Slow food and awesomeness

So this crocheting business is outta control.   Just about halfway through the second blanket and I am obsessed with crocheting golf cozies which is amazing since I have never golfed in my life.   I suspect that getting back to work, and no longer having the luxury of curling up with my yarns will prove to be an adjustment.   My nice break from work/derby/dance/gymnastics/homework help is almost at the end so I am optimizing my yarn time.

An OCTOPUS cozy.   Seriously.  It's amazing.

In equally amazing news....there is just something about a good bowl of soup.  Now, imagine a bowl of soup that  literally took 15.5 hours to make.  The chef took it upon himself to calculate the time.  Fifteen and a half hours.

Home made raman....those are home made NOODLES!  The best part?  I was in no way a part of the preparation.  I literally walked in the door, cracked a beer and sat down to the absolute most divine bowl of glory ever to grace my belly.   There is no greater treat than sitting down to eat a meal I had nothing to do with.

This was amazing.  Ahhhhhhhhhhh-mazing.

I later explained how divine this was to my girls.  My children, who were not blessed with my palette just asked why?  Mr. Noodles are only $0.35 a package.



*sigh*

The benefits of getting wiser

The older I get the more I realize that not everything is so black and white.  

Except for a few things.

A 6'4, 40 year old, blue eyed baby faced man wearing a Pageboy hat and singing Take this Waltz...while you buy yarn.

There.  The black and white answer to what is the hottest thing ever to grace this fine earth.

Entire.body.melted.

Christmas Eve Eve!

The anticipation of this Christmas is killing me.

I can't say for certain WHY it is that I am so excited.  I think it's because, with the exception of last Christmas, the past four or five years were kinda crappy.  I am cautiously optimistic that this year is going to kill it.

Anyhoo...every year I get a "family gift"  This year it is a SodaStream.  I will not rest until we all suffer from Type II Diabetes and excessive tooth decay.

So here we are, approaching 2014.  This year I have watched myself become a better parent.  I have grown a terrific set of balls and found my self esteem again.  I continue to try and be a kinder human being and if I am lucky this year will be just as grand.

So, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all I know and love.   You make me so very happy.  You make me want to be better.

xoxox

Just gonna roll with it

I got this fortune the other day....

...and I loved it.  Sometimes the universe talks to me in funny ways.

And I finally realized that I just need to roll with it.  I over analyse waaaay too much instead of just sitting back and enjoying things for what they are.

Take my insomnia.   I fret about, thinking that it's because of the recent change in my work surroundings or because the kids are gone.  Was my garlic planted deep enough?  Why aren't there any birds coming to my feeeeeeders?!   Did I unplug the cofffee maker?

Ya know what?  Maybe it's just Jesus's way of telling me that I need more time to do my own shit.  Just get up and have fun.

Like FINALLY figuring out how to do cat eye make up.....and taking the least crazy looking selfie I am capable of..

Or crocheting the COOLEST golf sock for that special chap I know.....

Whatever works

The pitfalls of happiness

Whenever I'm feeling giddy as a school girl I seem to forget all about sleep.

Oh my old friend, insomnia.  Nice to see you back. Yabbering into the wee hours, word games and crocheted flowers.   

I feel like I'm 18 again.  18 in the body of a 65 year old who has a fuck ton of crap to do and really needs to start wrapping presents and gearing up for the best Christmas ever.

Tonight I'll sleep.

Or try and figure out how to crochet a octopus.  Or a frog.   So much glorious yarn looking for a purpose.

Gawd

Off season is kinda killing me.

So I made this

And then I made slippers


And now I'm attempting ridonkulous golf cozies for a certain macho doode I know.

I need my skates back.

Soon....  I just found a cute dog coat for a little dog.  And now I want to get a little dog to justify it.

Jebus take the wheel

A glass of bourbon

That's what I am.  A glass of bourbon.  But with legs and super hot.

I'm all warm inside and intoxicating.  Yay!  Typically I am not a glass of bourbon.  More like a gin and tonic.  Cold and slightly bitter but still awesome.

I blame Christmas.

And it's soooooo close.  

My Christmas shopping has not gone as smoothly as I had anticipated and yesterday I felt an all too familiar feeling that I had not experienced in well over a year.  Rage.  Just kidding.  I felt two things.  Rage and hatred.

Rage and hatred are two of the most deceiving and useless emotions us silly humanzzz allow ourselves to let in.  With me, my inherent love for exaggeration can make the most trivial thing become that proverbial molehill.  And that's ok because the good news is that when I sit back and think, rage and hatred simply becomes an annoyance and pity.  Two very real and healthy feelings.  Not rage, an exhaustive waste of energy.  Hatred, think about it.  Do you ACTUALLY hate anyone?  I don't.  I feel really sorry for people which can often lead to being taken advantage of.  That "rage" I'm feeling is actually being disappointed and ashamed at myself for allowing myself to be made a fool of again.  Hell hath no fury like the morally superior being had.

Ah the feelings that feel the feelers.

So the other day I was once again reminded of how fleeting life is.  And fragile.  Healthy folks can have their lives taken on a dime and while this simply isn't fair it is also without prejudice and can come without a shred of warning.   My own mortality is often at the back of my mind.  (But thanks, Martin, for that ciggie!) and that scares me.  But what scares me most is the idea that I have wasted minutes of this life of mine on things that do not matter when I have so much in front me.

Like the Sunday night potluck

HOMEMADE RAMEN!!!!

Chatter and good food always puts things into perspective.  Being around healthy, kind and interesting folks always serves as a reminder of how lucky we are.   So, rage and hatred annoyance and pity have been replaced with Christmas wrapping WHICH IS THE BEST PART and Christmas Cheer and feelings of pure gratitude for this wonderful life o' mine.

I'm a glass of Bourbon.

Just Kidding!

Maybe I don't love last minute Christmas shopping.

Ok.  To be fair, it's a Sunday before Christmas and I had just foolishly had a stupid text disagreement but I swear, that asshole at Walmart deserved my harsh words.

I will never understand why people feel the need to bully 15 year old, overwhelmed check out kids.  Gads.  Drives me nuts.  The good news is that I was able to project my irritation at the aforementioned douche text spat at this real life douche.  It felt good, not gonna lie!

Anyway, between figuring out what the hell to bring to dinner tonight (thanks Mr. D. for saving my ass on this one), trying to decide what kind of flowers to send a friend who was so cruelly diagnosed with the bad kind of cancer right before Christmas AND not having a clue what to get my lovely "tween" daughter and feeling hopeless with my shopping I came upon this.....

The greatest gift fit for my mother in law in the history of the world.

 Mouston Fucking Abbey, Yo!

What??!  Crocheted MICE made into a book a la her favourite teevee show ever!  AH-MAZING.  

Christmas Miracle!

Rah Rah!!!

There is something so outrageously soothing about a no plan Saturday.  Crocheting beside the lovely Christmas Tree while drinking a latte and watching the snow fall.

I'm 80 years old.  And totally ok with that.

Holy Hell!

I will be free of all parental responsibility in less than 24 hours... for an entire weeeeeek!

I gotta say this full time work from home gig is ah-mazing.  Not only am I getting a ton of work done I have been forced to become fairly organized AND have learned to install a bunch of shit all by myselviess.  It has also taken a ton of pressure and stress off my life and I actually feel like a lady of luxury while still toiling about like a working poor slug.  It's amazing.

So, after the whole Gary + fridge + Lindor chocolate X three boxes + a chicken carcass I FINALLY put on the baby latch on the fridge.  This provides peace of mind so that I can go out and grab myself an outrageously expensive caloric disaster in the form of an eggnog latte and putter about the mall.  Filled with moral superiority as I watch crusty grumps piss about as I enjoy every minute of the cheap Christmas Carols, over spending and over heated joy that it is the mall.


12 more sleeps!!!

yay!!!

Christmas tree decorated?   Check
National Lampoons Christmas vacation/swisschalet tradition complete?  Check
Christmas baking done?   Check


GAHHHH   I am so pumped for this year.

Now, I haven't really started my shopping.  Good news is I am one of the rare souls who LOVES Christmas shopping in mall with all the busy.

I've also decided to semi devote myself to winter sports.  By winter sports I mean ATVing and tobogganing.

Now I just need to find an ATV and a toboggan.


YAY!!!!

Whoda thunk it!

I just realized something.

Taking the tv out of your bedroom
+No longer smoking ciggies or funzies
+Eating well
+Excessive laughter
+Family
+Roller derby
+Financial clarity
+Quality cheese
+Regular cardio and strength training
+Crafts

= The key to happiness and fulfilment

36 and finally got it.

I think this picture is worth repeating.

In other, derby related news...I *think* I have finally come up with my derby name "No Impulse Control"
Might as well put my best worst quality to work.

Yep

I could spend about a million hours tooting my own horn.  There really is no end to how awesome I am at everything.  I'm an amazing mother, outstanding cook, terrific girlfriend, compassionate pet owner.  Funny, attractive, smart, financially independent and just a generally well rounded lassie.  Pretty much the  best person ever.

But I am grossly disorganized.

Like really.

Like the time I messed up and went into work and saw the big empty bin there, waiting for me to pack up all my shit and leave.  Pretty much the most lacklustre escape from the office life in recorded history.

Or the time I forgot everything and the world exploded.


And then I get a wee bit stressed and have a nice hot relaxing bath followed by a foot rub and decide to rearrange all the furniture.

Have you ever asked your self how many times a person can move a piano in one evening before they can be considered certifiably insane?  Good news!  I have the answer.  Four.  Moving your piano four times in one night makes you bat shit crazy

But...

IT'S AWESOME!!!!!    My living room is sooooo cozy now.  AND yesterday was my favourite person's birthday so I whipped up a spinach/ricotta cheese/chicken manacotti(remember how amazing I am) followed by an apple pecan puff pastry dessert and fled to the nursery.  This year I splurged on the most beautiful tree in the world and my living room smells divine.

Now that derby is in the offseason I will fill that slot with kettle ball class until I can slip back into my skates.

Everything is accounted for.

Now I just need that cat to make it all complete.

The worst

I fully realize that I am jumping the gun on my Christmas excitment.  It isn't really my fault as Christmas funzies/insanity has already begun.  So many fun things coming up and so many Christmas crafts to make.  Zomigodz...TWO potlucks this weekend alone!

Anyway, it's hard not to notice the stark difference between this year and last.  Last year was such a sad doom and gloom and this year I'm all giddy and happy and annoyingly positive.  Like, you go girl positive.  Pretty much the  best worst ever. I'm not complaining.   In fact, I am totally passed being perplexed about the way I behaved, the things I said, the T. Gary I adopted, and on and on and on.  I assure you I'll even find it hilarious but I might need another year.  It's all good and all behind me.......

......

...except there is one little thing.

"The Hair"

I CUT ALL OF MY FUCKING HAIR OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My one beauty.

Gone.

Look folks, take it from me.  If ever you find yourself in the midst of a crippling depression I would encourage you to take a trip that far exceeds your bank account.  I encourage you to adopt a dog.  I encourage you to join a really hurty full contact sport using footwear you have NEVER worn before.  Hell, I encourage you to "date" an outrageously gorgeous if not marginally retarded fellow.  It's all good stuff.

But never EVER cut your hair.

Chopping off 5 pounds of what can arguably be considered one of your best assets should never ever ever be considered when you haven't left your bed in two days.  Ever.

EVER

I'm not a "hair and makeup" girl.  Not because I'm fighting the power against the oppression of the womynzz.  Not because I'm down to earth.  It's because I don't have a goddamned clue HOW.  When I try either look like a clown or a really cheap cougar.  As a result, I am stuck looking like fat Joan Jett.  A fat Joan Jett during one of the busiest social times of the year.

It's not even that it's the worst.  It's Jean-Ralphio the WOOOOOOOOOOOOR-HUUUUUURSTTT.

So, it's on.  The battle of me and The Hair.  The only way I can win this one is patience.  This will be my greatest struggle ever. Patience is the worst.

But make no mistake, The Hair will not beat me.

I will reign victorious.

Because I always win.

GUYS!!!

5 more office days until I can do the ceremonial burn of my business casuals

It finally hit me yesterday when my boss and I had our final PA.  It then hit me like a ton of bricks when a sweet coworker actually shed tears.  Sigh.  In any event...I am so ready and excited.

I'm also really fucking tired.  Practically dying in a non dying way.  This shred is riDONKulous.  I also had two practices this week and today I actually felt a panic attack coming on.  It has been a looooong time since that's happened so I'm taking this a sign that tonight I need to bail on another derby related event and spend a full evening of one on one time with the best guy in the world.  It turns out that he loves Community so we will kill the 4th season this evening.  Yay!   This might be one of the last weekend evenings we can do this.

You know why?

Any guesses?....

...about what's around the corner?

CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I mean, far be it from me to exaggerate but THIS IS GOING TO BE THE BEST CHRISTMAS EVER!!
God, I love Christmas.  Everything about it.  Decorating and curling up by the tree.  Eating our weight in sugar.  What's awesome about THIS Christmas is that the girls are gone the week before Christmas and then they ARE ALL MINE!!!!!  Hurrah!    This year I'm forcing them to spend a lot of money on me.  II know it doesn't seem right but jesus christ, I drop, like, a kazillion bucks on them.  The least they can do is get ME really good shit this year.

So, curling up, in full relaxation mode....ennjoying it while it lasts.

Good f-ing shizznit, yo.

You've come a long way, Baby!

I was about 11 years old at the time.    I was at the cottage and my friend and I were at the ice cream shop, both desperately wanting the same ice cream.  Both frozen with embarrassment and equally aware of the ridiculousness of our situation.  The problem?  The ice cream we desired was called A Fistful O' Fudge.   Neither one of us could muster up the balls to actually say "I would like a Fistful O' Fudge", the utter absurdity of the name was just too much to bear.  So we sat and waited and giggled, determine to have this ice cream because it was literally a Fistful O' fucking FUDGE.  I actually can't recall if we ended up getting it or if we opted for far less offending name.  It actually doesn't matter.


I have a tendency to to jump in with both feet and with my eyes closed.  The more I think about shit the less I'm likely to do it.  So, when I joined this derby thingy I knew exactly nothing about it and considered it a fun beer league, a way to burn off some steam.

Turns out this league is one of the top five derby leagues in the entire goddamned country.   They aren't fucking around.  Two of my coaches are trying out for team Canada.  I leeeeetle more than I had bargained for.

My bad.

Obviously some adjustments have to be made.   Like....if I have a chance in hell of being drafted a really good start is losing 20 pounds.   My size is only increasing.  My jeans are tights in the calves.  I am going to look like the incredible fucking hulk with a wicked muffin top if something doesn't give.

Kale smoothies.  So many kale smoothies.  No booze, nothing fried.  Breakfast every day.  Nothing after 8.  Extensive drills.  Two runs a week.

Another two pounds gained.  Still can't hold a plank.  Still can't beat 22 laps.


sigh


It's time.

For.

The Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred.


This is a list of purchases I have made in person.  No shame, hesitation or wearing a disguise involving a moustache.

monistat 7
preperation h
pin worm medication ( not for me, I swear...well, I did take some just in case )
magnum condoms
1 or three vibrators
2 different colon evacuators
Plan B
lancing kit


Yet all of a sudden I'm that 11 year old kid again, wanting a Fist Full O' Fudge ice cream cone.  I can't, for the life of me, bring myself to buy this ridonkulous DVD in person.  Jillian Michaels.  HAHAHA.  Oh god.  I considered picking it up in a different city.

But life is so much easier than when I was 11.

Take that, Suckers!!!!  No more need for the crushing humiliation of being just another chubbo buying this stupid work out DVD.   Click send and away I go.

Man.  Life is so goddamned easy these days.  Well, minus the derby thing.

*melt*

As I transition into my full time work from home gig it becomes abundantly clear that my 2ft filthy covered in candy bar wrappers desk simply isn't suitable home office space.   WHAT AM I GOING TO DO??!!!!

Right. I'll just use this GIGANTIC table that is literally just sitting in the middle of my living room as a desk.

Sometimes my very basic of observational skills are utterly tragic.

Anyway...

I was rearranging the basement in preparation of my sweet new office space and cleaning out 8 years of complete garbage from the drawers of my old desk and found A MOUNTAIN OF SQUISHY HEARTMELTING AMAZING AWESOME in the form of a million burned dvds of pictures and videos from when the kids were little.

OH MY GAHHHHHH!!!!!

It's funny.  I remember that day.  We had this stupid singing and  dancing bear.  O would run around it literally.every.single.day.  Over and over again.   To this day that song haunts me.  She was chronically sick and snotty so she couldn't eat nuts, wheat, eggs, beef or any food colouring.   L had a cold herself and was so miserable.  Sophia, for some reason was actually delightful.    I was going through a divorce and my sister was also in a transition period so we rented a house together for 2 years.   I was a single parent on mat leave, and all of my money was being eaten up by legal fees.  That year my parents had to buy my kids Christmas presents for me.   I was so stressed and felt like I was an inch tall.  At the time I was all "ZOMIGODS THIS IS THE WORST"

I was sooooo wrong.  It.was.the.best.

About a year or two later I was dating a fellow who got me just about the best Christmas present I could have ever imagined.  Behind my back he took the girls for a photo shoot.  AND I FOUND THE DVD OF THE ENTIRE SHOOT!  Now,  I know first hand how hard it is to dress up three little people and try to get a group shot of them....as evidenced by this picture...

And this one...

.  And...AND he had them put their handprints on the back of each picture.  I completely forgot about the handprints so I went and looked and Clark Griswald cried at the sheer sweet of it.

GAHHH

I swear, my uterus is itching.  And I feel like I need to find this guy and give him a fruit basket.

The best!!

Odd

Tonight we are all going to my ex husband's for dinner and a hot tub.

This morning I found the body and the severed legs and tail of a mouse.  No head.  I'm praying that Gary ate it rather than finding it in two weeks.  If this dog can eat an entire pumpkin and box of tampons the LEAST he could do is eat a mouse head after killing it.

A doode I dated, like, 5 years ago emailed me and asked me out for dinner.........

....and I said no as I have earmarked my Saturday night to catch up on Season 3 of Parks and Recreation and I have cleared my Sunday so I can go out and watch the WFTDA Championships with the rest of the league.  Like I'm some kind of a jock.....who finally has her priorities straight.


Life is weird.

Holy Upswing!

This totally me right now

I'm an athletic wizard totally together.  Sparkly and amazing.   Nothing in my way.


Ok, maybe I'm more like this....

Exhausted and sore and more than likely sleeping in my derby attire (yes, those are full length spandex pants you see) as I am too goddamned tired to move.  (or even take my gear off my bed) But looks aside tonight pretty much was the best night of my life.  Not only did I complete and survive minimums I  did WAAAAYYYY better than I ever anticipated.   Hit like a fucking derby queen and only fell once after a hit.  And...AND.!!!.....I jumped the pylon 3 times without falling.  Jesus Christ.  So close.  So uplifting!  

I'm just gonna say it.  I am so glad I lost my marbles when I did.  I never, in a million years would have signed up for this had I been in a reasonable state of mind!  Obviously it was a terrible time and I'm so glad it I FOUND my marbles again.  Just saying..sometimes nervous breakdowns serve a pretty amazing purpose.  A catalyst for change in listless mind.

This picture (I'm full of pictures tonight!) sums it up so nicely.

God. Just so good.

I'm a ray of Sunshine!

IF IT WAS OPPOSITE DAY


Gugghhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

My kid might be having a nervous breakdown, we are STILL reeling from the aftermath of Gary's pumpkin consumption, I somehow fell in love with a porn star, there have been two mouse sightings in the basement and everything is outta control.

But most troubling of all is that tonight is minimums testing.  I'm not ready.  Not at all and I am totally ok with that.  Just sign me up for next boot camp.  I knew it would take me two shots anyway so it isn't like I am bummed about being shitty or nervous about passing.  It's that I still haven't recovered from being anally assassinated,  two toenails have been lost (and HURT) my back is fucked and I have now been put on a second round of antibiotics to get rid of this persistent pneumonia that has plagued me.   I don't want to race about or be hit or get hit.   Tonight I just want to start smoking again and watch stupid teevee.

Or at least more of this blue eyed bastard in action

Le sigh

James Deen, HOW are you a real boy?!?

FINE

Like many folks out there I have a few old email accounts just sitting there, collecting spam.   

This morning I decided to have a gander to see if there are any sweet think geek offers, only to find 18 invitations to LinkedIn.   Invitations to be a part of my LinkedIn community....under my apparent pseudonym Lane Brigs.    Lane Brigs who goes to Laurier.    GAHHHHH

Obviously this was the nefarious act of an evil con trying to take over the world.  Panic in my heart and complete computer ineptitude paved way for way too much time trying to disarm his treacherous act.  Time that I SHOULD have been playing ruzzle doing productive Sunday morning chores before I hit the rink.

This might be the Universe telling me to get back to school.

Lane Brigs...I spit on you

Would You Rather:Rob Ford Edition

Would you rather have a total of 5 hours of sex with Rob Ford and ONLY the two of you will ever know.

Or

Be married to him.  Now, you never have to touch, look at or have sex with him, BUT, everyone will know that you are Rob Ford's wife.


It is taking me a significant amount of time to decide which is the lessor of the two evils.

Grief and moving on

During my divorce my mother in law explained how small losses in life are actually beneficial.  These are just stepping stones for the constant crushing blows that we face in our adult lives. With the exception of my divorce, my beloved Cecil and my step dog I have actually never really experienced any real significant losses.  In fact with the exception of my unfortunate derby injury this past little while I have been met only with wins and gains and I'm practically farting rainbows all over the place.

                                                              Until this morning

 Stage One-Shock and Denial

No.  Nononononono.  This is not happening.  I can't...I just...NO!  It's ok.  I can fix it!  Totally fixable!

Stage Two-Pain and Guilt

Why didn't I appreciate it more when I had it.  The glorious weight.  The way it held the perfect amount of coffee.   Oh the colours. Did I leave it carelessly in the sink, underneath all of the dishes??  Oh god....it hurts...my tetris mug.   All of my other mugs sucks.  It's not the same.  I hate itttttttt. Ack!!!!

Stage Three-Anger and Bargaining

Who the FUCK used my mug and left it in the sink!?!?!   Seriously.  WHO DID THIS.  LOOK AT THIS AND WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!!!  You have destroyed meeeeeee.   Meeeeeee....  You know what, think geek?  Go fuck yourself for no longer having this mug.  FUCK YOU.  You have destroyed my happiness.  Ok. It's going to be ok.  If I can find this mug elsewhere I will totally bail on buying skiis and I will bail on the European skiing adventure the winter will bring.  Besides, who am I kidding, I might hate skiing but I LOVE this mug.  Come back.  I'll love you better.  I promise.

Stage Four-Depression

 I can't do anything.  I can't figure out how to remove a wipe board.  I can't keep a mug intact.  I don't even know that a wipe board is actually called a white board.  I just keep buying shit to remove the wipe (white) board because I don't even know what this fucking wipe (white) board is made of because I can't even google properly.  I can't google, remove a wipe (white) board, keep a mug from breaking, t-stop, or knit a pattern on a hat.  Sniff...this mug was the last thing my ex ever gave me.  Now that this mug is broken I'll never be able to go to Europe.   I'm just going to sit here in bed, all unshowered, miserably drinking scotch from a sub par mug thinking about how much better it would taste if it were in my beloved tetris mug.  Someone who carelessly breaks a beloved mug doesn't deserve to use a snifter.  Poo....I don't even own snifters.

Stage Five-The Upward Turn

I guess this Halloween mug is ok.  Festive, really.  

Stage Six-Reconstruction and Working Through

I refuse to work through.  Pity and rage is better.  I want to crawl in a hole and diiiiiiiiiiie

Stage Seven-Acceptance and Hope

It's gone.  Look on the bright side, I could be in a refugee camp.  That might actually be worse.   And  I don't have cancer!  The only thing I don't have, besides herpes and a million dollars is a tetris mug.  That's pretty good.  I actually have it all any super amazing 36 year old wants.  In fact, if the ONLY criteria for true success and happiness is NOT having a tetris mug but having everything else I'm rocking in a free world!  I'm practically superman!    I'm not certain but I'm willing to bet the farm that lots of people live without tetris mugs.  Maybe they have a kitten mug, or a shark mug?  Maybe even a paisley mug.  Maybe it's ok to learn to love a new mug.

I love you, Muggy.  You were the best.  I will forever hold you in my heart and while it might hurt and it might be hard I will no doubt learn to love again.

Giddy up, Soldiers.

Talk about upgrading from awesome to spectacular!

This upgrade brings so many advantages.  Jobs are better, men are better,  Christ, even CHEESE is better.  I am practically Kim Kardashian, minus the looks, figure, personality, money and class.  But totally just like her.

The area I haven't managed to bring this most coveted upgrade to is derby.

Fucking derby.   

While I totally appreciate that I didn't join a knitters guild I honestly had no idea how goddamned hard it would be to give a hit.  My sisters schooled me well in the area of senseless brutality so I'm actually ok taking the hits as they come.   A few bruises here and there but no real problem.  Giving a hit?  HAHAHA!!   First there is this whole idea of  MAKING contact with my target and not just skating by them, missing by a good two feet.  Second, there is this silly notion that after executing your amazing hit that you actually stay on your feet.

Falling is part of the game.  I am not sure that even the most seasoned of vets can play a game without a single fall.  Falling isn't the problem.  It's doing it properly.  You have about half a second to decide what fall you're going to execute and about 2 seconds to get yourself back up and skating before you are fuuuucked.    I think a drunk monkey would be more confident on skates than I am so you can only imagine that the delicate knee tap falls are out of the question.  This leaves suicide and baseball falls.   Suicide falls I am surprisingly good at....during drills....where there is no risk of 10 other skaters rolling over my hands.  Baseball slides?  Well, let's just say that I have left the rink with countless wheel babies on my ass.   I have almost developed an affection to them.  I expect it.  I prepare for it.

But nothing could have prepared me for...the dreaded anal skate rape.

This is where my upgrade from awesome to spectacular is questioned.  A spectacular person ( I can only speculate at this point) hits clean and well and proceeds through the pace line, systematically knocking down their fellow freshmeats.    A lowly awesome person hits, starts to lose their footing and foolishly opts for a baseball slide, only forgets the slide part, land on their skate......a wheel, penetrating their beloved cornhole.   

The good news is that 15 hours later the bleeding has stopped.  The bad news is that I was just brazillianized and I don't want my super conservative and old doctor thinking I'm a hussy so I can't seek medical attention. So it's just me, epsom salts and my frozen bag of peas.  Given my penchant for  the old "wait and see" and making bad situations worse I have a slight fear that this will ultimately result in a colostomy bag.  

Derby is hurty.  But sooo soooo good.

Ah those heartbreaking pets.

I've been thinking a lot about Cecil these days.   Everything was kind of unravelling at the time of his death so I never really sat down and allowed myself to really process it.   So, it's been two months, my mind reset to normal and everything is exactly how it was and should be.

Except there is no Cecil...and that is making me pretty flipping sad.

For the most part I find animals, specifically pets, to be far better people than most humans.  I will never fully understand how folks can go through life without ever having any connection to an animal, however, I also realize that I am a giant suck when it comes to our four legged friends.

So, Cecil.   I'm not delusional.  I realize that he was a giant prick.  But I respected him.  We had a really great cohabitation going.  He was the one constant in my ever changing adult life and I am not certain I'll ever know a better feline.  This guy OWNED the world.

I often have a hard time letting go of things.  There is not one single shitty thing I have said and done that I don't revisit in my head and regret.   Where I can't forget I just try and forgive myself and be better next time.  While I KNOW that the choice to euthanize Cecil was the most humane and loving choice I am still, two months later, crippled with guilt.  I hate that I am still in a place where I can't allow myself to think about him.  It's still too hard and two months later I look at his picture at my desk and start crying.

My coworker asked me why I still had these pictures of Abbie and Cecil at my desk but no picture of Gary

 I didn't really have an answer.  I suppose it's because I go home to Gary every day.  I can't forget him.  Every morning I see him, every day we walk together.   Every night we cuddle and every day I tell him I love him.  Abbie and Cecil?  I just have the memories that frankly, I am not yet willing to let go of.  I find myself coming home and bracing myself to find garbage about the house, only to find a clean floor and no Abbie.  I literally still hear Cecil's meow in the distance and find myself looking to make sure there is water in his bowl, only to find no bowl.  Abbie and Cecil, while terrible in their own ways, were two little spirits who somehow managed to weasel their way into my heart, for better or for worse.  And even though my black cold shrivelled up heart still hurts for them, I'm not ready to forget how nice it was when Abbie groaned when you rubbed her ears or the look on her face when she was in trouble.  Or how Cecil always seemed to know the wrong time to come lay on my head.  

Two furry bastards who are gone forever.  That shit still hurts.

C'est l'Halloween..almost

Oh Halloween parties...how I love these.

While there is nothing this girl loves more than having breakfast in bed made for her it just wasn't enough to get myself out of a Jamison's aftermath and on to the rink.

Here I am, all Comic Girl'd up

And holy hell...a magician.   Like an attractive, herpes-less Chris Angel.  Mind repeatedly blown.

The best.

Innnnteresting

I have noticed some changes since this whole derby thing.  The first one being that for the first time in, well, ever, I'm totally comfortable with my body.  I think I'm heavier now than I have been in a very long time but for some reason that might be ok.  It might be my age and the whole "maturing" thing and realizing that it really just doesn't matter.   It might be because my legs are hard as rocks. It might be that I am grateful for the added padding for when I go down and make sweet sweet wheel babies on my ass.   It might also be that BECAUSE of the weight my tits are absolutely spectacular.  In any event...it's neat not to be so preoccupied.  It lends more space in my brain for real concerns such as world peace and what colour to paint the laundry room.

The second, more concerning thing is my driving.  And my walking about.  I seem to find myself viewing cars and unsuspecting pedestrians as jammers.  Targets that, if I can't hit, I need to at least put them off track.  Everything has a big ole star on their heads.

I was at the pharmacy today buying even more makeup for my costume for this evenings "CB's Fifth Annual Halloween Party" and I found myself dodging racks and people. Getting ever so close only to transition around to narrowly escape contact.  One shitty little kid was giving me stink eye so I ever so cleverly scooched around her, throwing her off track. It was exhilarating!  It is also far less hurty than locking your skates and going down hard.

The driving thing?  Along with the loss of toenails this is something I really hope passes.

Ruh roh

I just got BBM for my iphone.

Not too long ago I had exactly zero in the way of technology.  I'm not gonna lie...it's kinda awesome. It's like MSN meets google chat meets texting.


See ya never!

Roooooooooooad Trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiipppppppp!

One obvious benefit of quitting smoking is the sweet extra cash you seem to have in your pocket.

What's a girl to do?  Save wisely?  Fuuuuuck that.  I'm a-hauling my arse to Louisiana.

I would LOVE it if this could be the year I go to New Zealand, however, I do have to be semi responsible and breaking the bank just isn't within my means this year.  That said, I still have that itch to get away for a week.

For me, a super boring old lady, packing into my car and driving 20 hours seems so fun and juvenile and something I missed out on.  That said, once you factor gas and hotels and blah blah blah....well, it might be cheaper just to hitch a ride on one of them big ole flying machines.

Either way, I have 4 months to scrimp and save and plan and get a boob lift should I end up in the middle of Mardi Gras with my shirt off.

God.  Goodtimes!

Dear Everyone

As I suffered through karmic vengence under the guise of pnuemonia I allowed my life to pass before me.  I pondered what I never accomplished in life.

I have NEVER knitted a hat for Gary.

TO THE CRAFT STORE!!

It's no surprise that I am pretty much the most amazing person ever.   Add the worlds greatest and most photogenic canine...well, let's just say that it's not hard to be inspired.

When you are as awesome as I am it's really hard to outdo yourself.   But here I am,  basking in my awesomeness.

Suck it, Karma.  I have somehow managed to earn myself the greatest dog ever.  True story.

In other equally exciting news...

Last night was the TCRGs season closer. Gahhh.....neck and neck all night.  Amazing.  Inspiring.  Wicked pot luck.  I can not WAIT to skate with these bad boys in the Spring.

Le Crap

I might be the worst hypochondriac ever.


I once sat in the ER for 8 hours because I was convinced I had a blood clot in my leg.  It was a Charlie horse.

I once went to the ER shortly after surgery CONVINCED they left a pair of scissors in my body.  It was just a bruised diaphragm.

On the other hand, when my water broke two months early with my daughter I thought I had just peed my pants.   Three hours later and strapped to a stretcher in an ambulance en route to a neo natal unit I was finally convinced I was having a baby.

Clearly I am showing pretty terrible judgement when it comes to my health so it shouldn't have come as any surprise that my polio/tb/cancer is actually pneumonia.

This would actually  be ok except I'm currently coughing up blood and I sound like a 12 year old boy.  The good news is that I am not contagious.  The bad new, depending on ones perspective is that I have a ton of derby stuff this weekend.  Tomorrow is derby derby derby and an afterparty.  Sunday is league practice.  Don't even get me started on Halloween preparations.  

Now, I would bet the farm that all of this is Karma.  A person can only be so shitty.  Universe, I'm so sorry I was terrible.  I take it all back.  I will be pure and good and I'll stop being a twat.  I'll be good to Conservatives and I'll no longer judge Capitalists.

Just please make me well by tomorrow.

Da Bomb

I think I could win an award for most productive procrastinator.

During one of my recent drawer purges I stumbled upon a few bathbombs that I made a few years back.   They were cute!  A nice orange colour, pleasant smell.  But...but...what if they were glittery AND PURPLE!!!  

The fall inspires me to be an artiste!!  And I do love my crafts.

After my recent failure with Gary's hat and matching leg warmers I was feeling a little discouraged.  I figured that some super cute glittery purple bath bombs would renew my  creativity and not only would I have a luxurious (and cheap) treat to soak out my perpetually sore muscles but might also help grease my brain and help me figure out what to do about a Halloween costume.

The bad news is that the only thing purple is my hands.  The good news is that my total inability to carefully calculate the amount of ingredients required has left me with enough crap to make about 15 more batches of these bad boys.

But at least they sparkle!

Gahhhhh  Fall.....how I love thee

Ugh. Minimums

For every awesome week there is one where I am so bloody discouraged.

I have viewed this whole derby thang as an entirely enjoyable, painful and rewarding experience.  I am in awe over how far I have come and the question of whether I would ever actually play is no longer hypothetical.  It's just a matter of when.

I might even be eyeballing these shorts....and trying out derby names for size....

BUT....I'm just not there yet.  And I am ok with that.  I am having a ridiculous amount of fun and I see major improvements every week.  That is all I need at this point,  I am not at all prepared to SCRIMMAGE for chrissakes.   It's not a pride thing.  I swear I am not against looking foolish.  I am sooooooo past that insecurity.  I'm just not ready to be graded.    So easy, I'm just going to skip the testing this time around.  By June I'll be at least on the splash pool.  No testing this time around.  Whew!  What a weight off my back.  I love being an assertive and confident woman!

Just kidding!

A 19-20 year old trainer with super cute long braids who I want to be besties with MY DAUGHTER said NO.  And I backed away slowly, feeling ashamed.

Look folks, I'm old.   I'm a mature(ish) rational (haha) adult and A TEENAGER just shot me down.

And I listened.

Sometimes it's hard to tell if I am gaining or losing control of my life.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Oh man.  Does this girl love her turkey dinner.

With the exception of derby and Thanksgiving dinner I am making this a complete ME weekend.  The past little while has been pretty hectic and with an Aunt not expected to make it into next week, the first set of derby minimums coming up in a week and the current renovations going on, well, you can imagine that the next little while is going to be filled with a lot of skating, family times/funeral as well coordinating the plumber and the framer.  So, the kids are gone and I am going to take full advantage of it.  Oktoberfesting can wait.

Me weekends are the best.  I can garden when I want, shower when I want.  I can eat chocolate in bed and unapologetically fish out the leftover nachos from my cleavage for breakfast.  I'm not certain but I do think that it might be just a little bit pathetic that I really really like smoking a bit of a doob, scraping glue from the stairs and singing at the top of my lungs.

Anyway, in the spirit of Thanksgiving and obsessive list making.......

What this broad is thankful for, in no particular order.(I'm not going to say my good looks, sparkling personality or children, that much is obvious)

I am thankful that I still have my parents.  As frustrating and dysfunctional as we all are...well, they are pretty swell.

I am thankful for my home and family unit.  I am finally realizing now that I have done a very good job and I can confidently say that it wasn't good luck...it was hard work.

I am thankful for my friends and sisters.  The amount of tolerance and patience and support they have provided me during an outrageously difficult time is more than I can ever imagine and this literally brings tears to my battered eyes.

I am thankful for my outrageous antics.  They may have bit me in the ass more than a few times but they sure have made things interesting.

I am thankful for someone who planted the roller derby seed in my head awhile back.  I am also very thankful for protective gear and the fact that I have managed to survive contact training.

I am thankful I have discovered Bliss cheese and even more thankful that it doesn't, in fact, cost $40.00.

I am thankful that I am capable of showing good sense from time to time.

I am thankful that I have masqueraded myself well enough that coworkers come to me for personal advice.  Thankful and terrified.

I am thankful that I have quit smoking and everyone survived.

But most of all, above all else, I am thankful I have discovered this

It's all just such cool cool stuff.

Fall Fall is here again!

It appears as thought I have survived all of my imaginary cancers, however, I'm fairly certain I have contracted tuberculosis.  It sucks cause I have the TB BUT it has made this quitting smoking garbage a lot easier.  I'm doing remarkably well.  I will be honest and say that there have been a few moments where I really wished my 11 year old smoked so I could bum one off of her but I think the worst is over.

And now I'm a non smoker, riddled with TB and there is so much to do before I die.  The good news is it's Fall which means HALLOWEEEEN and sweaters.

I have decided to make a list of things to do this month, assuming the Tuberks doesn't off me.

1).  Wear sweeeeeaters!!!

2).  Paint ball the shhizznit out of some zombies.  I feel as though a full on zombie smoking costume is in order.

3).  Make apple butter!

4).  Start knitting hats.

5).  Be fabulous.

6).  Design and execute a sweet Halloween costume.

7).  Finish ripping out the carpet.

8).  Pray my toenails start growing back.


It's a pretty lame list but I need to be super frugal.   The basement toilet is finally in and the adorable fellow who had the audacity to show up with a BEARD is about to wall it all off, making it private.  Thing is that it is going to take every.bit.of.restraint NOT to lose my shit and finish it RIGHT NOW.  But god...it is going to be awesome and if I am reeeeeaaaaaalllllyyyyy careful I can have it all done by March.  Now, apparently the stuff I'm using to remove the cat pee stained carpet (thanks Cecil, that was one hell of a legacy) contains some pretty amazing chemicals known to cause changes to DNA.  So, if I can huff enough of this I might totally get superpowers and I can use those powers for evil and steal a bunch of cash to finance this!  Thanks to DaveR for this piece of info.  On the other hand, there are carcinogenic ingredients so the cancer thing might be a bit of a buzz kill.

Now I just need to find a street kid to show me how to abuse solvents.

Poor people don't have cleaning ladies.

Now that Plan A-moving to a different city has been wiped off the table (what can I say, I have too much to live for) it's time to move to Plan B.

The Year of Living Frugally!

Here's the thing, my goal is to save 35% of my income as well as as much as possible for the girls uni.   Currently I'm at 22% and I can swing about 2 years for ONE degree.  

Le sigh.

The panic sets in and I juuuuuuuuust dooooooon't haaaaaaaaaaaave ennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnough.

Then I briefly look around and I'm reminded that's I'm a remarkable tool bag.

Seeing as I fancy myself a cautionary tale AND I love lists I have prepared  a jaw dropping list based ONLY on things I will actually admit to and took me exactly zero effort to come up with.  Shit that has been removed from my life as of now, requiring zero growing pains or real inconvenience.

Monthly garbage expenses.  Here it is.  Prepare to be ashamed on my behalf.

Cleaning lady $80.00

Starbucks.-I spend a fair amount of time at Starbucks, it does nothing for my wallet OR waistline 5 a week at 6 bucks a shot-$120.00

My phone-I don't need to spend $5 a month to block numbers I have already forgotten , or road side assistance  or CALL FORWARDING. bwhahhaha.  $36

Smoking.  This is not an easy venture.  But I'm ready this time.  Day two isn't easy but I'm here and I haven't punched anyone...ready for this figure....?  $236.48

Cheese -last month I spent $70.00.  I do love good cheese and as God as my witness I WILL NOT give it up cold.  But I'll cut it in half.  $35.00

Dawhinnie.  Oh man, this might hurt.  $150.00

Cosmetics.  Oh jesus.........

This is what I bought in the past 6 weeks.

This, dear friends, is over $400.00 in shit for my face.  Let me be clear, someone as gorgeous and radiant as me does NOT require all of this crap.   Oh T. Gary, your judgement hurts.

This is what  I ACTUALLY use.

It's hard to measure exactly how much I spend on my face.  I'll wager an average of $100.00 a month.




Anyway....I almost died when I added it all together.

Ready?

$9089.76 a year

And this is only a single snap shot

Let's just say that with some very moderate adjustments things are gonna start looking preeeeetty different and comfortable.

And I might just go ahead with ceramic tile for the basement.

Walk about here and there

After the untimely demise of my most recent love interest I did what any smart woman would do.  Fled to Toronto for Nuit Blanche.  

I'm actually surprised I have never gone before.  Such a great people show.  So much to look at and a tremendous energy.

But deadly serious.

But all good things must come to an end and here I am, riddled with spleen, testicular and brain cancer as well as polio.  Or, at the very least a really bad cold.  I'm praying for the Tom Yum fairy to come but she's no doubt ignoring me.  Woe is me.

Every cloud has a silver lining and this illness has really made quitting smoking tolerable.  Now that I have "graduated" to practising with the actual derby girls the constant stream of glorious nicotine infused glory smoke is not conducive to the 5 hours a week of training I have now committed to.  Plus, I really REALLY want to buy a set of hybrid wheels AND a sweet ZUCA bag for all of my gear so I have decided to reward myself, once smoke free for three whole months with this.  89 more days and it's mine!

That is if I survive this illness.

T. Gary B, Keeping it Real.

The fellow finishing up my basement sent me this pic last night.

I'm not totally deliusional, T. Gary is a GIGANTIC pain in the ass.  The poor guy was no doubt just trying to do his job while a 70 pound disaster kept bringing him more and more wood.  The caption on the photo was "Gary helping me bring wood"  Not "lock your fucking dog in your room next time I'm over"

I love my dog.  LOVE.   He is without question the best person I know.  He doesn't judge, he is who he is, loves who he is, wants to protect his family and is happy as long as he's fed and gets belly rubs.   This dog is literally EXACTLY the type of human being I want to be.

So, what happens when you invite someone into your life who isn't a "dog person"?  I don't mean someone who doesn't especially care for dogs but will make an exception for your dog.  I am talking someone who thinks it's outrageous for a dog to be on a bed.  Who is all "EEEWWWWWW" when my sweet little guy obsessively licks his feet.  Just has no real affection for him.   Not too long ago I had only two real deal breakers.  DUIs and Herpes.   I have sadly just discovered a third.

I think we all have our ideals when looking for a partner,  The key of course is not to wait around and hope that certain things will change, rather, we need to look at someone exactly as they are right now and assume that this is who they will always be.  Then ask ourselves if we are ok with that.   Dealbreaker.  He's gotta love dogs.

In a really strange way my heart broke a wee bit when my house doode sent me this picture.  Gary was being annoying but being a dog person he took the 2 seconds to snap a pic, give him a pet and later send me the picture.  Because he no doubt saw the value of that moment.  Because he recognized the value a dog can bring to your life.  I don't want to humanize Gary (that's total bullshit-I dress him up regularly) but inviting someone new into my life comes with personal sacrifice.  I think your "well rounded package deal boy" is pretty sweet.  I am always willing to compromise. We all have our baggage and bullshit.

But there is no fucking way I'm taking a chance on someone who thinks T. Gary should be locked in the basement at night time.

 

Desperately Seeking Moral Compass

First things first, WHY wont the interwebz/universe let me save my privacy settings on this bad boy.  I don't need the wooooorld to know all about my neurosis!
FUCK YOU, INTERNETS!


Anyway...today was just another gig at the FA's.   It is important to mention here that I miiiiiight have a bit of a crush him.   Super handsome, voice like butter wrapped in Reece's Pieces.  Just divine.  But I'm getting off topic.

I was at the FA's super pissed that I couldn't buy a new outfit so I could look totally hot....GAHH!!!!  That's not important!

Take Three.

I was at my FA's looking as good as I could in last months outfit, all together with my little black accordion folder ready to crunch out some numbers to get a clearer picture of the potential move or non move....ugh...forgot to colour my hair. sigh.

Anyway, we had a looksie.  Tres boring, blah blah blah and he said "is there ANYTHING else"  I flipped through it all and found it.   The owners manual to my washer and dryer.

Not really my washer and dryer.  You see, awhile back my actual washer died.  Boom.  Long story short, a brand new washer and dryer was purchased for me, well, for "us" I suppose.  But when he left the washer and dryer stayed.  Now, I need you to understand, I LOVED the woman who bought it for me (even though she has her cottage on an Indian Res) She was kind and pretty and warm and someone that for the most part,  I really respected.  An incredible fortitude and dignity about her that I can only dream of one day possessing and I'll be honest.....I feel like I have STOLEN from her.  She didn't buy it for me.  She bought it for her kid and really, it should have gone with him.

I honestly don't know what to do.

I cautiously explained the situation to Mr Handsome B Wonderful Please B Mine and he was all "wait, is this the same guy I strongly advised you TO NOT MOVE IN WITH"?   Chick boner gone as he quickly moved into Dad mode and I came clean and gave him the whole sordid story.

He thinks I'm silly to even consider repaying it but ya know what,  I'm ok with losing my self esteem and my dignity.  I'm not all that ok with compromising what little integrity might be left in my damaged little soul.

So, without any contact information HOW does someone repay this debt?   I feel as though it's impossible to actually give it TO her.  First of all, she may have forgotten already.  Secondly, I can't reach out cause she might spank me for being (rightfully so) mean to her kid.  Third, I'm actually trying to move AWAY from the crazy remorse I feel about shit.   Money to a food bank in her name?  The Humane Society?!

Jimminy Cricket!  Where the hell are you when I need you the most!?!  And while you're at it Jimminy, fix my goddamned privacy settings.

 

When God closes a door he sinks a glass ship.

Or something like that.

Closure is great, yes?  We don't always have the luxury of wrapping everything up in a shiny new ribbon and sending it off.  Often times it take awhile but once it's there...just a sigh of relief.

Years ago my sister told me that the opposite of love is indifference.  I didn't believe her until one day I looked at my ex husband and thought "Hey, remember when I loved him?  Crazy!"

Anyway, the other day an ex swung by to grab some stuff of his I found while clearing out the closets.  It struck me that my only thought was....How could I have been in love with someone with blond tips, a terrible tattoo* and who kinda resembles a washed up and bloated Justin Timberlake a la Dick in a Box?   Not that I am in any position to judge the appearance of others.  I haven't shaved in like, 2 weeks and it wouldn't kill me to cut out the chocolate.  I wont even get into my adult onset acne.  FUCK YOU PIMPLE FAIRY!!!!!

Nonetheless it is what it is and then it's not and I do feel fortunate that I was able to say some kind things to him that I meant.  Genuine words.  Afterall,  I AM glad that I met him and I AM glad that we spent some time together because I genuinely had some fun times.  He used to be a really good friend and,  in my own way, if I were to be totally honestly I might always love him in some way.

But that doesn't change the fact that I think he might be a terrible.  If not terrible just the complete opposite of who I would want to associate myself with.  Someone else's problem, so to speak.  Don't get me wrong.  I too am terrible.  Just in different ways.  I care about people and he unapologetically vacations on an Indian Reservation peppered with alcoholism and tragedy and a single school...where the children all enjoy the luxury of an eight grade education.   But what do know?  I can't even afford a tent!   That being said, this fucking guy is McGyver.  He has a vision for things that I actually think is a gift and I'm all "Hey, maybe putting this metal rod in the electrical outlet will help things"   He has an enormous amount of common sense where most days I don't know what side is up or down.  He can be tremendously rational and I could burn down my car during really bad moments of PMS.   He has never known a day of hard work where I feel as though I have crawled and climbed just to stay afloat.  My point is that in his way he's great and in my way I'm great and sometimes oil and vinegar mix well and make a sweet dressing.  However, sometimes it doesn't matter how much of this and that you find in the cupboards to add to it it'll only end up tasting like garbage.  It's best to just dump and start over.  He finds avocado oil and I find fig balsamic.   Case closed.  There's just no need to keep the shitty salad dressing in the back in the fridge.

Which brings me to the ACTUAL point of this post.  You know, because I actually have a lot of shit I have to accomplish before heading to Toronto this weekend.

Part of closure included blocking the boy from my phone and life, leaving it all on a positive note using the magical amazing-ness of a block feature.  Now that I have transformed myself into the financial wizard you see before you I decided that there was no WAY I was gonna drop $5.00 on only ONE person.

TO MY CONTACTS!!

I decided to go ahead and not only delete the past year and a half worth of dating history but to go ahead and BLOCK them for good measure.  I need to be clear.  Most of these fellows I long forgot about and there is no doubt the feeling is mutual.   But I had a lifetimes worth of closet garbage dumped out onto my floor that HAD TO BE ORGANIZED RIGHT NOW!!!  So naturally blocking totally irrelevant people from my phone was the pressing concern.

If you don't laugh you cry.

Here is a brief description of a few just to give you a clear idea of my escapades

1) 25, only ate chicken nuggets "You will cry when you see what I eat" was his fair warning.  I did.  I wept for humanity.

2) Gorgeous.  Gorgeous.  Gorgeous....thought the Geneva Convention was a place.

3) Penis looked like a cartoon character. I put glasses on it.  Didn't go over well.  I still laugh.

4) Had a non ironic moustache, 42 and taught spin classes.  Was looking for a "classy ladie"    I didn't notice the miss spell until 10 minutes before I had to leave to meet him.  When I told him I just didn't "feel it" he assured me he was really smart and wealthy.

5) Had a Japanese tattoo* which meant Strength.  A quick Google search brings up a tattoo that looks nothing like his tattoo.


Uhm yeah.  My bad.   I think I should become a professional cautionary tale.

Ah well.  On to much bigger and much better things.


*I have a terrible tattoo.  I am clearly projecting.

Good job!

Not only do I have to clean the hell out of my house but my office is also on the move.  I have been with the same company for almost 14 years and my file cabinets have followed me everywhere.  You can only imagine the shit I have been hoarding for 14 years.

This is what I threw out.  In retrospect I am really bummed I didn't take a picture.

7 packages of hot chocolate from 2001
 6 boxs of tea.
 Robaxaset from when I threw my back out PUTTING ON MY PANTS.
About 15 jars of various vitamins no doubt used for some bullshit naturopathic cleanse I HAD TO DO OR ELSE I WOULD DIE!!
A framed (FRAMED!!) picture of my ex boyfriend and I canoodling in Mexico
An unframed wedding picture of myself.(why did I frame a pic of a boyfriend and not my wedding day?)
School pictures, all school pictures to date.
ALL paper paystubs going back to 2000.
Birthday cards from when I turned TWENTY FIVE
Old cards from the previously mentioned old boyfriend and ex husband from when they sent me flowers.

And much much more.

Anyway, one little hour later and I managed to ruthlessly purge, with the exception of the notes and pictures.  Easy peasy.  Cleaning out my home closets and storage areas will no doubt uncover some pretty amazing shit that I have refused to part with but will not be anywhere near as  painless.   They are stuffed.  Stuffed with crap I don't know what to do with.  I put it there till later but later never comes and more shit just goes in.  Its is critical that I clean this out.  I can't imagine prospective buyers and real estate agents will be especially tickled when 20 years of garbage come tumbling down on them.

So, today was earmarked for my home purging adventures.  To further complicate things, the framers are coming Tuesday to frame up the laundry room/bathroom so that pit of horrors also has to be cleared out.

This weekend was perfectly planned to allow for the complete balance of child free awesome.  Me time, social time and responsibly mature adult stuffs.

sigh

Remember when you were a kid and you and your friends managed to convince an older sibling to pick up a micky of peach schnapps to share?  Then you proceeded to drink it all and you're forced to barf in the sink cause your other friend is busy hurling in the toilet?  Then you are called Pepperoni for a while cause your pizza infused vomit ricocheted onto the mirror and pepperoni became the new decor in the bathroom?   The worst.  Of course in the morning you firmly proclaimed from your death bed "I'M NEVER DRINKING AGAIN"

Fast forward a million years.  You have way better taste, shitty schnappes replaced with 15 year old single malt scotch.  Your old withered body no longer possesses the healing of the hangover you once possessed.  You're still a dumb ass for drinking to excess but your body ain't a tight 16 years old (I think it's ok to refer to a tight 16 year old body when referring to yourself)  You can't bounce back after a shitty colonic inspiring egg mcmuffin.   Your chores are mounting.  Your child free hours dwindling.  The clock is ticking.


Instead I have a date with a rotisserie chicken, my bed, Dr. Pepper and my new boyfriend, Michael Pena.

Choices

The thing with making big decisions is that sometimes there isn't a great reception.

My plans to move to what is universally known as the Jersey Shore, or as I like to call it, armpit of Ontario has certainly come with mixed reviews.  As someone with incredibly low if not completely non existent impulse control the concern is pretty overwhelming.  The problem with this, of course, is that one does get tired of defending choices that were made with the best of intentions and you shift from defending to wanting to punch teeth out.  The idea has always been at the back of my mind.  My go to was always to move to London.  Last year when I really starting to think about it I tried to put it out of my mind seeing as I had completely lost my nut.   But here I am.  All clear again and it all makes sense and while I am trying to get enthusiastic (I will look good with a nose ring, uggs and puffy furry coat,  yes?) there is a great deal of nerves involved.

Which brings me back to my impulse control.  Not having any has become something that I am learning to not only accept but also love about myself.  To date about 90% of my absurd moves have turned out to be incredibly life altering and enriching things, though they have come with their fair share of consequences.   So this fresh start seems so right.  The thing is, I HAVE to do this while wearing a pretty tight seatbelt. This isn't easy for someone like me.  I'm like a screaming 2 year old in a car seat flailing  about.

Actually, I'm exactly like this

Alas, I am a grown up and I need to be organized (another skill I lack), wise, ask questions (rather than just do it and worry about it later) and take my time.  I look forward to not having to do the whole parenting gig all alone.  It'll be hard work but worth it.  I look forward to being able to maintain (for the most part) my standard of living and being able to enjoy life as it comes.  It'll be nice to actually live in a house with SPACE with a cheaper mortgage.  The houses.....god....some of them are just gorgeous and since London is the worst city in the world they are relativly cheap.   Debt should be a thing of the past, more space,good schools, London derby league,  a fresh start and most importantly the girls wont have to travel hours just to see their Dad.   The benefit of close by Dad, of course, is that there will be someone there to shoulder the weight.  The seemingly insurmountably difficult task of raising three kids.

When we first split,  I will be honest, it was kinda awesome.  I had every other weekend off and everything was marvvy.  As time goes by the demands of parenting increase.  This one needs to go here, this one here.  Can I have 50 bucks, I need this.  On and on and on.  For the most part this is fine.  But there are days where I feel like there is a 200 pound brick on my chest, my head will explode and I can't get ahead of or even on top of things.  Added to this stress is the knowledge that before long the girls wont even want to go visit with him.  It has already started and one of my biggest fears is that one day, likely sooner than later my kids will lose touch and lose a relationship with one of the people who needs to be a positive influential part of their lives.

So, their step Mom has been sending me links to homes.  Beeeeautiful........Almost upgrading the city from armpit to knee cap.

And I can see myself living in a knee cap.

So begins the task of selling the house.  I like my ducks in a row and knowing EXACTLY what to expect.  Sadly, this is not the case with selling.  Markets are unpredictable and for all I know this could all go to shit.   I have been reminded of the time I sold my first house when I proclaimed "I'M NEVER SELLING A HOUSE AGAIN" as well as the time I bought my current house and screamed at the top of my lungs "I'M NEVER BUYING A HOUSE AGAIN"  But here I am!   You go with the flow, you become flexible all the while holding firming onto your hat just praying that you are doing the right thing.  It's scary and stressful but perhaps exactly where I am supposed to be.  I can't really imagine my life without chaos.  I invite it.  It's my comfort zone.

Anyway, I have a TONZO of shizznit I have to do.  Banks, lawyers, moving, real estate, tying up lose ends here and there....gah!  The good news is I have at least three months to get it going.  Three months.... Obviously this means only one thing...TO THE INTERWEBZ TO WASTE TIME!!!!

Tumblr...god....how I love you.

Hillbilly Jim!  Your memes just tickle my funny bone.  God

 Or this......
http://critiquemydickpic.tumblr.com/

WHY didn't I think of this!

Look fellas, I'm gonna give it to you straight.  In North America there seems to be a universal preference.  A cut 12" dong.  I'm not saying it's right or even realistic but be honest, is your first choice a 20 pound over weight woman with a chickstache?  Of course not!   Does it mean you wouldn't consider anything "less"?  I hope not cause I would be screeeeeewed.  My point is this....if it works over 90% of the time and you know how to use it you are good to go.  Submitting these pictures or sending half chub shots to women on line is just about the WORST way to beef up your self confidence.  Why?  Cause no one gives a shit but YOU and you will only be taunted and ridiculed.  

I feels as though I should create a sister site where I just judge.  I'm pretty good at that, totally ignoring the whole saying "when you point a finger at someone you are pointing three right back at yourself"