and on a more serious note...

I seem to be nesting.

I wouldn't even know what that was, except when I was very, very, very, re: very pregnant, I nested.

It started off with bringing the Christmas village out and putting it on the fireplace mantle (with the huge mirrors over the fireplace, it looks amazing). And then I sent rockstar hubby out to put up the lights on the house (note: they need to be fixed. They are all crooked and silly-like and I'm embarassed to turn them on as I am the daughter of Clark W. Griswald. No, I'm serious. You have to meet my dad.)then I 'made' a Christmas wreath which doesn't do it for me, so it's over the fireplace too.
But then I found my chest of magazines. The gaffer immediately announced it his 'treasure chest' and I emptied it. I organized my 'Cooking Light' from 'Bon Appetit'. And realized I am seriously in back-order reading denial. So I placed them in my lovely bookcase. But then I had to organize my books in the bookcase. And then I had to empty the other bookcase so the first would look full. And now I have an empty bookcase. While I have so many more books downstairs, I wouldn't necessarily bring them up because I don't read them often and I can't bring myself to get rid of them. So I brought up the videos. All of them. And then I realized how hideous it looked to have a gray bookcase full of VHS (you can buy them cheap!) so I put up pictures and frames in front of them. And then I had to move the couch. And then I started throwing things out. Can I just say it's 8:23pm and I started at 3:30? I can't stop. I ate supper, but I ate it too fast so now I'm running around and some kind of weird adrenaline with my tummy burping up icky green peppers (bloody sauce).

And then I found the bag.

The plastic Walmart bag that my friend had given me because she was finished with using the gaffer's newborn clothes.

The smell hit me like a tidal wave.

Baby smell.

I lovingly pulled out each outfit, did up all the buttons and snaps very carefully, and then held them to my face as I breathed deeply. I could remember the smell of my baby, when he was oh-so-young and I was so-out-of-my-mind with exhaustion. And as I sniffed slowly, remembering, my uterus ached. I unrolled the little sockies (yes I know they are 'socks' but you can't call them anything else when they are that little) and stuck my fingers inside. I never put socks on the gaffer. I was always too busy smelling his feet.

And it made me think.

How I'm 'due' for that time in 4ish days. But my breasts don't ache. And I count back to fertility time and we had done it twice. I remember praying that night, "Please God, don't let me be pregnant. I don't want a baby. I've changed my mind. But Your will, of course."

And here I am sniffing socks.

Last week, rsh and I went to a Christmas party and I got to talk to a casual friend of mine. She has 4 kids. She gets pregnant by just looking at her husband. I asked if she was having more. She tossed her beautiful head back, laughing out loud saying, "Of course! And what about you?"
I explained the situation.
Of course she laughed and told me that as 'soon as you stop trying, your body relaxes and it'll happen more easily'.
I wanted to slap her. And I love her. A lot. But I wanted to slap her.

I very much dislike smug women. I've always told myself if I ever have another child, I would never, ever say to a woman, 'oh just relax! blah blah'. My body, my state of relaxation/hornyness(sp?)/excitement/exhaustion has nothing to do with anything. It's all God's will. And that's what I want. His will.

But right now, in the dark of my dining room, the faint glow of the living room calling me back to be cleaned some more, right now, where no one can see me, my heart aches.

Dare I say it?

I want a baby.

Things you only see at Christmas time

Without stating the obvious lights, trees etc...

-large Tiger head on a fleece blanket
-coin distributors (gee I wish I had one of those!)
-antler headbands (who doesn't own one of those?)
-egg nog (which replaces lemonade. good luck getting a green tea lemonade)
-45 different kinds of Lindt chocolate
-animal head slippers
-fruitcake
-those blanket/housecoats for women who sit on the couch all day in their nightgowns and complain they're cold
-jewellery with tweety bird heads
-polyester sweaters with embroidered cats
-sweatshirts with wolves or loons (oh wait, that's Northern Reflections)
-a globe in a swivel stand that has a secret compartment for booze
-very large jewellery armoires (for all those tweety bird earrings and necklaces you collect)
-boardgames you've been searching for over the entire year
-8,000 different kinds of cheeses (but they are mostly goat's cheese or brie mixed with 1,000 different herbs ie goat's cheese with parsley, goat's cheese with parsley and garlic, goat's cheese with parsley and garlic and paprika, goat's cheese with parsley and garlic but in a red container...)
-large red bows for the front of your car
-large singing/rotating/dancing santa claus' that make you crap your pants when they start up as you walk by
-nuts, nuts and more nuts. And of course they haven't come up with a decent nutcracker yet unless you're popeye
-large fluffy dogs in different colours for only $9.99 (we have three)
-hot pink Barbie/Dora/Princess chairs for little girls (only $49.99!)
-singing/twinkling/vibrating - socks/ties/pins
-bright red sweaters with fake white lace around the colour that grandma's wear only one day a year
-hand cutters that cut plastic for all the plastic containers on all the packages you buy
-scented pinecones
-advent calenders with cheap chocolate
-mounds of nail polish/emery board packages
-cheap bbq utensil kits

ah well...hopefully I'll only receive one of the above...

gluttony at its worst

in 3.5 hours i've eaten:
-some chips and dip
-three chicken strips and two handfuls of carrots
-7 sugar cookies (homemade last night)
-half a chocolate bar
-vanilla yogurt with granola
-piece of toast with peanut butter

I must be pregnant.




HAH!!!

secrets i keep

Ok, so i drove all the way to value village today to use my 'Boo Bucks' that I got in october. this meant i had ten bucks to spend. no snow storm was going to keep me home.
i went in, toured around and filled my cart.

and then i started sneezing.

a lot.

and sniffling. and crying with itchy eyes.

i'm not allergic to anything. but i couldn't figure this out. am i sick again? my nose itched, causing it to run and sneeze again, my eyes itched which leaked, thank goodness i left the mascara at home.

so i went to the washroom and grabbed some toilet paper to blow.

no, they don't use charmin. no they don't use cottonelle 20 ply that will not only caress my butt hole, but also caress my nose.
so i blew into hay and it didnt' do any good.
so i just kept sniffing and snorting and rubbing and wiping.

i decided to try on the clothes and just get out of there.

and i sneezed more.

with no kleenex.

i took off my sock. and yes, i blew my nose into it. can i just say that my sock is 100% super soft cotton? it felt lovely on my nose. and then i put my sock back on and jammed into my shoe.

and then i sneezed again.

i eyed the clothing sitting there. i felt all the fabric.

i found a hideous blue t-shirt (why did i pick it?) and felt it's downy-cottoness. it was worth 8$. surely no one would buy this. would they?

why am i attracting these freaks?

rant-time:

Ok, seriously, what is it with men who stretch?

I'm already avoiding weird-o guy whose pants are too tight and wears ugly socks and never shaves his face. Who is always yelling on his blackberry about houses and talking to people like they are idiots and he's always stretching. You know that guy-stretch? Where they stand up and groan a lot like they hadn't peed in a long time? And then he lifts his arms waaay up in the air and stretches and then his shirt goes up and I am exposed to brown-y skin with a lot of hair and black lint in his bellybutton. And it's like I'm supposed to swoon or something?

Ok, so I've been avoiding him. Wouldn't you?

So now there's a new guy. Who now joins me at MY writing table at Starbucks and he always sits right across from me so now I make sure my headphones are in and my music is loud so that when he talks to me, I can ignore him. Pretend I can't hear him although I'm not really pretending because all I can hear is the bass of Nine Inch Nails (why oh why did you evolve Trent? You're so sucky now!)I've already had a quick conversation with him, when he decided to ask me what I was doing. Writing. Hello???
So this guy is older, which is a tad creepy, and he doesn't shave either, a bit more creepy, and he's always STRETCHING! Makes this loud groaning noise like you make after a really great fart, (don't lie, I know you do it too) and stretches his arms up, making a big show of 'look at me stretch!'

Why? Why do men do that? I even got rockstar hubby doing it the other day, his arms way up in the air, grunting like a pig in heat (not that I've ever heard one) his shirt slowly going up and made him stop by punching him in his rockhard 8 pack abs (yes, yes, I know you're fit, now shut up about it). Then we launched into the whole 'why do men stretch and groan' conversation, ie me ranting and him watching CSI over my head and nodding in the right places. He finished my ranting by telling me that maybe the men were trying to get my attention because I was so hot.

Well, he did shut me up. I think I'm catching on though. I wanted to talk about Grey's Anatomy and he started telling me how pretty my hair was. I stopped talking. Hm...

ballet, toronto, atwood and shakespeare

I feel guilty about writing a funny blog today because of yesterday's pain. As an update, I met with her yesterday and told her about a great counsellor. And she was all for seeing them. And then at the last second, she backed out. I guess she's not ready. And I don't know what to say. Except, I'm here for you.

So tuesday night was ballet night. I love ballet night. I hate getting ready and driving there because I'd rather stay at home and snuggle with my family, but I went after missing three sessions, due to the teacher being sick, me being sick and the gaffer having issues.
There was only three of us that night, which is fine. One girl is from Toronto and she's quite the character. When she first showed up she turned to me and started telling me about an article in the Globe and Mail about Margaret Atwood and then she started defending her work and she got all hot and bothered. And as I'm looking at her smiling, I'm thinking:
-why are you talking to me about Atwood?
-I don't like Atwood. I don't understand why she writes. It's so pompous and annoying and she puts in things that are ridiculous.
-Why are you getting all excited?
-Do I look like I read the Globe and Mail? (is that a compliment?)
-Why is she still talking to me?
-And why is she wearing the full pink ballerina tights and shoes and flowy skirt and why is her make up so dark?
-Why am I still smiling?
-Why am I not arguing how crappy Atwood is?

(yes I know, I'm about to castrated from society for not liking Atwood because 1) she's a writer and 2) she's Canadian.
I don't care if people are from Canada. I'm not going to a movie, a concert, read a book because someone is Canadian. Don't even get me started on Jann Arden. I have a few choice words for her. But that's another story.
Can I also say, as a writer, and yes I classify myself as one even though I haven't published anything professionally YET, I don't like Shakespeare. I think I'm in trouble on that one and I think B and Zuzu are just going to have to agree to disagree with me. Why don't I like him? Just one reason. His characters irritate me. No seriously! The women are all cowards, (Oh I cant' tell him how I feel!) they are depressing (why won't he pay attention to me? Maybe I should just kill myself!)The men are either sexually charged up and need to make dumb comments about everything or they are idiots! The ONLY character I even remotely could appreciate, was Mercutio from Romeo and Juliet. Sure he was a jokester and a bit of an a$$, but his final line, "A plague on both your houses!" meant he finally got it! That he was wasting his pride on fighting a war with another family that he didn't even CARE about, that he realized that Romeo was an idiotic moony teenager who couldn't make up his mind on what he wanted, and at that moment, when he was stabbed, he just realized that his life was WASTED! A plague on both your houses! May both families suffer because I am about to die for nothing! Nothing of importance! The only thing I'll be remembered for is about having humour, that I was secretly in love with Romeo so that must be the reason I put up with his moods, (or maybe it was because Romeo had money?)I used to be a good swordsman but now I'm not because I lost, and I made good hot buttered toast! He realized his life was a waste! No one else did! Ok, I'd better shut up here, because I am ranting and given my two buddies are 'in luuurve' with Will, they may send me hate mail. And that's not the point.
What was I talking about?
Oh yes, ballet.

So the two ladies there, we are missing two as well, are chatting. For some reason I'm the only one married and with a child in this group. Did I mention i'm the only one over 30? Anyways, they are talking about this website for singles. I won't mention it because I don't want to give them credit for anything. Anyways, one of the girls, we'll call E, met two guys on this site and is apparently 'seeing' one of them. So Ms. Toronto decides to try it out. She now has a stalker. He found out her facebook, her msn and her work directory and keeps harassing her. Note to the notsowise. DON'T use your real name!!! duh!
Anyways, so we're bending and stretching and I think, hey, i'll go on the other side of the bar today because my right side is waaay more flexible and whatnot. Wow, was that hard! anyways, so i'm bending my back in ways i never knew possible (and once i feel better, i'll show rockstar hubby my new moves), but then she (the teacher) has us doing jumps. You start in first position, hands behind back like chickens (except it's a french word. a la poulet?) and you jump up into the air as high as you can and land in second, toes pointed the whole time and you must land gracefully. That worked for two jumps. Until I peed myself. Oh Kegel's! You've failed me again! So now I'm so embarassed by this dark stain (not huge but I could see it in the mirror, If I looked hard enough) and I start to laugh. Big mistake. I start landing harder like an elephant (and I just want to point out that I don't 'look' like an elephant)and I start laughing harder because I look ridiculous and I pee a little more. So I stop.
So now my back is sore, my butt has a cramp from some kind of jete-ing behing my back (I have no friggin' idea what it's called - but you know that butt cramp you get when you're...getting it on? same spot) so i'm laughing even harder, and now I have pee on my tights.

A story

Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl.

And this beautiful girl had a terrible secret.
Her father was psychotic.
When the girl gave her life to God at her boarding house school, he beat her.
When the girl fell in love at 16, her father locked her up in her house and threated to kill her.
But love knows no bounds, and that girl climbed out of her fortress window, and ran away to be with her love.
This beautiful girl moved in with her older boyfriend and they both worked full-time to pay their bills.
Two years later, they were married.
Her husband announced they were moving to Canada. So she went, begrudgingly.
She got a job within the first two weeks as a greeting hostess. She sucked it up for two years.
She got another job, and another job and another job and another job.
Where was her happiness?
And where was her love?
Her husband had failed. Her husband had a dark secret.
He liked to drink.
And he like to hit her when he drank.
A lot.
She tried to escape.
He hit her.
She tried to kill herself.
She was sent to a shrink.
Eight years later she has two beautiful children, and he still drinks.

And as she talks to me, with quiet sad eyes, she asks why her life has amounted to nothing.
I can't tell her she has a husband who loves her. I tell her her life has amounted to two beautiful children. She wonders if she can keep them safe.

But she won't leave him. And she won't take the phone from me as I hot dial the interval house.
I show her a bedroom waiting for her and her family.
And then she goes home.

I can't do a damn thing until she lets me.
So instead, I just pray.
I pray for her.
And I pray for him.
And I pray for the clenching in my stomach to go away.

A new job

So rockstar hubby has been run off his butt with tree jobs. Which is awesome. But, he's soo busy that he doesn't have time to look at all the tree jobs. Which brings moi into the question. I go look at them, talk to the homeowner if needed, take pictures and then show rsh. And if we get the job, I get 25$. Yay. I'm a part-time worker! With benefits!

It's an unusually warm day today. 17C on November 4th. How bizarre. Especially since about 4 days ago it was -5C. And a week ago we had a huge snowstorm/windstorm which knocked down some trees(goodie for us!) so I can't complain.

My birthday was yesterday. I'm now 35. I think that's a marvelous age. I don't mind getting older at all. Granted, I read a quick article yesterday about some kind of miracle skin cream (which I ignored) but they said it gets rid of 'crepe-ey skin around your decollatage'. What? I'm going to get weird skin on my boobs? Interesting. Will it look like crepe paper? Or will it just look like crepes in which I will need to add some strawberries and whip cream. Er...we won't go there.

So now comes the big reflection of the year. Which I do every year. So let's break it down.
This past year I have:

-really enjoyed my friendship with the gaffer. this kid kills me he's so funny. today there was a worship song on CHRI and they were singing, 'there's no God like Jehovah' and he laughed and said, 'they're singing the chihuahua song!'.
-i like the fact the my two bestest friends are my hubby and the gaffer
-i ran another City Chase. And failed miserably. i mean, i finished, but that was not my goal. i wanted to win this stupid thing. wanted to be better than 5th. but we weren't.
-i finished my book.
-i attended a writer's conference and despite my knee-knocking and sweating like a pig, i approached 7 people about my book. three bit. i'm so proud of me. and i met two fabulous people. one, an author whom you can read about at fictionmatters.blogspot.com and an editor of a fabulous publishing company which i'm hoping will pick up my book but even if they don't i still admire and like him a lot because he's goofy and his blog is thesearebooks.blogspot.com
-i decided to start another book
-i healed. a lot.
-i don't need to control as much. and when i get controlling, i realize it and tell myself to knock it off
-i found a fabulous new restaurant in which i frequent and am known my name now
-i love my rockstar hubby even more
-i battled emotionally about having another child. i think the answer is no. but you never know
-i planned a bunch of events at our church and they all went fabulously
-i like me

ok, that's enough sentimental crap.
here's a video that kills me.



I don't know how to upload videos. or links apparently. maybe next year