me blue.

3. I want to be a better mom and wife.
a) I'm so tired when I get home, all I want to do is sit for a while.
b) Sitting 'for a while' doesn't constitute hours on facebook, getting annoyed when I'm interrupted. There's no reason I can't sit for a while on the couch with my daughter and husband while we talk about our discoveries of the day.

4. I want to go back to school, take a few courses.
a) I don't want to graduate from the institution with a huge debt hanging over my head.
b) Yeah, and living from paycheque to paycheque is a barrel of monkeys. Going into debt over the electric bill, with no hope of improvement is so much better than a student loan (and the potential job that will help pay it off).



Okay, I'm kind of stuck there. My shoulder hurts and I want to get ready for my day.
(can you believe it's been almost a month?!!)

Wishing you, yes you, a fantabulous day!

Pee-ess: I don't think I made a note yesterday or the day before so I will now. Wolf passed out twice on Thursday and once yesterday. it would seem to me that things are continuing to escalate. What else are you "almost positive" about, Doctor God?!

And so I decree...

I've decided to write a book.

So there!

It's been percolating for about a week and I've just put the first few sentences onto virtual paper.

It's funny. I never would have begun a venture like this six months ago. Not having a whole lot of faith in what I can do (read: I'm a perfectionist so nothing I do is quite good enough) I would have let this fall by the wayside like so many other things. A quick change in thought process - I can psycho babble my way through anything, even with myself - and I'm good to go. See, I told myself that,, just because I'm writing it, doesn't mean I ever have to look for a publisher. Reverse self-psychology!!

God I rock...

This is a sorry excuse for a post...

This entry marks my sixtieth post in this blog. That's kind of neat.

This entry is gonna suck, just to let you know. Wolf passed out twice today which is worse than 'usual' but he didn't seize which is better than the past two or three episodes.

I've begun another work week, whee.

Tomorrow is payday, (a more heartfelt) whee.

Three more days. Then NaBloPoMo is over. One less stressor.

And now I must go see if the glowing 'check gauge' light really means business. Will the truck make it to the store and back? Dun-duuuunnn (the suspense is killing me).

A demain...

Technological advancement, my icy cold ass...

Is it just me or does this happen to everyone who has tremendous disorganizational skills and a habit of misplaced confidence, self or otherwise?

Here’s the situation. I decided, toward the end of my last weekend, that I would use this weekend to find all my drawings, scan them to my laptop, fix up whatever might need it and upload the lot of it to deviantArt. Well, this weekend is here and, of course, I waited until almost one o’clock to get started. Piece o’cake, I’m thinking.

Now, I’ve known me all my life which should be plenty of time to learn that any time I’m sure something will work, it won’t. Not easily, anyway.

Into the longroom* I go. That's where our desk top PC and printer/scanner resides. First and foremost, it’s absolutely freezing in there. We have electric heat and no money so unnecessary** rooms go without both. Second, the mouse is neither hooked up to the computer, nor is it in the same room for that matter. It’s a good thing I’m a whizz with keyboard shortcuts. Then it occurs to me that I really don’t want to sit in an icy room, keyboarding my way through various programs and why don’t I just hook up the all-in-one to my laptop? After all, I downloaded the printer drivers last month! Off goes the PC, which takes 10 minutes as it’s a dinosaur, and in comes my laptop for scanner hook up.

Back to drivers. Yes, printer drivers. My laptop recognizes the Lexmark printer (and fax, for some odd reason) but not the scanner. Not in my program menu, not anywhere. After spending 20 minutes looking for the correct download, online, my toes are numb and my hands hurt.

I go get the mouse.

It is now 3:05 pm and I’m praying. I‘m praying that the CD-RW in our PC will work for me just one more time. I have to be able to get the pictures off the ancient beast and onto my laptop. I’m praying that the disk with the pictures will be readable by my laptop.

* * * * * * * * *

Flash forward. After scanning all of my drawings, I attempted to burn the jpegs to disk. The disk went in and was read by the by the writer. The file folder containing the images dragged-and-dropped beautifully, but do you think the writer would write? No, it wouldn't. Well, it just so happens I have two MSN messenger (ooh, I must be old if I'm still calling it by that name) profiles. I signed in on each computer using the two aliases and sent all the pictures to myself. All 40 of them. One at a time.

The whole thing took just under an hour, by which time my hands were stiff, my toes were numb and my nose had a nasty case of winter-drip. I shut down the dinosaur with the same satisfaction one might feel when ridding the house of a destructive rat .

Then it happened. I realized that I had missed one drawing(my best piece, in my opinion) and became somewhat demonstrative in my frustration. Hearing my uproar, Wolf entered the room with concern and caution his in every movement. After I explained the situation, he smiled with relief and said, "Here, leave it with me. I'll hook up my lapto... Oh baby. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"What...?" It came out of my mouth, less as a question than a threat.

"Open your search - here..." at which point he showed me - on my laptop which was perched on one arm while I held in my other hand the file folder filled with my drawings. It would appear that typing 'scanners' into the search field (Vista) while connected to the scanner would have opened the magic and invisible door that divides the two pieces of hardware.

Hmm.

Imagine that.

Thankfully I was way too cold to be really miffed. I said 'thank you' and 'I know it for next time' and 'no, it's perfectly okay.'

So, I still don't have that last piece scanned but I did manage to get a few things uploaded, categorized and tagged, over at deviantArt. Nothing is 'sale-worthy' in my opinion, until I can correct the 'black=blue' language of my sensorily challenged scanner. Feel free to have a look anyway. That is what it's there for (as my stomach flips nervously).

Have I mentioned that I rarely show my art to my family, let alone the good people of the limitless interweb? Be gentle but please, please be honest. If I'm to make a go of this, I need honest reviews.

*Longroom: the 15X25’ room on the end of our house. It was supposed to be the studio/craft/sewing room but has become cold storage.

**The room had been made somewhat obsolete with the arrival of our laptops, last year.

Just a quickie...

I'm whipping off this short, sweet post simply to say "Hi, it's still NaBloPoMo. If I don't throw something up here right now, I may just forget to do it later and that would suck because we are too close to the end to fail now!" I got lost in the interwebs again, eating up my art-finding-and-scanning time. In my aimless and distracted wanderings I found something that made it all worth while.

Read this. (Sidebar Content Warning: Rated PG13 )


Are you there? Can you see it, hear it, feel it? Amazing.

Off and running. If I don't post again let me say now that I hope you have a fantastic day!

Survival...

It turns out that the difference between a lousy day and a good one can be co-workers. My first and second days in paint were spent with a couple of co-workers, neither of them teacher-types. Now, in all fairness, my supervisor is up to her ears in flooring stuff as we just lost one of our two flooring staff but her method if teaching doesn't fit well with my method of learning. Her sage words of advice can be summed up thus: "Take some time to walk around the dept reading labels. That's how I learned." And then, she left for the flooring dept.

...

The other staff person, also not teacher material, is quite quiet. She speaks only if necessary and, even then, comes across as having little confidence in what she's saying. I would get tiny snippets of 'how-to' and 'where.' I'm a touch dynamic by nature and neither of these ways of learning were even close to active enough for my brain.

I spent the day making sure the prices in our computers matched up with the bin label and sticker prices. I made sure that products were lined up with their correct shelf labels. I tinted a couple of gallons of paint... I did learn, but had no idea how much. I needed to be able to ask questions. I needed to learn more, not wander aimlessly, practising what I already knew. The days were long and I felt totally useless.

On day three my salvation walked in. In this case, it took the form of a down to earth, vibrant transplant from the UK. He's just as energetic of mind as am I. He welcomes me as I follow him around, learning from his dealings with customers. He showed me where we keep the overstock!!! Well, most of it. He gave me reasons why certain products were necessary, why the steadfast priming rules don't always apply and how to decided when to overlook them, and broke down the properties of specific products so it all made sense. I need the 'why,' not just the 'use.'

In that third shift I learned more than I had the two before. We even had plenty of head space to discuss spirituality, our 'past lives' and how we've become who we are, politics... It was so very awesome.

And this all brings us to my three-hours-by-myself-in-the-paint-dept-with-only-three-and-a-half-days-worth-of-experience shift, heh.

I won't lie. I was scared out of my mind. All my usual crutches (read: staff members who continuously bail my ass out when I have no idea the answer to a customer question) were gone and I knew I was likely facing three hours without a break. I've gotten kind of used to having a breather ever two hours. In fact, I have relied on it!

Well, I did it. I was overwhelmed a time or two and I made decisions and moved forward - without help. It was painfully quiet so I had quality time with the customers who did come in. I worked it out. When I couldn't work it out, I used the phone numbers that were left for me. I was calm. I tinted five gallons and two quarts of paint, helped a couple with their stain/varnish issue, found the right product for use with polystyrene... It was amazing.

And, suddenly, I quite love my job. I mean, to the point where I've decided to work part time even if my percolating ideas come to fruition.

I always find it amusing when my whole outlook changes,pendulum-like, in less than 12 hours.

A change of plan...

I was going to blog about my alone-time-at-work shift. I was going to do it tonight. I've decided that I'm going to write about it in the morning and watch Heroes right now!

Check in with you tomorrow...

Things I saw, heard or otherwise experienced at work yesterday...

I saw my new co-worker spend half an hour making two tins of paint look like two paint chips, by eye and with the the wrong base paint (need this last part to make more sense? Let me know and I'll explain), all at the customers behest.

I was asked what my interest was in the paint dept as I couldn't be pictured to (ever) have had a paint brush in hand. When I replied, citing my year of experience painting in a new-home construction setting, I was asked "was that before or after modelling paint products."

I saw a shrink-wrapped yard-man trying to look nonchalant when I unexpectedly interrupted their fun-time.

I had a brilliant discussion on spirituality and personal growth.

I said "SILENCE! I kill you!" into a speaker phone during business hours.

I helped a few people, by.my.self!!!, and learned so much more!

So, I will concede that this is not the job from hell, therefore I will not kill myself just yet. I will update after this coming shift, wherein I will spend the last 3 hours of the day completely alone in my department, armed only with far-too-little-knowledge and a list of phone numbers that I can call "If (I) need anything at all..."

Percolation...

My new department shuffle has brought with it professionally inept scheduling. This has given me a fair measure of concern as, today, I am supposed to be in two places at once. Last night I was trying to work it all out. Kitten had said she'd read in bed until I arrived to tuck her in. After a half hour or so, while I was still absorbed in trying to decide my course of action, I heard a knock at my door. It was Kitten, coming to say goodnight. She was falling asleep and was tired of waiting. We did out night-nights right there beside my bed and she headed back to her room, a touch hang-dog.

When I left my room a few moments later, she met me in the bathroom, trying to hide her face. I asked her what was wrong, to which she replied, "nothing," like a good little member of my family. Now, I'm trying to break the cycle of poor communication so I said, "Okay," and began to walk away. She cut in, then, and poured her heart out.

She needs the connection of being tucked in at night. She is so sad that I no longer have early days. She says that it doesn't feel like home now that I'm not here. I added that I hardly feel like I belong as my role has changed so much and I can't be that which I desperately want.

We talked and talked. We cried and hugged.

I have a plan...

Be careful what you wish for...

I'm bloody impossible to please!

I've been in the paint dept for all of two days and I don't want to be there anymore. It might have something to do with the lack of experience in selling people stuff. It just may be related to knowing that I'm spending the last three hours of my shift, tomorrow, alone. I might be effected by my sudden lack of early days.

Oh hell. Someday I'll figure it out.

Not the most graceful transiton.

I applied at my place of employment with the hope of working in the paint department. The thing is, they needed cashiers and I needed a job. I told them I was flexible. Silly me. They had me behind a till within 48 hours of receiving my resume and that is where I remained for the next two months. Early last week, my zone manager stopped me as I was heading out for a break.

ZM: "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you have some paint experience, don't you?"

I held my smart tongue (neglecting to point out that my most recent job experience, right there on my resume which she has in her office, was as a professional painter) and simply answered in the affirmative.

ZM: "You have experience tinting paint." She stated this, her voice and demeanour both unsure.

Me: "No. I have experience prepping, sealing/priming and painting/staining most surfaces. I have experience with the clean-up of a myriad of paint/stain products."

ZM: "Are you interested in learning how to tint?"

Me: "Very interested!" I have to work on my poker face.

At that point, she walked away with nothing more than a "Hmm." Such is her way. Such is the way of the whole freakin' company!! But that's not the point of this telling.

Yesterday, as I looked at our front-end break schedule, I noticed that I had a half-hour in the paint dept, immediately before our Yard Tour. The paint training was great! The yard tour never happened. But that's more of the 'not this telling' stuff. The paint training let me know that I was beginning the transition, even if no one else deemed in necessary to tell me.

Last night, I went to sleep at about 10:30. It was a late bedtime for my scheduled 6:30 am start today but Supernatural was on. You' know how it is? I knew something was wrong before I awoke. I was dreaming about working, typing a list of numbers into the computer. I was feeling really ill and it was messing with my concentration. As the feeling passed, the dream would fade to black, only to return a bit later. Typing. Feeling sick. Mixing up the numbers. Fade out. That cycle continued until, during a semi-lucid moment, my consciousness clicked and I woke fully. Sure enough, I had to camp out in the bathroom for a while. I don't know what it was but I threw up. I never throw up! I guzzled water to aid in my body's betrayal. I took my temperature, twice, but had no fever. What the hell!? And then I went back to bed.

Today, I got up when my alarm went off and dragged my feet through my morning routine, leaving a few things out due to sheer exhaustion. My belly felt okay enough but I was really weak and shaky. I couldn't risk eating anything as I can't afford to miss a day of work. I did, however, drink a few sips of coffee - maybe a quarter mug.

Opening cash means pushing open the automatic, sliding doors, walking to the back of the store, climbing 21 steps to the staff room, swiping in, descending the same 21 steps back to the main floor, trudging back to the front doors but turning to the management office stairs. Up 21 more stairs (but these ones have a landing!) to get to the safe-room.

I was cashing in the first of two tills and my co-opener (and good friend Bou) cashed in the first of her two, when a third cashier (SM) walked in. Bou and I both asked SM why she was there, the answer to which was "to open." And then it hit me.

I left Bou and SM to their open and went to seek out the paint dept schedule. It turns out that I wasn't scheduled to begin shift until 9 am. In fact, I was there and punched in a half hour before my new team lead arrived.

Let me just tell you how much I heart my new team lead. She told it was perfectly alright if I continued my shift as I though it was scheduled. She was awesome about my lack of vigor and didn't once ask me if I had to go home. It's nice to work with another grown up. I was out of there at three, which was wonderful because I don't think I'd have made it to 5:30, and in the time I was there I tinted several gallons and one pint of paint. I learned how to change formula for tinting a 20L pail so it works in a one gallon tin (and vice versa). All in all a productive day considering the productive night before.

Let me tell you, also, that I now have 3.5 days per week in the paint dept. I have both pertinent schedules and I can no longer keep my horrible dyslexia under control... someday I'm going to type out an entry without touching the backspace key. That'll be funny... kind of.

Oh Lord, please let me sleep, tonight!

Comments and memories.

I have a new favourite thing to do. Whether it's upon waking or when I return from work, I love checking my e-mail. Why? Because there's novelty, again. I get comments! Real comments! And that is totally awesome!


1991.

I'm sitting in the cafe. I always sit in the cafe. My one year old daughter is in her stroller, eating french fries and making a mess with of the ketchup while I drink my 7th cup of coffee and watch the family across the aisle. The Father Figure (who's name I no longer remember) is having a rousing game of toss-the-stuffy-into-the-ceiling-fan. Sometimes the teddy-cat makes it between the fan blades and falls back to the floor, but when it catches, we all watch with amusement and anticipation. By 'we all' I mean we 'adults.' The babies have no interest in his little game.

It gets tired pretty fast and I look away, bored. Not even a full five seconds later, the cat nails my table, knocking my coffee over. Thankfully, my open cigarette pack was there to catch most of the spillage. I pick said package up, looking over at Father Figure (I want to call him Koby?) and I pour tablespoon of liquid out of it, onto the table. He's howling. Laughing so hard his face is red. I set out the coffee soaked cigarettes hoping they'll dry and as I do so, FF says, "Think of it this way. I just saved you 15 minutes! Now you can have your coffee and cigarette all at the same time."

For the record, so not a tasty combination.

This trip down memory lane was triggered by Wolf, handing me back a cig which he's held with buttery fingers. MMmmm. Greasy smoke. The ultimate in decadence.

EARTHQUAKE! .... ... No - wait... it's just the spin cycle.

Not one to point out the issues in my surroundings (HA!) but if our washer isn't perfectly balanced, the whole house shakes. Now I'm not talking a little vibration, here. I mean that everything, from one end of the house to the other, rattles. Mirrors, bookcases, dishes - you name it, it's-a-shakin'!

In other news, I have just had the single least productive (for me) weekend since I decided to use my days off, rather than lose myself in facebook for two days. I had my mind set on completing a few tasks. Of course, as I grump about wasting my time, I've come up with several other things that I would love to have accomplished. Maybe it's time to make a list. I've proven to myself that I am a remarkable forgetter so it makes sense that a list is the best, next-step.

So, here's my list.

Things to do on Tuesday and Wednesday:

1. Clean the truck, interior.

2. Gather and sort art work.

• decided what is being posted, where.
• complete incomplete pieces
• upload drawings to deviantArt and/or Zazzle

3. Practice increases and decreases, knitting.

4. Check out Etsy

5. Snuggle and read with my girl... I miss her.

6. Continue with the de-fleaing process (friggin' cat)(friggin' me, for not wanting to go all chemical on her ass)

I'm sure I'll think of more things before next week but for now this'll do nicely.


Tomorrow, I'm finally getting the bit of training that I've been requesting for the past month. They have scheduled me (and another cashier) for a two hour walkabout in the lumber yard. Now, I've already figured out most of the stuff that comes out of the yard, but it will be nice to be able to direct inquiring customers to what they want, rather than to someone who can answer better than I. That's getting a bit tired in my opinion. Yes, if it bugged me that much, I could have gone in (on my days off) to walk around, find stuff and ask the yard guys about the things I was unsure of. I could have... I understand and live by a certain level of proactive behaviour. I mean, within my first month of this job I had management letting me know that I was already 'right up there' with the senior cashiers. I've heard nothing but kudos on my job performance. It's called work-ethic, and I have it. However, I am not paid nearly enough nor treated well enough to want to be there without seeing the results on my paycheque (ha, that word looks so funny. I love Canadian English).

And on all of these notes, I am off to vacuum Kitten's room and wash her bedding and bathe the cat (hehehe). I think I'll clip the wee demon's claws before I toss her into the tub.

Finally growing up…

I grew up with the label “Wise beyond her Years.” I was a very observant child and because of that a lot of my knowledge seemed instinctive and rather like common sense. Whether it was relationships or life in general, it all just made sense to me.

I should qualify all this by saying that I was a font of sage advice but I was really lousy about using that knowledge in my own life. In fact, I made all the wrong decisions when it came to my own path. I dropped out of school. I had every intention of getting pregnant at sixteen and succeeded, brilliantly. I dated abusive losers and ‘dealt’ with it using alcohol. I grew into a career welfare-mom - which, for the record, I have no prejudice or bias against, but it was a cop- out for me. I didn’t choose stay-at-home mom-hood because that’s what I really wanted to be. I chose it because I was too afraid to try anything else.

Any time I have stepped outside of my comfort zone, I’ve let my anxiety eat at me until my only option was ‘disability.’ If wallowing were an Olympic sport, I’d have a trophy room full of gold medals. Never have I pushed through the intense ‘I don’t want to…’ until this past September. I think the difference this time was that I didn’t have a choice. There was no bail-out, no crutch, no magical way back to quasi-safety. My family was vulnerable and I was their salvation.

Transition is never easy. At first, I thought I was dying and then, when I didn’t die, I wished I would. I spent a few weeks there, in that hellish place. During that time, even when I had good weeks my days off were stressed by thoughts of having to go ‘back to that place.’ And then, without really noticing, I was okay. Not only that but my life was changing in ways I hadn’t even imagined.

Flip to today. I spent my morning getting Kitten to her swim lesson (it’s a 13-26 minute drive, depending on highway traffic) by 11, and subsequently chatting it up with home-schooling Moms until noon. Wolf was up sick most of the night so it was just me, today. At the lesson’s end, Kitten took her requisite 15 minutes to change out of her swim gear Then we drove 20 minutes back home to eat lunch and pick up Wolf so we could head back into town to do a “whack of running around” that he needed to get done.

During this time I had my first of two epiphanies. We had been walking for about two and a half hours when Wolf asked me if I was okay with being out all day. I replied that I was no longer thinking of my Tuesday/Wednesday weekend as ‘days off.’ After all, life doesn’t stop so it makes more sense to think of it as ‘days not at work.’ Wolf commended me on the overall mental health in that statement and I’ve been repeating it to myself ever since, hoping that I will feel better about it the more it reverberates through my head.

A couple of hours later we were eating dinner. Wolf had shovelled a forkful of piping hot food into his mouth. When he exhaled trying to cool his mouth, he shot steam worthy of a dragon from his lips. We all laughed and I tried to do the same thing but my food had cooled too much. I said, “If that had worked for me, this place would be way too cold.” That is the moment the second revelation hit. I realized that it wasn’t too cold in our house. That was the first time I had ever had that thought during winter months.

We do keep our house cool, about 15C - that’s 59F if you’re Imperial. This year, due to unforeseen growth, I have taken to wearing weather appropriate clothing. This means no more shorts and tank tops, even in the house. I wear slippers, with or without socks. It’s the wildest thing.

So, throughout this growth phase of mine, I somehow moved beyond a sense of entitlement I didn’t even know I had. Will the wonders ever cease?!

The anticipation is killing me... not really.

Okay, I know it's late for a post but I've had one of the busiest 'off' days, ever. I am working on another 'history' post and have a little bit in a word document but dinner is ready and House is on.

More later...

Thank God It's... Monday?!

What a magnificent day. Of course, my 'Fridays' usually are. Everything seems lighter and I bounce through the day, knowing I have but one shift left before my weekend begins. This Friday in particular was extra special, though. Not only did many children come through the store but I also got to help a lovely senior lady who left me with a smile that lasted the full hour I had remaining in my work day.

Now, I do have a slight damper on my perfect day. When Wolf arrived to collect me after work, he was wearing sunglasses and he seemed irritated. When I commented on his mood, he told me he wasn't edgy, he was sore. He passed out again this morning. He was feeling dizzy and had tried to make it to the kitchen where he could sit down at the table. "I didn't make it," he said. I guess he got halfway there but woke up in front of the closed spare room door with a very sore face. He couldn't help but crack a sheepish grin as he explained. Makes me wish I'd never fixed the latch on that door.

We made it home with no incidents and upon checking my email, lo and behold, I have readers. Two of them! That, in my opinion, is pretty darned cool. Thanks to you both, BeeDancer and Tracy!

And on that note, something occurred to me regarding the topic of my last post. Maybe, just maybe I could bring a bit of myself to this blog!?! It wouldn't be all that hard a task and it might just be a good thing. It's something to think about, if nothing else, although i can already feel me creeping in.

And like everything else, all I can really do is wait and see. Want to wait with me?

Realizations.

We're halfway through NaBloPoMo and I have a bit of a problem. I don't want to do this anymore. Not just for the sake of writing... well, crap, really. I've looked back through the entries here and compared them with my Cheers blog (where everybody knows my naaaame...) and the quality of writing is so very different.

I created this blog with the purpose of starting over. I wanted to have a place where no-one knew me and where my old emotional crap couldn't find me. As a result, I'm not really here. The words in these entries are straight forward, calm and without any style whatsoever. Trust me, the stuff I've written this month is garbage.

Now, I'm going to finish the NaBloPoMo challenge. It's who I am. I'm one of those, "If you can, do!" people. This is hardly a challenge for me, to come here everyday and write something - anything. Writing is one of my favourite things to do. Writing is easy. Writing something worth reading, however, is another thing altogether. So, I will complete the challenge in the same way and for the same reason that I complete every a game of Algerian Patience Solitaire. Because I can.


"What about at the end of this challenge? What are you going to do, then?" you may be asking... oh wait. I have no readership!! No one's asking anything! Ha. Well, that sure takes the pressure off of me. There's no one here to disappoint or say good bye to. Phew!

Well then, I think I'll take that comforting thought with me as I grab a coffee and shower. I've two days left in this work week and I plan on using them as wisely as I possibly can.


Oh yeah, and I slept like crap last night. I'm facing this day on about 4 hours of sleep. I'm actually a touch bummed that it isn't raining. In fact, it's near cloudless and if it stays this way, the store just may be busy.

Sh*t.

Doom and discomfort... or not.

My eyes first opened sometime around 5 am. I remember thinking that I went to bed late...

My eyes next opened sometime in the 7th hour. I remember being surprised that two more hours had passed.

My eyes opened finally at about 8:30. I remember a sense of foreboding, like something was very wrong. Too much time was spent sleeping. This day off is a special gift and I've wasted so much of it. Yeah, I'm pretty much over that, now. I slept. It feels good. So be it.

On a completely unrelated note... Last night while I faux-swiffered my bedroom floor, I must have jostled my bedside table because my tongue stud, which I had removed due to discomfort, rolled onto the floor, jarring Micky Mouse loose from his stainless steel bassinet.

Gotta go help with the learnin!

And the times, they are a'changin...

You know what I love most about working? Punching out and leaving the store.

You know what I love most about my Hubby being home during the day? Being greeted after work with a big smile and a homemade, gluten free croissant!

You know what I hate most about working? When my daughter says things like, "Y'know what Mom? I always thought it would be easier to deal with you not being here over time. It's kinda not."

She has gotten really clingy, again. It's hard for me to be available for that when I'm sore from standing behind a counter all day, socializing. I'm working on it while trying to remember that it's okay for me to take some time to regroup and change gears when I get home. This is a particularly hard thing for all of us. Both Kitten and Wolf are extroverts. They need other people around them to recharge and feel energized. Neither of them understand that I am exactly opposite - it isn't personal, it just is.

And now, for something completely different... There's been one firing and several lay-offs at work over the past week. The firing was apparently due to violations of store procedure or some such. The Lay-offs, though, are due to the economy. I guess I should count my blessings. It would seem that it is the more experienced, higher waged/salaried employees who are in danger of being downsized. We peons are cheaper and will be slightly more willing to have more work heaped upon us (for the same money, though? I think not... maybe).

And again, I am reminded to keep my eyes open for more entrepreneurial methods of earning my keep.


Now, I've taken my moments and must 'put my face back on,' so to speak. Wolf has his usual Friday night company and I am rather expected to attend.

Freaking COLD!!!

It's 7:32 am and I've had my coffee, checked my email, researched SPD, and read my favourite blogs. I even had a bath! Here I sit, outside on the cold front step, freezing my butt off, fingers aching... and I'm just about ready for work. The truly awesome thing about all this is I still have hours left in which to complete those things that remain undone!

I don't work until 11 but last night I couldn't keep my eyes open past 10:00. By my internal clock, I should have been up this morning at 6 but for some unknown reason I began waking shortly after 4 am. The third time my eyes opened I decided it must be time to get up. I brewed coffee and began running my bath right away and now I have all this peaceful alone time. Yum!

Seeing as everyone else is still asleep, now seems like a fabulous time to play video games!!!

I'm off.

Pride and accomplishment.

On this day in mid-November, I completed my 2007 tax return! Better late then never, right?

This has been a better 'weekend.' No tests. No incidents. No work. A lot of bad, TMNT jokes!

I still haven't accomplished a weekend's worth of stuff like I wanted but I did complete the one, painfully important thing I needed. With my tax forms in an envelope just waiting to be weighed at the post office, I know that I'll have a bit of money soon. Back pay is always welcome!

I can't seem to keep my mind here and when writing is proving to be less pleasure than frustration, I take it as a sign to am-scray.

See you in the morning...



ZZZZzzzz...

My boring post... not about Remembrance day

Facebook makes me laugh. I would be more accurate in saying that people on facebook make me laugh. When I first signed up and friended all my peeps, we all had a reasonable number of friends listed. As the weeks wore on, I couldn't help but notice that some of my nearest and dearest were gaining friends at a very rapid rate. Clicking through their lists I couldn't help but notice that many of these 'friends' weren't "real friends." I couldn't wrap my brain around it, feeling that the whole thing was like this ridiculous popularity contest.

Then, I began to understand. There were applications that I got hooked on. Suddenly I was spamming my friends with app requests and I didn't like that. It was then that my own friend list began to grow. It was then that I began accepting friend requests from those who I'm not really 'friends' with. I feel no guilt about spamming those I don't care if I piss off. Heh.

So, that which I didn't understand has now become my own common practice and my fb strength grows by the day. Power in numbers.

My mother gave me some stuff to think about. I'm thinking about it.


My place of employment has a no-cell-phone policy. Not only do I blatantly disregard this policy, I told my team-lead, floor manager and store manager that the policy didn't apply to me. With Wolf's health the way it is and he being a house-husband and home-schooler to our kidlet, I want Kitten to have a easy way to reach me in case of emergency. I didn't want her to have to call work and have me paged to 'line 101,' so to speak. That's too much work for a panicked almost-eleven-year-old. Generally, the only incoming calls I get are from home so my phone has become 'for emergencies only!'

I didn't realize that my phone was off until almost half way through my shift today. When I saw the blank screen, I started to shake. I turned it on, all the while wondering if there was going to be a voice-mail waiting. I envisioned all the possibilities through the eyes of terror. Being the good employee that I am, I couldn't call home until my lunch break. And everything was fine.

Wolf's doctor said he's 'almost positive' it isn't Wolf's brain that's the issue. Almost positive. I told Wolf I wanted that in writing so I could sue his ass back to the stone age in the event that his confidence is once again misplaced.

And now I'm going to get to the business at hand. I'm home for the weekend and I've a family that I've missed terribly this week.

Something's gotta give...

I overslept again. I only lost a half hour which is a good thing, and my shift didn't start until 9 am. A week of sleeplessness is beginning to take its toll and if I don't sleep tonight, I fear that I'll be totally useless tomorrow. I've a 6:30 am start time and the only happiness I can glean from this resides in the fact that tomorrow is my Friday. One more day, that's all. One more day and that day ends at 3 pm.

We need the break, all of us. Wolf hasn't had a decent night's sleep since last Sunday and his health is declining rapidly. I'm trying to avoid spending too much energy in fear but it's turning out to be harder than I can manage, right now. I am fearful by nature - anxiousness bordering on paranoid - and lack of sleep makes everything worse.

*Sigh*

I'm feeling a little bit tangled and unable to concentrate. My mother just left a message on my voice mail. I should probably return the call. It's been close to a month since we last spoke and that's not really okay.

Hopefully tomorrow will prove to be a touch easier...

Dreams and Sacrifice...

I love the fine and the literary arts with a passion. So intense is this feeling that I would give up online gaming and all facebook applications (including the ones I actually like) for the ability to make either art a profession. I might even reconsider my ‘nicotine addiction.’

This dream for me holds such hope, such possibility! The ability to telecommute or to work from home in some way would open the door between my past and a future of which I actually want to be a part. I have left behind my stay-at-home-homeschooling-mom status for only two months and I still hate it. I thought it would get easier, that I would learn to accept it, if nothing else. All that has happened is that I've missed out on two months of doing and being what I love - oh, and personal growth/challenging old patterns and bad habits. My daughter continues to grow and mature. She continues to learn, though not necessarily what or how I would teach. I have put aside my values for ten lousy dollars an hour and none of us are happy about it.

Then, I have my husband. Wolf's health is such a challenge, right now. Yesterday, about an hour before I left for work, he passed out in the kitchen. It was the worst I've seen yet, complete with seizure, a full minute unconscious and about ten minutes of disorientation before he could pick himself up off the floor. I cannot tell you how much it kills me to still leave for a job that sucks the life out of me, knowing that the person I'm leaving in charge at home is five weeks away from her eleventh birthday. It's just not right. (Add to all of that the fact that I spent my last two hours at work, yesterday, without seeing a single customer, so dismal was the weather.)

So, I scour internet freelance sites, government job-posting sites, e-bay, hoping to find inspiration and the strength to bring that motivation past the 'I wish' phase. In between searches I love my family, sleep and work.

That which has made me the person that I am struggling to overcome.

I am posting this "About me" in segments, linking each subsequent entry back to the preceding episode. This is the beginning of my story.


I am the baby, raised in an upper-middle class family. I grew up with the impression that we were just barely above poor. My Dad’s motto was “We can’t afford it.” In fact, it wasn’t until my own adulthood that I realized just how much money we had. I never went without necessities and almost always got exactly what I wanted.

The big tip-off for me was in how dissatisfied I was with my childhood, with how often I didn’t like my presents because I was already on to the next, greatest thing. I remember, one Christmas morning, getting a note in my stocking (we were allowed to open the things in our stockings, only, when we awoke in the morning. Everything else had to wait until after we all ate breakfast). The note, signed by Santa, informed of a “friend waiting in the closet” for me. Unable to contain my initial excitement, I was none-the-less disappointed to find that the ’friend’ was Cabbage Patch Kid preemie. I hated those things. They were “so ugly,” unlike their regular sized counter-parts. I knew how expensive they were, insofar as I understood the theory. It just didn’t matter as much as getting what I wanted and when.

I never had to work for anything. What I wanted, I generally got by using my mad debating skills. I can rationalize virtually anything, making it obvious that I absolutely should have my way. In the event of discussion failure, whining, begging or crying were generally as effective. What I didn’t get was rationally explained away, even if the logic was less than stellar. “I hesitate to buy you a Walkman when it will only cost you money in the end (battery replacement).” All of these things, coupled with a resounding lack of encouragement plus more than my share of discouragement, created a teenager for whom there was no point. Dreaming was fine, but empty. Motivation was useless - not that I knew what it was or how to get it - because I just couldn’t do it, anyway.


What does this mean for my future? How will I overcome the lessons I was taught in order to become a proactive character in the story of my life? Stay tuned for the next episode in which more will be revealed...

Ninja fast 2...

Last night I made sure everything was set for my 'Monday'-back-to-work day. I brought my bedding and alarm clock back from the spare room, set it all back up. I even made my lunch and filled water bottles. Well, I cannot tell you how glad I am that I was so prepared. I may have made everything ready but I neglected one small but integral step in the process. I didn't switch my alarm on.

Something else I am tremendously grateful for, since creating a (heaven forbid) schedule, is that I sleep precisely eight hours a night. Although I went to sleep a bit late last night, I was only off by an hour. That gave me plenty of time to get out the door this morning... y'know, as long as you consider twenty minutes to be plenty of time.

I made it, though. I made it to work on time. I made it through my open-front-end tasks with almost 10 minutes to spare. I made it through my first day back. These are all milestones for me.

Part of my history, when I get around to typing it all up, includes a pretty black depression. Since I started working outside of the home, again, that depression (which I had very well in hand) has come calling. It doesn't stay for very long when it visits but it has been showing up more regularly, lately. And it doesn't even call first! Can you believe the audacity? Mental illness is so rude!

And now, a bath. Later, I sleep. Hopefully, in the not so distant future, I'll have less on my brain. My posts should be a little lighter under those conditions.

Today, I learn all about sleep deprivation: the effects, the tests and the recovery.

This is one of those things that requires back-story. I really don't want to be sitting here, typing, for the next half hour so I'll give you the abridged version.

Wolf left work one day last March, feeling a little under the weather. He was tired and had had some dizziness but his drive home was uneventful. When he arrived, he found he couldn't quite get out of the truck. He made a few calls - one to his roommate and apprentice, a couple to me and one to 911. By the time the ambulance got there his heart rate had dropped to 34 beats per minute.

This event led to a week's stay in the cardiac ward (with heart rate dropping as low as 24 b/m), a transfer to the major cardiac unit on the island for surgery (which never happened) and, finally, release. He's been home on Medical Leave since and has gone through a battery of tests. All of them have been relatively easy, requiring little more than wearing monitors and whatnot.

The big issue with this whole situation, next to not knowing what the hell is wrong, is that Wolf's doctor is an ass. The man didn't set Wolf up with a specialist until last month. After more than a half-year and no answers, the good doctor finally said, "I'm just a GP. How am I supposed to know?" And thus rings in a new era. A week later, Wolf was in to see an Internist who ran one 24 hour test and said, "It isn't your heart. Your heart is doing exactly what it is supposed to do. I'm recommending that you be set up with a neurologist and I won't be seeing you again." And that brings us to today.

Last night I went to bed in the spare room just after eleven o'clock. When I woke at 6:30 this morning, I immediately returned to our room to see how he was doing. It took a few tries to wake him, at which point he looked pained and said, "Oh no, I slept half an hour." Not to worry, he'd been instructed to sleep no more than five hours to qualify for the test. When he told me about that I asked him if they knew that he generally slept less than that every night.

So, now we watch the election aftermath and logo wars on the news. We'll leave here at 9:30 am to arrive the hospital by 10:40. That's all I know. From that point on, I don't know what to expect. This whole experience is new to me. Wolf has been through it all, many times - that's more back-story which I will get to at some point.

Shifting gears...

All my life I've run at two speeds. When I was a kid, the speeds were "full-throttle" and "park." I was either playing like a maniac or not moving (usually anaesthetized by TV). My teen years flew by all "hyper and manic" or dragged on, "morose and blue."

As an adult, these speeds continue to shift. A year ago, before I reentered the work force, my speeds were "peaceful and at my own pace/neutral" and "panic/freak out!" Apparently, even I cannot run at full-panic for very long, so something had to give. My speeds are morphing as I type. I woke this morning, my Saturday, at 6:30 am. I knew I could go back to sleep, but if i did, I'd lose useful hours. I got up and made a pot of coffee.

While doing my morning stuff, I became aware of my new speeds. Since I started work, my "panic/freak out" gear has shifted to "with-a-purpose". 'I have ___ much time; how long will it take me to get ready and how long can I sit?' I remembered how lousy I felt after my last weekend. I had two days and I did nothing!!! I didn't want another wasted break. Sitting on my bed screwing around on facebook and playing net-games for hours is not an effective use of my time.

I've used to have boundless amounts of time. As a procrastinating, stay-at-home, home-schooling mom, the only things I had to worry about were getting Kitten to her lessons and submitting my reporting semi-on-time. I could afford, in a way, to run idle; I never ran out of time and, because of that, I never really did anything. Suddenly, I find my time limited (almost) beyond hope. Now, I can't just say, "Yeah, I'd like to make a skirt/shirt/pair of leg-warmers." If I want to do something, I have two days in which to make it happen.

It seems that I have an opportunity to run in "with-a-purpose" gear more often. And, you know what's funny? I really kind of like it.

Friday, Friday bo-bye-day...

What a perfect week. I closed my first shift and have opened the rest. Regular wake times are my friend. I thanked my team lead, yesterday at the end of my shift. She smiled, then looked uncomfortable before apologizing for not 'being able' to keep it that way. I smiled, sweetly back at her, saying that I was already aware that this week was to next week what heaven is to hell. Next week, my shifts are very bouncy. In this order I: open, close, open, close, open. That means Thursday I'm there at 6:30 am, Friday I'm home by 8:00 pm, Saturday I'm there for 7:30 am, Sunday I'm home at 6:00 pm, and Monday I'm back at work at 6:30 am.

And again, not looking forward to it.

Now, I must go. Work beckons.

Aw, crap!

Imagine it. My alarm goes off this morning and I'm right on it. After yesterday, when I scared myself by shutting off the alarm and sleeping for another 18 minutes, I am not taking any chances. I shut it off and immediately get up to make coffee. I come back to the empty bedroom to turn on my laptop and light a smoke. Wolf vacated the room last night at around midnight. He was sick as a dog and didn't want to disturb my sleep so he relocated to the spare room. As he left, I asked him if he still wanted me to wake him in the morning. He said yes, he wanted to get up when I got up. I'm not sure if I've said before but I make a point of getting up two hours before my shift starts.

When my smoke is done and I know the coffee maker has worked its magic, I head back to the kitchen with my laptop. I want to get a jump on my morning so I can get a post out in good time. I pour a coffee, doctor it up with my cream and sugar and check the time on my computer. 5:45 wtf?!! The coffee maker says 6:45... ...wait for it... aaaaaand... [click]

F*ck.

This is the first year in a very long time that I've been employed during a Daylight Savings change-over. I was not paying attention. I'm so glad I didn't run right into the spare room and jump on the bed. Beside the fact that that would be a cruel thing to do to someone who was throwing up all night, it would have been an hour too early.

So, I have caught up with most of my outstanding facebook crap, have my post well under way, a coffee in my belly and it's only 18 minutes after the time I wanted to get up.

Nice. See, it's all about perspective. I could grouse about losing out on an hour of sleep but what good would that do? I'm up. I have an extra hour that I hadn't planned on. I used it and I'm happy about it. The "Chipper Monster" is rearing it's sunny face. It's all part of my history, which I was going to use as my NaBloPoMo topic. I guess I already forgot.

[Oh, good morning, Wolf. No, don't be worried, it's Daylight Savings... Yes, I'm sure... I did hear about it last night during the game, I just didn't think about it...] hmmmm, he loves me so much. I love him so much.

Well, I'm off. I'm tired of squinting at the screen. I will see you, good internets, by tomorrow. Have a smooth flowing, peaceful, perfect day.

Cleansing breath -- aaannnnd... write!

It's Saturday... which means Wednesday (my work schedule' s like that).

It is also the first day of my first, ever NaBloPoMo.

Sadly, I should have written earlier. It is now dinner time and I'm one-hand typing because my other hand is covered with bacon, cheese-burger grease! After dinner we've a date with the TV for one of the precious few televised hockey games (that we want to watch) this month.

We all must set our own priorities and, as I've no readership of which to speak, the good internets will have to gracefully take a back burner.


Edited at 9:46 pm
We won!!! And now, bedtime. I will learn from this evening. I'm going to post first thing, tomorrow.

Halloween, kids, work and sleepiness.

What a bummer. Not one kid came in to work today. No little ghouls. No Clowns. Nothing at all! I was looking so forward to interaction with children. The honesty they embody, whether happy or not, is so refreshing and pure. And when they have something cool to talk about, like trick-or-treating and dressing up, they enchant me.

In lieu of kids I got more or less grumpy contractors, frazzled parents and the occasional smiley customer. There were a lot of dressed-up co-workers, though. We had a snowman, a sailor, a fortune teller, a couple of cats, Esmeralda and Mulan. About half way through my shift my co-cashier donned an old-man mask, complete with straggly hair, moustache and beard. Belly laughing on front end is awesome - and helps to escape the onslaught of negativity from surly customers.

Now I'm home. Done. Complete for the day... or so I thought. After work yesterday, when Wolf picked me up, he informed me that we would be kidless as Kitten was to go to a Halloween sleep-over. After getting over my disappointment, I settled into the idea. Now, it appears that we're going to the party ourselves. I'm still working on how I feel about this.

I'm hungry. That's how I feel. Going to get some dinner!

New routines

I have a wonky work schedule. Throughout my week I start work anywhere between 6:30 and 11:00 in the morning. I leave between 3:00 and 7:30 pm. Just for the record, I sometimes have a close shift (11:00 - 7:30) the day before an open shift (6:30 - 3:00). Close nights, I find it incredibly difficult to settle into sleep, thereby making wake-up the next morning a challenge.

I've decided to try something new. I'm setting a more regular wake up time for myself. Today, I have a close shift. Normally, I'd get up 2 hours before my shift, giving my self time to ease into my day. Translation: I would normally have gotten up at 9 am. Last night I set my alarm for 7:30 am. I didn't end up waking to my alarm, though. I got out of bed at 7, after a bit of a tossy-turny sleep.

I feel good. And maybe, just maybe the earlier wake time will make my transition to tomorrow's open shift an easier one. Here's to hoping!

Also, today I get to walk to work. Kitten has an early swim lesson so she and Wolf will be in town when I leave for my day. Thankfully, the weather is looking pleasant. It's cold but not rainy.

On that note, it's time to wake my sleeping beauties.

I wish...

I want to be rich. I know, everyone wants this... well, except the rich, themselves who just want to be more rich. But I want it more, you see. I almost neeeed it!

This idea hit me this morning when I launched myself out of bed at 6:48 on this, the last day of my weekend. Why would I abandon my nest of cozy warmth, my haven of relaxation and peace, in such a manner if it wasn't absolutely necessary? Because it was. Absolutely necessary.

Last night, when Wolf and I snuggled in to sleep, we took up our usual sleeping positions. I rolled away from him while he curled up around me. It's a very comfortable set up until about four hours later when he's sleeping on his belly in the middle of the bed and I can't roll over because there'll be no room to bend my knees unless I hung my ass off the side of the bed. I find it much easier to doze with my knees over-hanging than my backside.I know, I'm so high maintenance, hey?

Then, a couple of hours later I notice the same thing, only now, I'm actually falling off the bed. Good wife that I am, I communicate my need for his repositioning by ramming my back firmly into him and grunting in semi-coherent quasi-English. He responds, accordingly, by giving me just enough bed to keep me on the edge but not actually falling.

By quarter to seven the tension in my neck from remaining immobile, perched on the very edge of our bed was so extreme that my head was throbbing.

Good Morning!

Now, you may be asking what this all has to do with untold riches. Let me tell you. A good bed is quite expensive. We largely rely on a freebie website for our new/recycled. In fact, that site is how we got rid of garbage bags full of out-grown clothes, an unused Wizard organ (which sounds kind of heinous, depending on how you read it), and our queen-sized bed. Yes, our sizable, comfortable (imho) well fitting bed. We currently sleep on a high quality double mattress.

I shouldn't complain. It is a very good bed. The issue is that Wolf and I are somewhat unbalanced in the size and weight dept. He's about two of me. Without the optional buffer zone between us, I just can't compete. He's bigger, stronger (even and especially while sleeping) and dead-weightier.

So, here I sit, thinking about how wonderful it would be to run out to the nearest furniture store for a big slab of post sunset bliss without going into debt. Debt makes me lose sleep which I would definitely find counter-productive.

Feel sorry for me, yet?

Delicious!

I love it when my Husband runs into the bedroom and says, with urgency, "Open your mouth!"

I love it more when this is immediately followed by the introduction of my tongue to a chocolate cream puff. A gluten free, dairy free cream puff!!


What the heck were you thinking?!

Halloween Bust...

I just found Kitten's base costume from last year. Being able to reuse old costumes is made far easier by buying adult sizes and throwing in a couple of stitches to make it workable on a nine year old body. It turns out that the dress still fits well width-wise - Kitten isn't much of a weight gainer - and she's grown enough that she won't have to worry about tripping on its ragged hem. Yay!

Not having much to do on the kidlet's costume started me thinking about my own. My plan was to be a dark/fallen angel. It's my Saturday so I thought I had plenty of time to tweak and perfect. Well, it turns out I have neither the time nor the expertise needed to make right my masterpiece. You see, I have an old pair of leather pants that I have only ever worn once... to the bar... about twelve years ago when I was twenty-three. As much as I have loved them, I've never had the right personality for leather pants. I'm a little bit too hippy-chick. For me, Halloween has always been the perfect time for hair experiments and leather. I have leather (which is not to say I have no hair. I have hair, I just need it to remain mundane for work).
So, I pulled the pants from their place on my closet shelf, slid them on and...

Swore. Loudly.

I forgot that I have lost a literal ass-load of weight. Black leather pants are not attractive when they are two or three sizes too big. Saggy is just not sexy.

So there you have it. My dream of a leather-clad Halloween is dead until next year. Hopefully by then I will have used my 'spare time' to experiment on tailoring pants. Maybe I'll be 20 lbs heavier and not have to worry about it.

For this year, I'm at a loss. I wanted darkness in my costume but nothing too freaky or scary. I work as a cashier and occasionally see children in my line-ups. My goal is to have fun, not to traumatize.

I would ask for ideas but I have only this evening and tomorrow to work on it before I'm back to work on Thursday... Oh yeah, and I have no readership. Seems a bit daunting when seen from this point of view.

Ninja fast...

Today, I learned that I can make it from sleep to working in sixteen minutes. I also learned that I never want to have to do it again. Ever.

I do, however, want to eat Banana Cream Pie, a piece of which is still melting in my mouth. I am the luckiest person in the world. I never thought I'd be eating cream pies again, once I decided to avoid my allergy foods. I was fully accepting of a life devoid of dairy, most grains and anything processed (read: tasty). Then came Wolf (who is, at this moment, lighting wood chips and throwing them in our front garden - and no, there is no reason behind it, at all).

Wolf is my husband, my partner, my soul-mate. We've been together, this time, for six and a half years. Our first year together, he was a very meat and potatoes and cheese and cream sauce kind of guy. That first year was the second nastiest allergic time of my life. Our second year, I tried to abstain from the nasty foods, which meant two evening meals had to be made - don't think that I'm complaining. I don't cook often. That would be Wolf's domain.

Anyway, there was always such disappointment if Wolf made something so delicious that he needed to share it with me. "Just one bite," he'd say. Often, I would cave just to avoid his negative reaction to my refusal^*. That made our second year my worst regarding my allergies. Anyone who's familiar with 'playing' with an allergy knows that messing up now and again hurts more than going whole-hog for months.

By our third year in, his need to please paid off big for me. His kitchen prowess, mixed with his adventurous nature, created the perfect environment for learning. He now has years of trial-and-error, tweaking and practise under his belt and I now have pita bread, delicious lasagna and banana cream pie under mine!


See? I'm a lucky ninja.



*He and I both have issues with self disapproval. His negative reactions, which I always took on myself (thinking that he was upset with me), came from his disgust with himself for having put me in an uncomfortable position.

The beat goes on...

I've done it. I signed up for NaBloPoMo.

*deep breath*

I've never been able to post daily and I've been blogging since 2002. I've found over the past few days that I'm looking forward to writing. If I don't write before work, I think about it until I get home. It's been therapeutic on a few levels and this makes me look forward to the month ahead. It has been a season of change and growth for me, so here's to another step away from my comfort zone.

Practice makes NaBloPoMo possible...

I'm contemplating signing up for NaBloPoMo. Funny thing is, I didn't even know signing up was something one did. I just thought it was about personal commitment. *Sigh*, I'm such a dork.

I've made it half way through my work week. Sometimes I need to hold on to these thoughts. I miss my family, my old life. I realized recently that, even if everything were to return to normal, I still wouldn't be able to go back. My old life is over and it's no bad thing. I have learned so much about myself; I'm so much stronger than I ever thought I could be.

This isn't a news post either. It's late, as I've been up since 5:30 am and my contacts are bugging me so much that I would not be adverse to clawing my eyes out right this moment. I fear that might make the rest of my work week a touch more difficult, though, so I refrain. Go, me!

Yes, there's a story behind my extreme contact use. The problem with all these stories is that I have to start at the beginning. In order for everything to make sense and convey my reality of the situation I am in, currently, I have to begin with background. Anyone who's familiar with me knows that I'm a stickler for detail. I do so like to tell a story. So, in the name of "the good story," I will work on linear writing. Loop-de-loops are best saved for the fair-grounds.

Until then...

Phoenix rising...

Today, I did not hate my job. I didn't love it, but I smiled again. I think much of my stress springs from me, myself. Funny that I say "I think" when I know. I've known this for years.

Soon I will post some news. There's a reason I've been absent - a long convoluted reason. I just don't have the time or energy to go into any detail.

Soon, and this time I promise.

This toast has spent a week in hell...

I cannot tell you how much I hate my job. That's not true. I can tell you but the intensity of the feeling is so frightening, it makes my husband nervous. One side effect of this hatred is the ever shortening of my weekend, which arrives on Tuesdays. This most recent two day break had me in tears by Tuesday afternoon. My depression and anxiety disorders were well in hand and now I am cycling again.

I work at a building supply store. I spend my days with people who are unhappy and seem to be bent on making everyone around them just as miserable. I've been told I need to develop a thicker skin. What if I don't want a thicker skin? It just so happens that I really like who I am. For crying out loud - of which I do a lot these days - I'm thirty-five years old. I know who I am and I don't liek having to smile through thinly to completely unveiled insults. That's not right no matter where a person works.

Is it too much to ask for respect? I'm dealing with some of the most dishonest, ignorant customers out there and I'm asked to do it with a smile on my face. I'm held responsible for their lies ahile beign given no support to call them on their falsehoods. All of this I'm having to do with one month worth of on the floor training and no product identification training. It sure forces me to deal with my perfectionism issues.

Next, I am working with a lot of letters and numbers. I knew I was dyslexic but I had no idea how badly until now. I also have ADD which makes it really hard for me to focus, mentally. I'm good with the conversation aspect but looking at a reciept on which twenty items are displayed and having to identify each, both on the reciept and in the vehicle, is a particularly hellish experience for me.

I'm an introverted, dyslexic, ADD adult with depression and anxiety issues (read: sensitive artist). I have a tough time standing in one place for long periods of time. I'm helping to financially support my family - I know, I'll get a job standing behind a counter serving ignorant, unhappy people for eight hours a day and I'll do it for ten bucks an hour!

Me thinks my logic was faulty.

Tee-hee!

Guess what I'm doing right now?






Done? I'm sitting on my front step, slowly absorbing radiation from my new wireless enabled laptop!

Yay.