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Top Ten Shitty Things I Did Last Week

Posted in Doggie Diaries, Top Ten by

I’m not sure if I accomplished anything worthwhile besides trying to convince Hubby he should start packing for our trip. We leave in a week. He’s still trying to decide what to wear. And to complicate matters, we are only packing a carry on. For a two-week vacation. Aside from that, I think I managed to clean the main floor of the house and do a half-assed job at making one dinner, but I think I’ll run down my week, if for no other reason, to make you feel better about yourself. Because even if you got out of bed without hurting yourself or disturbing the dog, you had a banner week! Go you!

10. I drank a lot on Friday night in front of company who have never seen me drunk before and now I think I’ve scared them off. Or at least, had them rethinking their options to be in my company for future drinking. I may send them a greeting card apologizing for my ill-timed nodding off and pretending I wasn’t drunk. Is there a card for that? I need a card for that.

9. I took credit for fixing the dog. She had a red swollen mass develop inside her eye. After much debating and Google-ing and asking our breeder’s opinion, we concluded she had cherry eye. Mags is 10 years old, and those things don’t happen in older dogs. Breeder Lady told me how to massage the eye in hopes the mass would pop back into place. (it’s referred to as their third eye and can pop out when poked or injured. Or for no good reason at all, like it feels like making an appearance so go ahead and deal with it, bitch) After massaging the area for a few times on Saturday, we awoke Sunday to find Mags back to normal. For Mags, ‘normal’ is up for debate. I’m taking credit for her return to her original state. And for not panic-dialing the vet and sobbing on the phone that my dog was deformed by an unknown entity.

8. I went shopping with Hubby multiple times only for him to debate the return of all the new clothes to which I eye-rolled. I also witnessed the trying on of every article of clothing he owned to decide if they were worthy of vacation space and drawer space. He ended up culling drawers and forming multiple piles of clothes of which are to be further determined where they should go. A truly enjoyable experience akin to stabbing oneself in the eyes with cocktail forks. Okay, that’s a little over-the-top even for me, but I’ve had better experiences in line at a grocery store. A really long line. Like back to the back of the store line, where someone is still trying to pay with nickels and forgot to pick up the salad dressing, so the cashier makes a pithy call to the stock kid to go find it, to discover that it has sold out, so now there is only the crappy kind left. That line.  

7. I tried to feign my way out of saying I didn’t know something when really, I did know and when asked repeatedly if I knew, I tried to keep up the good fight and say, ‘of course I don’t know!’ until I caved and spilled my guts and confessed, and then it got awkward. Until it didn’t. And the thing I knew was a good thing, but I wasn’t supposed to know the thing, but now I think everyone knows the thing, so now everyone is happy to know. You know?

6. Son requested I send pictures of him when he was young and in hockey. Hubby found some and I got into seeing his face when he was little and then I lamented how fast everyone has grown up and how old I am, which then led to remembering I am a grandmother and then I wanted to day drink. But I resisted and had coffee in my Best Grandmother Ever mug and I felt better.

5. I went to the dentist to have a cleaning, only I couldn’t because I had a hip replacement seven months ago and needed to take antibiotics before having any dental procedure. This information would have been advantageous to know before hijacking daughter to drive me there and back and then to work. Son had the car this week and I’m SOL for independently arriving to appointments and trivial things like work, so payback is awesome when Mommy needs to go to the liquor store at 9am to buy wine!  Drive Daughter, drive!

4. I work in an environment where being quiet is paramount. I had students testing last week and decided I needed lunch. I was returning from heating my soup when I opened the door so expertly stealth, I even surprised myself.  I was congratulating myself on my silent manoeuvres when I dropped a glass jar, sending it crashing against the door causing a loud bang to which I laughed out loud and slammed the door. The soup survived. The students were alerted to my awkward entrance. There. Perfect.

3. Apparently, there was a big hockey game on Saturday night, and it was a nail biter and exciting, except I slept through the entire thing and even when Hubby tried to wake me up to tell me how great it was, I nodded and went back to sleep. I wonder if this is how it will be when a big event suddenly happens like the world is set to explode or a big sale happens at Marshall’s. I’ll say, “yeah, yeah, I’m sleeping here,” and miss the whole thing. Maybe I need an alarm clock that can tell me when I’m missing a big event and slap me into consciousness. Don’t let me sleep through the big Marshall’s sale, please.

2. I’ve been trying to decide what to wear on the plane. Everyone is saying to dress comfortably, but for me that’s sweatpants, a hoodie, and my hair in a ponytail. I don’t think that will cut it going to Europe. Pajama pants? If they’re pretty? Ah, if only I could wear that and my slippers it would take the word ‘comfortable’ to a whole new level. I could take a squish-mallow and my eye mask. A blankie? Ugh. I guess I’ll wear pants.

1. Before Mags came down with an eye from the Zombies of the Apocalypse, I referred to her as an asshole a couple of times. Then when her eyeball looked like it grew a twin, I felt guilty, and that the Universe was punishing me for calling my companion an asshole. She is the one thing in the house with a heartbeat who lives to see me walk through the door and who doesn’t criticize my cooking. And who tolerates my ridiculous need to put a book in front of my face instead of rubbing her belly, like a proper human should. But, in my defense, she was barking at the other dogs in the ‘hood for no good reason. And then promptly shit all over the floor. Asshole. Face it, she was embarrassing the family and I was forced to call her out on it. Now that she has recovered, I feel less like an asshole myself and more like the loving companion she deserves.

Until tomorrow when she barks at the neighbours and shits on the floor. Asshole.

A recovered Mags. Her eye twin has retreated, until I call her an asshole again. Ugh.

Better Days

Posted in Misguided Musings, Uncategorized by

I’m still waiting for the fateful call to have the ever-anticipated hip replacement, but until that blissful day arrives, I languish in renovations and baby-ness. Two totally opposite ends of the spectrum. Kitchen renos are in full swing and have been frustrating and exciting, baffling and exhausting. It’s a roller-coaster ride fit for the amusement park from hell, but we have endless amounts of hope and anticipation of a clean functional space. We also yearn for meals where we don’t have to worry about running the microwave and electric skillet at the same time without blowing a fuse. Which usually happens. It also conks out if the toaster and kettle are running.  Better days, people. Better. Days.

Our skittishness with becoming overly excited with an impending birth in the family is well-founded, but it’s getting increasingly difficult to stem. Everyday the news is better, we hope for a healthy and happy baby girl by Christmas. A little Christmas Elf. Aww. We continue to hope for the best and try not to default to the negative Nelly tugging on our elbows. It’s hard to remain nonchalant about a life-altering event, but here we are. Going about our day-to-day, trying not to buy every baby-gadget on the market or every little fluffy pink tutu out there. Yeah. Sure. I’m calm. Trying not to ask D1 every day how she’s feeling, did the baby kick today, are you eating enough…Nana needs answers! Negative Nelly whispers in my ear every now and then.

 Bitch, fly!

The ‘hood continues to regale us with unending episodes of wayward pirate cats shitting on patios and meowing until dawn. I fucking love it. The peeps are not impressed with the stray cat strut happening and decide to post every incident of feline rebellion they witness. It’s a little over-the-top but makes for great fodder. I choose not to comment, but it takes immense restraint not to. I’m still holding out for the nicky-nine door extravaganza, but the summer came and went with no such news of the heathens out to wake the ‘hood. At least the hoodlums managed to keep their pants on in front of grandma…which, could be me next year. Watch out, youngins’ I’ll walk very fast after you! Or I’ll whip out my phone and get a pic! Hubby says I’m not allowed to plaster that on FB, but I wonder if printing out the photo and pasting them around the ‘hood would be, ok? Hmmmm….

Nana is on it!

Fall is knocking louder at the door and I’m anxious to let her in with all the pumpkin spiciness I can muster. Get a sweater it’s chilly out there. Apple cider candles, the warmth of a fire, cozy blankets and oh, the fall Hallmark movies that will drip with cheesy romantic flannel shirts. Bring. It. On.

There is so much to look forward to! Survival is key here. I’ll need wine and chocolate…and a pirate cat to keep me entertained. Now if the power will just stay on so I can heat up my chicken fingers and toast some bread…

All the World’s A Stage

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The fall winds are beginning to whisper among the trees, and I hesitate to say farewell to summer. It has gone too quickly, and I’m afraid I’ve wasted the last few months lamenting the horrible weather. While the rest of North America endured days of heat, we had rain and cool temps.  Heat was scant and reticent.  July was nothing short of a warmish fall. We were able to escape to a ‘staycation’ where summer kindly smiled on our hiking adventures and sunset viewings, but it was merely one week amongst many.  I’m convinced I will have to wait an entire year for any more sunshine and summer hospitality.

The ‘hood on the other hand, withstood a veritable plethora of activity posted via Facebook, complete with visual documentation. I would say most were outraged, disappointed, and appalled by the utter gall of those damned teenagers acting like, well, teenagers. The absolute nerve. How dare they ring doorbells and run, pull their pants down on a trail and moon an old lady who was out for her pre-evening stroll; let out their pirate cat who promptly shit on someone’s back patio. Who are these heathens?  It’s the inevitable restlessness of youth and the audacity to think its funny. It is, but the lack of enthusiasm for humouring the young people has more to do with overly sensitive self-righteousness than the normality of teenaged angst. Don’t blame the teenagers, y’all. Blame your inflated sense of civility.           

The neighbourhood is just that. A neighbourhood. A community that is connected through family, children, and its inhabitants no matter the age, ethnicity, and religion. Let’s remember that our community encompasses a group of like-minded people who endeavour to maintain a healthy and active social network. Children inevitably grow into young adults and those young adults are inherently adept to making mistakes; errors in judgement; perhaps inducing a raucous gathering or vandalising property. The responsibility lies in the reaction of the adults to discourage the negative behaviour with the understanding that teenagers are also reacting. This has been a difficult and unprecedented year and a half. ‘Normal’ is gone and replaced with something unrecognizable. Masks, limited gatherings, sports activities disappeared then returned, and every occasion has been laced with restrictions. It’s hard to keep up.  Teens are especially sensitive to the ongoings of their social network and with the onslaught of limitations to their access to friends, school, and leisure activities, of course they would get a little, antsy; restless; thoughtless. It’s a by-product of the new social construct. They must figure out a new path, a new way to be a teen without the world watching, and commenting, and proclaiming the youth have become disrespectful degenerates.

No, they haven’t. They just haven’t been given the opportunity to show off their community mindedness due to the few that have reacted differently to a challenging situation. Or, you haven’t noticed.  You haven’t seen the youth who are volunteering virtually, who are helping behind the scenes, who are standing in line at the grocery store for their elderly neighbour, or who are working jobs and getting spat on for the inhuman act of asking someone to wear a mask. Instead, you’ve seen the vulnerable insecure few who have chosen to perform on a small stage and been ridiculed for it.  

Take a breath.

In the meantime, the pirate cat can come over anytime.

The Sound A Clock Makes

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Like anything worth doing, it’s worth doing well.  And doing something ‘well’ is quite relative a term.  And I hate starting sentences with ‘and’.  Ugh.    

As I’m feverishly writing my next entry into the anthology of ‘Books People Will Read After I’m Dead’ I’ve been missing events and goings on to which I really should have been paying more attention.   As I was downing my glass of wine the other night, someone mentioned something about Tik Tok.  I’m thinking Nanny’s noisy clock that is currently hanging in her kitchen and dings every BLESSED HOUR ON THE HOUR, but no.  Tik Tok is an app for lip-syncing and karaoke-gone-awry.   It’s a social media app that lets a person download a video of someone singing badly to N’Sync or the Backstreet Boys or maybe amore current musician like the Biebs.  I’m thinking of doing ‘Bye-Bye’ ala JT with the curls and the baggy jeans and the fancy-dancy moves. 

 

I could join Tik Tok and connect with the peeps who are jammin’ to NKOTB and IT’S BRITTANY, BITCH.  Maybe somebody singin’ some Alanis…Yeah.  “Isn’t it Ironic?  Don’t ya think?”  I could so NOT do that.  Well.  Not well.  At all.  

 Maybe I’ll do a video of Mags when she borks at the ‘hood dogs.  She could be the next big thing!  Add some music and BAM she’s the four-legged Madonna of the doggo-world.  Maybe she could do a whole rap-thing. Instead of ‘Lose Yourself’ she could do ‘Poo Yo’self’.    EPIC.  

I’ll keep brain-storming some ideas whilst desperately trying to stay on-trend.  Do we still say ‘whilst’?   Ugh.  

 

The Hibernation of Summer

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It’s mid-August and I can feel the imminence of Fall.  It’s in the back-to-school supplies that are crowding every shelf at Walmart.  It’s in the woods jackets and plaid flannel shirts that are hanging on racks.  It’s in the now-dark 5 am mornings that greet me and the cooler evenings that now descend before 9pm.  Summer hasn’t yet arrived and here we are readying for another season.  I’m lamenting a summer I never had.  I’m still waiting for that everlasting full day of sunshine and sultry heat that stretches into a dusky evening.  I’m waiting for days full of water-balloon tossing and garden hose spraying and evenings of open-windows and flies eating me alive.  Where was all of that?

Quidi Vidi, Newfoundland

We missed an entire season.  It was a summer of spring-like days at best.  Cool winds, rain and almost hot-enough-but-not-quite temperatures.  We will be back to wearing coats and boots before I even broke out my shorts.  I don’t mean to complain, but this is why most people in St. John’s need a break and head to the liquor store.  Or try to find solace and heat either more west on the island or head south to anywhere else.  We know that soon enough, it will be a full-frontal assault into cold and ice.  We desperately cling to those final few evenings of near-warm-enough temperatures to steal away on the back patio for a fire and a glass of wine before the gale-force wind of 100kms/hrbegin to blow through.   It’s hard to go to work on a nice day knowing that when we are on a treasured day off, the wind will howl and the rain will pelt our faces so hard we feel the sting for a week.  We flee the office building in the midst of theevaporating sunshine holding our faces skyward in hopes to feel the last of the rays beat upon our skin and feel some semblance of warmth.  We shed the office pallor for some fresh air and bright light, not the fluorescent kind.  

Sometimes, we get lucky.

Today, the wind is high but the air is warm.  I’m hoping to retreat to my back patio for a little sun before the clouds elbow their way through the sky, squeezing it behind their billowing puffs of air.  If the sun can manage to appear in our sky a few more times, I will be grateful for that.  

Right now, I’m grateful for the liquor store’s cache of wine…