KnitMoron

Number one.

2012-01-14T12:26:00.001-05:00

A new year - we're restarting the dating numbering. The first contender for douchbag of the year is from OKC. We shall call him Yappy since he talks more than anyone I've ever me. Long, rambling stories that go off on wild tangents. In his defence, he is fairly interesting; his stories don't make my eyes glaze over.

On the negative, he doesn't really seem to want to listen to me talk about derby. That's a problem. But he's tall, dark and somewhat handsome. Not fat, not thin.

Texted him afterwards and got nothing, so I figure he wasn't interested, but he sent me his email address last night so I guess he is. I suggested a ball gag next time so I'd have a fighting chance at contributing to the conversation.

No money, though. Not that I have any issue about paying my own way but going out with someone with no money could could get old really fast. Say what you like about douchebag, but he was well paid in his self-employment, and very generous.

________________________________________________________________________________

In related news, I think I find out what derby team I'm on tonight! I can't believe I may actually be on a team...

White Russians? These should be for entertainment purposes, not heavy drinking. I wasn't even drunk last night and I feel wretched today. Stupid Kahlua. Or maybe it was all the crap-ass food.

My SILs mom died. Thank goodness, I was afraid she might linger for ages. So sad, even more sad that my brother didn't tell me like he was supposed to. Idiot.

At the risk of jinxing myself...

2012-01-06T21:59:00.003-05:00

2012 is already shaping up better than I could have expected. OK, I haven't quit eating chocolate (or cookies) but I have *tried* to cut down. And I have been running. and I think maybe I didn;t swear twice when I thought I was going to. Little baby steps.

Also - I finished a sweater. And bought the zip. (Let's not discuss sewing it in right now.) I knit Calvin a new pair of socks. I knit a legwarmer or two. I acquired two new knitting machines I don't need (I think we'll sell one to fund the rest) along with some amazingly cool accessories. I do love knitting machines so.

My dick of an ex has problems with details like who has the kid when. Whe he thinks he knows what's going on he doesn't reach back into his memory and think: "hmm... the last three time I thought I knew what was going on I fucked up, maybe I should confirm if what I think to be true actually is true." Nope, not him. He just assumes he's right. He is a man, after all.

So he assumed we'd swapped weekends. Permanently. I've had the kids every other weekend for the past year. It's a recuring appointment in my calendar. I KNOW when I'm supposed to have them. Anyway, when I picked up the kids and they told me daddy was supposed to I figured it was happeneing again.

To make a long story short, I don't care. This, in fact, is awesome and if I had thought about it I might have asked for just this. Now every single weekend I have a derby event, I DON'T have the kids, instead of just the opposite. Cosmic karma in my favour for once.

Montreal Training Camp, here I come!!

2012 - you're my bitch.

2011-12-28T18:37:00.002-05:00

Argh, it's been an age. I've been busy on my other blog, Lifestyles of the Self-deluded and Dysfunctional. That's over now. In no uncertain terms.

So let's move on!

Let's talk about next year, 2012. Oh, it's going to be so amazing! So much better than this year.

Not that 2011 was all bad - it brought roller derby to my life. Oh derby, how do I love you? New friends, new muscles, numerous new injuries, a whole new relationship with my physiotherapist. It taught me that balance in your life is important, that you are not always right (especially when drunk), and the value of a heartfelt apology.

I kissed a girl and I liked it but it didn't really do anything for me. More's the pity. Maybe I need to try harder, or be less drunk.

But 2011 broke my heart. Not in the way the douchebag 2010 broke my heart (which wasn't really broken, just stunned). Really broken. And I'm really hoping it taught me - finally - to listen to that inner voice inside of me. Not the one I *want* to hear; the one that really is speaking from a place of knowledge. I want to be able to listen, to be able to accept when it tells me the 411. Because it knows, it really does, you just have to LISTEN to it. You have to want to listen if only because it will save you from looking like a pathetic idiot.

Philosophy 101 - the answer to your question lies in the question itself:

Why doesn't that man love me?
That man doesn't love me.

and no matter how much you think it isn't true, thinking it doesn't make it so.

Anyway, 2012 is going to be better.

Better derby. Games, even. I live in hope. I also want to play with my friends again. Not sure how that will happen but I miss them so. Less crazy derby partying. Nuff said about that.

I will date. I will try. I will message people and reply - unless they weigh 300 lbs or are ancient, in body or spirit.

I will spend less money on crap. I will have less money so this will be a given but I gotta try at least. Less lunches. More knitting from stash. Maybe go back to sewing and sell something? And get paid for it? Follow up,baby. You're in charge.

Knock off those 15 lbs and do it fast before they get squatter's rights. It don't look good on you.

Smile, don't snarl.

Patience. Patience. Patience. Your life isn't even half over, there's lots of time for good things to happen.

Adios 2011, you mechant, mechant, mechant lou.

ps. how could I forget? I will get the damn attic done, I SWEAR on the derby rule book.
xo Clammy

Falling apart

2011-11-22T21:02:00.001-05:00

Yesterday my lovely little monsters came back. I miss them a lot now that they're gone a bit more, and they miss me. Not much we can do about that, I guess.

Anyway, I set about making them dinner last night as I discussed homework with Calvin. Slapped the pot on the stove for boiled eggs, cranked it up, fought over the journal and what constituted an acceptable entry (note: one partial sentence is not an acceptable entry). I look up after a few minutes and notice the kitchen is FULL of smoke. I had turned on the wrong hotplate and the wool pad that had been on that hotplate was transmogrified.

Mental note: don't leave shit on the stove. It is not a storage space.
Mental note 2: it's true, wool doesn't burn. It just... carbonizes. It only burned in the exact spot it was resting on the hotplate. So dress your babies in wool and they won't be tragically disfigured in the event of accidental burning.

It stunk to high heaven. I had instant flashbacks to the tragic stew incident of my childhood, where we went to the mall leaving the stew on the stove on high and came back to a house FULL of disgusting smoke. I swear it took months to get the smell of burned flesh out of our coats.

Also - my smoke detector didn't go off. OK, most of the smoke was in the kitchen and the detector is down the hall at the bottom of the stairs. I'm wondering if this is a bad thing or not. It doesn't go off every time I burn the toast, which is good. If the house actually was on fire, the smoke would have to go past the detector to get upstairs, which would wake us up. But maybe it would be better if we got a bit of advance warning before the whole bottom storey was filled with smoke? Hmmm.... I think not having it go off with every cooking malfunction might win out.

I know this won't come as a stunning revelation to anyone with an ounce of sense, but my kids like it when I pay attention to them. We've been drawing, playing games (Calvin is kick-ass at chess. He castled!), playing Lego... and they are much much much happier, spend less time fighting with each other and don't feel the need to bug me every 20 second to play computer games (we're down to every 5 minutes, but it's an improvement). Ah, parenting. Why can't you be easier?

Homework for two kids? Check
Calvin punching me in the arm? Check
Jack throwing a shoe at my ankle? Check.
25 Lego dudes unearthed from the bottom of the bin? Check.
Whinging bouts averted? Check.

Both kids are finally peacefully asleep in bed, the laundry is finishing up it's cycle and the horrible sound of grinding, gnashing metal bits erupts from the washer. Again. Once can be explained away, twice needs attention. Stupid front loader - I don't have a clue.

On the plus side, I've managed not to to send emails that will get me into trouble. Not like I haven't written a few but I have managed not to send them. So far.

Plumbing

2011-11-11T15:09:00.001-05:00

I think I can do anything. I look at a project and say to myself "That's totally doable. Even if I run across a snag or two, how bad can it be?"

Now, my house was built in 1914. I am convinced that for the first 50 years of it's existence (and most houses of it's era) all the work done on it was done by the well meaning but somewhat inept homeowner. That's just the way it was back then. In some houses (mine included) this trend seems to have been carried on throughout it's entire lifetime. Electricity wired with no logic, though fully functional and seemingly safe. Plumbing that snakes its way around in bizarrely random patterns. There is no project that doesn't encounter a snag, no matter how hard you try to anticipate the problems.

So when I volunteered to do my friend's sink plumbing, I thought "How bad can it be?" I looked at it, tried to imagine all the possible problems, though, though and thought again. ANd then jumped in.

Her hot tap had been dripping, then running, for a while. First order of business was to put in a hot water shutoff. She had got compression fittings rather than solder on ones, not my fav but I thought hey, why not branch out? Besides the fact that I had a hell of a time getting them to not drip, it seemed relatively painless. (I suspect they are still leaking a tiny bit, but WAY less than before and hopefully snugging them up will fix that. Hopefully.)

Then we tackled the cold side. Now, I had previously noted that the old galvanized iron pipe had been replaced from the kitchen upstairs, in a fully accessible place to attach new copper to the basement. Peachy, right? What I failed to consider was that A. removing the ancient sink fitting from the stupid galvanized pipe would be, to put it mildly, a fucking nightmare and B. that getting to old supply lines out would be just as bad. So we run the new copper supply line from the basement, cut the copper from the old pipe and all of a sudden I realize we can't get the old pipe out and thus can't get the new stuff in.

Fuck.

After some serious contemplation, liberal application of WD40 and swear words, and a halfhearted attempt with the pipe wrench (I loves me a pipe wrench. Sexiest tool ever.) I abandoned hope of removing it that night. (Did I mention we started about 6 pm? Ha.) So... how to get the plumbing at least functional for the next week or so? Paper plates and takeout is fine but you gotta do da business somewhere.

So we decided to bypass the sink for now since the old pipe was talking up all the room needed to run the new supply line and shutoff and just reconnect the cold water lines with new copper pipe. Then when we figured out how to get the old pipe out we could just add in the sink supply line. Sure.

Except that the lines in the basement wouldn't drain properly so we had a bitch of a time getting them to seal. M had left for derby practice leaving poor C with me to help. I am eternally grateful to her for her patience with my ineptness, and her excellent, thoughtful suggestions.

To make a long story short, we tried three (four?) separate times to get the stupid lines to seal - in various configurations, adding in little drains, over and over. Every time we turned the water on there was a leak. The last time, with our last set of connectors (don't ask how many we wasted) as I dried out the pipe with the torch I said let's just shove some more flux in here and see if that helps. And it did. It fucking did.

It sounds so anticlimactic as I write it, but it was 10:30, we had no more fittings and no prospect of getting the water back on if this didn't work. We were elated. Overjoyed.

Now we just gotta figure out how to get the stupid galvanized pipe out. The rest will be easy.

Stop laughing.

(Oh, and it leaked in a different spot and I had to go back and fix it, sick child in tow. Not fun. There may have been a hissy-fit involved.)

Drinking the Koolaid

2011-11-10T15:07:00.000-05:00

Roller derby is a force to be reckoned with. It is a fantastic way to stay in shape, meet new people and have a hell of a good time. But it can quickly spiral out of control.

It's the drug that fixes everything for me. It takes away my hangover, my cold symptoms, my bone-deep fatigue, my angst about my kids and my personal life... I notice none of these things while skating. Yes, it can be frustrating when you're tring for the 27th time to weave through cones and you're sure you'll NEVER get it. When you want to jump in the air and your legs refuse to cooperate and actually bend. But the speed, the hitting, the sense of control - the adrenalin rush is a potent, addictive drug.

The social aspect is something else entirely. Derby culture is like a cult. Before you know it, you're going out after practice on a Wednesday night, rolling in at 1 am, and dragging your ass back out of bed at 6:30 to go to work. Two days later you're out until 3, hammered. and maybe the night after that too.

And it's not just the lifestyle, it's how the attitudes of these women rub off on you so quickly. If you had told me a year ago that I would be taking the subway dressed in a pair of holey tights and a running skirt that barely clears my ass I would have laughed uproariously. Now my only concern is that I don't freeze to death. I'm not saying this is a bad thing - I'm all about havng a positive body image but it sure is different, especially for me, suzy conservative.

And then there's the sex thing. Derby girls have a reputation for being, um... skanky hos. This is coming from men. I think they have there wires crossed as most derby girls aren't even interested in men, and those who are have a hard time finding men to skank with, so filled with women are the venues we tend to frequent. But the woman-on-woman action is unbelievable. I don't want to generalize either lesbians or derby girls, but most of the women I have run across have a very broad sens of what is acceptable behaviour. Now I kind of like this. I think it's refreshing that they can do pretty much whatever they want and not be judged for it. (I'm going to assume that there is some sort of understanding between partners about what is or is not acceptable.) I used t be very uptight and moralistc about "relationships" and what constituted "acceptable" standards of practice, but this has changed a lot lately. (It's not all to do with derby and there is a lot of stuff I have come to believe that I would never discuss with my "conventional" friends as I know they'd think I was nuts, but I have changed a lot. For the better, I think. Theory is one thing - I might have to see what happens if it ever gets put into practice.)

Anyway... the point of this is that your perspective tends to get skewed after a while. Throwing women into the mix as more-than-friends is weird. No longer is there that safe space of friendship, when women (notoriously judgmental bitches) only judge you on your looks and attitudes and shoes, now it's on your potential as a prospective hook-up as well. You start to think that you have to have good hair and clothing around them, not only when you're looking to impress the opposite sex. What a chore. And it makes conversation (difficult enough for someone as socially stunted as myself) even more difficult. Who needs that?

This is so high school, I know. And for someone of my age it's ridiculous. Still, it sneaks up on you and you don't realize how far of the path you've strayed until all of a sudden you've humiliated your best friend and are making out with a virtual stranger in a dive bar.

Reality check, dudes. There is too much of a good thing. I'm sticking with the sport and camaraderie aspect of derby and leaving the rest behind me.

Not to mention the fact that anything non-derby tends to get the shaft when consumed by the obsession. Housework, hobbies, OTHER FRIENDS. You did things before derby and you can do things as well as derby. There's a reason you don't put all your eggs in one basket.

But I have improved my ability to apologize, something I'm not very good at. I guess that's a good thing. I'd rather improve my ability to relate to people, to deal with adversity, so I don't have to apologize so much.

Crazy dude.

2011-11-06T11:54:00.000-05:00

Just for posterity, I think I should record this here. In case y'all think I don't love you, this is what I put up with in the name of research and entertainment. God knows I don;t get much out of it, SOMEONE should...

Went for drinks, dude likes to talk about himself. We had nothing in common, but I got somewhat drunk and managed to chit chat acceptably well. He just talks about how smart and cheap he is and the car his sister gave him and then he sold and she was pissed and he doesn't know why. Had no interest in derby - just said soccer is a much better sport. Why would girls want to hit each other? dude... I shoulda bailed then.

Then he says lets go get some lamb and cook and make salad and bread and wine and I agreed since it's so much easier, and I was still contemplating fucking him for research purposes. Then we're half way to the store and I say - no I don't want to do dinner. And he says Oh, I was just going to say we have a good vibe - I haven't invited anyone up to my place before (riiiiight - cuz you're a crazy mofo and they all run away first). And he starts grilling me on why I changed my mind etc etc. So I agree to a drink at his place. I'm a pushover.

So we go to his place and he keeps filling my glass up to almost the rim and I'm half in the bag and he tries to teach me to dance and the music was AWFUL. He just listens to stuff from Youtube - no actual music. Black dudes sorta rapping with half naked chicks crawling around on the screen - seriously? And he plays the same few awful songs over and over. The dancing was sorta fun in a completely uncoordinated way. Then he starts going on about what do I want to do for fun and he'll take me anywhere and he will pay and I say no - I want to go see my friends. I only have so much free time and I want to spread it around and he says can I come and I say no (surprise). So by now I just want to get the fuck out but then he kisses me and says there wasn't that good? Which it wasn't - he sorta ate my face too much tongue and teeth and dude - SUBTLETY please - you don't have to ran your tongue down my throat!! So then he tries again to convince me we should do something together and I say no about 20 time and finally I just say I gotta go. And he's obviously pissy.

So I make my escape and he calls me 3 x before I'm 100 yards away and I don't pick up and then he texts me to say:

you made me feel like sort of a jerk and I kindof liked you
but sorry please lose my number
please lose my number as you are fake

to which I reply:

Dude - get a grip. not wanting to spend the whole evening with you is not fake.

and he sends texts 4,5 and 6:

sure please lose my number is that too much asking I know ur kind (?!?!?!! wtf does that mean????)
no offense good luck
just lose number please

Gosh, I guess you don;t want me to call you again? Like I would, you crazy psycho freak!

Oh, and he MADE me wash my hands when we got to his place. He WATCHED me put soap on and said Oh, I guess you do know how to do that. What, WASH????? And when I tried to change the music on his computer he was all - oh I'm a computer guy, you probably can't figure out HOW TO USE YOUTUBE let me help. Dude's obviously been dating driftwood.

So then I went and got even more trashed with my friends. Good times!!!

Oh, and he smokes. Seriously? Did you think I just wouldn't notice???

Enthusiasm`

2011-08-14T20:15:00.000-04:00

When was the last time I approache my kife with any enthusiasm? Someone on the street today said I was having a mid-life crisis. Could be, but it's a crisis which is making my life a hell of a lot better.

Tried longboarding today. Think skateboarding on a big scale - boards 3-4 feet long. SO. Much. Fun. Borrowed a board from a friend while the kids are away and wow. I feel moderately competant already! It's a very cool feeling leaning into the corners and carving the hill. Loosened her trucks WAY up - hope she doesn;t mind. Now you actually turn when you lean (thanks, derby!).

And derby. Sigh, how do I love thee? Went skating in High Park on Sat, ostentably with the derby/cardinal gals, but really just me and Miko and Rosa. Did a controlled crash on my way to the park (read: steep hill, out of control descent, turned corner onto corrugated sidewalk, chose to bail out rather than flame out) resulting in some minor road rash/bruising but otherwise was AWESOME!!!

The main road loop around the park is pretty short, but hilly. Oh the hills. What an adrenalin rush. Once I found out there was nothing at the bottom of the hill (no stops etc.) I just tucked and went. Could have done it a thousand times. Down the hill, up a bit, down another, around the corner and back to the beginning fairly flat. Repeat until you can't stand.

Chose to take my skates off rather than risk a repeat performance on the sidewalk on the way back. I think I made the right decision.

Keep in mind we're moving in this pic...

You can't teach an old horse...

2011-08-06T10:03:00.001-04:00

Ha. So much for the new me, able to deal with uncertainly, to relax and let things slide. You know why? Because that person is a DOORMAT and I don't want to be a doormat.

Notice I'm not saying I *won't* be a doormat - just that I don't like it. God, that would require me taking a stand, being confrontational, having a backbone. My problem is that I had a backbone at the beginning, we discussed this shit and sort of resolved it and now I am not doing anything about it.

Problem - as usual - communication. I leave it all up to him and then get all hinky when things don't proceed as I think they should. So stupid, though. He's not psychic, he hasn't done anything wrong, it's just that I won't man up and say I have an issue. And of course we all know why - because I don't want him to walk away. Yes, I know, if that makes him walk away I don't want him in the first place but it's so easy to say and so hard to do.

So I'm going to set myself a time limit. You can enjoy (?) the two weeks that the kids are away, make the most of that (if anything even comes of that - I have a long history of spending my free time alone) and then see how things are after that. If you pull the plug after that you won't feel like you chucked away all that potential action (mmmmm... action).

Remember, being a doormat is not attractive. Really. And he likes you, he really does - you're just taking his issues and turning them into an opportunity to be the old passive sappy you. DO something, then you can blame him if it all goes to shit instead of taking it all on yourself. You are awesome. It won't be your fault if this doesn't work out, and as you have discovered it's not your only opportunity for good sex. Good sex is 80% in your mind and 20% a competent partner. Yeah, so you like him. Do you want an inevitably on again off again drag me through the rosebush relationship? Nope, I didn't think so.

Screwing a 35 yo dude? Not sure how I feel about that. Screwing a 35 yo dude who's never been with an "older" woman? Could be a psychologically traumatic experience for yours truly. Only if he's as asshole, though, and I should be able to figure that out before we hop in the sack.

Retrospective

2011-08-01T10:40:00.000-04:00

Remember this?
Haaaaarrrgghh.

What F-PERT means to me:

2011-07-21T13:33:00.000-04:00

Oh, the injustice of it all

2011-07-20T08:16:00.001-04:00

It sucks being a chick sometimes. I have raging PMS this month. I wish I could figure out what made it worse.

My boobs rival Dolly Parton's and they are about 10 degrees hotter than the rest of me. Great in this weather, eh? And the pain!
I ate my own body weight in sugar yesterday. I think I would have chewed off the arm of anyone who tried to stop me.
I went from total adoration to screaming banshee at my kids yesterday. Can you say "mood swing", Billy? Sure, I knew you could.

When does my biological clock run out???

The view from here

2011-07-15T16:56:00.002-04:00

What exactly is the view like from out of your arsehole? Fuzzy with hints of brown, I suspect. My wretched brother has his head shoved so far up his ass I'm surprised he can see at all. Do you think he will realize the universe doesn't revolve around him at some point? I've cut him more slack than anyone and more that he deserves, certainly, but I've had it. He can either discuss his shit with me and we can have it out or not. Frankly, I've lost interest.

Hollywood version: He calls Monday to ask if he can bring his gf's teenage children up to the cottage. Now, I knew this was coming since she facebooked she'd been invited a few days before and my umbillically-connected nephew told me, so I was prepared. It's my vacation. My time to chill out and relax with my family. Not to have to deal with strangers, to have to worry about not wearing a bra, changing out of my swimsuit, etc etc. So I said no. He said that wasn't fair to him, Darcy went on vacation with him and his kids all the time and he should bring her kids. WTF? Not my problem! I said it was MY vacation and I wanted to spend it with my family and only family. You're my family; Darcy isn't. I barely know her, let alone her kids. And he said:

But Orly came up.

Um, and Orly is not A. the mother of my niece and nephew? B. My friend??
Don't even start to compare her with Darcy.

Anyway, I said I wasn't going to argue with him, I'm not comfortable sharing my vacation with strangers and that's that. He said then he wasn't going to bring Darcy either. Whatever.

The he sent me a pissy text saying he wasn't coming at all. Fine, eyeroll. I let him think about that and he remembered he had to collect his children from me. He shows up with the van, three passengers, proceeds to pack everyone into the car (six people, five seatbelts). Calvin cried, Jade wasn't pleased but would never question her dad. Ari didn't care as long as he had wifi.

Tit.

That is all.

It's official...

2011-07-10T20:14:00.000-04:00

I'm a member of the Divine Viper Assasination Squad. Frankly, I'm terrified. Tales of split and blackened eyes abound. Still, that's what makes life exciting, isn't it? Maybe I can earn some of my injuries now instead of them all being self-inflicted.

Outdoor skating only till Sept, though . I'm away for the next week, then the league is moving to a new facility which isn't ready. Then no practice in August. I have no desire (let alone hope in hell) of being drafted. I just wanna play on the D-VAS until I am marginally competant.

25 laps in 5 minutes. I am way pleased with myself.

Well I didn't have internet, at least.

2011-07-10T10:38:00.000-04:00

A week with these two:

...has actually been fairly delightful.
Lots of this:

And this:

Even Chester had and good time:

Didn't wash my hair for a week. Awesome.

Home for derby with children (curses) due to unexpected tragedy not at all related to me. Still, if you didn't have internet and didn't discover it for a few days, how would life be different? You'd get a few more days of blissful vacation, oblivious, and the person would still be dead when you got back to the city.

A list (not A-list)

2011-07-02T12:05:00.000-04:00

I am on vacation for two glorious weeks. No internet. Good for my mental health if nothing else.
The kids are gone for the long weekend so I can pack, clean, relax. Even better, they went up to the cottage with steve so I get to drive alone, oh joy.
I should be shopping/packing but am, as usual, procrastinating.
Skated on the lakeshore path yesterday with Miko and Michelle, who rode M's bike - it was awesome. I refuse to give in to my fear of obstacles, rough ground, railroad tracks, potholes, traffic, gravel, and falling in front of cars, but I categorically refuse to skate through standing water and/or mud. Did some off-roading as a result.
Why don't you spell obstacle like testicle?
The smell of sewage off the treatment plant is truly DISGUSTING.
I drunk texted dude (who is an M, btw) and was called a lush for my efforts. Very true. Will try not to do that again as he threatened to turn back the clock
Sucked back more vodka and tonic that a body should be able to handle. Derby is a bad influence on my drinking habits.
Had a coughing fit in the car and I couldn't breath in. Thought my companions would have a stroke since I was driving at the time. Fun times. Stupid cough.
Dude listens to Ray LaMontagne, in case anyone doubted he was perfect for me.
The Ray tee shirt I got, which is a women's large, fits Calvin who is a skinny 9. What is wrong with clothing manufacturers?
There is no rule that said I couldn't stalk him. I just can't talk to him.
Six days is forever, six months is eternity. I hope it gets better.
Everyone thinks I'm fucked and no one will let me talk about it. Hence this.
I put my hands in Bruiseberry's pants. No, not pants, underwear. I was drunk. My friends were baiting me. I am an easy target - they said she had my phone, lying bitches.
I was box manager for the clam slam! Most stressful hour of my life. Tell me again why I do this? Oh yeah, because it's fun and no one's yelled at me yet. The day that happens I WILL cry.
Did absolutely nothing to celebrate Canada day. I am an apathetic Canadian.

Clams

2011-06-29T11:41:00.000-04:00

In case you're interested in why I picked Free-Range Clam over some of the other options...
Free-Range implies slutty, which I aspire to, and describes my parenting style.
Clam is... well, a clam - always good in a sport dominated by lesbian women. I can hint that I might swing that way and fit in with the cool kids. Also reflective of my emotional ability, according to some/many.

During the year, the free-range clam tends to stay close to it's own territory, though will occasionally venture into the west end in search of a mate. During the summer, however, the free-range clam lives up to it's name and wanders all over the countryside.

The free-range clam has been known to slam it's potential mate repeatedly against a hard object to determine his suitability. It seems obvious that the clam is selecting for hardy genes, although this behavior has also been noted in clams outside the reproductive age. The clam seems somewhat bloodthirsty as it will often, in the throes of mating passion, ingest the blood it has drawn..

Am home nursing snot bubbles, trying to kick this stupid chest thing before a. I go on vacation and b. I lose my mind. Isn't it weird how my doctor will give me a prescription for antibiotics over the phone, based on a few questions the receptionist asks, while some won't even refill a Rx for insulin needles? My doctor will also see you the same day if you want, while hers takes six weeks for an appointment. D'ya think you might die in those six weeks? I think there should be common standards. When I rule the world things will be better.

Six hours, six days, six weeks, six months.

Momentous

2011-06-28T20:15:00.001-04:00

On the advice of my trusted adviser, Dr. Morrison, I ended it with dude today. It was mutual. We both recognized it was not viable as is. Both equally reluctant to end it. Both knew we had to. I'd been pushing and pushing and he was so kind and good natured about it, but in the end he was right. We're done.

On a note that will send Dr. Morrison through the roof, we agreed to get back in touch (if I want to) in six months and see how things stand. I find that reassuring. Not that he'll be there waiting for me all fixed and available, or that I will be waiting. Just... reassuring.

He is a truly lovely man and I am so sad and sorry that things couldn't work out. God, I've tried so hard and waited so long for someone like him and then when I do find him, he's "unavailable". Fix your baggage dude and lets move on.

In other news:

I am now Free-Range Clam #666. It's not the most popular choice but I love it.

Old and new

2011-06-26T22:48:00.001-04:00

Wow, this has been a fabulous week. I came to the conclusion today that it would be better to just accept the fact that my mom is somewhat defective in the parenting department and move on. It's too late to fix this puppy. I don't think she ever really had much interest in her children beyond grooming them into the sort of people who she could talk about in those damn christmas letters without embarrassment. Needless to say, she didn't do those sort of letters for long. She seems to feel the same sort of remoteness for her grandkids, surprise. She was never one to bundle up the baby and snuggle for hours just because she wanted to - more like she would come and do it because it was her duty. And she let you know.

I find this very sad and really hope I'm not like this. I don't think so. God knows I have my issues but I hope this isn't one of them.

On an unrelated (?) topic, I find the quality of the friendships I've cultivated in the last 10 years (actually I think I can carbon date the start of this to when steve left) is much better that it used to be. Sure I have old friends, but in general those were... not particularly equal or healthy relationships. These days my friends are amazing people. I would ask them for the world if I had to (OK it would still be an effort, but I could do it) and give it right back to them when they needed it. Yes, I'm a moody, cranky, intolerant bitch. I wonder why anyone puts up with me? Regardless I am truly grateful and I would never (knowingly - I was drunk!) stand them up for anything. Blah blah blah. What's the point of this? I dunno - I'm depressed and need to find something good in my life? It's a challenge.

More positively - I went to the finals last night expecting to be a grunt volunteer. I wanted to watch the game.
since I figure it would be good. And it was.

However, I got sucked into doing stats which is somewhat less than low stress. In fact, I was penalty wrangler, which meant listening to the refs and transmitting their calls to the penalty tackers. Which I'd never done before. And did I mention it was the FINALS??? Har. So me and my crazy ass dress + groovin' pink NSO shirt spent the entire game tripping around in circles after the refs. I somehow managed not to fuck up completely, much to my everlasting relief. AND THE CHICKS WON! I am SO pleased. I lave me some Chicks. And the Gores, but they usually annihilate everyone. The Chicks have really come into their own this season. (Did I mention this is on Rogers next weekend? Must find someone with cable to let me see it. I hear the game was awesome. All I saw were the refs. Who are awesome too.)

New derby name: Free-Range Clam. Appropriately trashy, somewhat sexually ambiguous. What more could I ask for??

Day 6 of "thinking". I'm losing hope. I can't believe I lasted this long. Hope/blind optimism/stupidity springs eternal in my wasted emotional shell.

Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick

2011-06-24T22:02:00.002-04:00

That is all.

Relativity

2011-06-22T22:05:00.000-04:00

How long is "time"? Sound pretty open-ended to me.

Spidey Senses: 1

2011-06-21T10:42:00.000-04:00

Dude and I had this looooong discussion last night where he unburdened himself of lots of baggage... to what purpose, I'm not sure. To make me understand him? I don't.

Dude needs TIME. God, I've heard that before. I couldn't even bring myself to ask how much time he thinks he might need to decide whether I was worth fitting into his life, which is what it boils down to. He can say he's confused till the cows come home but what dude doesn't just go for what they want if they want it? It all just screams backing away at warp speed. I must be really great in bed.

I am not going though this train wreck again. One day of sobbing into my keyboard is pretty much as much as I can take, and my hair hasn't finished growing back from last time. (Hmmm ...think what a supermodel I'd be if I lost another 50 lbs, though). My bullshit meter is going off like a mad thing. Nobody avoids a relationship because they're worried they'll hurt someone - it happens all the time and people get hurt and move on. C'est la vie. Me invading your space? Being too demanding? All those are reasonable (and probably much more valid) reasons. So man up and say what the problem really is.

Speaking of, you'd think being all (relatively) thin and fit would have made a difference to the quality of my sex/relationship life. Nope. Not. At. All. I find this completely disappointing. I guess before I could have blamed my perennially single status on the size of my ass, but now what? I guess it really is my stellar personality. How depressing. Yes, I like it for it's own sake, because I feel better and my clothes fit better and I'm more comfortable but really - it's not life changing. Which sucks.

I want a Big Mac.

It's my blog and I'll angst if I want to.

2011-06-20T10:01:00.000-04:00

Oh boy.

Yes, I'm at work. No, I can't concentrate.

I'm trying really hard not to give in to the feeling of impending doom that is lurking. Yes, I know I have a long history of denial. So what, I should change now?

It's been about 24 hours since he left my bed (OK, more like 28, but who's counting?). When he got home he sent me a text saying good things and ambiguous things which I'm not going to go into. In general, positive. Or so I thought. I sent him an email later that afternoon with the info for next Sat's derby bout in it. Nothing. Nothing at all.

OK, I don't know what his policy is on returning emails. Generally it hasn't been very snappy despite his obvious interest. But... what? I wait. I HATE waiting. I am not a patient person and my imagination in the interim is a terrible force to be reckoned with.

Has he decided I'm going to ask too much of him? He's probably right. We did discuss this in the lead up to him staying the night and it seemed OK but who knows in the light of day how he'll feel. He promised he wouldn't Houdini. ( Just writing this makes me laugh. It's the internet, where promises mean less than nothing. But I believed him.)

It's just that it was so perfect. So perfect. So much chemistry. So much to talk about. And he was so obviously... well whatever. Why does everyone have to have plans, expectations, agendas? Can't you just go with it? I guess one person's going with it can be perceived and something entirely different to another.

I want to believe you, and so I do, just for tonight. Thanks Alison Krauss

You're going to break my heart, dude.

What number is this? Eight?

2011-06-19T20:45:00.000-04:00

D'you know what the problem with dating when you a hundred and two like I am is? Your friends get pretty sick and tried of your rhapsodizing/complaining/sobbing/angsting. Back when you're young and silly and all your friends are young and silly there's a whole host of people willing to play the dating game with you:

- Do you think he's cute?
- OMG he's totally cute and he totally likes you. I can totally tell.
- Do you think so? I thought he liked Jenny.
- No way man. Jenny's totally ancient history. And Matt told Karl who told Suzi who told me that he's totally into you.
- What if he doesn't call me? Should I call him? Should I text him 100x an hour unitl he calls me?
- He'll call you. He was totally into you. But don't call him. It'll make you look like you like him.

etc. etc. etc.

While teenage girls can do this with no apparent limit, grown ups cannot. While they act supportive and willing to listen to your stories, the inner eyerolling is hard to disguise.

So of my epic 12 hour date I have one thing to say: Drywall 1: Wallpaper 0. And that's a good thing :)

Testus Interruptus

2011-06-12T17:38:00.001-04:00

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Didn't get the testing finished because we ran out of time and I couldn't stay but

YAY!

All I can say is that the testing committee in general was so helpful, supportive and clear about their expectations. Moni Chrome in particular rocks my world. I love her.

I. Did. The. Cones.

They gave us 6 tries, not 3. The first try I did them all and then just missed the last one. I thought that was all I was going to do. Tries 2-5 sucked the hairy one. Then, on try #6, I did them ALL. OK, I ran over the last one but they gave me a 2!!!! I could not have been more thrilled and happy. I think it was sheer force of will that got me through those cones. I tend to get pissy when I start fucking up and things go downhill from there, but they were so encouraging that I did it. Yay me!

The rest of the test was unremarkable except tfor the good feeling, camaraderie and support form the other dskjaters and the testers. It made it fun, not stressful. Except for the plow stop. But I think I got a 1 even on that. My hits sort of sucked but I didn't fall on my ass, gave and got a few good ones so I should be OK.

I'll have to finish the testing later, maybe Jul 10. I'll be at the cottage but it will be worth the trip to get er done. It's only moving around the track and endurance, neither of which I'm worried about and then I'll be a WFTDA skater!!!!!!!

I'm a wee bit bummed about the lack of completion but totally riding the high!

Bare minimum

2011-06-11T21:54:00.002-04:00

I figure I should talk about this today. Tomorrow might be messy...

Tomorrow I make a mighty attempt to pass the WFTDA minimum skills test. These are *minimum* skills, designed not to make you a great derby player, but to stop you hurting yourself or others when out on the track learning to be a great derby player. Some are sensible - weaving through the pack, avoiding sudden obstacles, skating next to people, being bumped etc etc. Some seem pretty arbitrary - hits and whips? Should these be part of *minimum* skills? I don't know. I can see both viewpoints. Weaving through cones on one leg is the one that's going to bite me in the ass. If I spend a hour warming up, doing it over and over, I can usually manage a somewhat acceptable approximation of the weave. Today at practice was a fucking joke. OK, the were too close together, but I couldn't even do every second one. I was prepared to take a zero on this, but you can't get a zero. On anything. Fuck. I guess I shall have to try and find a time space to warm myself up and hope to god the winds are blowing in my favour. I don't want to fail on that alone.

Har - there are SO many things I could fail on. Plow stops, hip checks (giving - I can take a moderate one just fine), jumping, ohmygod the jumping. I mananged it today by gluing my eyes on the Chicks sign that was directly across on the opposite wall but I think that was a miracle. Throw in some stress and I may well end up on my ass.

Fresh Meat was somewhat of a cluster-fuck, if you ask me. Too disorganized, no one seemed to know what the ultimate goal was. Shouldn't they have been concentrating on teaching us the things we need to know to pass the test? Some things we didn't do even ONCE (yes I'm talking about you, jumping from foot to foot while moving). Nobody talked at ALL about skate adjustment and that is MANDATORY for things like weaving. If you trucks are fucked you can't do it at all - it's like trying to bend a fork with your mind and Kreskin I am not. My trucks were so tight I couldn't turn at all - AT ALL - and I gnashed my teeth about my complete lack of skill for AGES. When Coach Paulie swapped my cushions and adjusted my trucks it was like a choir of angels was singing in my head. I looked down, shifted my weight and the wheels TURNED like I had a steering wheel. Halle fucking lujah. Ya thing we could have covered this in the first few weeks? Sigh. Seems to be in better hands now but it's too late for us Freshies.

Speaking of stress... lets discuss my mother. As we all know, she has not been very supportive of my derby aspirations from the get-go. Roller blading as she STILL calls it. It seems irrelevant to her that it's fun, social, excellent exercise and makes me SO happy. I have NEVER done organized sport and have been a couch potato for most of my adult life. You would think she would be delighted to see me getting off my fat ass and doing something. But no. As best I can tell, the problem is that derby is not a socially acceptable activity. One step up from cockfighting, as she said (and has been oft quoted!). God forbid she has to tell her friends what her dear daughter does for fun. Seriously? When is she going to get over this?

So this weekend is our final test, plus we had a practice today and I was supposed to volunteer for a game tonight. I asked her if she'd do Saturday instead of Sunday since it was basically the whole day. Nope. That, apparently, was too much to ask. Too much to ask a grandparent to look after her youngest grandchildren. In contrast, the kids down the street (all four of them) were left with their grandparents overnight. Why me? Why do I get the grinchy grandmother?

So my stress level was through the roof this week. On Thursday I basically begged Carolyn to look after the boys for the four hours today. She semi-reluctantly volunteered her husband, but only I asked directly and said I was desperate. Paul was great, completely unphased and I owe him huge.

So - tomorrow. Will I pass? Will I flame out? Will I just fail by a whisker (which would be even worse)? I hold out high hope for Miko, Michelle (wishes for Melinda's speedy recovery!) and the portugese princess, but me not so much. Too old, too timid, to cautious.

In reality I don't have the time for the level of commitment ToRD demands. I don't want to be a derby superstar but I do want to play. I want to do more and more until skating is like biking is for me - a natural reflexive activity that I don't even have to think about. Then I can hit, dodge, deke and feint like it's meant to be. THAT's the fun stuff. The game. So I want to pass. Yes, I can go to elsewhere and probably get in with little problem, but I'd rather pass the stupid test and keep my options open.

However, if I fail the written test I will be devastated. I'm an academic, not a jock. I've studied this stuff more than anyone I know. I WANT to pass the written. I'm going to bawl regardless of what I fail but I'm going to feel like a real loser if I fail the written. I'm kinds glad I have the kids so I don't have to worry about bailing out of celebratory activities. They're my derby gals, they rock my world. I've never met such an awesome, positive, supportive bunch who tolerate my moods and crustiness, but still. Sometimes you just gotta hole up and lick your wounds alone.

I am looking forward to a free weekend, though.

Yikes!

2011-05-18T20:55:00.000-04:00

June 12th is derby D-day. The day we get tested for our WFTDA Minimum Skills Requirements. Double yikes.

Done like dinner

2011-05-18T13:24:00.000-04:00

OK, really. I tried. I've done it all and more for the sake of what - My relentless quest for the perfect (or at least acceptable) man? My friends' entertainment? Something to do while the kids were away?

I've been out with men who make you feel greatand you think there's great chemistry but it mysteriously evaporates (drywall dude), men who make you feel like crap but you adore them anyway for some stupid fucked up reason (douchebag), men who are so easy to talk to you overlook the fact that they have a personality like wallpaper (Phil). Men who talk incessantly about themselves (old dude). Men who bitch about their ex the entire time and how they never got laid and hey, let's go parking! (that would be clicky, the parking dude). Men who look nothing like their pictures and eat off your plate without asking (can't remember his name - that was a while ago) oh, and then expect you to ask them to come in! Flicky, the dope fiend with the earlobe issue. The old fat limpy lawyer who took me to a loud band where he talked incessantly, couldn't hear a word I said when I tried, and then repeatedly tried to stick his tongue down my throat. Oh, and had a fetish about women with fake limbs... ew. Well endowed, poorly endowed, good in the sack, USELESS in the sack. I've done it all.

There were more. I'm sure I'm forgetting some particularly heinous examples.

Hey, it's not all bad. I've had my horizons expanded, my interests changed, my musical taste improved (or at least diversified). I lost 50 pounds (and lots of my hair - douchebag) . I've been to therapy for stupid reasons (douchebag) but which ultimately turned out to be helpful.

Post-douchebag we've had:
1: Toothy - guy who was there with his friend the whole time.
2: Crazy Bill - set up a date and then bailed by email 2 seconds later. I'm counting him.
3. Drywall dude - total attraction first time, then nothing. So weird.
4. Lawyer dude with the derby fetish.
5. Bancroft dude. I'm still counting him since he'd bone me given a chance.
6. Wallpaper dude. AKA cunnilingus master.
7. Wattle.

Only three to go but I don't think I can do it without a break.

Derby tally

2011-05-09T15:00:00.001-04:00

We're in week 13 of 16 of fresh meat. Three more weeks to go. It seem like an appropriate time to look back and see how it's been going...

At the beginning I literally couldn't carry on a conversation while on my skates without falling over. Now you can hit me, bump skates with me, I can skate on one foot while turning to look behind me (well, one leg anyway), I can jump and turn in a circle, I can jump over three obstacles in a row (!) and almost almost almost do 25 laps in 5 minutes. I wouldn't call myself good by any stretch but when I saw the Hamilton team play on Saturday I thought maybe we were almost as good as them (OK, they got their asses kicked deservedly, but still...).

I do hurt myself fairly regularly. I don't know if everyone else does this. I think I'm just old and heal slowly.

Week one I tore my medial cruciate ligament (MCL). That was bad. It still hurts but it's getting better.
The week I had the flu I fell on my ass several times in the same place but didn't do any serious injury, however I did something to my rib cage which lasted several weeks. When I ran my ribs would go into spasm so I couldn't breathe. That was fun.
The week we did whips I strained my tricept on the arm I broke since it apparently has no strength at all.
The week we had Aston Martini and her gang my leg slipped while plow stopping and I did something somewhat major to the muscles at the back of my *other* knee, the right one. This hurts and cramps up when I run which is a total pain in the arse, but if I stop to stretch it it seems to go away. I thought this was minor but it's been a month or so and it's still bugging me.
This week I strained something in my upper thigh - not my regular quad, but something higher up so I can't lift my leg higher than parallel to the floor. It doesn't hurt to run though.

I gotta tell you, none of these has caused me to miss a week of practice. Call me stupid, but I figure if it doesn't actually hurt, I can work through it. I don't want to miss a minute of track time.

Three weeks to go. The sun is shining. Time to master the stuff I can't do:

Plow stops.
Skating on one leg.
Weaving through cones on one leg.
Fast starts

Get on with it. There's lots of time to be in a wheelchair when you flunk out of derby.

Mine

2011-05-05T11:10:00.001-04:00

I love Etsy. These were custom made for me by Derbyvixen.

And hey, it's my dad's birthday today. He would have been 81! Yikes.

Retrospective

2011-05-02T15:09:00.001-04:00

I love this blog. It puts my life into perspective and makes things crystal clear that might otherwise be allowed to pass by relatively unnoticed.

Lets take the ~~douchebag~~ dude. I believe I made some crack about him being "too busy" last post. I have officially labelled him done since he seems incapable of returning my emails in a timely manner, or at all now. Douche. I can see now that it took me a full two weeks of BS to come to that conclusion. Actually, that's not bad for me. But still... I'll do better next time. Dude had weird taste in music and was a weird kisser anyway.
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Anyone want a Wii? I'm taking mine away from the kids today, calmly and politely. For at least a month, until the sass and disrespect and trashtalking is over. I cannot believe I let things get so out of hand. I am a bad parent. The kind that lets their kids play Wii even when they talk to her like a piece of dirt on the bottom of their shoe. The kind of kids who wake up using that tone with their mama. This is NOT the way my house is going to be. It's making me angry and crazy and undermining the minimal parenting selfconfidence I do have. Get the fuck outside and play with your friends.
____________________________________________________________

Raging PMS last week. So bad I ate all the accumulated stash of chocolate, 6 Joe Louis in less than 12 hours, bread and butter to feed a boarding school. I did run twice towards the end of the week, but that didn't really make up for it. Today I'm back on the wagon with only a few transgressions into pretzels. Let's hope the worst has passed.

I'm sewing a new dress. I didn't like the shape of the cream one with black trees or whatever they were so switched to the grey dress pattern (really, no one notices the difference except me). Went out on a limb and made size 16 (the original grey one was 22!) so I don't know if it will fit. It's sort of limey green with pink flowers on it. If this one works (and isn't too short - I think I cut it off about 5" too short) I'm going to make a black one from that pattern. Depending on the fit/feel, I'll either make it one layer or I'll make it with a striped lining. That striped Egyptian cotton from the Fabric Store of Amazement is too good not to have next to your skin. Then I'm going to make one with the curtain material Barb gave me. And then... and then... and then.... I could make them forever. I also need to improvise a sundress pattern for the cowboy fabric. And don't forget the magenta stuff I bought last week! You never know when I'll need a fancy-ass party dress. Yeah. Like never.

Oh, and practiced off-skates derby with two of the M's and third-person Rosa in Michelle's parking garage.. So. Much. fun. I sort of though it would be lame but it was AWESOME and so helpful. I think I'll take up skateless roller derby :D

Rating the week.

2011-04-15T10:09:00.001-04:00

Fridays should be for looking back on your week and seeing how you are (mis)spending your time. I should do it every week.

Work: Wasted about 80% of my time. Gotta work on that. Had some quality naps, though. Work my douchebag teeshirt today, which pretty much sums up the depths to which I've fallen.

Kids: Used the F-bomb in direct relation to my eldest child. Not as in "jesus fucking christ" like I usually do, but more like "you wretched fucking child". Yeah, excellent parenting skills there. And it happened twice in the same evening. Some days their nonsense just washes over me and some days... maybe not drinking is the wrong approach. Maybe more drinking is the key. Something to contemplate.

Drugs: Really, how much pain medication do I really need to ingest? For the migraines, two high-dose rounds of aspirin; for the knee, enough advil that I ran out; for the back, enough robaxacet that I ran out (though that seems to be nicely fixed); and my nightly dose of perc to make me sleep like a warm and fuzzy baby. Mmmmmm sleep. Not to mention a day of agony because I forgot to take my hernia stuff for a few days and it takes a while to kick back in. Cue the daily pill box, I am becoming an old lady!!!

Derby: Wrenched back on Friday night, skated Sat anyway. That made it feel better. Then skated Monday night with Michelle and that was good too. It's the sitting on my ass that makes things hurt. Played on the street with Calvin on Wed night, which was fun. That kids rocks his roller blades. I have to get him to come and practice with the girls - I bet he's make a great obstacle for us. I should probably invest in some proper padding for him though. Nothing after that though, except I ran yesterday which made my knee hurt. Feh.

Boy: What boy? I know you're busy and all but really? Is it always the same stupid story? He did wish me a happy birthday but that's the last I heard from him. Feh.

Food: I have become a compulsive chocolate buyer - no, scratch that. I am *still* a compulsive chocolate buyer. This seems to work for me if I leave it at home since I don't have much desire to eat it there, go figure. So I still buy it compulsively and it accumulates and occasionally I will eat some. If I bring it to work I'm so bored I will eat. it. all. Like I want to now. Chocolate? Anyone have any chocolate???

Overall rating? Last Friday it stated around a C, peaked on Sunday night at A+ and declined steadily every since to today's low of D. Nowhere to go but up, right???

Call me crankypants

2011-04-12T21:03:00.000-04:00

Feh. Kids are back and foul. Why can't they be sweet loving little creatures when they come back, like they missed me or something? I am a model of patience and tolerance and they are... evil.

My back hurts. Physio helped some but I bet some Percocet tonight will help more.

Had a massage and it was OK, but not great. For the cost of them they'd better be great. I think I'll have to do all Wanda, all the time. Cheating disagrees with me.

Stupid motherfucking PoF keeps taking down my pictures. First the sort of legitimate one. OK, whatever. But this time it was the one of me on the bed and all it is is a head shot. What part about HEAD does their computer-generated moronic picture-screener not understand? Someone must have it out for me cuz I'm sure they don't yank pictures on their own.

And dude won't have more than a three word convo woth me. (I only mention this because I'm cranky, not because I think it's an issue.) We gotta get the communication pathways nailed down, though. I can't go through this again.

Bancroft dude seems to be over his knickerbunching about me screwing someone else. Move along, dude You're here for conversational purposes only.

Anything else? I'm sure a million things, but nothing for now... I gotta go see a girl about a purse.

Wow

2011-04-12T11:49:00.000-04:00

Now we know why the dorky guy always ends up getting the girl. It's because he's freaking fabulo in bed, and packing to boot. Holy Hannah.

Frankly, I think that was a masterful piece of stage-directing on my part. In retrospect I don't think it would have taken him too long to get there but I really didn't want to have to worry about that. Not that I'm a worrier, or a control freak. Who me? Oh no.

So although it was a beautiful evening,. I drove down to the Roy solely so I could have the excuse of getting him in my car. Bwah ha ha! Now you are at my mercy!! No, we came back to my place ostentiably to drop the car and go for a walk. I asked if he wanted to come in. Yes. D'ya want to sit down? Yes. D'ya want a drink? Yep. OK, so now we know where this is heading. So we sat and chitchatted and I showed him my skates (my version of my etchings) and then eventually he leaned over and smooched me. And the rest is history.

Blah, blah, blah. Stop me when it gets boring.

Todays sponsor: Robaxacet

2011-04-09T09:44:00.000-04:00

Awesome practice! I was involved in my first high-speed pileup last night! We were doing endurance (25 laps in 5 minutes) and someone wiped out right in front of me. I couldn't have avoided her if I tried so I sort of threw myself over her, landing on... my hands and right shoulder, I think. I executed a very sloppy sort-of monkey roll over her. Something went crunch but it was surprisingly unpainful. And I still managed to do 23 laps! There is hope. I was actually more relaxed after the wipeout and made better time, I think. I get all wiggy about the endurance test and totally forget how to skate.

I spent a significant amount of time in the tub last night, armed with a big glass of wine and a bowl of chips. That was about all I could find to eat. Doesn't seem to have helped much as my back is KILLING me. Going to skate with Michelle anyway, maybe it will loosen me up a bit. Turns out we *do* have to know how to weave though pylons on one foot, so that will be today's focus. I totally can't do it.

Incurred another knuckle injury, surprise, surprise. I think I might have to go with Bloody Knuckles as my Derby name after all. I dunno. I change my mind all the time. The frontrunners are:

Bloody Knuckles
Lotter Bruises
Blood Sweat and Beers

Thoughts?

Of MRIs and Men

2011-04-08T16:27:00.000-04:00

I finally went and sought professional help on the results of my MRI. Not the doctor, oh no. Doctors are for drugs and referrals. Physiotherapists are for getting stuff done.

It turns out I have a high grade tear in my MCL. No ACL at all, which is good, minimal meniscal involvement, lots of old arthritis and bursitis. Jen the wonder physio says the end of the bone was bleeding (!) into a very small space causing inflammation and pain. Nothing radical to be done except ultrasound and acupuncture to reduce the goop and thus the pain. I love her - she doesn't suggest I stay off it or limit my activities in any way except for trying to avoid falling on my left knee so it won't bleed anymore. Nice. She did hook me up with a seriously medieval-looking knee brace to protect, of all things, my kneecap which seems to be more fragile than one would like. Kneecaps apparently are the kind of things that lead to arthritis in old age and at my increasingly advanced age these are things am starting to worry about. I don't want to be one of these old ladies that whinges about climbing stairs or stepping up curb or having a handicap-accessible washroom.

We also talked a bit about the possible neuroma on my left foot which is aggravated by too-tight shoes and running long distances. She seemed to think it might be something else but suggested some stretching and stuff to loosen up my calves, since apparently the thigh bone is connected to the hip bone, the hip bone's connected.... But when I said I couldn't see myself ever running more than 10K, she said that's a good thing since our bodies are not really designed to run much further than that. Long-distance is when things start to fall apart, especially as we age. So, great - no half-marathons for me!

And let me just jinx my life entirely by saying how much I like the new dude. He seems so... normal. Yeah, I've said that before but I don't think I'm deluding myself this time. Tall. Not fat but not perfect. The worst thing I can say about him is that he has a gluten intolerance, but we could all use a little less bread in our lives, couldn't we? He ate hamburger bun so it can't be all that bad.

Great conversationalist, but not by magic - because he is good at asking questions that lead to conversation, he listens, he acts interested in what you have to say. We have lots in common in our outlook on politics, social issues, Adam Giambrone. He likes his job. He like his 9-5 lifestyle rather than disparaging it (not to make comparisons or anything, douchbag). He's a bit dorky in an undefinable but not off-putting way - sort of like the dork in the movies that still manages to get the girl? It's hard to explain. Maybe it will become clearer (for better or worse) with more exposure. Here's hoping he'll expose himself soon :D

Equipment improvement

2011-04-06T21:34:00.001-04:00

When you start derby, the first thing they teach you to do is fall, and that seems to be what you spend a majority of your time doing. Ideally, you fall forward, and naturally the toes of your skates take the brunt of the damage as they are constantly hitting the ground at speed. One knee falls are killer on your toes as you slide, slide, slide on the poor toes of your precious leather skates.

As a result, one gets toe guards. It's much cheaper to periodically replace these that the whole skate. My first ones were very basic - a strip of leather that wraps over the toebox and is secured by the laces.

This is somewhat unsatisfactory as they shift around a lot and don't really provide protection when you need it. Can you call it protection if it fails in the heat of the moment? I think not. Look at my poor violated toe:

So I discovered you can get ones that wrap over the toe box. I got mine from www.skatesnouts.etsy.com since I think everything should come from Etsy. Cool jammer stripes in red.

While unscrewing my toestops, it occurred to me that I should check and see how far out they really should be. I've just been guessing. Badly, it turns out. The starting rule seems to be that when your skates are tipped up on the toestop, there shouldn't be more than 4 finger widths between the ground and the back wheel. Having only two hands I could not get a picture of this, but when you compare the unadjusted one to the adjusted one, you can really see a difference. Mine were way to far in, making me tip way too far forward to use them to stop:

I sort of thought the leather was a bit thin but when I discovered I pretty much had to turn them inside out to get the toestop tight, I reconsidered.

Now they're on, my skates are smiling and so am I. One of the grommets popped out as I was lacing back up but that's just cosmetic. I wonder how long they'll last, though? I have a pair from another Etsy shop on order - should take a while. They have red skulls and crossbones on them. (No, not everything derby has skull and crossbones on it but lots of stuff does - it's a dog-eat-dog sport) I can't wait! I just hope these ones last until the next ones arrive. Gotta love cool stuff that wears out regularly :)

New vs old:

I put them on just to tighten the laces and all I want to do is skate. They're like magical things that turn you into a different, more coordinated, cool, kickass person. Man, but I love to skate. It just feels like weeks ago I was stumbling around the house when I tried to skate her but I felt GOOD today. I can turn, I can stop, I don't trip over the floor joins. I AM DERBY.

It's really hard to take a picture of your own foot.
________________________________________________________________________

I'm de-douched. I unfriended him on facebook. Miko & Barb will be so proud. Movin' on, my friends. Movin' on.

Reality check

2011-04-04T22:09:00.001-04:00

If your name is Plank, how can you ever be anything but a douchebag??

I will be forever grateful for the 50 pounds I've lost. Not so much for the hair I lost, the nights I spent weeping on the couch, for the time I spent boring my friends as they tried to get me to see the obvious. I'm sorry for that, my friends. I'm a bit slow sometimes and you were very patient and kind.

I will hate you forever for making me feel substandard. Stupid. Boring. And for making me feel like it was all my fault.

YOU are a douchbag. D'ya think there's a reason you go out with girls who are 20 something? Women get BETTER as they get older. The smart men have figured this out. Guess where this leaves you?

I am woman, see me hipcheck. And you never will.

A whole new chapter...

2011-04-01T22:09:00.000-04:00

Ya, I knw. Things were getting a bit stale, eh? So now I'm introducing a whole new level of fascinating posts - DERBY !

Today's post involves the badly designed grommets in my skate boots. I've been skating for about 8 weeks and I noticed the other day that one of my laces was almost severed in half:

I couldn't figure out why until I looked carefully at the gromments and on my right boot the grommets were really hsarp. Also, the right hand ones had cracked. Recipe for disaster if you're a skate lace.

This one doesn't look so bad but you can see how the top is much narrower - and sharper! - than the bottom.

So I got out my hand dandy chisel and proceeded to shave them down. They're plastic, not metal, so it was an easy job.

I have new laces now!

...and my boots are relaced and ready to go for tomorrows practice!

Too bad the stupid laces are still too short. Who designs this stuff????

Nothing says I love you like booze.

2011-03-23T18:47:00.000-04:00

My dear friend Jennifer:

Those cans of drink you left at my house the other day? The Palm Bay Ruby Grapefruit Sunrise? The devil's work. Indeed, they do taste like something totally non-alcoholic. I sucked haf of one back just now in the space of about 10 seconds before I remembered that they DO have booze in them.

Then I drank another.

It's Jack's birthday today. Got Lego Batman for the Wii so I am the best mother ever, for now anyway. And I made a candy cake, again, best idea ever for the kids who's totally sick of cake. Easy easy birthday, though I did have to reach into my superpower stash and come up with plan B when my child declared his favourite food chicken legs. What? I was counting on pizza. Shit - how do you pull that out of your arse at 5 pm? Two words: Chalet Suisse.

Now I have a date - yes, on my child's birthday - and I'm already half cut. Thank you Jenn C. I blame you totally for whatever transpires. And no, it's completely unrelated to douchbag.

Weakness

2011-03-15T18:43:00.000-04:00

Roller derby. So fun, yet such a timesucker. I don't have time to get laid now even if I had the opportunity. Though doing a good block on Bren Bren was almost as satisfying. I think I'm born to block. Jam, not so much.

So I say to myself, at the risk of provoking an aneurysm in those near and dear to me, why not go hang out with a douchbag? Fun, entertaining, always available (strange how that is now, eh?). I have resisted the temptation to fill my 14 seconds of free time with a little douchbaggery. So far. But I am weak. I do realize, dear reader, the futility of going down that road again. I hold out hope, but I know its futile.

Bancroft dude wants to come and visit. So much for a purely email relationship. I doubt this will go anywhere but I am not prepared to have a long distance, subsidized by me relationship. Unless he's really worth it :D I got low standards, what can I say?

Or not.

2011-02-28T18:52:00.000-05:00

I guess I should publicly admit to what a disaster that was.

No chemistry. None. So weird. We did it anyway but it was lame and he had no creativity and a small penis. I wonder what happened? Weirdest thing ever.

Maybe I should take this as a lesson - either sleep with the dude when you get the urge or wait until you know him well enough to know if you really want to.

Back into the trenches.

Four is the luckiest number

2011-02-21T19:24:00.000-05:00

Oh. My. God. I have become the drywall commercial. It's sickening. Nauseating. And pretty damn awesome.

After a few days of really good email exchange, we decided we couldn't wait until Tuesday and I got a babysitter for Sunday night. This way, I thought, if it's good we can do someting fun on Tuesday and if it sucks I haven't wasted a quality evening on some innernet dude. I was completely prepared to find him disappointing - email is usually a bad predictor of future behaviour.

Not this time.

Dude shows up and he is WAY cuter than his pics. Looks young and adorable and has dimples for god's sake. And all his hair, not grey at all! Very smiley, excellent personality, funny, charming and totally into me. But not in the creepy way of #3. Not at all. Maybe because I was the same.

I've never experience anything like that - it was weird. I had absolutely no problem making conversation with him, but now and then we'd just stop and stare at each other. Then we started holding hands. Pretty much doing as much physical contact as you can do seated across the table from someone in a public place. If hands could have sex, our would have. So here we are gazing across the table into each others eyes. If I had been watching I would have barfed. I may indeed have sicked a little up in my own mouth. It wasn;t just the physics, though. It was totally a mental thing as well.

I think it was the fact that he was so obviously into me. Very good for the confidence level. He thought I was "cute as a button" which he said was the most socially acceptable thing he could think of to say in public. Har. He didn't seem to have any sense that it might have been a disaster. He's mildly suggestive in a very hot yet inoffensive way. Confident but not arrogant. Talkative but not a bore. Good listener. Funny. Perfect.

We met at 7:30. Left at 11:30 despite the fact that I told the sitter I'd be home at 11. Oops. We barely made it out the door before we were making out in the vestibule (what a great word) and we got some serious necking in before someone else left and made us stop.. Walked to the subway, made out some more and then went our respective directions. Absolutely no doubt in anyone's mind that we'll be getting busy on Tuesday.

Oh yeah. I'm such a classy broad. It was snowing like crazy and I was quite wet when I arrived. Little did I know that my mascara had smudged onto my upper eyelids. When I finally went to pee and noticed, I was horrified. I looked like a crazy person. He was too polite to say anything, either before or after the repair for which I am eternally grateful. It was sort of hidden by the tops of my glasses, but I don't think he could have failed to see.

And he still likes me.

Number 4

2011-02-16T09:56:00.001-05:00

Yes, I'm getting ahead of myself. #4 only counts if we go out, but we've made plans.

#4 is mid-40s sort of dude who lives in the west end. Am I doomed to find myself forever commuting to and from the west end? NO. Unlike your previous relationship, dude is obligated to come to your end of town at least 50% of the time. That's my new rule. (Rules, as always, evolve from the stupid situations one gets into and thus must make rules to avoid in future. Of course we all know how good I am with rules...)

Dude has a way with words, a penchant for profanity which I quite enjoy, and finds me fabulously funny. How's that for alliteration? He doesn't run away from jokes about drinking at work or getting shitfaced - important things as I embrace my inner alcoholic.

We're supposed to be going out Tuesday. That's a week from now and give everyone plenty of time to bail.
Hey, if he doesn't kiss like a fish maybe I'll sleep with him.

As for the previous #4 (3?), I have decided after the events of last weekend and him texting me yesterday with ultra-solicitous concern about my mental health that I need to dial back my Facebook presence severely, at least for now. I am weak and stalker-like and can't make myself un-friend him which is what a normal person would do. So instead I will make no updates worthy of comment, I will not respond to anything he says (which should be nothing if I adhere to the previous point) and I will not post on his stuff, whatever it is. Radio silence is what we're aiming for. I need about a month more I think before I'm somewhat functional again. (Slight hiccup in the recover process may happen on Thursday, but that's my own fault and I'll deal with that if it arises.) M thinks I'm a crackpot and should cut him off completely but I cannae do tha.

Sleeping with #4 would help.

One step forward...

2011-02-14T15:23:00.001-05:00

So I was recently informed that I had that expression wrong. In an uncharacteristic show of optimism, I was convinced it was two steps forward, one step back. Because then at least you're moving in the right direction, right?

Apparently I have it all wrong and it's one step forward, two steps back. Figures. Welcome to my life.

Dude and I broke up. OK, we we never really "going out" but I ended the illusion in my mind that we were, ending months of teeth gnashing, wailing, chest beating, and rending of garments. Slept like a baby for the first time in months. Step forward, definitely. I am woman, hear me dump.

Started this wretched process of innernet dating again. Is there a more demoralizing, soul-destrying enterprise? Getting judged, initially, by a couple of crappy photos and some ill-chosen words. Then in person by someone who may or may not be to your liking. Bleah.

# - Toothy - 1 had some teeth issues and a serious inability to stand up for himself. Really? You come on a date with a friend who overstays his welcome and then you can't ask him to leave, explain the situation, ANYTHING? Sheesh. I have more balls than that.

#2 - Crazy Bill - bailed out at the last minute, via email. Don't blame him as we had the most horrifyingly boring phone conversation, but he could have just said no. Whatever. Do they castrate men in this city before they let them date?

#3 - Lawyer dude - short, dumpy, ancient glasses, some weird walking problem. Fine, all superficialities. Took me to the Dominion where the music was too loud for any conversation, but insisted on talking anyway. Every time I spoke, he said he couldn't hear. Hmph. And people wonder why i don't talk about myself With supremely bad manners, I started texting for a diversion (In the bathroom, I might add. Not to his face.) I tried J: hanging with toothless. I tried M: baked. So in a fit of desperation and (and longing) I texted dude.

Yeah yeah, bad girl. I knew he'd be out, I knew he'd be happy to see me. And he was. Hung out with him and his friends and it was fun. Really fun. I was myself, caustic and un-doormatty, and it was nice to be like that instead of the mousy bitch I was. Two steps back, but it was worth the serious disapproval of everyone I know. It's true - he's my crack. I need a new drug to get over it.

And #3 kissed like a dying fish. It was G.R.O.S.S. I actually wiped my mouth in disgust. Like Cathy says - it's kissing! If you can't master that, what hope is there for the rest???

I'm though 3 out of 10 and I might have to off myself if things don't improve soon.

I loves me some tutu

2011-01-29T10:35:00.001-05:00

Just for some variety...

2010-12-12T22:33:00.000-05:00

Dysfunctional cucumber

2010-09-30T11:37:00.000-04:00

I was picking the tomatoes from the other side of the fence the other day (my produce apparently prefers the even-more neglected yard of my neighbours to the north) when I happened to glance over at my cucumber bush. I hadn't had one for a while and figured they were done for the season. To my surprise there was a monster one, and it had grown through the fence. It required some careful work with a paring knife to extricate it from the fence and the rosebush.

Still tasted amazing, though the skin was a bit tough so I peeled it. No hard seeds inside or anything!

Dysfuntional knitter.

2010-09-27T19:38:00.000-04:00

I knit. I like to knit, it passes the time and I get interesting stuff out of it. I do not, however, identify myself as a Knitter. I don't knit at parties, I don;t knit to make a point. I knit because I like to. Sometimes.

So why was I so offended when I was called a "knitter" with a serious eyeroll? It didn't really make an impact on me at the time, other than to be mildly amused, but it obviously festered enough for me to bring it up in my recent "get this off my chest" email about how boring I am.

Knitting fills a weird need for something I can't quite define. On the surface it makes me feel like one of the cool kids (in the knitting scene, at least. few people would go so far as to call knitting "cool") for possibly the first time in my life. I think it just happens to be *my* knitting community that makes me feel that way but I don't care. It's not like I stray far from the fold.

Knitting lets me create things for a person that doesn't exist. The cute pink sweater in size 2T for the little girls I'll never have and not so secretly covet. The sweater that looks super glam on someone who weighs 110 pounds. I can convince myself that it will look great on me the entire time I'm knitting it, and when it looks like arse in the end, I don't even really care. The boyfriend I secretly want, though I would never in a million years admit it and it's always something I can keep or give away.

So it filled me with great pleasure when it turns out he likes that I knit. Even if he's just saying that because of my hissy fit, which was in general completely unrelated to knitting.

Come on, tell me your secret reasons for knitting...

Hats... finally

2010-09-18T12:35:00.000-04:00

Beaumont:

We call them pirates:

Nate: (the back of it anyway - she doesn't want her face all over the innerwebz)

On the other hand...

2010-09-17T15:19:00.001-04:00

...sometimes you just have to throw yourself in and hope for the best. Holding back isn't a good strategy for life and you can't *always* get kicked in the teeth. Right?

Hat numbers three and four are finished. The Beaumont Tam looks like arse on me, as did the manly ribbed one (Nate from the Queensland Collection by Jane Ellison). I gave Nate away to my colleague since it seemed to look good on her and no one else. I knit it out of Tanis Aran weight in Stormy and it looks great colour-wise, but not style-wise. Pictures to follow soon, I swear.

Beaumont is up for grabs too, unless I suddenly turn into an elegant french woman with perfect hair.

Random thoughts

2010-09-13T10:46:00.002-04:00

If you are bored, you are boring. Find something to do and stop stalking.

Trust is key - in both yourself and him.

Quid pro quo - watch the numbers and try for balance.

Self esteem. You ARE worth is, so have some trust. If it doesn't work out now, something will eventually. This is not your only hope.

"Needing" is openly reaching out and asking for support from a man in a trusting manner, one that assumes that he will do his best. This empowers him. "Neediness," however, is desperately needing support because you don't trust you will get it. It pushes men away and makes them feel rejected and unappreciated.

Initiating sex is good. Men like to know they're wanted.

It is not dysfunctional to be protective of one's heart, and to refrain from giving someone the keys to your soul until you know they can handle the responsibility.

All hats, all the time

2010-09-08T13:55:00.005-04:00

I am on a total hat kick. Why? They're fast, compact, you can knit a crazy ass pattern and you only have to do it once... so many reasons.

First was the Koolhaas hat by Jared Flood. This is an awesome pattern and I've been wanting to do it for ages, but the twisted cable stitches was too much for my brain and I didn't really give it a chance. Then I googled "cabling without a cable needle" and tripped across this YouTube video which made it a piece of cake. And I made it out of Sublime Cashmerino Aran which I got at the Purple Purl's inventory sale for the ridiculously low price of $2 a boll. The stuff is gorgeous. (Mental note not to knit anything other than stockinette in black ever again due to my ancient and crappy eyesight. Torture.)

Then I knit Adrian Bazilia's genius hat We Call Them Pirates. The only tough part about this is the fact that the chart is in reverse - the white squares are knit in black and the black are knit in white. Otherwise, simple fairisle and super impressive! (I tried knitting the mittens before but I only knit one. There's a reason I knit my socks two at a a time.) This I made out of Louet Gems sportweight and I remember why I love this yearn so much. Sproingy, well twisted, super soft. And it comes in great colours. I knit the inside band in green just for fun :)

And lastly, another Jared Flood: the Beaumont Beanie (the beanie version in the tam colours, but red and gray, not red and white. I thought the contrast would be better a bit more muted but I may have been wrong.) I'm actually using the yarn called for in the pattern (Classic Elite Fresco), which is a wool/angora blend and sheds bits of fluff up my nose occasionally. I am only a few inches in and still find this rather charming.

This pattern is kicking my ass. In the first two inches or so I've had to rip back three time, the last time all the way to the ribbing. Apparently not only can I not count very well, although I have consistently demonstrated my superiour reading skills I cannot identify that "MC" obviously stands for Main Colour, and that would be the gray, not the red. I tell ya, it made a lot more sense when I figured that out. Riiiiiiiiiip.

Pictures of the last two to follow. My computer is acting like it's a hundred and two and keeps having aneurysms, strokes and other non-productive brain anomalies.

As for my "relationship" I'm currently involved in a battle of wills with myself (yes, another) not to text dude. He's a man and thus a the master of non-communication, but the text balance is falling too heavily on my side so I'm seeing if I can give it a rest, and whether he might pick up the slack. Needless to say I'm not really holding my breath, either for him to do said picking up of the slack, or for me to have the will to resist much longer.

Step off the ledge, my friend, at least for a few days. Auntie Flo is standing right behind you ready to give you a big push.

Random photos

2010-09-03T10:03:00.003-04:00

Just to celebrate my technological breakthough.

Look! A fully healed arm. Just a blob of new bone to show where the break started.

Texture. Koolhaas hat, FLS socks and Malabrigo tea cosy.

Too much?

Stairs

2010-09-02T21:06:00.003-04:00

Picture 013
Originally uploaded by TOmomma

What happens if I blog it via Flickr? Nothing good, I suspect. I shall have to go back to something else...Well it does seem to work if I only want one picture in my post.

HA! (Caftan porn, for your viewing pleasure.) It worked! Now all I have to do it keep my ancient computer from imploding and we're back in business.

And yet again...

2010-08-08T16:02:00.003-04:00

Seriously? I don't have the brains I was born with.

Ever since I got my handy dandy new phone I have been addicted to texting, with a certain person in particular. It's so much better with a proper keyboard. However, I was introduced to that modern equivalent of drunk-dialing last night: drunk texting. And much as it is so mortifying to realize your drunkenness has been captured forever were you foolish enough to leave a message on an answering machine, it is even worse with texting because you don;t have an excuse. There's no maybe about it - you drunken messages WILL be saved - typos, misspellings and all - on the cellular device of the one you texted. Better yet, you don't have to rely on your alcohol-fuzzed memory to recall the details. Every last one is also recorded on YOUR cellular device. You can wake up the morning after to the sight of your phone on your pillow, then scroll though your conversation and relive the moments - every last horrifying one. Then when said victim doesn't call you in the morning there's really not much mystery as to why.

I have burning urges to text at the best of times. Throw in a couple of bottles of cheap red wine and wild horses can't stop me declaring eternal devotion to someone I hardly know. There really should be a way to retract or delete them - jayzus, they can put a man on the moon but you can't recall incriminating text messages? What is wrong with this world?

I will spare you the gory details but trust me when I say they are mortifying. His response? Better than I could ever have hoped for. Still, I don't know if I'll ever be able to look him in the eye again. Thank god there's text messaging.

Depressed

2010-08-05T13:43:00.002-04:00

My ex is a dick and wants to cut his child support payments by 75% now that he has the kids a few extra days a month. I'm done being accommodating but the prospect of the fight ahead makes me want to shoot myself in the thigh.

Dude is still trolling PoF. I occasionally have a look when I'm bored, but I want to ask if he's bored, keeping his options open or looking to upgrade. I'll look all needy-like though. Depressing.

The new Flickr - still shit. Maybe I'm just too stupid to figure it out. Depressing.

Fucking Flickr

2010-08-03T21:35:00.002-04:00

God I loathe change. Fucking Flickr won't post my pictures. The day I'm having it's enough to make me hurt someone.

Fuck.

Enough

2010-08-02T16:38:00.002-04:00

I'm going to stop talking about the boy. I did find this on PoF, which I find highly amusing (not to say that this has happened.).

When men disappear with no explanation:

1. Phoning Scotty (beam me up, I'm gone).
2. Phoning Home (as in goodbye, Elliot).
3. Getting Probed on the Final Frontier (abducted by little green Aliens).
4. Pulling a Gandalf (*poof* twinkle, he disappears) or the Great Disappearing Act.
5. Getting Bourne Again (as in Bourne Identity-- he's been activated by the CIA)
6. Visiting Hoffa (for Jimmy Hoffa, the disappeared leader of the Teamsters)
7. Trapped with Marcel (from Marcel Marceau, the famous mime- the silent man in the invisible box routine. The invisible box are the acquaintances who run interference for him.)
9. Joined the cast of Days of Our Lives (i.e. he's in a coma).
10. Joined the Boys from Brazil (reference to ODESSA ratlines and the movie about ex-Nazis hiding out in Brazil).

This is also known as the Silent Dump. (And here in Montreal, we also call it Signing Up for the Hell's Angel's Swim Team.)

Har.

Ha! You were not correct.

2010-07-30T22:59:00.004-04:00

Dude texted me for non-specific and lame reason Tues night. On thurs we had a convo at 3 am. What would we do without text?? He also emailed me on Mon, though I didn't get it until today. And tonight :) several times :) Methinks Sunday might see some action. One can only hope.

I'm back! A week off festering disease, dysfunction and well, I can't think of another dis-word. Anyway, it was good. Calvin developed what we're calling phleboffles - rash and fever - which lasted all fucking week. I think it was psychosomatic. Arrived the day we got there and left as we departed. He shook like a leaf after a few i minutes in the water. Plus Jack got pinkeye and I got a stye on my eye (FYI a tea bag cleared that up so fast I almost forgot I had it!).

Lake Huron was great - it was nice and shallow. Jack tried as hard as he could but even he couldn't drown himself. The waves were HUGE that day we got there and a few other days, and the kids had so much fun in them. Jack would get swamped by a huge wave, tossed on the rocky shoreline, and emerge grinning to do it all again. Pictures will follow when I've downloaded them. I loved the rocks. Fossils everywhere, cool colours, amazing combinations of stones...

The drama - my brother and his revelations - was a bit anti-climactic. I know it was coming, but my mom was so full of drama. She kept trying to tell him what a mistake he was making. That boat has sailed, mom. Me, I was all abut "man up and take responsibility for your kids". He arrived at the cottage without any food. Personally, I don't give a rats arse, but I gave him a good lecture on how he needs to show the kids that he can do the mom-thing; provide properly, take care of the stuff she normally would do. I almost think that registered. I was not impressed.

At one point my mom was sobbing in the car and I just threw up my hands and walked away. When she came up later to "explain" I had no time for it. I said, with no small irritation, that I understood she was torn, but that I was sick of the drama. If anyone had show the slightest inclination towards tears when MY life was falling apart, I might have been more sympathetic, but no one acted like this at all! Stop with the drama!

Wow - that was something for our repressed family.

Steve the dick, when picking up the kids, announced that the numbers I sent him for pour very simplistic child support calculations were off. When I pointed out with incredulity that I had only fixed the number of days in what he sent me, and nothing more, he waffled on about percentages, 40%, changing the formula, blah blah blah.... Even I couldn't take it anymore. Kids present or not I said you've had a month and a half to look at this and NOW you want to change the whole fucking formula??? It's YOUR formula! I was so pissed off I basically kicked him out of the house. He was all, we need to talk about it and I said WHATEVER and kicked them all out. WTF? He's so stupid his eyed are tied on his arsehole.

Got a new phone. It a fancy-arse Nokia E63 which does more that I need but at least I can text properly. Technology is a bitch - it makes me feel old when I can't unlock the GD thing. Ah well. It works with my ultra-cheap Speakout wireless plan and can get email at home. So it took me forever and I never managed to import my contacts, I switched SIM cards with the one from my other Nokia! Colour me pleased with myself. I am giving my old phone to Orly. She needs one for the kids and has zero tech needs. Reduce, reuse recycle.

Yes, Barb - you were right.

2010-07-24T11:41:00.003-04:00

I admit it - I'm weak. I emailed. No response. A week of regret. Moron indeed.

I hope I don't turn to food for comfort. Still, the sick feeling in my stomach when I think about it should hold me off for a while.

SERIOUSLY???????

2010-07-23T22:10:00.002-04:00

How many child support cheques can one man bounce???? Feh.

Tata!

2010-07-23T20:35:00.005-04:00

I'm off on vacation. Wish me luck. Me, my mom, my deadbeat brother and four kids - should be a laugh a minute. Ask me how much wine I'm bringing. Fortunately zen buddhist vegetarian minimalists seem to have a strong affinity for red wine. One of the more delightful parts of their character :)

Today's lunch involved protein. This seems to be the key as I survived the onslaught of five children hurling themselves down the as-yet unsecured waterslide in my back yard. Kind of like this, but with three more boys, much more mud and ton of chaos. Only three minor injuries, miraculously.

My lawn's gonna need the week to recover...

Resistance is futile

2010-07-22T21:27:00.003-04:00

I have a communication problem. I have no life so when I meet someone interesting, all I want to do is talk. However, I have been very very good. I have not had any communication with my dude since Tuesday night. It's killing me, but I'm resisting. Part of me thinks he will think I'm not interested, but the majority of me screams BACK OFF! So I am listening. For now.

As for the zen buddhist minimalistic vegetarianism, that's actually going pretty well. I made a discovery today, though. Monday through Wednesday I have been eating a pretty normal lunch and next to no dinner. That seems to have been working well. Today I deviated from the plan and had half a salad - a veggie only salad - for lunch. By dinner time I felt extremely weird, and somewhat less than patient. So I think the key here would be to have a decent lunch including some PROTEIN and as little as I like for dinner. Hell, I just sleep at night.

Or not. I also seem to have developed zen buddhist insomnia, which sucks the hairy one. My eye was twitching so badly today it was like being in an electrical storm. I finally cranked up the AC and that seemed to help, so hopefully that'll work tonight too.

And I'm doing Alberto VO5 Hot Oil Treatment as we speak! How long has it been since you've seen that? My hair is a hideous dried out crispy gross mess, so maybe it will help. I don't recall it working before, but who knows?

Some fucker stole Calvin's bike today. Totally unsurprising as it's a cool bike and we left it unlocked. I can't even work up much anger, just a bit of frustration and some relief to get rid of one bike. I do feel bad for Calvin, though. He loved that bike.

Just one more day until I can blow this town again. Then the urge to email will be a mute* point.

* for those that think I'm dumb as a plank it's a joke.

Don't need no drama. No, don't need no drama

2010-07-21T09:00:00.003-04:00

Sorry kids, no relationship drama for today. A couple of happy email convo's in which, yes, I did have to explain and justify the spelling of my name which is such a PITA but necessary, I suppose. Dude seems so NORMAL. Not overly needy, not evasive, just interested and normal. Go figure.

I would like to go on record as saying I will NOT disappear. At least not for long :) Given the choice I will take the opportunity to engage in as much male-female activity as I can, but not to the exclusion of my friends. Yes, I know I have precisely 52 hours of spare time per two week period (including sleeping, which can be sacrificed in certain situations). But with the implementation of the New and Improved Child-Custody AgreementTM , set to be implemented in August, I should have acres more time! (Or at least a few more evenings.) That should help.
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Sounds like my bro has decided to jump ship. Fucker. As I told my sister:

Also - your deadbeat motherfucker of a brother seems to think it would be a good idea to leave his wife and children of 18 years and shack up with a ex-heroin addict, ex-prostitute white trash bluegrass whore. Colour me disgusted. He wants to be "happy" and being stoned and drunk all the time while playing stupid bluegrass music and fucking this tramp seems to make him happy. Fat tramp, too. Grow up, you irresponsible little twat. What is WRONG with men? Sure, leave you wife, I'm all about embracing the change, but man up and do it properly, not waffling around and screwing up everyone's lives while moaning about being unhappy.

Feh. I'm so pissed off and mom could happily kill him (which is refreshing)

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And for those of you that are worried that my zen buddhist vegetarian minimalistic philosophy is sending me off the deep end.. It's a JOKE, people. I just need something to call my sex instead of food philosophy which is more socially acceptable. I can't remember to be a vegetarian. Plus, what's wrong with exploring options? I might be at the top of a mountain meditating next year instead of slogging away at a job that bores me to tears. Would that be bad? You can knit on a mountain top.

Pop pop, fizz fizz...

2010-07-20T18:07:00.003-04:00

Oh, the relief!

I sent him a PoF email spelling out the potential situation on Thursday. I also put in some blurb about me not emailing him too much and should I email or text or call or what. Typical me stupidness.

Really, why don't more people treat me like the dolt I am? I have to C&P this because I want to remember forever that there are some OK people in the world full of psycho, dysfunctional and just plain weird folk.

Frankly I was terrified to open his message. Have I not learned that if you send a message that you're scared to get a reply back from, you shouldn't send it at all? Right? Please channel the Fairycakes "I committed career suicide" email next time you have any doubts, sweetheart.

Anyway...

That sounds nice... But I'm actually working in Kitchener from tomorrow to next Tuesday. I don't usually get home till 10:00 or 10:30. ... you can email me at metrosexual@provider.com if you prefer. :)

Always the smileys. It makes me happy. And the consistency. I knew he was working and he said he was working. How refreshing. (yeah, I made up the email addy - whadda ya want? to tell him he's being blogged??)

But now I'll have to fess up as to how I spell my name...

Vegetarian Zen Buddhist monk angst

2010-07-20T13:47:00.005-04:00

Now the handwringing begins.

My mom is picking the kids up for me Thursday evening. Should I get her to stay and ask dude if he wants to meet up? If so, for what? A quicky? - so shabby. Coffee/drink? - better, but he might find that totally pointless. But if he finds that pointless are we in a bang-only relationship all of a sudden? Aren’t I trying to avoid that? And more to the point, what if he says no? What if he makes plausible excuses but says no? Do I write him off? I am pretty done with the excuses but you have to cut people some slack, don’t you?

Feh.

I have done the contacting up until now. He has responded so far, promptly and appropriate enthusiasm, so I think that’s OK. At what point do I step back and wait for him to make a move? Never? Once I start, does that set the precedent for ever on, so if I stop contacting him it’s me saying I’m not interested? Am I totally overanalyzing this? (rhetorical question). I *want* to step back and let him make the next move but I’m worried he won’t (which sounds even stupider out loud than in my head).

Why am I so dumb? If I were giving the advice, what would I say? I'd say call him and just fucking ASK. Pussy.
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The vegetarian zen buddhist monk lifestyle seems to be working for me, except I keep forgetting the vegetarian part. And the buddhist. But I am embracing the zen.

Q. Where to vegetarian zen buddhist monks go to have a big dump?
A. They don't - the don't ever eat enough to ever have a big dump.

Hope sends you emails

2010-07-19T18:44:00.003-04:00

I'm not the kind of person who can wait passively to see what the outcome of the other night's adventure is. I need to know the interest level before I work myself into a lather. So I sent Smokey an email just saying I had a good time etc. etc., and he replied in kind! Again, not being one to be happy with that minor success, I then went way out on a limb and said while I was busy for the next two weeks, maybe we could do something in two weeks.

Well, much to my surprise, he said...

I should be around :) let's talk as it gets closer :)

And the smileys are his. I think I'm in love.

No, I'm more realistic than that. It's never going to be a move-in-and-live-happily-ever-after thing, but who knows what it *will* be. I'll take another kick at that can as a beginning (if it even materializes) and see how it goes from there. If it does happen again, maybe we could have some sort of low-key "discussion". Just because I'm that sort of gal :)

Oh, and he texted me back too, even if he was mocking my ancient texterater. I like to cover all my tech bases.

Vacation update!

2010-07-18T20:48:00.005-04:00

Ah, July. And what a July. Hot humid and disgusting - in the city, at least. Fortunately the kids escaped the first week of July and I followed last week, giving them a glorious two weeks up at the cottage. I did not, not once, hear them say "I want to go home". Oh joy.

I give you a pictoral summary of the week.

Serenity... briefly.

This was more like the norm:

Guess what we watched on the rainy day?

This was moments before Jade's near-death experience, where her hair got tangled on the bottom rung of the ladder, holding her head under the water. Longest minute of my life, and I shook for an hour. All's well that ends well, though.

My most favourite niece EVER. I adore this girl.

There was lots of this... better than tv.

Looks so peaceful, doesn't it? While just steps away chaos reigns.

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Minor dating update: Talked to someone last week - let's call him Jim - who seemed nice and normal and not too good to be true. Came back from vacation and he'd deleted his profile. WTF? In a knee jerk reaction, I then decided to go out with someone who emailed me that very day - I never do that. WTF? So he's a smoker - that can't be any worse than any of the flaws in the other freaks. We'll call him Smokey.

Turns out, we met for drinks at 7:30 and I rolled home at 11:30... the next morning. Had to do the walk of shame, my friends. Beer, music, young male musician friends, VERY hot little body, metrosexual apartment. I would DIE to live there. I'll let you use you imaginations as to what transpired, but it was good. Smokey's a pretty nice guy as well as being a hotty.

Breakfast in the morning and we left it totally up in the air so I will probably never hear from him again. Too bad, he was pretty interesting and ashtrays don't taste too bad when you're drunk.

Of moths and miscreants

2010-07-04T21:21:00.005-04:00

When Miko's car finally gave up the ghost, she bequeathed it to her mechanic for the low low sum of zero dollars. The only thing she walked away with was her roof rack. One might wonder at the wisdom of her selection seeing as she no longer owned a car, but hey. Hope springs eternal.

One of the less than lovely qualities of that roof rack was that it was slightly too large for her compact car. In fact, slightly too large for any compact car and, I suspect, many midsize vehicles. The ends of the bars protuded menacingly from the sides of the car. There were more than a few victims of the head bashing implements, despite her tendency to scream: "watch your head!" when anyone exited the car. As a result, a few of us got together and knit her some roof rack cozies for the ends of the bars, the purpose of which was to make them more visible and possibly to cushion the blow when it met its mark. (Anyone familiar with the installation of roof racks knows they are located in the opening of the doors - right where you head enters and exits at maximum velocity.)

Anyway, now that my kids are bigger and I no longer need to pack the entire contents of the house, I decided this year not to rent a minivan for the pilgrimage to the cottage and rather put my roof carrier on my car - for which I need a roof rack. Since Miko no longer needs hers, she let me borrow it. I got it half installed, only to discover one bar is missing the bits that actually attach it to the car. (We shall not discuss how long I stood in the driveway fiddling and contemplating before I came to this realization.) So since I couldnit put the other bar on, I decided to tidy up the cozies.

These cosies are NASTY. Before the car died they were at the mercy of the elements for a good while. Since then, they have been sitting in her basement for...at least a year, I think. The cozies are made of wool. I could explain, but I give you a visual instead:

On a technical note, I was interested (but unsurprised) to see the blue and pink - both kool-aid dyed, had faded significantly, where the purple, dyed with acid dyes, was almost unaffected. The moths liked the purple one best. The pink is Paton's merino, the blue is chunky BFL and the purple is.... I don't know. Maybe BFL? Maybe corridale? Can't remember.
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And just for entertainment purposes...

I was supposed to meet the mushy hotel dude at noon on Saturday for a drink. Just before, I check and I see he's online. Now he lives at the border between Toronto and Mississauga, so I knew something was not right. I emailed him to ask if we were still on and if so did he plan on teleporting there, and he says "24 hours and counting". Yep, dude said he got the day wrong and thought it was on Sunday. Deeply apologetic, blah blah blah.

Fast forward to this morning, I check my email and he suddenly has to go out of town on business and can't meet up. Deeply apologetic, blah blah blah.

Sound familiar? Sigh.

Canada Day

2010-07-01T11:12:00.004-04:00

Well, happy Canada Day. While most of the country is enjoying a stat holiday, I am at work. However, as you will notice from the time stamp, I am blogging from work - how awesome is that? Due to some peculiar abberation in our company's security/anti-timewasting software, I have access to everything today. I doubt it will last long. but it's fun while it does.

My boys left this morning for a week at the cottage. While I miss them inordinately, this time without them is so precious - it's my yearly recharge. Time to do whatever I want, whenever I want without whining, putting on shoes, being woken up in the middle of the night, rushing to pick them up, cooking dinner that goes uneaten, and so on. What am I doing, you might ask?

Tidying
Sleeping
Knitting
Sewing
Building steps for the new slide (all the neighbourhood kids will be pleased)
Drinking
Maybe dating? Maybe having wild gorilla sex with the man of my dreams? Yeah, pretty funny.
Cleaning up both the front and back porch, the state of which which make my house look like Kentucky.
Drinking some more
Playing with my friends. Yay yay yay!

I am also teaching myself the guitar. This is not easy as I am slow and have no memory cells left and my fingers are tender like a baby's butt. My hand on the strings resembles an arthritic claw - is it supposed to be like this? My main goal is to get somewhat minorly proficient so I can play basic tunes (I wonder how hard K'naan's Waving Flag is? - Calvin loves this) and encourage my kids to sing. Calvin especially loves to sing and gets no opportunity at home. Yes, bad parenting example number 7,493.

And my ever-loving mother, in her helpfulness, weeded out my weed plant last night. It was barely two inches tall, located safely between my lettuce plants in a window box where no-one could step on it by accident. Five weeks of molly-coddling down the tubes. Feh.

Guess I'll stick to drinking.

Dudes

2010-06-30T22:09:00.002-04:00

Over lunch today we decided that, unscientifically statistically speaking, internet dating has to pay off at *some* point. Not everyone can big a loser or have some fatal flaw. We decided the magic number is 10. In 10 dates there's got to be someone who is reasonably attractive, has a job and a place to live and their own teeth, and no intolerable personal habits or mannerisms.

10 seems a bit low to me, but we shall see. So far we have had:

Frisbee. He was socially acceptable, except for the spandex shorts, basically attractive though his upper lip was not too my taste. And a bit presumptuous - "that kiss (little, lame, quick) must have got your heart pounding". Surprise, yes. Passion, no.
Flicky. The post office dude with the spittle. Flicky because of his weird habit of flicking the very fleshy and separate lobes of his ear. Ew.
Toothy. Last night's dude, who decided he didn't want a relationship but rather just dating (AKA sex) and talked about how his ex never put out all night. Plus, when he discovered I drove to our "date" said he wanted to go… parking. Yes, parking, like park somewhere and make out. Ummm… no. He was too eager and basically unemployed and lived on someone's floor and laughed to hard and showed his teeth too much. If they were nice teeth, sure, but they were splayed out like someone had sat on his head when he was a child. Yuck. I have a tooth thing.

This weekend I am supposed to go out with Sergio the hotel dude. I will find a nickname for him once I meet him. Girly-man probably, due to his penchant for romantic comedies, holding hands and skipping though the daisies. That will be 4.

And don’t forget Earl the helicopter dude. He seems interested and is back from "Croatia", whatever that is code for, on Sunday. His pics are hard to judge but he seems to have a bulgy eye issue in one of them. Something weird is going on anyway. I fancy him as being like Fairycakes in my mind, but I think I will be grossly disappointed by the reality of the situation. He'd be 5 if it pans out. Half way.

Volume, my friends, volume. If nothing else I'll be able to write a dating book by the end.

Crazy cat ladies

2010-06-25T21:12:00.001-04:00

In the spirit of general thriftiness and being willing to make an easy buck, I get these emails from time to time asking if I want to do a survey on X, Y or Z. Usually they don’t apply to me or it's $25 for a hour, which isn’t worth my while, so when the cat food one came up and they were offering $90 for two hours, I thought that was OK. I'd done on of them before (years ago) and it was sort of fun.

Right.

Got a babysitter and trekked up the Yonge and Eligible - roughly a 45 minute trip. Hmmm. That should have been a clue. I get there and there are eight other ladies waiting in the office. They look a bit… down-market, but hey, whadda you expect for a survey company? Anyway, we go around in the circle and introduce ourselves and our cats and the problems immediately become apparent. Some of my favourite personality types are there!

A. The long talker. She pauses before everything like she's about to make a life-changing announcement, and then goes on at long and slow and boring length about something so basic we get her meaning before she's done the first sentence.

B. The truly crazy. Her cat is her best friend, she has a hundred boring stories about it that she thinks were all dying to hear, and she has absolutely no concept of what a focus group is for. FOCUS group, people. Not group therapy. Not a advertorial for Walmart. Focus group.

C. The my-cat-is-special type. We had a couple of those. My cat is too old or too fragile to do what normal cats do. I would buy that but my cat can'tcope I like variety but my cat can't eat fish because of the ash the ash you know the urinary tract thing and the vet said about the ash the ash the fish the flavours aaarrrggghhh!

They could have paid me $200 and it would have been barely enough. I gotta give the woman who ran the group credit, though. She shut down the long talkers and the whack jobs just as fast as she could. I bet she just loves her job.

I will never misuse the term "crazy cat lady" again. If I use it on you, you're in serious trouble.

...followed by tremors

2010-06-23T20:55:00.004-04:00

A multitude of tremors:

My child, sweet as pie on evening, awakes like the spawn of Satan, kicking his brother, throwing my stuff, using his attitude voice.

Me, starting the day in a foul mood due to said son and the ex who cannot seem to show up on time for love or money. Stomp, stomp stomp. I am a three-year old. Got to sit in my office all morning and listen to an ACIP webinar and finished the body of Barb's chicken to keep my hands amused. I've got to keep emergency knitting for days like this. It stopped me from killing anyone.

Actual tremor - 5.5 on the Richter scale, apparently. Centred in Ottawa but very noticeable here. I was in the library or I wouldn't even have noticed it. I was walking though the stacks and I though to myself, I really am too fat if I make the shelves jiggle like that. I stopped walking and they kept jiggling so I figured it wasn't me. Looked around and other people were looking around too so I figure it was a quake.
Not nearly as scary as being stuck in the possessed elevator last week though. I really thought I was going to die then, clutching poor Jackie's hand.

And another emotional tremor when I went to meet my psych gal today and she said they were going home "just in case" because of the earthquake - was that OK? Feh. I had the cloud of doom over me all afternoon after that. What, you call the suicide line and they put you on hold? That's how I feel.

Relatively peaceful evening, though. Thank goodness for small mercies.

There'll be peace in the valley tonight

2010-06-22T20:50:00.002-04:00

Some nights just seem to fall into place seamlessly, and this was one of them. I wonder why? Maybe because I spent more time lecturing them about being nice to each other, about not *actually* hitting one and other and their friends. Calvin just seemed more at peace tonight. Less fractious, like the world was giving him the short end of the stick.

Whatever it is, I am delighted. This is what having a family is about. Letting them sleep under the desk if they want to. Making yogurt popsicles and saying they can eat them for breakfast. Showers instead of baths. Picking the big battles and letting everything else slide, especially when it doesn't matter at all.

And my central park came home. Phew!

Sing it with me, baby.

Another one bites the dust

2010-06-21T21:55:00.002-04:00

OK, I really gave this guy the benefit of the doubt. He said he was average... and he was. Not fat. He has a job, a kid, seemed relatively intelligent despite poor poor typing skills.

But...

In person, he had some serious flaws. He talked a mile a minute (kind of like his multiple emails) and got...brace yourself... spittley at the corners of his mouth. OK to talk to, a bit too agreeable. but whatever.

Major flaw - manners. He had a drink when I arrived. Fine, but he had already paid for it, didn't ask if I wanted one certainly didn't offer to pay for it. He's a cheap tipper and bitched about the cost of the beer. And it was hot today and he was sitting in full-on sun when I arrived. He didn't ask if I wanted to move to the shade and he sat with his back to the sun while I had it full in my eyes. Never once took off his sunglasses.

Really? Can you make a SMALL effort? Would that kill you? You got an hour to make the best impression possible - and you didn't. Your mother would be ashamed. No wonder these people are single.

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My central park hoody might be a victim of the Tottenham bluegrass debacle. I left it in my brother's van and I'm scared to ask for it back in case he doesn't have it. All that Malabrigo... *sob*. All that work. Back and two almost completed fronts. Sigh. That'll teach me.

Philosophy 101

2010-06-20T11:41:00.004-04:00

Here's a philosophical question for you. Actual responses encouraged.

Are people meant to stay together forever? Over the span of 10 or 20 years, it is reasonable to expect that people will change and grow apart?

If the answer is yes, who's responsibility should it be to deal with the fraying threads of the relationship? Let me rephrase that - why does it always seem to be the woman's job to stay "stable" for the sake of the kids, and the man's job to go off and seek happiness at the expense of everyone around them? Why does a man's happiness seem to be so pressing that they feel it's acceptable to make everyone in their previous life miserable?

Early 40's are bad times, my friends. Unfortunately this late-onset adolescence doesn't seem to be limited to a certain age.

Speechless

2010-06-20T00:35:00.005-04:00

I am so sad and angry and discouraged and sad I can't even find any words. This is going to be a shitstorm.

Trauma

2010-06-17T21:26:00.005-04:00

My kids both have night terrors. I don't know anyone else's kids who get this and sometimes I think my plate is just too full. Am I traumatizing them so much that they need to let it out at night? The books say no, but I don't know that I am convinced.

It's charming. They start screaming - usually No, no, no! or Stop stop stop! in increasingly panicked tones. The will stand up in bed and wave their arms like they're trying to grab something, or push something away, or...? I don't know. The best/worst part is that they (according to the books, and my experience) don't even know I'm there. I can't comfort them, calm them down, anything - they really don't seem to know I'm there. It's tough because they seem SO upset but there's nothing I can do. On the other hand, I just have to be there to make sure they don't hurt themselves. I say nice things occasionally (mostly just to feel like I'm doing something) but other than that I don't have to be concerned or sympathetic. Just there.
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I am spending the weekend at the Tottenham bluegrass festival with my brother and his two kids. I am trying not to think about all the things I should be doing instead, but having cleaned the most dire parts of my house today I have alleviated much of the guilt and plan to enjoy myself. Even if it is in Tottenham.
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I have a new victim on PoF. He has a kid and claims to be educated and literate, but his emails are BRUTAL. Run on, little punctuation, no caps, typos galore.. I freely admit to being a snob when it comes to communication and I called him on it. He said he actually could spell but couldn't be bothered to spend the time to do it "properly", and maybe he has a point. He spelled algorithm properly. Anyway, he's certainly interested - he sends me two emails for my every one (weird?) and he's not hideous and might be OK. Maybe I'll find out one day.
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And finally... I have been chosen from a cast of thousands, selecting the appropriate answers in not one but TWO questionnaires, to do a survey. It pays $90 for two hours which seems worth the trek to Yonge and Eg and a babysitter. But... it's for cat food. Yes, cat food. I've officially been certified as a crazy cat lady.

Officially on the wagon...ouch!

2010-06-14T21:31:00.003-04:00

I purged my office of crap this morning (Hot Tameles? Really?) so I couldn't eat anything bad all day. What virtue. ETA I forgot - I ate the last two Lune Moons as part of the purge - does that count for or against?

Then this afternoon Miko and I instituted the Tame the Boys Plan - phase one. She took Jack while I took Calvin. They both bitched and moaned but I figured it would work out OK. HA.

Calvin had a 20 minute meltdown over the prospect of being taken away from his friends for a Whole Day, during which I contemplated the fact that someone smelled a lot like BO. Who could it be? Turns out, I realize with horror, it's him! My wee 8 year old. OK, so he was all hot and sweaty but he smelled like a trucker. Ew.

Anyway, I got him calmed down, we went out to eat, he said it was too noisy to do homework so we came home, where it allllll fell apart. Screaming fits about the homework. Crashing and throwing things. That old routine. Feh. So much for quality time.

Then Jack come home, declaring he DIDN'T have a good time and didn't want to go with Miko and didn't do anything fun. Liar, liar.

So, unmitigated disaster? We're doing it again next week, with roles reversed. It can't be any worse, can it?
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The love of my life on PoF is a smoker. Bummer. He didn't even care that I was fat. There goes another one back into the pond.

I drowned my sorrows with some chocolate I had stashed and several ice-cream sandwiches. I sure hope those are gone soon.

Inane remarks to put off snacking.

2010-06-13T20:46:00.006-04:00

Ah, another weekend bites the dust. This one was quite harmonious! Maybe it's the vitamins, maybe it's the phase of the moon but Calvin and I seem to be getting along a bit better these days. Jack, of course, is a phase or two behind and is still trying to be the bad boy, but I can cope with him. He calls me mama when he's being sweet. How can that not melt your heart?

I gotta stop eating. Suggestions? Anyone know a good electroshock therapist? I keep having good intentions, but then I go to the grocery story and boxes of ice cream sandwiches follow me home. How does that happen? I have the body of a 55 year old man, complete with gut from underboob to gunt. I should be belting my pants under my boobs. Hey, weren't high-waisted pants coming back???? Maybe I could make a fashion trend actually work for me.

My little gardening experiment seem to be taking off. I have about 6 sprouted seeds and have transplanted them to soil. That should kill them off. I'm looking forward to the process of eliminating the ones with balls. Genocide? Homicide? Maleicide? Just plain sex selection? Hitler would be proud.

That old chestnut

2010-06-11T21:08:00.004-04:00

So the last dude I went out with seemed mildly interested after the fact. He did get back to me, suggested we do something and when I responded then promptly ignored me for two days. I can take being ignored - I'm only a bit needy - but hey, if you're able to check your messages and read them, surely it wouldn't kill you to respond? Especially when you eventual response is less than a dozen words. WTF?

Another pet peeve: ... instead of proper punctuation. I like ... as much as the next person but it's no substitute for a period or a comma. You can't have one giant sentence with the ideas separated by ...s. Sheesh.
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I'm back on the chunky machine. Did the inside of the tea cosy...badly. Swatched for the sleeves of my central park hoody. I love that sweater. Too bad it gives me a headache to knit by hand these days. And I loves me that machine. I did the I-cord for the tea cosy in about 5 minutes flat. How long would it take to knit two feet of I-cord? For me, forever.

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Oh yeah. OK, I have general feelings if incompetence and inadequacy around pretty much everything I do. I realize that and I know it's not a particularly attractive quality and I work on it. But some days...

I got home from work today and my neighbour's unemployed single mom, friend is gloating about her new car. Not new to her, no. NEW. Seriously? I have a decent full time job and I still drive a 10-year old car poice of shit that won;t keep air in the tires and doesn't have a fucking radio. I don;t want to hear about your stupid key fob. WTF? Debt load, my ass. That's just irresponsible. Not that it makes me feel responsible. Nope, I just feel lame.

And then the neighbour who shall be nameless starts talking about her kid and how much he reads and he goes through books so fast and there's no point in buying them he'd read all night if she let him blah blah blah and I just want to fucking slap her. She KNOWS my kids both completely suck at reading and she does it anyway, all the time. She's supposed to be my friend - is she socially unconscious or is she really trying to feel better at my expense?

A gave me a smack in the head and said don't be stupid. I think she might be right.

Said children of mine are relative angels these days, I am delighted to say. I hesitate to mention it as we all know what will happen as a result, but WTF. I bitch about them so much I should mention the nice stuff too. Jack gave Calvin a big hug in bed this morning and they lay all snuggled up together for a micromoment. It warmed the cockles of my stony heart.

Pet peeves

2010-06-10T21:13:00.001-04:00

Mute point
Peaks or peeks - as in my interest
Walla (this one enrages me for some reason)
They're, their and there
The fact that gmail won't load on my computer. iPod? Sure. Work? No problem. My GD effing home computer? No way. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Emergency switching to hotmail for now. (Oh oh oh! Just remembered I can try my other computer! Who knew I'd actually have a use for it?)
The itty bitty keys on my iPOD touch.
Shopper's Drug Mart having "family" sized chocolate bars on sale for $1
Evening primrose oil, which is supposed to reduce PMS breast pain and reduce swelling. Ah, no. It seems to have the opposite effect on me.
Hotdog buns in packages of eight
People who don't check/return emails
People who ask me to do stuff.

Have I forgotten any?

_____________________________________________________________________________

I broke down and went to the dentist. $60 later, it turns out it's not 13 cracked teeth; rather just a few very tense muscles. A judicious application of Advil and some self awareness and it's MUCH better. Tends to flare at dinner and bedtime, go figure. (My right upper canine is now barking at me annoyingly, but if that doesn't go down in a few days, I'm back at the dentist soon anyway. Feels like root canal material to me. My teeth are such crap.)

Important questions

2010-06-06T21:16:00.005-04:00

What's that bird that makes a chirping sound like an annoyingly yippy puppy? It starts just before dark and goes on for what seems like forever. Drives me batty.

I have done something unspeakable to the whole left side of my mouth - it feels like all the gums are really sensitive, plus I have a toothache in each tooth. Could this possible be from clenching my teeth? I dunno, but I shall have to go to the dentist if it doesn't let up in a few days...

Went on a real date last night, which went OK but I haven't heard anything from dude so it was probably a disaster. He made me play frisbee. Talk about a well-prepared dude, I guess he dates a lot. Actually, he told me he does so I am unsurprised by his slickness. He's got that Mike Green upper lip though, so I don't know if I can get over that. MG was one creepy dude. Plus, who wears spandex bike shorts on a first date? What ever happened to making a good first impression? One *can* bike in regular clothes with out spontaneously combusting, you know.

Weekends off are great. I slept in until noon today - what sloth! Then I cleaned the kids' rooms - even under the beds!, fixed Jack's light (which has been draped over the door to the closet and finally the handle of the closet) for months now so I thought it was time... I'm reeeaaaallly slow but I get there eventually. Planted snow peas, lettuce and cucumber.

Oh yeah! When I was buying the veggie plants, I sailed in at 4:45. It's one of those temporary set-ups enclosed by wire fencing for the growing season, set up in the parking lot of No-Frills and it closes at 5. Anyway, I pick my plants and go up to the cash to pay. However... not only is there no-one at the cash but the fencing has been chained shut! And it was only 4:50. I can't say I was hysterical or anything but I did wonder what the chances of me climbing the fence were like. Slim, I should think. Of course I happened to be wearing a skirt, how appropriate! Now I'm not the kind of person who will ask a perfect stranger to go find someone to let me out so imagine my relief when who should come along but Shannifer's sister, Andrea! I have never been so happy to see someone in all my life. She toddled off to ask the management about springing me and offered to stay with me till I was released. Fortunately just then the guy who runs it came back - just a pee break. Glad I didn't have to go all McGuyver on the temporary fencing. All that for five bucks worth of plants.

BM's pa seems to be out of the woods. Death's door one day and perky as hell the next. Isn't the body a mysterious thing? Colour me relieved.

(Wow but I lead a fascinating life.)

Grand Finale - moving on.

2010-06-05T12:30:00.005-04:00

OK, I am posting this sort of reluctantly since I kind of feel like it makes me look like a mad psycho stalker, but WTF. If you haven't figured that out by now... ;)

When we left our happy couple, Daniel and Ange, they had merrily arrange to meet up in the Yonge and Eg neighbourhood in which Ange resides. Unfortunately, Ange had "something com up" and had to email Daniel to let him know she couldn't make it.

Darling Daniel didn't take it well. He thought she should have called him to let him know. Really? I was pretty sure that's what cell phones were for, but when you didn't call me to cancel and instead thought it was appropriate to use email, I thought I'd been mistaken and quit using mine. Ange sent him a quick message saying "I think I made my point." and then promptly blocked him.

I was tempted not to block him just to see what he would say, but common sense won out. I want him to be pissed, but not to make a cast-iron connection between Ange and I. I don't think that would be good. He could, theoretically, do the same thing again, under a different name, but I'm going to go out on a limb and assume he's got bigger fish to fuck with. I have blocked him from my profile and deleted Ange's entirely.

End of story.
________________________________________________________________

Here is the modern equivalent of the plastic owl used to scare away pigeons: the rubber coyote, complete with hairy tail. These (apparently) scare away Canada geese so they don't leave nasty pile of goose shit everywhere. They are put in strategic location, and - get this - it's someone's job to move them around periodically!

Here he is, lurking outside our building (yes, highly illegal on-the-property shot.)

___________________________________________________________________

The kids got to go rock climbing at the school fun fair last weekend. Jack was gung ho but bailed half way up.

Calvin made it up the "hard side" in about 15 seconds. He LOVED it.

Up:

And down.

It's a pretty sophisticated set up - it's all mechanized so they don't have a person on the other end of the cable, and if they let go they just hang. They grab the padded part of the cable and it lowers them slowly down. Pretty cool.
___________________________________________________________________

Happy children. Upper and lower blocks have FINALLY united. We now have a zillion kids and two nets. Awesome.

The upper and lower blocks of our street have FINALLY united. We now have a zillion kids and two nets. Awesome.

Life Lessons

2010-06-02T20:34:00.005-04:00

Don't drink on a school night. I went out for a pedicure/drinking night last night. Besides the odd company (one instant-drunk and one gal who actually passed out on her face. In the salon. I kid you not.) it was a lot of fun, but even with dragging my sorry ass home at 11, I still felt like death all day. I'm obviously too old for this.
Revenge is sweet. I have developed an alter ego - Ange the Angelic Angel - on PoF. She was developed purely to smite the arsehole that blocked me, and it's fun. Ange is blonde and likes wild sex. Otherwise I pretty much stick to the facts so I don;t have to remember much. Darling Daniel (we can upgrade him from dude now) seems to like Ange (as do numerous other men, due to Ange's proclivity for wild sex) and is happy to converse. Ange's lack of a picture seems to bother him though - he asked that I provide one next time I wanted to chat. So I have uploaded one, though I neglected to let him know. He can find out in his own sweet time. With any luck he'll suggest meeting up and then I can do to him what he did to me. I do strongly suspect he'd do it to Ange as well, but I really hope to get there first. Revenge IS a dish best served cold. EDITED to add - yes, Daniel is hot for the picture of Ange and suggested meeting up on Friday. Gosh, will he show? Will he cancel? Will SHE cancel? Tune in next time for the ongoing drama....
Men are dicks. See above.
Discretion is the better part of valour. I shall refrain from waxing rhapsodic about my latest conquests. They all seem to end up in the crapper anyway.
Honesty is not the best policy. A little judicious whitewashing of my actual views would probably attract more fish (pardon the horrible pun). I revised my PoF profile once, and I think I shall edit even more. It's like a cover letter, right? What you're aiming for is an interview where you can put your best foot forward.
Life is short - make the most of it. People seem to be threatening to drop dead around me. Not my peeps necessarily, but my peeps peeps. I don't like this - it makes me sad for them and makes me contemplate my own family's frailties. My skinny little boys were lying in bed this morning covered only with a sheet and I thought they looked like dead refugee children, lying on a street with a sheet tossed over them. So we celebrated the rain by watching Star Wars I and eating pizza. Peace and harmony reigned for the first time in weeks. If only it we could live on pizza and TV. And the best organic baby cukes from Fresh From the Farm. YumMy.

PoF #1: an objective review

2010-05-26T20:22:00.001-04:00

Let's cast aside the emotion and futz of the past few weeks and focus on how things *really* went in my first little fishing expedition.

I initiated contact. The fish in question seemed interested, and thus followed an email exchange lasting a few day. The productive part culminated in him asking me if I 'd like to meet for a drink. Or course I would. He seemed charming, witty, very well spoken, if a little unwilling to be serious. There was none of the discussion about what do want out of this or "what do you do, what are your life goals, do you want to save the world, etc., etc. I suppose that should have been a clue, but hey. Things were progressing nicely and I figured I could feel him out properly in person. Trust me, that's always the best way to do it. Someone can come off so well over the net and in person be completely different.

At this point things started to go downhill. Date #1 - fish emails at the last minute to say he has to work late. Fine, it happens. Date #2 - fish emails to say he just can't make it. Uh huh. Date #3 - oops, fuckfish forgot it was his sister's birthday! Are you starting to see a pattern? Good, because I'm so dumb I gave him another chance. We degenerated into some marginally smutty talk and agree sometime next week (this week) we could meet up. Riiiiiiiiiight.

Last night I gave him the gears for being lame, having lame excuses, blah blah blah. Nothing really rude, not worse that we'd been backing and forthing for weeks now. And then the last message I tried to send him wouldn't go - it said:

This user has BLOCKED YOU.

Seriously. How passive aggressive is that? Just man-up and tell me to get lost. Sorry, were you being too subtle for me? AAARRRGGGHHH. It makes me feel like a creepy psycho stalker who's been harassing him with no reciprocation - which is NOT the case FYI.

You know when you say to yourself, wow - this guy is hot and smart and nice. Why does he need to find a date on the internet? Now I know. HE DOESN'T EXIST.

Stage 2.5 - Relapse

2010-05-23T21:47:00.002-04:00

Oops. I may have done something stupid. Fortunately, no one reads my blog who can intervene. Only time will tell, and I'll only have myself to blame.

Who needs a therapist? The whole world should blog. It's free, you don't have to leave the house, and it takes less than an hour. Win win. Boring the unknown public? Even better!

Stage 2 - Anger

2010-05-23T11:23:00.003-04:00

Fucking numbnuts (I think it's a good sign that we've gone from "dude" to "fucking numbnuts") finally sends me an email allegedly from Montreal, where another ones of his alleged sisters is allegedly getting married. Who does he think I am? His little late-night conversational bimbo? He was drunk and I may have been a little under the influence (thanks, girls!) but he STILL had no explanation for his appalling behaviour. Doesn't thing it worthy of an explanation! Talk about channeling Fairycakes - they both have such a capacity for avoidance - maybe it's the age? Is that something mummy taught you growing up a half a generation ago?

Either way it was pretty effing annoying when, after I asked if he ever planned on showing up, he said... wait wait, let me quote him exactly:

Speaking of which (how's that for a segue), I want to see a pic of you (not just your face). I assume you have a camera or a cell which takes pics. Send me one, now, via godiwouldlovetoputinyouremailaddy@yahoo.com

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. It's 2 in the morning, I'll get right on that. Perhaps you'd like me to take off a few layers first, bare some skin, talk dirty to you? Sheesh.

Perhaps I should put in his actual email address and you could send your comments directly to him. Now THAT would be amusing.

Because I'm all about the drama

2010-05-22T11:39:00.003-04:00

I have a minorly obsessive personality. I'm glad it doesn't seem to apply to substances (other than chocolate) or gambling or something equally destructive, just to my emotional state. Over the years, I have got a grip on this problem, managing to be somewhat restrained in how I express myself. (We shall overlook Fairycakes and the OMG I've committed professional suicide! incident of 2007(?). Fortunately I also seem to be attracted to men who have the ability to completely ignore anything that doesn't fit into their strategy. Convenient, eh?)

Anyway, as a humiliation-sparing strategy, this blog has become an outlet for the things I want to say to people but really thing would be a bad idea. Many times it works. Not always, but mostly. As such, I give you what I would like to send to dude as a harassment technique: The Kübler-Ross five stages of grief.

Stage one: Denial

This is one of my favourites and I can stay in this stage for a long time. He didn't dump me. He really did have three unrelated very important events come up, coincidentally on the same night we made plans. Coincidentally at the last minute. And the fact that I haven't heard from him since doesn't mean he's REALLY not interested, oh no. It probably means something really important and probably bad came up, distracting him from checking his PoF mail. What, he managed to check three times a day before? Well, he must have been hit by a bus. Maybe someone died. Yeah, that's it!

(Yeah, yeah, I know it's over. I'm still working though the stages and obviously haven't got to the last one yet. Maybe this will help. Stay tuned as we work through the successive stages: Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.)

Another proud parenting moment

2010-05-21T18:22:00.002-04:00

As a conscientious mother, I often volunteer for activities in my kid's classrooms. Nothing says I love you like a day with your mommy at school. Today was Yellowfish Road, where we go out and paint yellow fish (surprise) on the street by the storm sewers. This raises awareness for the quality of water that runs off the street and straight into the lake from the storm sewers.

Anyway, Calvin and Jack had a busy night last night, boogying until past bedtime and not going to sleep until, Calvin informs me, 10 pm. Shocking. So when he complained this morning about being tired I was unsurprised and unsympathetic. I agreed he looked a little rough around the edges, brushed his hair to give the illusion of a well-dressed child and dragged them both off to school, on foot, god forbid.

Half way through Oh Canada, Calvin breaks formation (completely out of character) and hustles over to me, saying he's sick and wants to go home. I have to admit he did look pretty crappy. I saw him cough and almost gag and hustled him post haste into the washroom. Needless to say we did not yellow fish road.

Poor dude slept ALL day. He did rouse himself long enough to play Uno and Picaseroni (or something like that) but he ate nothing, did nothing and had a fever of 102. Nice going, mommy.

Anyway, I got some prototype big bags made. One with regular interfacing, which I think is too floppy, and one with "medium" weight interfacing. While the bag looks great and stands up nicely, the interfacing itself bites. It's made from some coarse-weave fabric which is seriously pokey at the cut ends. I think it will snag yarn like crazy. I'm going to make another with the other thick interfacing, but I think it's too thick. I could do two layers of thinner interfacing, but that might just push me over the edge into not-worth-my-while...

I like the blue one. I can't sell it as it's too pokey but I could keep it. What a sacrifice.

Chinglish

2010-05-20T17:51:00.003-04:00

All this time I've been pimping myself out on various internet dating sites and all I had to do was read my email!

I don't even know why I read this - it must have been providence. Usually it would go straight into the bin. It was from World Importers Net, who specialize in producing all kinds of Bedspread sets, scarf, glove, cap, hat, sock, shawl and plush toys etc. Wow - just what I need as summer approaches. But wait - it gets better!

We now have a good write to you in the hope of relations.

I live in eternal hope of relations.

Perspective

2010-05-19T14:53:00.005-04:00

Oh, Po. I may not have known you as well as some but you were a spectacularly original character and I will miss you. I'm glad it's over for you, but not for us.

Seriously??????

2010-05-18T21:49:00.001-04:00

My friends are horrified. They are convinced that dude either weighs 300 lbs, lives in his mother's basement, is married, or is existing just to jerk people like me around. Maybe all of the above. Is it fun, I wonder? It takes a special kind of person to do that. Maybe petty, vindictive, dishonest… sound familiar?

Why, they ask, are you willing to give this asshole any more of your time?

I don’t know.

I'm changing my profile to read this:

Tag line: Sucker

I'm a sucker. That's all you need to know. Talk to me nice, use some $50 words, maybe get me laughing and I'll stick with you through thick or thin. Nope, don't bother showing up when we agree to me. Nope, you don't have to confirm because I'll do all the work for you. You don’t ever even have to leave you couch because I'll let you string me along… and along… and along…. until you've had all the fun you can with me. Then you can ditch me and I'll go unresistingly back to the pond. I'll initiate contact, and email you regularly so you never feel the rejection of an empty inbox. I'll wait around while you're online talking to someone else, no problem. That what us suckers are for. They don't put us near the bottom of the food chain for nothing you know. Give us garbage and we eat it right up.

(Also closely related to another flourishing specimen, the Doormat. Maybe you've had some fun with her, too.)

Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me three times? I'm a sucker.

Damned innerwebz

2010-05-17T18:34:00.001-04:00

Is everyone like this or just me? I had to force myself not to email him all weekend with completely stupid things to say. OK, I lie, I sent one, but then I composed a gazillion more and managed not to send them. Even the one saying my time is important to me and if you're gonna bail do it now.

Internet dating is designed to make you neurotic, paranoid and insecure. It shows whether you are online or not, whether you've read the emails you received, whether you deleted them - all things which are completely unnecessary. So dude is online, has read your email and doesn't respond. Is he talking to someone else? Does he have nothing interesting to say? Does he not want to deal with you? Is every other hot woman on the site sending him Better messages? Is he checking sporadically while watching the TV or making dinner? Who knows? And when they disappear off line as soon as you come on is that because they're trying to avoid you? I don't know! All I know is it fuels my raging paranoia and I have to try my very hardest not to send messages like - Dude? What's up? You didn't respond to my email about the weather 22 minutes ago. Are you fucking someone else?

Yeah.

So anyway, I have been very good. . I know there's a delay in the site showing who's on and who's not. I take that as a good thing. It means I do what I want. I log in for 2 hours, doing laundry or something completely unrelated and trying not to pay attention. I log in for 30 seconds, check my mail and log right back out. It's good to be unpredictable.

But tonight - I'm layin' down the law. Dude will confirm TONIGHT that we are still on. When/if he does so, I will give him my phone # and tell him to CALL should something come up. I should NOT have to rely on checking that stupid site to see if I'm going to be jilted. Of course it would be nice and polite of him to reciprocate, but if he doesn't that's too bad. God forbid something comes up with me, that's his problem.

I have a very baaaaaaaaad feeling about this.

Let's try some optimism, kids! He's got no reason to plan something if he doesn't want to go. It's the internet - he just bails and has no repercussions, so if he really didn't want to go, he would have bailed. End of story. Snap out of it, creeping jesus.

I see a red door and I want to paint it black.

2010-05-16T09:23:00.004-04:00

That is my mood, or at least is has been for the last few days. Is this how depression comes on? I feel like I'm wearing a black hood over my head. Bleah.

On the other hand, the sun is shining today and I feel much better. Or maybe I bottomed out and there's nowhere to go but up. I gotta stop whining, whatever it is. OK, so I made my child's birthday the worst. one. ever. but hey, I'm sure they'll be more of those. I sent him to bed without brushing his teeth, but hey, by the time that comes back to haunt him he'll have his own dental plan. And if he or his brother kill the other one, that'll be one less university education to pay for. Cup half full kids, not shattered and leaking red wine on my beige carpet.

Dude made startling revelations under the influence of alcohol on Friday night. Har. It's the modern equivalent of drunk dialing, only more permanent, unless you were foolish enough to babble on someone's answering machine. I'm going to take it as a good sign that he wanted to. Or maybe (based on the revelations) he's just a bit... I was going to say odd, but no - it's pretty normal, just dark and surprising that he'd fess to it. And MAN the guy can write. Even hammered he can use the word "behest". I think I'm in love.

If I should get stood up AGAIN, I hope nothing comes up at work because there may be a sick day on Wednesday. Not that I'm too heavily invested or anything...

Ah the good old days

2010-05-14T20:33:00.004-04:00

...when advertisers could pretty much do as they pleased.

Who knew smoking was so beneficial? Guess I must have been smoking the wrong brand.

This has been quite the week.

2010-05-14T19:54:00.001-04:00

1. I made plans with my PoF dude to go out on Monday night. Not an ideal date night, but hey, it was just a meet and bum-sniff event.

He cancelled, citing unexpected work commitments. Spent fun evening with Miko and rescheduled for Thursday.

2. Lost my keys. I don’t know where the fuck they are but really, I have to do something about my house. I blame space, I blame the attic, I blame the kids, but really, there is JUNK piled everywhere and it doesn't need to be there and most of it is mine.

3. Fought with Calvin. Over and over and pretty much lost my mind. Homework is the antichrist.

4. Bought small appliances - a hairdryer, clock radio, iPod dock, answering machine.

5. Had raging PMS. While attempting to get into the tiny space to plug in the new clock, I got frustrated and threw my plastic shelves across the room. Real mature. And you wonder where Calvin gets his temper from?

6. Thursday. Anticipation. All dressed, mascara on, hair brushed, I check my email. You know, just in the tiny chance that dude bailed on me again. I'm sure there will be no messages… but, sure enough, there was. He cancelled. Again.

OK, I got serious brownie points for graciously accepting his lack of excuse (I just can't fucking make it) - must be an afternoon of reading elegantwoman.org. But I clearly remember thinking, in my LL days, that I should disappoint everyone before I go out with them because you can tell so much about someone by how they react. Real gentleman do not yell at you or call you names, or make rude implications. Guess it works both ways.

Anyway, I thought there was a ring of truth (and desperation) to his messages and though it might make me a doormat, I am giving him one more chance. Really, just one more. The one bright side? When I said maybe it was my mojo, or the overused venue (Allan's) he said "It's not you, it's me" (and keep in mind he was well aware of the blinding cliché) and I fired back "Oh, that old chestnut." I was pleased to actually use that phrase!

Date night? Tuesday - AKA knit night. Miko's in NYC so I don't really want to go AND I won't need a sitter. God forbid I show up at knitting...

7. Went to the doctor for my check-up. I adore her so much. I unloaded about Calvin and what was going on and she was so great I almost started bawling. I sort of thought she would think I was over-reacting, but she was so sympathetic and understanding and had good ideas and is going to send both of us to talk to someone professional. I really hope that helps. She also suggested that, since homework was such a big stressor, that I give that particular joy to someone else. Daycare, school, Steve. Anyone. Just not me. It's so nice to have someone take away something that I really want to do but know isn't working at all. I am NOT helping him.

8. Calvin is 8 tomorrow. My baby. I'm hoping beyond hope that this next year is a bit smoother. More Dr. Jekyll, less Mr. Hyde. 'Specially since Jack has been sipping the potion lately.

Sleeeeeeeeeeeeep

2010-05-07T19:54:00.003-04:00

I need sleep. It's been what - about a week since I slept properly? I feel like I'm stoned all the time. Not good.

Tonight I should have been setting up for the Frolic. Instead - due to the massive efficiency of Ms Schecter - I am home, emailing dude. Frankly, what I should do is have two glasses of wine and go to bed. But no - I trade inanities via email. Sigh. Monday can't come soon enough.

I like it, but I need a reality check. Is he an asshole that can make conversation, or a really witty dude with a dirty streak and a penchant for double entendres? Maybe I'll ask.

2010-05-04T22:34:00.000-04:00

I am getting the fairycakes/chris feel again. I know I'm getting my hopes up and am bound to be disappointed, but I can't help it. And I don't care. The feeling is grooooooovy. And maybe it will affect my appetite?

I want to rush home and check my email. Some part of me knows this is going to end quickly, and in crushing disappointment. Why does this always happen to me? The M-word hooks up with someone, has some emails, talks on the phone, has a date where the guy actually shows up and then he's totally in to her. What's wrong with me? Am I overeager? (yes) Should I drag the email on longer? I dunno, but when someone says we should meet for a drink I take that as an invitation. Am I wrong? Am I crazy? Am I obsessed? Do I want to go out with a hot dude named Daniel who can make conversation and is witty and personable? Do I know what a claymation star is? Is he really made of plasticine? Is his personality like a lump of clay, or is he malleable like a lump of clay? Enquiring minds want to know.

Fekola.

Were you scared away by my overeager offer of a drink? Did your agent suddenly call you up with a last-minute fill-in for Grommit? Is my obsession with chickens a turn-off? Did you realize I'm functionally blind without my glasses and don't want to go out with a disabled person (even if it means I get a handicapped sticker on my car)? Did I inadvertently mention I have two boys and you're worried they'll gang-r@pe your daughter while you're not watching? (hmmm… in a couple of years that might be a valid concern) Did your wife catch you surfing the dating sites again? Did skankygal123 email you with a picture of her assets?

I'm stockpiling chocolate for the crash.

________________________________________________________________

In unrelated news, the green sweater of doom is pretty much complete, I have sewed it all together, and while the arms are a little long and the body a bit big, I quite like it. I am going to have to rig up some alternate fastening system so it doesn't droop and drag at the front. Maybe one of those old-fashioned hooks for fastening your pants on the inside, and on the outside a cute button or something. I dunno, I think it might just look like a sack on me.

_________________________________________________________________

Also - I finally realized it was me that bust my brand new machine. While in conversation with the woman who sold it to me, hurling accusations about how it were not workin right, it occurred to me that in the initial set up, where I dropped the carriage backwards off the bed, I might have bent the effing bed myself! I fessed up immediately and the woman was very gracious about my rash accusations (we do have a relationship as she shed tears on me about her newly dead mother as I was buying it) and thanked me for admitting my mistake. I think religion might actually bring out the best in some people. She's a bible basher, not me, in case you inadvertently stumbled upon my crazy ramblings and think it might be me. The point being, if it were me that broke it, I bet I can fix it!

Picture? I ain't got no freakin' pictures. You got the gabbagoo?

KnitMoron

Number one.

At the risk of jinxing myself...

2012 - you're my bitch.

Falling apart

Plumbing

Drinking the Koolaid

Crazy dude.

Enthusiasm`

You can't teach an old horse...

Retrospective

What F-PERT means to me:

Oh, the injustice of it all

The view from here

It's official...

Well *I* didn't have internet, at least.

A list (not A-list)

Clams

Momentous

Old and new

Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick

Relativity

Spidey Senses: 1

It's my blog and I'll angst if I want to.

What number is this? Eight?

Testus Interruptus

Bare minimum

Yikes!

Done like dinner

Derby tally

Mine

Retrospective

Rating the week.

Call *me* crankypants

Wow

Todays sponsor: Robaxacet

Of MRIs and Men

Equipment improvement

Reality check

A whole new chapter...

Nothing says I love you like booze.

Weakness

Or not.

Four is the luckiest number

Number 4

One step forward...

I loves me some tutu

Just for some variety...

Dysfunctional cucumber

Dysfuntional knitter.

Hats... finally

On the other hand...

Random thoughts

All hats, all the time

Random photos

Stairs

And yet again...

Depressed

Fucking Flickr

Enough

Ha! You were not correct.

Yes, Barb - you were right.

SERIOUSLY???????

Tata!

Resistance is futile

Don't need no drama. No, don't need no drama

Pop pop, fizz fizz...

Vegetarian Zen Buddhist monk angst

Hope sends you emails

Vacation update!

Of moths and miscreants

Canada Day

Dudes

Crazy cat ladies

...followed by tremors

There'll be peace in the valley tonight

Another one bites the dust

Philosophy 101

Speechless

Trauma

Well I didn't have internet, at least.

Call me crankypants