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Friday, April 30, 2004

I'm not here today

...mostly because I'm pissed off at myself. But that is a story for ...well, never... really. Suffice it to say it involves a broken promise to myself. Which means I get to be mad at myself for a myriad of things and from a bunch of different points of view.

How fun is that?

For the old timers - an update. Kyle was in Vancouver last week in a restaurant and who did he see?

Billy.

Hadn't thought about *that* in a while.

g'night.

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

oh, but wait...

During the board budget meeting from HELL, my cell rang. Kyle. Here from working in Libya. Till Monday. Haven't seen him since August last year.

"No, I can't come out, it's 8:30 on a Wednesday night and I'm in a board meeting with Satan and his minions."

Do you think you could have given me some warning, big fella?

So, tomorrow night I guess but....then I realized my taxes have to be mailed by Friday, midnight or I pay a penalty on top of the money I already owe.

After going over the figures in private for the budget with H (el presidente) - *warning* all bad, all bad - I started in on the taxes. On paper. Cause there is no bloody way in hell that I'm e-filing or net-filing because a) I have to PAY for that and b) they get it SOONER. Cause of course I'm not sending them one tiny red cent of the $789 I owe them. *tick tick* daily compound interest, daily compound interest.

Well, thank god I'm an insomniac. Cause otherwise, this kind of day would keep me up all night.

Where on Earth has the day gone? I still have so much to do.

• arrange off-site meeting room in ritzy hotel for business unit next Monday, negotiating a fabulous room for half price - it's the voice, I tell ya
• talk to the president of the condo board about our budget meeting tonight
• arrange hotel rooms for US participants in off-site meeting
• talk to the mechanical contractor who works for condoboard but has no current contract
  
• email, print and fax copious amounts of info for new management company and the rest of the lazy board

• convince hotels to give the rewards points for meetings and rooms to DB - the office points-whore, not really thinking that points-whore is probably not acceptable corporate-speak outside of our foul-mouthed office environment until the comment is met with silence from the other end of the line
• sign all sorts of contracts and provide someone else's credit card number for said meetings and rooms so I am not liable for anything
• read 15 increasingly nasty hockey-pool emails
• speak to president again
• arrange another meeting for VP's in own boardroom

• list all cities in Alberta with over 10,000 people in them
• call Brian and leave a message on home phone referencing tennis balls and courts, pretending I do not see the cell phone number listed above it, while ensuring that my cell phone is not on
• eat lunch at desk while checking new RFP's available worldwide
• talk to president of condo board, again. She teases me with Starbuck's caramel macchiato someone has brought her without being asked
• research all gyms within one mile radius of boss' hotel in Houston, since he made the mistake of going for a jog 'out in the open' on last business trip, afraid to ask if this refers to the heat or the local population

• make catering choices for all meetings, based on what *I* like because it's payback for being the only woman who will be there
• check bus schedules for visit to doctor this afternoon
• reply to one round of nasty hockey pool emails in an attempt to diplomatically remove myself from the fight, as last week one reply from big boss included the line...." First, I suppose we should all wish Jen well in her future endeavours."
• try to figure out how to pay my taxes, since I owe money, but have none. Anticipating nightmares filled with monsters dressed like government workers screaming "Daily compound interest!!! Daily compound interest!! Muah-ha-ha-ha!"
• Try to ignore return email from SVP in Vancouver saying..."C'mon Jen. Pick a side.", but not offering job in lieu.

• Comic relief - reading Donna's email but all reply time today taken up by post and rapidly shortening time-frame of task completion


• briefly wonder if T1 realizes how redundant it is to ask me if we have any *insert anything* here and then when I say "no", to respond with, "Okay, well, I'll go look."
• continue design of database for another department wearing headphones in an attempt to drown out the yelling
• throw various things off my desk in the general direction of loudmouth who just called me a CHICK but who I cannot hit because I throw like a girl
• leave office to go to doctor

• return home, feed demanding cat before he decides to demonstrate that his opposable thumb will allow him to squirt water at ME when I'M bad
• go to board meeting, repeating over and over in head, "Must...control...fist...of...death.", whenever butthead board member tries to make it sound like upgrading HIS condo is OUR responsibility and then half the rest of the board caves in and agrees with him even though our fees are already 20% higher than any other building and we're in a huge financial hole at the moment


• go home, ready coffee and clothes for am, obsessively check if there are any voice mails, calling myself to make sure it's working, before going to sleep with the cat stretched draped over the back of my head

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

we have to stop meeting like this, people will talk

I woke up this morning to the sound of barfing. Now, normally, when the Munchkin would barf, she would climb up on the bed and nudge my face, before promptly throwing up on my neck --- "Mommy, wake up, I don't feel so ..blurg...retch." --- It seems that Cabot is polite enough to get off the bed (he was sleeping between my knees all night) and get into his litter box to throw up in there.

Not that I minded. But it's creepy. Creeeeepy.

Anyways.....

Let's travel back to.... early 1996 .... when I worked for a golf company in BC, (I've mentioned this before), but since they cannot be named, let's just call them the OldDirtyBastards. So, in working for the OldDirtyBastards I spent a lot of time on the phone with golf pros. A couple of which, Neil for one, are still people I keep in touch with. Back then I spent a LOT of time on the phone with four in particular. Neil in BC, BU in Toronto, WM in Winnipeg and JT in Ottawa.

WM was the assistant pro in Winnipeg. (I actually only met him in person once, right after I moved here, he looked like John Denver). Anyways, there was usually an assistant-to-the-assistant pro (otherwise known as "In this hierarchy, I get to make *you* do the shit jobs") but I never really chatted with the one at WM's club, at least not enough for him to have made a lasting impression on me.

Fast forward six years to 2002. Peter (still working for the OldDirtyBastards but now in BC instead of Toronto) left entrance tickets at the golf show when it was in Calgary and we stopped in to see him. He introduced me to Brian, who was the new sales rep for Alberta. As Peter introduced me as Jen and mentioned that I, too, used to work for the OldDirtyBastards, Brian screeched, "JEN ****!" and promptly threw his arms around me.

Now, while I'm not really minding that he's got his arms around me and is jigging me up and down, I'm thinking, "Who IS this guy? I'd remember someone so hot, I'm sure. How did he know my last name? Heyyy, I'm liking this!"

Turns out he used to be, yes, you guessed it, the assistant-to-the-assistant at WM's club. Who still remembers my last name after six years. This may be slightly self-promoting but apparantly I have a legendary phone voice, so people tend not to forget me and in fact, wrong numbers frequently leave 'great voice' messages on my answering machine, although I personally think I sound like an 8 year old boy with a cold who just woke up. ...

He gave me his number and asked me to call him so he could take me out.

But, then, you know, things were happening. Every three or four months I come across his number again and always contemplate calling him. Before thinking, well, it's been a year/18 months/two years - that's a classic case of too little too late there, I'd say.

Last night, my phone rings. It's Tony:here. He sounds a bit pissed (it occurred to me here that pissed means different things. I don't mean mad. I mean slighty drunk, kinda sloshed, almost hammered, etc). He says, "There's someone here I think you know."

"Who?" I sigh

"Bonesy." he says.

I do not, nor have I ever, made the acquaintance of someone named *Bonesy*. That I know for sure.

The phone changes hands, and the voice says, "Jen! It's Brian! Where the hell have you been? How come you never called me?"

I assuming = boys in a sports bar, bonding, someone mentions golf, some guy known only as Bonesy tells Tony:here he used to work for the OldDirtyBastards. Tony:here says, "My friend Jen used to work there!"

And there you have it.

Yet again, I've written down the digits. Yet again, I promised to call. So we can have dinner. I think that may be.. you know.. a date.

I probably won't call.

Then again, maybe I will.

Maybe I should.

lyric at post:
..sometimes I hear my voice and it's been here,
silent all these years..color>

Monday, April 26, 2004

evolution or deformity?

Along with saying - "Good boy" for the first time in 17 years, this is hard to get used to. I think it's cool but it's just...strange.





Like little hands. Little cute hands with mittens.

Or, little creepy evolving hands that reach out in the dead of the night as you're sleeping to.....

arrrgh!

I'm thinking about chaining him up at the next full moon, just in case.

Seriously.

Sunday, April 25, 2004

Inside the trees

Some little bitty thing from BC a couple of weeks ago, at a place called Witty's Lagoon, near where I grew up.

I leave the pathway, knowing that I did not want to go where others had already been and needing to be fully surrounded. Awed, but also a little afraid as there are few places I feel like the intruder that I am. As if Nature, whom we decimated and chased away to live as an artist in exile, may yet at any moment start hurling paint and take her revenge.

I take my time, stopping occasionally to stand completely still and listen. Listen for how the forest might sound if it didn't know I was here.

There is a sudden and ludicrous desire to burrow into the masses of fallen leaves and wait for metamorphosis into - into what? Something uncomplicated. Something that does not fear or grieve. Something content. To wish to never have to go back and have that wish come to life in an unexpected and spectacular way.

A girl... in need of a sweater under the coolness of the trees; eyes closed; face turned up towards the treetops; standing alone in the mud far inside the canopy... making impossible wishes.

Saturday, April 24, 2004

I'd like to thank the academy...

(I'm sorry, I'm editing like mad to add better descriptives. Or ...whatever. I didn't "wordpad" these first. Please go back and reread the last couple before this. Or not. But if you don't, don't blame me if you don't understand me. If you ever did in the first place, that is. *snort*)

I won! And I'm very excited because normally I read the awards every week and love them and think "I am SO not going to ever be there, I've been too much about everything sucking".

So, as cliched as it sounds, I still don't think I should have won, but, omigod, the prestige! the company!

I swoon.

And that sounds snarky. But it's totally sincere. I rock! To coin one (of many) of my favorite phrases of eschies: "Yelly-dancing" all over the place.

And the cat puts it's paw in front of it's nose when it sneezes. Hello? 85% of the rest of the world? My cat has more manners than you do!! You should be ashamed. Oh. Right. You don't care about anyone else. Well, then, FUCK YOU.

I may be pre-menstrual. Move along. Nothing to see here.

Oh. I may just be menstrual. So, theoretically (ie: the world according to men) I should be back to "normal" now.

I can still be a bitch though. Woman's perogative. HA!

OH, but that just reminded me of a quote. Of course, I did not note who it came from... abject apologies...

Women have their own abyss. Women menstruate - that is the door for them. During their period - dreaming becomes power - a crack opens in font of us two days before and a woman can open that crack and step through into another world...
Be respectful rather than contemptful. And stop thinking about crack. See? Buttheads. You know not that of which you disparage.

But I can't say any more or I will be killed.

lyric at post:
..What you see as goodbye,
I don't see as a crime..class>

Hero

Because this is the best description of a weekend in the history of the planet. (PB, I think you'd appreciate this one, it mentions girl wanking. Or whatever it is you call it over there). Lay Me Down In Sheets of Linen.

I'd like that grape peeled before you give it to me

I went shopping this morning. Rental car, a credit card, a Walmart and a Petsmart (oh and a Safeway, I guess I have to eat, too). Bought the good food in bulk. Cause they must have dry AND wet food.

("Hmm", I think, "are all animals that way?" before I shrug - Lacey ate enough wet people food to cover that off I think, besides she would have lived to freaking 18 at least, with the tumors just getting bigger, if it weren't for the her best friend not believing in dragging it out...but I digress)...

The cat's the size of one of Lacey's legs for god sakes, he's not a big fella at'all. I think it would be funny to get a dog in a couple years that's the same size as the cat. Nah, that's just cruel. They'd both need costly therapy and probably end up pulling a Lizzie Borden on me, in the end.

Also the litter. The tray, the toys, the bed, the scratching post, the treats, the bowls, the.... because for some reason, although dogs seem to require only a leash, a bowl and some food, maybe a chew toy - cats, although less high maintenance physically and emotionally, seem to make up for that by being "stuff" heavy.

"Wow, look at that wonderful $500 Kitty Kondo. I should get that."

I don't fucking think so.

And the lady in the check-out line that asked if I'd gotten him a laser pointer yet. Apart from the fact I hadn't even gotten the CAT yet and although I've heard they make great 'toys', I will not be buying my cat a laser pointer unless he is planning on giving presentations for pay to subsidize his need for material possessions.

Ed counselled me to buy enough toys so that I could have a set for each week of the month and rotate them so he didn't get bored.

1. Since you said he'd probably spend the first week under the bed, then if he can do that without dying of boredom then he can find new ways of playing with the same toys over and over.

and 2. Since you just told me they're smarter than humans, then he should be smart enough to come up with ways to amuse himself. Of course, if he's got time after he sleeps for 19 hours, exhausts his toys, eats, naps in his new bed and sharpens his claw for a while on that new scratching post.

So, we hang for a while, then I decide if I'm formally adopting. It's a "cat library" type of idea, you try them out first before adopting. He's still owned by Meow and he gets free vet service until I take him over. Which is good, since he's on antibiotics and immunity boosters and sneezes every 15 minutes, although he no longer looks stoned. He does, however have snot bubbling out of his nose and as much as I may be "mommy" I am SO not following him around with a kleenex. If only for the simple reason that I am not his mommy but rather his buddy. And would you wipe snot off YOUR buddy's face? I think not.

Despite Ed having warned me that he'd probably stay under the bed for a week and maybe because of the fact that there is so much stuff under the bed that he could only get partway under, I think he was just waiting for 'shelter guy' to leave as he promptly crawled up on the bed and settled in for the long haul.


Hmm, he actually looks pretty good with my shit camera.

The extra toes are on the inside of his front feet and man they look funny - like big thumbs poking out.

"Hi! Meet my prize-fightin' cat. He can kick your ASS! Of course he walks like a Chimp - it's all those MUSCLES, now piss off before I let him bust a kitty cap in yo' ass."

lyric at post:
..scared of a world outside,
you should go explore..color>

Friday, April 23, 2004

what's done is done

Ed picked me up after work and we went to see Buckwheat. The woman had wonderful stories about him and he eventually did come over to me but there was just no spark, yanno?

Ed took me out for burgers, then we hit the shelter. Where I had to sign a waiver so I can't tell you where it is. Like you care. Anyways, cats all over the damn place in there. I met all the cats - Kenyon who is 10, but they think someone already wants him and Reboot the manx (man are they weird looking) who I think has someone who kind of wants him too. And then of course, Cabot.

Who seems to have a nasty cold. Or he's smoking a shitload of drugs. All bleary eye slits and eye gunk. Sat up for a minute while I petted him before he slumped over again. Coarse hair. All those toes. And a complete mess. No one is ever going to want this poor cat.

They're dropping him off at 1 pm tomorrow.

Cause he's actually pretty cool, apparantly he's pretty active and cuddly and suprisingly normal for a street cat. Hey, he survived for 4 years on the streets, you gotta know he's not a pussy. And there was spark.

I feel pretty bad about Buckwheat though. He's more adoptable than Cabot but still, I feel for him.

I've booked a car for 9 am so I can go and shop for all the stuff he needs before he gets here. But I have to go and shampoo the carpets to try and get the residual dog smell out so I don't scare him anymore than he's already going to be. And do some internet research on which of my plants are poisonous so I don't inadvertently kill him.

Thursday, April 22, 2004

wow, good one....

a completely different perspective here. Thanks to a fellow Calgarian.

common hiss-conceptions

OR: Scat-alogical Protocol and MoDErN MaN

On our way to lunch today someone mentioned to the group that I'd applied to adopt an abandoned cat. DB, who lent me his video camera for the "This is Lacey Sleeping for 10 Hours" project in January and has a dog of his own, stopped dead in the middle of the hallway and began to (quite loudly) announce:

"But you're a DOG person. You can't be a CAT person. You're one or the other. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Trying to reason with him got only a raised hand in my face accompanied by some yelling: "Talk to the han', the man ain't listenin'."

I don't believe I have ever once said, in all seriousness, that Dogs are better than Cats. I have said that I prefer Dogs. But I have owned Cats. Along with newts, rabbits, birds, mice, rats, a chilean ground squirrel and once I babysat a boa constrictor - my mother has a picture of me with it around my neck in her hallway - just next to the brother and sister and their kids. Is she trying to make a point? I would suspect, but I don't care. Anyways, back to my point, eventually. I think of myself as an animal person. I think all this petty my dick is bigger than you're dickness about dogs and cats is pretty idiotic. Besides, can men even be "macho" and espouse the benefits of a cat as opposed to a rottweiler, *really*? (and rotties are one of my favorite breeds). Especially when you've seen people come to blows over it. After all, for god's sake, it's not football or hockey.

Honestly, if pushed extremely hard, I would venture to say that Mondale (the norweigen hooded rat) was the best all-around pet I ever had. That may be hard to believe coming from someone you've watched go through what I've gone (and am still going) through with the Munchkin but alas, it is true. I do not have a scanned picture of him but he was as long as my forearm and hand (14") and weighed about 7 lbs. He looked like either one of the following but only with a stronger stripe, if you're wondering...

Mondale, although short on trainability and ermmm....emotions (and called Ratula when I rescued him), was a brilliant pet. He was free-roaming - had a little nest under the kitchen sink - overwhelmingly intelligent, he did hilarious things, he was pretty inexpensive, I could leave him for two weeks alone in the house and not worry about him (not that I ever did). He would crawl into bed with Lacey and I in the mornings, tiny freezing cold feet crawling up your belly to nuzzle your face while the dog made room for him to curl up between my shoulder and my neck (it was a single bed in those days). I could take him everywhere with me and until Lacey moved in with us, I did. Contrary to popular belief, they don't smell like mice do and Mondale never tried to chew through the walls or anything else. And, for those of you who find it hard to make long-term commitments, they only live 2 - 3 years. He didn't need to be walked, he didn't bark, he didn't jump up on people. The list, frankly, is endless.

I, of course, was devastated when he died. And so was Lacey. Because I had taken the vet's word that $400 would fix him and gave them the go-ahead to operate on what they had assured me was a benign tumor as opposed to the bone cancer it actually was. Only to be presented with a terrible mess who crawled into his water dish in an attempt to ease the pain and died as soon as the painkillers wore off as Lacey and I sat on the bed and watched. They were each others' buddies (I have a whole series of pictures of them playing a i-win-the-apple-core game which are wonderful and now, heartbreaking) and she howled and cried in front of the cage he came home in from the vet for three days. Three days.

I also believe that at certain times in your life, as an animal person, that there are some times that call for one type of pet and times that call for another.

But, it is dogs that I emotionally attach to. I see dogs as beings who are like I wish people were. Who I aspire to be like. Non-judgemental, forgiving, emotionally honest and loyal. They're not animals, they're not people, but they are something better. Other animals are just animals.

And yeah, I can get attached to other animals, and I have, but not like I ever would / will / have to a dog. That's just the way it is. And one of the reasons I'm getting a cat. I know they have unique personalities and are a joy to live with and I will love whichever cat I end up with. But I won't become more than superficially emotionally attached to it. That's all there is to it. Sorry all you Cat people out there.

So, having said all that, I'll be taking you along with me during the choosing process but once I have a cat here, don't be holding your breath (in fear or in hope) that I'll be writing a load of cutesy cat stories. Cause I won't. I'm not saying I'll never mention the cat but.... you get what I mean, I'm sure.

---

I spent an hour on the phone in an interview with a gentleman named Ed. Seriously. I had to tell him the square footage of my condo so that he could make sure I had enough room. (Jen,also, you'll get this one) He asked me why I wanted a male cat and I explained that 'dogs were girls and cats were boys to me' and he laughed because he's never, ever heard that answer before. He said I gave all the right answers and someone at work thought that I was just a good liar. But seriously, I was completely sincere when I said that a boyfriend could get shots for a cat allergy easier than I could toss a commitment I'd made to another being. He was quite happy that I'd said it was important for me to have a cat (he refers to them all as 'kittycats' - kinda creepy really) that had a low chance of being adopted. Paris is apparantly quite an asshole, they figure he'll need another few months before he's ready to leave the shelter, so we've moved on to a couple of my other choices.

We settled on two. The first of them is called Buckwheat. I'll give you a pic first and then I'll tell you his story.

Here he is.

Buckwheat was found abandoned inside a home with a note attached to the door saying that they'd moved and did not want their cat anymore. Buckwheat needed some extra care not available in the shelter so he's been with a foster woman for the last four months. Part of the description included with him is: (this is important, it was written by the foster woman) "Although Buckwheat came to my home with that name, he mentioned the other day that he prefers to be called Minou. He is fully bilingual, and his French is excellent. His first language is 'Cat-tonese'."

Ed mentioned that the foster mother has developed a severe allergy to Buckwheat. Apart from that, the foster mother has renamed him and seems to have become extremely attached (really? I didn't pretend Lacey talked to me until I'd had her for 8 years at least). Ed indicated that their most urgent priority was to get Buckwheat away from that home as he's been there too long. So, I'll be going to meet him tomorrow at 5 pm. Apparantly, he's had other people there to meet with him but the foster mother (who has first refusal) has not agreed to let them have Buckwheat.

And number two, is Cabot.

Cabot's a bit older than Buckwheat (4 to his 2) and is polydactl (extra toes). But that's not the only thing he's carrying around. He's a street cat. He's got bits of his ears missing, broken teeth from scavenging and quite a few scars. All that aside, he's apparantly adapted pretty quick to the 'good life' at the shelter. He loves the company of other people but not the company of other cats. In other words, "get me the fuck outta here."

Ed thinks it's best that I don't meet them both on the same day and their priority is obviously Buckwheat. I was sort-of subtly pushed in his direction, and I can understand why. Knowing me as well as I do though, I'm assuming I'll want to bring both of them home. Which, unfortunately, is not an option as they will not adapt to each other.

In our third conversation (yes, third) Ed even went over their preferred brands of scratching posts, food and kitty litter with me (which was good actually as all the other cats were farm cats who only slept in the house). T2 wanted me to call him at home tonight to tell him if he should bring his truck tomorrow so we could go shopping at lunch for supplies.

Now, that freaks me out a little. T2, for all that I discuss personal things with him and even though he's only 3 years older than I, is still the North American Senior Vice President of a worldwide market-dominating company. I try not to think about that so much. To be fair, in trying to explain to DB at lunch why I needed to have something else that breathed in the house, I said, "I'm not really sure you guys understand how terrible this has been for me." and T2's reply to that was, "No, Jen, I think we do." Even though I've still been "fairly" cheerful at work I think that they would do anything to see me happy. And that is a wonderful thing.

---

One thing I learned today - if you've got pets, PetSmart and Petcetera are all good, but don't be shopping at Petland for they be the evil puppy/kitty mill people. You've been warned.

And, finally, Lacey's buddy, Willie

whom you may remember from Christmas, has also hit the highway. Shari emailed today to say that they'd put him down over Easter. He, also, sweet tempered and very loved. Cheers, Willie. Find the Munchkin and give her a big 'ol lab-entire-face kiss for me.

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

harder than getting a mortgage

Kay, Donna, song lyrics are in.

I decided about 2 am, as I lay wide-awake in my cloud of goose down (I actually READ the LABEL - oops, ducks/geese - it's all feathers innit?) that it may actually make me insane not to have something else living with me. I used to talk to the dog but now don't even mutter to myself and I don't have music on while I read or anything and only watch TV when there is something specific I want to see, ie: no boredom-induced channel surfing, so I live in a completely silent world. I don't like it. I want something else there. Something that breathes. It struck me most strongly last night, I think, after I read this portion of esch's post...

..there is nothing I despise more than the quiet of my room without my bird in it. Even if he's not saying anything, even if he's asleep. The energy is totally different...
And there you have it, you see. This is the first time in close to 35 years that I've been completely alone. No other people in the house, no Mondale, no Munchkin. I lied before, it's not that I don't like it - I despise it, I loathe it, I *spit* on it.

I have friends who cannot be without human company, my friend Shep used to call me and after about an hour or so, I'd catch on and ask him if he was alone in the house. Because, you see, we had hundreds of four or five hour phone calls because he could...not...stand being alone when the roommates went out. Frankly, I've always harbored a small measure of contempt towards people who don't have the ability to be alone with themselves. I think it is an indication of bad things - not necessarily weakness - but something. *sigh* I'm not explaining that well. I guess what I'm trying to say is if you don't like yourself enough to be alone with yourself, then there's a serious issue there.

But then, it occurred to me that not being able to be without a pet in the house may also be saying something is wrong with me.

And then I thought ...."Hmph, well, I don't *fucking* care."

and I got up to surf the 'net.

I ran through the list (for what else is there to do at 2 am when you do not sleep?)
fish = no fun at all, the bubbling water is annoying, not soothing
lizards = not real interactive at the best of times, must be fed live crickets
snakes = as above but mice
hedgehog = cute, but are nocturnal
rabbits, guinea pigs, etc = not a big fan
mice = smell
rat = illegal in my province so it could never be exposed to any other living human being because SOME people are asswipes and don't understand that fancy rats can't mate with domestic rats so they're not a threat, but whatever, getting off that soapbox....

so I proceeded through birds and ferrets and every other pet type animal on the planet...

No dogs. Just not even an option. I briefly considered fostering for the SPCA (taking care of the sick / extra attention required ones until they're good enough to go to the shelter) but in a condo I don't want any barkers. There are already too many yappy things in the building. Also, if you say that you think I could actually give them back, with a straight face, then you have missed one of the core tenets of my personality.

SO, I ended up here. I figured I'll get the cohabitation without the care required for a dog. I filled out an application, which they'll approve (or not) within 48 hours or so.

The application was four pages long and asked a lot of stuff....here's one example...

Please give examples of how and when you would discipline a cat.
and I know they're just weeding out the people who are too stupid to realize how weird they are, but I had an urge to say something like.....

Well, if the cat had been abused, I would obviously smack it to discipline it cause it would already be scared of that.
But I didn't say it. And I certainly wouldn't DO it. Calm down. Jeez.

I would prefer an older cat, one that has a low chance of being adopted or a twitchy one that needs to be hung out with a lot until it calms down. There's even a CAT-alogue. I'd really like to have this one - look at that face. He's one of the "shy" cats (read as the politically correct term these days for "feral") but there's some other ones I wouldn't mind.

Here's the funny/weird thing though - in my life I've had 6 or so cats, mice, three rats, four dogs, a rabbit, a chilean ground squirrel and some lizardy things and the only ones that didn't come with names already were four of the cats. So I got to name them (but only with words starting with "J" - not my thing, my dads - *don't even ask*) These cats already have names, but *dammit* I'm picking my own name this time. Like 'wanker' or 'mephistoles' or something equally strange.

OHHHH, I think I just thought of one. Not telling. Not telling.

And no, I don't hate cats. I just prefer dogs, given a choice. Which I just don't have any longer.

lyric at post:
..you and i got something
but it's all and then it's nothing to me..color>

Tuesday, April 20, 2004

Did you ever hear the one about the duck?

You're familiar with UPS? They try once, they try again the next day and then on the third try if you're not home they ship it back. Three day window. It goes back the same day as the last attempt.

So, I call yesterday afternoon...

me: "I'd like to redirect my package please."
her: "We don't need to do that, they will try again tomorrow."
me: "I won't be there. I'd like to have it dropped off somewhere else."
her: "Is there a foyer in your building?"
me: "Yes, but I'm not sure what that has...."
her: "He can leave it there."
me: "No, he can't. For one, he can't get into the foyer unless someone is there to let him in. Which I won't be. For two, I live in downtown Calgary, how long exactly do you think it would be before someone stole it?"

note: because regardless of what I paid for it, the price tag on that damn thing is $350

her: "Then you can just leave a note on the door."
me: "I will, but just in case, I would also like you to redirect the package."
her: "But I'm in New Brunswick and it will take 48 hours to redirect."

note: WHAT being on the other side of the country has to do with entering a redirect order into a COMPUTER for immediate transmission, I have not yet been able to figure out.

me: "My point here is, that if I miss the delivery tomorrow, then that is the second attempt and if I place a redirect order tomorrow, then the third attempt will have passed and the package will have been returned by the time the redirect order goes through. I would like you to redirect the package."
her: "There is no reason to. I will leave a comment on your file."
me: "Fine."
her: "Thank you for calling. Goodb..."
me: "Uh, excuse me, would you like to know WHERE I'd like the package redirected to for the comment?."

Needless to say, I called back 45 minutes later, which conversation went like this:

me: "Hi, I'd like to redirect my package."
he: "Sure, what's the tracking number?"

I checked with him, just for fun..no comment on the file. Do they just wait at the Greyhound depot for incoming buses and offer people jobs if they can hold a pen? Really. I don't consider myself to be a genius but I'm constantly amazed by how some people manage to dress themselves in the morning and get to work alive. Not the brightest star in the 'ol UPS sky, was that girl.

I did leave the sticky out there with my note on it but when the cell rang today saying it was the front door, (I *very* carefully hit the right button) UPS buddy said there was not one on the door so I asked him to leave it with the realtor, next door. Which he did.

When I came in, some nice conscientious neighbor had removed the note from the front doors, brought it inside and stuck it on my mailbox. Even though it clearly said, "MR UPS GUY, please leave the package with the realtor next door."

Seems like such a simple thing, doesn't it?

This whole thing reminded me of a dirty joke that the kid next door used to tell when we were 12. I've only ever been able to remember the punchline, but, through the magic of the internet...here it is....

One day a boy gets a duck from his dad. His dad says son get as much money for this duck as possible and the boy says okay.

The boy is walking down the street and this hooker says I will fuck you if you give me that duck so he says okay. He does so and she says, "You did such a fine job that I'll give you the duck back if you do it again." He does and continues his journey.

He is walking down the street and his duck fly's out into the street and gets run over by an 18-wheeler. The driver gets out and says, "Sorry kid! Here's fifteen bucks for your duck."

When the kid gets home his dad asked him what he got for the duck and the boy say's,

"I got a fuck for a duck, a duck for a fuck, and fifteen bucks for a fucked up duck."

Although I remember it as the kid going door to door and meeting a horny housewife. And it's not quite as funny as it was when I was 12. That punchline stays with you though, trust me on that one.

However, I now have the best bed on the planet. If only I could sleep.

two separate posts about perspective - #1

OR: How's that for a catchy title?

Along the lines of some of the posts / discussions lately in a few different places, Midge's Disclaimer, regarding personal relationships and privacy which I thought was great and Sassy's eerily timely (as always) latest regarding creative skill entitled what i write, how i write and why i write it. Which contains one of my favorites lines of the year....

i had a conversation with a boss of mine--
it was in late 1997,
for those of you on the self-appointed historical accuracy board
Both are long, but well worth taking the time.

two separate posts about perspective - #2

OR: Today, the beginny bit to finish an ending I wrote in March.

I wake slowly with the vague feeling that something is wrong. My awareness expands and I feel you curled around me, your hand holding mine and your arms tightening reflexively as I shift slightly with waking.

And I wonder how this will feel. To you.

I lay still and try to imagine - it takes a moment to realize that you've woken up in the wrong bed, with the wrong body nestled close, unfamiliar smells on your skin and in your hair and a hesitation in your memory before my name comes to mind. A touch of strange where you touch me because it is so different from what your skin is used to, what your being expects.

And I wonder how this feels. To me.

I listen to your breathing as you sleep and it is out of kilter with the rhythms long established in my own head. I'm relieved that you're still asleep because suddenly I realise that I have no idea what color your eyes are ... or how my face will appear reflected back to me. I breathe slowly and quietly, savoring these moments, because from this point forward it can only turn real or not happen at all, and either way lies certain disappointment.

It is said that we fall in love to re-inforce our own self-image. Perhaps we occasionally sleep around to do the opposite.

...to remind ourselves that others see us differently, or can do. That we all have other faces and always, the possibility of alternate lives within us.

Monday, April 19, 2004

Fresh smesh

I am inordinately annoyed that the WB channel uses the word "FRESH" to describe everything. gahhhh. 'Fresh New Episode'. 'Fresh Gilmore Girls'

They just used it four times in 40 seconds. I timed it. Can not anyone hear the irony that the announcer's voice belongs to someone far too old to be using that word? In fact, anyone over twelve should not be using that word. Except to describe fruit or the way their breath smells after they brush.

That is all.

my kingdom for a duck

OR: It's official. My brain has petitioned for a divorce from my body.

The cell phone rings and I flip it open, noticing that the caller id says "Front Door". My heart begins to pound and my palms to sweat as, thisfast, the realization hits me that a) this is my duck down quilt and b) I can just get the UPS guy to leave it with the Realtor on the first floor and then I would have it when I got home tonight....

Hands shaking with excitement I reach to push the button to answer the phone, dreamily picturing all that wonderful softness...

And hit the ignore button because I'm a lefty and it's the biggest button on the left side.

Fuck.

lyric at post:
..I don't have to tell you, what this is all about,
cause baby, half the fun is, in us figuring it all out..color>

Sunday, April 18, 2004

safe and mostly sound

Home again. Tired. Dehydrated. No stories to tell. It was relaxing and fun. I won a skirmish (aka: not being home alone for the weekend) and eventually I'll win the whole war. I lost the ice cube battle though.

Thanks Rob, I needed that. :)

lyric at post:
..and when that fog horn blows I will be coming home..color>

quote of the night

"I really like your underwear."
Which somehow isn't as much of a compliment when you're waging an ice cube war in a crowded bar with young'uns and the reason they've felt your underwear is because they have just snuck up behind you and jammed their hand (full of ice) right down your pants. Which some added let's spreadthaticearound action.

I guess you just have to take it where you can get it.

Saturday, April 17, 2004

Why do this?

why indeed. Number two in the best whatthefuck post of the month, cause I'm not here but that doesn't mean I don't think these people ROCK (or just explain things better than me).

Thursday, April 15, 2004

away message

..Jen's computer has been turned off and will be briefly functioning only as an expensive piece of new age art until further notice.

This is her fridge speaking. If you would like to leave a message, please speak slowly so I can write it on a post-it note and stick it to myself. Alternatively, feel free to use the fridge poetry magnets to get your point across.

Please remember to close my door on your way out so the mad cow does not escape and the vegetables can open the whipped cream and fool around with the lights out, they are a bit shy. Thank you.color>

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

You're sad. No, YOU'RE sad. No, YOU are. My dad could kick your dad's ASS. Oh, YEAH?

OR: Oh, right, *I'M* sad. A Weaker Moment. Or ten.

So, I'm crying my way through 'Open Range' just because, seriously, I will cry through a 30 second commercial or the cartoon of "Finding Nemo" but the news has no effect on me, nor do I tend to cry much when people pass away, nor did I ever actually cry when I was sick - at least not until Tony:there got mad at me. There was a Travis Tritt set of videos once that.... okay, nuff said there.....

Anyways, I'm all huddled up in my favorite chair (cause I still cannot go near the couch) and when someone shot the dog (spoiler, oops, sorry), I thought of this and then suddenly, I could feel that paw on my face.

I've said (repeatedly) that I'm not a morning person. I never have in my life woken up involuntarily or spontaneously before my alarm clock goes off (for about 20 minutes). Except since I've been back from the Island. And I couldn't, for the life of me understand why; until one morning, lying there, it struck me. Half an hour to forty-five minutes before the alarm clock went off is when Herself used to wake up and use her little stool to get back on the bed and relax into my shoulder to snore gently with me before I got up to go to work. And, even though the last couple of weeks I've been resolutely thinking about this as little as possible, my body still remembers what it's done for 12 years and it's telling me that it's all ready, but what is going on? Because my body remembers. It's like waking up with a knife in my heart every morning.

I know this sounds stupid. And probably pretty pathetic to those of you who've never lived for 12 years with a big fuzzy cuddly dog who was in love with you and vice versa. I just don't know how to describe it. You would just have to live it, I guess. And I apologize for that. I say apologize because you just don't know what you've missed. And I don't mean people together that have a dog, I mean people who have only a dog (or a cat, or a budgie, or a ferret, or.....). People together who love their pets have each other when that pet is gone, and, because of choices of my own, I just don't have that to distract me or comfort me. There's just me. And empty spaces. And no-longer-existing daily rituals. Non-existent daily love and big kisses. It's just all space.

I've been avoiding thoughts of the dog, at all, if possible. I'm working on the theory that if I don't let myself WALLOW in it, then eventually it will be easier to sit and smile and remember all the things I loved about her. Instead of how big a space she's left in my day-to-day routine, instead of thinking about those last horrifying moments and the look on her face, instead of being a honking big snot machine, instead of being a downer cause I've frankly been too much of that for *months*. YJ put forth the thought that I should wallow (not his words) but it's pointless, I think. I did enough crying while she was here and I was trying to make the decision and now, I just need to take time and pretend the last 12 years didn't happen, until I can stop being such a big weinie. Cause I'm not a beeg weinie all the time, but it doesn't just *go away* and you just don't *get over it*. To coin an eschie phrase.... Yanno?

I've always been a big believer in the "if you can't live without me, why aren't you dead yet?" thing (although, in hindsight, I should not have said that to ex-boyfriend down there in 100 things about three days before he shot himself) and I certainly don't feel like I'm dying. Nor would I want to. And seriously, that would be just fucking stupid. Honestly, it's just that the adjustment period SUCKS.

But, I can, and I will, get through it.

Even if I have to go away every weekend for the next six months. Even if I have a hundred wonderful friends that I don't want to see, even if I am happy and content, even if I love my job, even if I love my boss, even if I make enough money, even if my life is full and happy and fucking absolutely wonderful. I just need some time.

Final note: I don't care about your Valentine's Day cards, or your Easter cards or any other DAY cards. You left. You owe me an apology. At the very least - you've read about this pain for months because I see you come here every day or every week and the fact that you haven't had one thing to say about it......exactly. I can't stop you from coming here, but people who are here - who know me or think they know me - I don't feel have a right to be a part of this life if they aren't a part of my REAL life. The choice is up to you. All of you. Because this place is FOR me and, in true blogger style, ABOUT me. Call it egotistical if you will but ..as someone else said once...

This journal is a public digital expression of my thoughts, opinions, and feelings. I do not feel the need to explain myself for all my comments. The opinions expressed in this journal are mine unless otherwise noted. They do not - in anyway - reflect the opinions of my friends, acquaintances or employers. It is possible that I might say or write something about you (or anything else for that matter) that you may not like or may take the wrong way - you have been warned that this is my journal. It will be censured at my discretion. If you read something you don't like or if I have offended you in any way - It was (probably) non-intentional. You always have the option to stop reading.
edited for clarity Because of site-tracking, I can see you. And, yeah, it's the internet....I chose this, I'll get over it. I chose to do this. But grow some balls or fuck right off. There are plenty of other people who are more interesting than I, who don't wonder occasionally what they did wrong or why you don't email or why you don't call. I'd be happy to give you links. Cause life is about honesty. And I do my best to be honest here, I think it's not so unfair that I expect that from you and the others that come here who know me. And if you can't be honest, go away. I'm not angry, I just don't believe in it. Think about that for a second....... it's just not important enough for me to be upset about, but I've been avoiding saying anything here for the simple fact that I know you come here. Which kind of screws with the whole point of the blog.

Because that's a bit rambly, what I'm trying to say here is this.....if you were part of my life, non-internet, but no longer are, then I find it annoying and strange that you come here and follow my internet life. If you're that interested, make an effort to actually be part of my real life, or just go away.

I'm taking some time off, until I'm in Edmonton or after...PB, feel free to be obnoxiously happy here.

entire bits of lyric at post:
..when it rains it pours and opens doors that floods the floors we thought would always keep us safe and dry
and in the midst of sailing ships, we sink our lips into the ones we love that have to say goodbye,
and as I float along this ocean, I can feel you like a notion that won't seem to let me go

every sunset that we missed, I wrap them all up in a kiss

and while I float upon this ocean, I can feel you like a notion that I hope will never leave..color>

My eyes, my eeeeeeeeyes

My eyes got better. Well, only a little. But they both did! Yay.

I've been having issues with dry eyes, since, well, since I moved to this dry dry place and I absolutely refuse to use eye drops. Don't ask me why. I don't know. Uncoordinated, discombobulated, prone to poking myself in the eye, maybe?

My optometrist may be free but he's too old to recommend much in the dry eye area. Except laser surgery...... NO! ICK! Someone near my eye with a cutting instrument? Are you mad? He says it only goes 'bad' once in every 5,000 surgeries but since he obviously has no idea about my ...luck... then NO! GROSS! *shudder* And what about staying awake and keeping your eye OPEN? gahhhhhh. It's a little too 'Clockwork Orange' for me, thanks.

I did get a new kind of disposable to try out on the weekend that may be a little more er...moist. And I always thought that base curve was something set in stone but lo, I found out today that base curve is not consistent across contact lens makers (ie: you say 8.4 but *I* want to be different so I'm saying 8.3, so there). Which means I can wear any base curve from 8.3 to 8.7 (instead of only 8.4 like I've thought for 8 years). Which means that instead of a choice between brown and green if I want colored ones, I can now get violet, hazel, gray, pink and freaking BLACK if I want to (and if they made them). I always wanted to have gray eyes. I very 'cited about it.

Giving the condo to Riz again this weekend while I'm off whooping it up in Edmonton. Which means I have to sort of clean. Which means I shouldn't be here.

So, I'm going.

o, just noticed the TV. Some movie called 'No Way Out' from 2002. James Belushi (whom I heart) and Jason Bateman, who, suddenly looks like a man. A good looking man. A cute man. Even with facial hair.

Must go watch TV. Will vaccuum later.

edit: okay, just in TV mode now, ran right dowwwwwwn. 'Open Range' is up next. As freaked out as I am by contemplating watching Kevin Costner after that dream on the weekend, I can no longer get out of my chair.

lyric at post:
..I am everything you want, I am everything you need,
I am everything inside of you, that you wish you could be..color>

Hop on the bus, Gus / You don't need to discuss much

Call me strange, but after a couple weeks of really nice weather, I sort of like waking up to snow. 10 cm by lunch. Of course, I may not be so happy about it when I have to walk to the optometrist's.

For those of you who don't follow NHL hockey (like the screaming rabid fans in the office) our team (The Calgary Flames) is in the playoffs. Living downtown, I don't need to listen to the news since when there's a win, every single person who drives by after the game, HONKS THEIR HORN CONTINUOUSLY.

me: "So, after last weekend without the dog, I thought it might be a good idea to get out of the house for this one. What're you doing?"
he: "Entertaining you."

So, I'll be slinging my butt on that 'ol luxury Red Arrow bus on Friday and hitting the road to go to stinky old Edmonton to see Rob's new condo and check up on him.

Rob and I have been close friends since we met in September 1989 (a week after I put my last dog, Josephine, to sleep), part of the whole 'Fatboys' group I've mentioned before - although the rest of them are getting steadily fatter and he's getting steadily thinner since he's got some weird disease (I'm convinced it's a Gulf War thing, but I'm just paranoid).

Rob is a fabulous cook and I'm sure he'll drag me down to Bourbon St in West Edmonton Mall (the world's largest mall and largest parking lot, how nice) so I shall be well-taken care of, nay, pampered.

And, a bit relieved that I'm not facing another weekend here, alone. I need more time and distance on that until I get a little more used to it.

The last time I was in Edmonton was April 2002, there's a pic in the gallery. Oh, maybe Saturday, I'll see if we can go either to Jasper or the Muttart Conservatory.

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

linoleum causes cancer

OR: I have to pick a 'quit day' for next week

As jadedju put it so succintly the other day....

You know what's the worst? When absolutely nothing bad happens to me all day,
then I have nothing to post about here.
Not that I'm complaining.

I didn't actually take that many pics out on the west coast but I did pick up one roll today so as soon as I get around to the other one, I'll throw them up here somewhere. I'd post them as I go, but today's was also the roll of film from Lacey's last day and I'm not going there for a while.

Have to go phone Wade as there's a scheduling issue on the weekend of the first so I need to see what they're doing.

I found my optometrist, seeing him tomorrow.

I think I put an unripe banana in my smoothie, that could be something bad. I'll let you know.

Someone held my hand at work today as they asked how I was doing. It was weird, but in a nice way.

The burning question of the day - in eight hours I ate half a bag of carrots, had three cups of coffee, drank five glasses of water, ate noodles, had a king size chocolate bar and a couple sprigs of grapes, some almonds and some pumpkin seeds. I weigh exactly the same as I did this morning. How is that possible?

That's all I got.

lyric at post:
..and the stranger will find
that we're really not strangers at all..color>

Monday, April 12, 2004

I lied. So, sue me.

Here it is. One hundred things about me I have not previously said on the blog (jen,also - I borrowed three or four of yours).

1. I play solitaire a lot. The old way, with real cards. I find that the more balanced my state of mind, the more often I 'win'.
2. I brush my teeth in the shower, not in the sink.
3. 98% of my best friends are men. There are good reasons for this.
4. When I drink too much, I am a flirty and over-confident drunk.
5. I cry - against my will - when I'm really angry.
6. During the two years I golfed, I had a 7 handicap. One day, for many reasons, I refused to play any longer. Since then, in ten years, I played only once, to raise money for breast cancer. But I switched and played right-handed instead of left.
7. I tend to procrastinate under the belief that I function better under pressure.
8. I'm not afraid of dying, but I am absolutely terrified of getting old.
9. I will do everything in my power to keep the promises I make.
10. After 12 years, I am eating alone and my dinner plates are no longer cleaned of food particles after dinner. Although sometimes it was annoying, it was never a burden and the lack of having to share will never be a relief.
11. No one believes I can cook. But I can and I do it well.
12. If I could be anything else, I would be a dolphin.
13. I used to cross-stitch, but I don't anymore. I noticed last week my brother has one I made for him in 1987 in his study.
14. I am at my happiest with a good book and will read all night to finish the really good ones, even if it's a 'school night'.
15. I like to drive long distances alone but I no longer like to drive short distances.
16. My favorite thing about flying is take-off.
17. I've always hated being a Jennifer. I would rather be an Alex. Once, for a while, because of a job, I was.
18. I used to become very attached to people. I no longer do.
19. But there are some people I will miss getting to know better. Always.
20. The decorations in my house are not particulary serious or grown up. There is a 6 foot blow up alligator named Angus who normally lives under the bed. Right now, he has a hole and I need to fill the bathtub up to fix it, but I always forget.
21. I used to think, being alone, that I needed a career. Now, I'm happy with 'just a job'.
22. I've always wanted to live in a treehouse.
23. I wrote a lot of bad poems as a teenager. You will never see them.
24. I did, however, send one or two a week overseas to my friend Rob when he was in the Gulf War. He still has them all.
25. One, about smoking, is used by the Canadian Military in their stop smoking program. I wrote it when I was 16. It embarrases me.
26. The best gift I ever had was a birthday gift in the early 90's, when my friend Todd took one of those poems from Rob and wrote music for it, then played it for me on his guitar.
27. I believe in alternative medicine. I wish our health care system did too.
28. I believe that music is one of the most important things on the planet.
29. I believe in faeries.
30. I used to want to be a vampire so that I would never grow old.
31. My second toe is longer than my big toe.
32. The only record I still own is a 45 of 867-5309 by Tommy Tutone. It sits on a shelf under the TV.
33. I once had a friend nicknamed CB (confined to barracks) who used to sing it everytime I walked into my neigborhood bar.
34. My friends tell me I am too trusting. I don't think it's as big a flaw as they make it sound. Or rather, it shouldn't be a flaw in this world at all.
35. Above my bed on a shelf is a small teddy bear that a beautiful homeless boy named Nate gave me.
36. I once had a pet rat named 'Mondale'. He and Lacey were buddies. I think she missed him as much as I do.
37. He died of bone cancer. They thought it was an external tumor they could remove until they opened him up.
38. When they told me Lacey had external tumors, even if her heart would have survived the surgery, I was too afraid the same thing would happen.
39. It makes me irrationally angry when people are late to meet me.
40. I am never late for anything, except work.
41. I am a bit of a psychic sponge and will pick up the mood of those around me, even if I don't want to.
42. On the other side of the coin, I can influence the mood of a group, if I want to.
43. My favorite ice cream is maple walnut.
44. I still can't believe that this year I'll be 35. It just doesn't seem right.
45. There is nothing about my life so far that I would change.
46. But I wish a couple of those things would come around again so that my decisions could change the course of the rest of my life.
47. There's not many foods I won't eat. In fact, right now, I can't think of one.
48. I'm more of a 'quantity' vs 'quality' sort of girl when it comes to eating.
49. I'm tone deaf. I wish I could sing. Not being able to leaves me feeling a little empty.
50. If you tickle the bottoms of my feet, I will cry and then throw up. No one believes this until I throw up on them.
51. My first car was a Datsun 210.
52. I have a birthmark at the hairline on the back of my neck. So do my sister and brother. Coincidence? I think not.
53. I prefer toilet paper to roll off the top.
54. I am left-handed.
55. The number one song the week I was born was "Spinning Wheel" by Blood, Sweat and Tears. I have no idea what it sounds like.
56. Number 26 was "Put a Little Love in Your Heart" which I loved, until they made a Gap commercial (or something) out of it.
57. Seven days after I was born - Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. During that month - Sharon Tate was murdered by the Mansons, the Concorde flew for the first time and Britain introduced the 50p coin.
58. I want to skydive but I have no desire to bungee jump.
59. I know how to kayak.
60. I've climbed a moutain.
61. I want to kiss a dolphin.
62. I've been in a locker room with a football team after a game.
63. I never had a barbie doll when I was little.
64. Nor an E-Z bake oven.
65. I preferred climbing trees and pretending I was a hobo with a kerchief of food and a stick.
66. I spent 8 months when I was six or seven dragging around a rubber alligator on a string.
67. My parents lost me once in a mall in Port Angeles.
68. I used to have a horse.
69. I've eaten chickens in the evening that I've plucked in the afternoon.
70. Not many things frighten me. As a pedestrian - drivers do. And big spiders.
71. Mosquitos don't seem to like the way I taste.
72. I'm allergic to penicillin and codeine.
73. When I was 12 I chose the boy I would give my virginity to. When I was 14 I did it. It was the first bad choice among many when it comes to men.
74. I loathe passive people.
75. I've been a smoker for 23 years.
76. I've always hated my nose.
77. I was once a trophy girl at the local Speedway in my hometown.
78. I have been cow-tipping as a teenager.
79. I refuse to pre-judge people based on other people's opinions. There is always an agenda and I'm my own person.
80. I like board games.
81. I once had a perfect hand in cribbage.
82. The very first time I got drunk was on tequila. It took me 14 years before I touched it again. Now it's one of my favorite things.
83. When I worked as the BC Fresh Water Fishing Licencing tech I helped the police track down a serial killer from the US who was living in BC.
84. When I was 12, I went to see the Jackson's Victory Tour. It remains one of the top three concerts I have ever seen.
85. Pink Floyd was one of the others.
86. I miss the forests but I do not miss the ocean.
87. My mom and I used to take the dogs to the lake late every night when I was a teenager and I used to swim naked in the moonlight while Mom sat on the beach.
88. Years later, I lost my father's wedding ring in that same lake. Strangely enough, I was skinny-dipping.
89. I still have the stiletto boots Scott bought me in high school. They're back in style now.
90. I own two pairs of cowboy boots. I used to wear them all the time, until I moved to 'Cowtown'.
91. I have never been engaged, pregnant or married.
92. I cannot whistle with my fingers in my mouth.
93. 'Shadowland' by Peter Straub is one of my all-time favorite books.
94. My third real boyfriend used to beat me. Once, he tried to kill me by jamming a shotgun down my throat. That was when I left. A couple of weeks later, he shot himself.
95. Sadly, he survived. But he has never dated anyone other than people named "Jennifer", even before me.
96. Once, years later, I asked him why he beat me. He said it was because he knew that he could never control me because my heart was free and that was the only thing he could think to do.
97. He is the only man who's ever hit me. I would kill the next one who did.
98. Even though I lived beside the ocean for 26 years, I only swam in it once. Someone dared me too.
99. I can't get moving in the morning without a shower. I cannot go to bed without having a bath.
100. This was way harder than I thought it would be and I should be doing the work I brought home.

100 things

Not to worry kids, just an adjustment period. Inevitable and must be confronted.

Among the many things you will never hear me say, such as....

"Hey, honey, grab that broom over there - it looks like a great sex toy."
"Gee, that needle in the arm thing looks like kinda fun, can I try after you?"
"Let's lie down along the yellow line on the highway like they did in that movie."

...is anything along the lines of...

"Where'd I put that razor, I'm tired of this."
"Can I borrow your shotgun? Just for a sec, you can take it right back."

or any such thing in that sick-to-death-of-it-all category.

I'm working on 100 things, just not there yet and I had to bring work home tonight. Be back tomorrow.

lyric at post:
..could have turned left, could have turned right,
but I ended up here, bang in the middle of real life..color>

are ya thinking? I guess not

There's a guy here at work who keeps insisting that eventually I'll feel like the burden of the dog has been lifted. That I'll just be relieved that she's dead.

It's too bad he doesn't have children so I can say, "Yeah, two kids? Wow, I'll bet you'll be glad when they're dead. What a BURDEN they must be."

Take a second to THINK about what you're saying, people.

Are we really all so out of touch with each other and so unthinking that we think it's okay to say such things? Maybe invisibility is not such a bad thing, after all.

I'm actually in a pretty good mood but sometimes this kind of stuff just leaves me completely flabbergasted.

Sunday, April 11, 2004

Dreams...later

After that last post, I swivelled my chair to face away from the monitor, leaned back, put my feet up on the armchair beside me, and then just sat there staring at the wall by the couch across from me. I don't know what I thought about. I thought nothing for at least twenty minutes. Just sitting and breathing. I could hear the ticking of the clock beside the TV and at some point I reached over to touch Lacey's little box of ashes and whisper, "Hey, little buddy." I remember a thought popping up as I stared at the couch - that no one had sat on it since March 29th, almost two weeks ago and that those last warm bodies were Lacey and I, me with the laptop and her with her head on my knee; the morning I put her down, and then later that day, when I walked back in the door and sat on the edge with her favorite pillow to catch my tears.

Pieces of my dream come back to me, the room I lived in which was Sharon's bedroom in highschool and my grandmothers crystal vase that someone had broken while I was away. I remember the feeling of desolation I had in the dream and I grab my dream book to look that up.

If a cherished object is broken we must make changes and break from the past or give up a cherished principle.
I look up pets. We may need to look after someone (or something) possibly more vulnerable than us.

Could that be possible? Someone or something more vulnerable than I feel right now in this silent room? I don't think I know how to take care of her.

I look up grief, tears, crying, fear; but there are no meanings there. I put the book down and I think about the power of dreams.

Not about the things they supposedly are trying to tell us, I have my moments where I think these things may be true, but mostly I believe my subconscious is just sorting through the pictures, trying to make some sort of sense of my life. The Island always carries with it a couple of weeks where I dream about people and places past. That's just the way it is.

No, I think about their determination to live. I think that they want to be real. As if they are some alternate ending to the stories of our lives that want to be the truth. Most dreams we don't remember, or they slip away soon afterwards but some of them, some of them last. It feels as if, in the midst of waking up, these dreams hang on for dear life and try to slip out into the waking world when they think that you may not notice. Strong ones can last in the waking world through your morning shower, even for a day or two, but gradually, they too, lose their grip on reality and slide away again.

I had one dream when I was eight that I can still see when I close my eyes and I wonder if somehow, somewhere it has become a part of our reality.

I have recurring dreams about certain buildings that have never existed. Which I don't remember are recurring until I wake up and then it all comes flooding back, telescoping down throughout the years.

Except for the ticking of the clock, it is completely silent here. I become convinced that I have become, suddenly, invisible. Everything I look at seems hazy and unreal. There is no longer anyone here to see me. I think about calling someone to validate my shaky existence and I realize that there is no one I want to call. What if I did and they had no idea who I was? What would I do then?

I try to shake it, I get up and go out on the balcony with my book. But that's not going to work and so I come back in, put on socks and shoes and go out for a walk to return the videos.

There isn't really anyone on the streets, which doesn't help. Coming up on an alley I see a flash from the corner of my eye and slow my step slightly as an SUV shoots out and onto the road. I am travelling in the opposite direction on a one-way street and the driver apparantly felt no need to consider sidewalks. She does not even glance in my direction and I wonder, if she had, would she have seen me? I briefly consider slamming my hand against the side of the vehicle as it is roughly three inches in front of my face. It seems pointless to pull my hand out of my pocket.

Walking on, I realize that if I had not slowed those last few steps she would have hit me. Or would she? I'm invisible. There is no one left here to see.

dreams

My horoscope yesterday said I should pay attention to my dreams as they were trying to tell me something. The dreams I remember from this morning involve the Munchkin not being dead, but at D's house, with my concern so great that he was keeping her outside I was trying to get to his house on my lunch hour. Of course, before I got there, my brother showed up to tell me that the neighbors complained about her barking so they came and took her away to give to a vivisectionist (cause that's just what they do with barking dogs). So, I cried a lot. The other one had something to do with Scott. Wherein he cried a lot.

Somehow, I don't think my dreams are trying to tell me anything except not to go back to sleep after I take that damn pill. Since I've been getting up at 7 am to take it and then going back to bed in the hopes that I can sleep through the first wave of side effects before I actually have to get up at 7 to go to work.

The strange thing about the dreams is that they don't really upset me. I just wake up and think, "hmm, that was weird" and then I go back to sleep.

I've decided I would like to redo the furniture. But that would involve going to Ikea, so maybe by the time I get there with a car big enough to haul it all home, the decision will have changed. It filled up the weekend though, without the Munchkin here. Which can only be a good thing.

That said, it's 15 degrees out there so I am going out to read a book on the balcony before coming in to do the work I brought home.

Saturday, April 10, 2004

make...it...stop

OR: Day Two, Decorating Frenzy
Because I may have not mentioned this before but I live in Calgary's "Design District". And I'm restless. So, I went to Blockbuster (Gothika and Mona Lisa Smile) and took a swing past the places that actually allow the great unwashed through the doors (most are designers only). I didn't buy anything. Really, but I got some great ideas and I had to talk myself down, once or twice.

I also got a quote on the most gorgeous, perfectly colored custom-made duvet cover. Which actually wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

And right next door, which I've been studiously avoiding, is a flooring place. So, I did have a chat with some guy about quality and picked up brochures although, in the end, I'll probably go with Ikea. It's cheaper and they are all pretty much the same for quality. Ohh, but hardwood. So beautiful.

Ooops, did I just say, I will probably? damn. Maybe if I just painted the place that would satisfy the urges. Gone, though, are the days of hasty decisions and I find myself committed to making more well-considered, less spur-of-the-moment choices.

After all, I did not give into the urge this morning to rent a car and hit Ikea and a paint store. See?

Alas, no bathroom scales to be found in my corner of the city so I will have to go down to Sears or something on a lunch hour. It's just the lugging home that's a pain.

And now, a late lunch and a movie. Cause there's nothing like a little Robert Downey Jr. to remind us all to stop and say, 'whoa, man, slow down and think about what you're doing, pal.'

Friday, April 09, 2004

get that light out of my eyes, I'll confess, I'll confess

OR: How to fill your first day at home without the dog to
tease mercilessl....er, play with
I gave in and researched laminate flooring. I pulled out the floor plan and calculated square footage. I made a list of what I'd need to self-install. I read the installation instructions. I tried to think of 'handy' friends I could cajole into participating. I priced it out. I tried color combinations for paint and flooring. I looked for a new chair. I checked out wall units. I considered asking the interior designer neighbor over to get her opinion.

I tried to stop. I did.

To remove myself from the internet I went to have a nap. I dreamt I was Kevin Costner having sex with a woman. And right as he/I..... I woke up. So, now I think I know what it feels like. Or maybe not. eww. Sorry about that mental picture, there, kids.

So, I thought I should get up and finally go through all my mail that accumulated this week (strangely, unless Riz took it with her, which would have been silly, I got NO mail while I was away - must remember to call her). Mail is always a downer. But, my bank statement tells me that my mortgage is down to $100,000. That was exciting. Until I remembered that I owe someone one hundred thousand dollars so I had to sit down for a while after that and just....breathe.

I decided to read the Wellbutrin pamphlet. Bad idea, that. Wouldn't recommend knowing things about the drugs you are taking, it's better to be completely in the dark and let it all be a wonderful surprise. Although, I must say, I would like to ask LFD why he would put me on something that indicates weight loss as one of the main side effects.

Since I don't own a scale, I have to rely on the far too frequent trips to the doctor to find out what's going on. On reflection, that may be a bad idea, since I'm tall enough that 10 more pounds would make my BMI underweight and I'm already a couple pounds below the 'ol weight/height calculator. Then again, my body fat percentage (last time I checked it, 10 pounds ago) puts me in the 'athelete' category. Which er, I'm not. All these things are so confusing. I have NEVER in my life worried about my weight, until this last year. I think that it didn't help much having everyone back home freak out. Tony:there kept poking me in the ribs and yelling at me. Coupled with the couple of people who fervently (rabidly?) believe that if I ate right and exercised I wouldn't be depressed. People who I probably eat healthier than, exercise four times as much as and drink about 1/4 as much as (one which I see every 6 months and the other, every six years or so). There is seriously just no arguing with them. They have no idea whether I take care of myself or not, or how I feel, or what I do. Maybe I'll go look for a scale tomorrow. Just to be on the safe side.

I wandered about the grocery store looking for things that I can eat. With the most calories. Cause I'm still having issues with warm food, mostly. I asked the butcher to cut me some mad cow with lots of fat and the look on his face was priceless. He asked me if I were sure a couple of times and finally I just had to say, "Do I look like a little extra fat will shove me over the edge into obesity?" before he went away to do what I asked.

I did, finally, end up bidding on a queen size down comforter. Cause I've wanted one ever since I slept under M's. Some of you may remember my previous shot at this (October 14, 2003 - cannot link, pre-Blogger) in which I ended up with a feather bed instead of a duck down quilt. Oh, but THIS time, I got a quilt. And, although I feel a little bad about the ducks, I just have to say that in two weeks I will have the best bed on the planet. And then I may never get out of it. Especially now that there's no dog hair all over it. It's a great big black iron canopied bed with mosquito netting, feathers to sleep on and feathers to sleep under and my, oh my, all those pillows.

*sigh* I have the best bed. I miss it when I'm not in it. And given the content of my dreams lately, there's a couple people I miss when they're not in it, too.

...but not all at the same time. Heyyyy, wait a sec... just kidding.

lyric at post:
..there's nothing else to lose, there's nothing else to find, there's nothing in the world that can change my mind..color>

Spring has sprung. In my head, anyway

I woke up this morning with an extremely strong urge to finally paint over the "bunny" colored walls and replace the carpet I hate with laminate. Which, miracle of miracles, I can actually afford to do. Well, unless the car rental company notices that I stoved in the hubcap on a curb.....

And is an incredibly STUPID idea. Not the hubcap. That was a mother-yelling induced accident.

For the simple fact that going away and renting the condo out is the last reason I would want to make the condo the way I always wanted it. That's something to be done when I get back, if I get back.

Put down the paint chips and back away. Slowwwww-ly. That's a girl.

Thursday, April 08, 2004

little bits

I really, really liked this - I vote it the most well-put whatthehellamIdoinghere post of the month...(apologies cause I'm sort of behind here....)

I think it's this. That I can be myself here, truly, without reserve, and have conversations with myself that I wouldn't necessarily have with anyone who knows me. Because they are introspective conversations, meant to be one-sided. Because they seem egotistical, almost selfish, in being about ME. Because the words would come out decidedly different if I tried to verbalize them to another human being, rather than pour them on the written page.

So, why then, do I post these written words here, for all the world to see, when I have no intention ever, or at least until I'm dead and gone, of sharing them with those who love me? I think it's this. That I have a need to share the words with someone, without judgment or repercussion. That I seek out validation, or comment, or rebuttal, of the things I think and feel, from minds who have no stake in it.

Someone has taken to posting bits of me on Blorgy, which is incongruously frightening and exhilarating at the same time. On the one hand, it makes me feel somewhat exposed, but on the other, that's part of the point of having this a public place. So, I don't mind, so much, as it invites new minds to enter here, read a bit and leave a thought, feedback or the occasional email. This in turn makes me think, or re-think, and fuels me to go on with this exercise in figuring out just who I am and where I fit in the scheme of things.

I like to believe when I'm taking my daily stroll through the lives of the bloggers I've come to know (and adore) that I'm seeing them as they see themselves. Most probably in a way that few of the "real" people who know them can. I like to believe I'm learning what makes them individuals, what separates them as selves, and yet, at the same time, what links us all together.

I guess I hope I'm learning the same things about my own self, and sharing it, too, as I go. And that's what draws me to this place.

I got a really nice card from the vet yesterday, handwritten and personal, which said, in part - "She was a fortunate dog to have someone who loved her so much." How nice is that?

What else? hmmmmm..... An article this week in Macleans entitled A Rude Awakening that I found particularly interesting. Especially after being shoulder-slammed by some guy who just refused to move over on the sidewalk today, although I had nowhere to go and he had tons of space. If I hadn't been calorie-cramming and trying to get back to the office with my two Big Macs before they got cold (well, and my boss hadn't been there) I would have said something quite....unladylike....

Scott had requested I send out the pics that he never got waybackthen, and so I did, one of which was the one below (horrified, later I realized I still have that SWEATER - packrat alert. I really should spring clean ..er... life clean). His response today included the comment "Did we have hair or what?" Which I (fortunately) restrained myself from answering. But, oh, classic Chandler "Too...many...comebacks...cannot...decide." Since I still have all my hair and he ...er... doesn't. He should know better than to leave himself all open like that.

Oh, yeah, one person at least needs to say he has wonderful dimples, or something. Cause he was always better looking than me back then, even though people thought we were brother and sister. And the only blonde I've ever dated.

O God, I just saw a commercial for adult ADD. One of the side-effects is menstrual cramps. What if you're a man? Cause I think T1 has it.

And with that, I am done babbling. Cheers.

lyric at post:
..When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am..color>

Long weekend

It's 6:30 pm on (my) Friday night, because tomorrow is a Stat holiday and I am still at work. I still haven't decided on what to keep and what to toss on the site during the revamp. Do I toast the archives? Password the shit out of them? Wait until Blogspot plus comes back up and do it then? Pull out the posts I want to keep (ie: the Munchkin chronicles) and put them in the Tombs? So, I hung around to backup the posts and am now sitting with my feet up having a beer while I print out my entire site on the color printer.

Amazingly, there are other people here. And, just walking around, they're all doing pretty much the same thing as me.

Well, except for printing out my site, that is. Man, there's a lot of shit in here. An entire 3 inch binder and I didn't even do March yet. Bleh, too bored for that.

Should I just create a multiple blog site and delegate the existing 8 months to a second blog so that a new Random Gestures is born on this page? I'd like to stop the pages from cache-ing. That's the issue I'm having now and I can do that but ahhhhh, it's work. Lots of work and I don't know if I want to do it for all browsers. I wish I knew how long Blogspot Plus was going to take, it's been the entire 6 months I've been here so far. What to do?

Hmmph. I guess I'll pack up the work I have to do this weekend (yup, working from home), crank up the walkman and consider it on the walk home. I'm getting hungry, it's time to calorie load again.

the first sign of Armageddon

I woke up this morning smiling for absolutely no reason that I could come up with.

I am NOT a morning person. And I'm not taking the happy pills yet.

I don't think I've woken up and done that in at least three years, maybe more.

Better get out back and start digging the bomb shelter, kids.

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

yes, now completely home again

Actually got back in the groove today at work, went for a haircut and then off to see my little funny doctor (LFD). T2 yells as I leave - "Tell him no more pills that make you barfy!" LFD kept me waiting exactly an hour, sits me down and says, "Are you irritated?" Uh, no, but I was thinking about laying down on the floor for a nap. So, no longer irritated, concentration better. Of course, there's a down side to that, right?

I just dropped five lbs in three weeks. I now officially weigh LESS than what I was when was 16. In 198-freaking-5. Three weeks ago I was 134 and now I'm 129. So, I'm still in the normal range for BMI but there's the fact that I stopped sleeping again and completely lost my appetite somewhere back on Saturday. I've only been able to eat cold food for some reason. Fruit, veg, green salad, ice cream. Not even coffee. Grrr.

Following in the grand footsteps of PornyBoy's medical miracle of having colic at 38, I am now also a medical miracle for having unheard of and unknown side-effects on the lowest freaking dose of Celexa possible, which is supposed to be the one with the *least* incidence of side-effects.

I *gently reminded* LFD that I hated taking drugs and that there is a reason for that. Cause I always get the strangest side effects. Makes me less inclined to take ANYTHING after awhile.

So, LFD just sits there shaking his head at me for a while and muttering "that's not s'posed to happen"before he says, "Okay, we're going to stop you cold turkey and give you something else." I figured that was a good time to ask him if it was an okay time to try and quit smoking again. He actually cackled with something close to glee, I swear, and said, "Perfect! Yes, cause you know you have to and I was going to put you on Wellbutrin! Two birds! One pill!"

Cause of course, Wellbutrin and Zyban are the same thing. And it makes you happy. Since I'm already fairly cheerful, I guess in a few days I'll be psychotically cheerful. I may just start wearing gingham sundresses yet, yj.

Kay, serious topic changing for rest of the post..... I passed 'BadAss' on the bus (it's a coffee place) and the sign says "We never FREAKING close!" lol.

My aunts coming out from New Zealand for a visit! Yay! Next month.

Tony:there has found a relief driver for two weeks in July so we are going on a road trip. He's never been to the US. Yes, that's what I said. Never. He'd never been really off the island until four years ago. He's very mistrustful so I'm not sure that's such a good idea. But, we'll see.

What else? It's very quiet here without Herself. There is no one in the kitchen watching over dinner for me, because I'm STARVING and am going to pack in a shitload of calories before I start the other pills tomorrow. Just in case. Which brings me to the next thing I wanted to say....

When I came home on Monday last week and I logged in, I was overwhelmed repeatedly by the emails, the comments here and in other places and donna's sweet post about Lacey and I, especially this bit - -

The thing about dogs is, they have to up and go so suddenly. Even though we knew all along.
So, in the spirit of a well articulated blog, and Lacey whom we somehow all love now...
You guys have all been wonderful and it's makes me glad that I've been able to make her come alive for you in such a way that you have come to care for her too. In jen,also's words, I may have been feeling very lonely that day, but I did not feel quite so alone anymore. And for that, you have my heartfelt love and appreciation. Lacey's too, I'm sure. And just now, I've found this one and I *shamefully* did not mention Pornyboy's wonderful guest blogging as I was going to email but hell, I can do that too. All of you make this strange world a more wonderful place to be.

And, last but not least before I go eat a bucket of ice cream.... a picture from 1987. Just because everyone must be wondering about Scott and I don't want to post a recent pic so this is a few months after we met. It all finally ground to a halt (ie: he got tired of waiting) in mid-1991. Which makes me laugh because he's got green eyes and I had to fix the red-eye which made me think of Sunday when I took his picture and he said, "Was there a red-eye flash?" Some things never change. Okay, a lot of things never change..... :)



And, it really *is* good to be home. Pray for coffee tolerance to return. I need my caffeine.

Tuesday, April 06, 2004

firmly home. mostly

I think Tony:there summed it up pretty good last night with the following conversation:

he: "I think it was a good idea to get away after the dog, Jen, but I'm not sure this is the best place for you to have come. You didn't need to know that Scott's mom had died, that B almost did, you didn't need to tell us all what happened yet. You just try and do too many things all at once. And I think it's just psychotic that you and Scott both carry a torch after fifteen years."
me: "Maybe you're right but I needed to get this all over and done with and I wanted to make sure Scott was happy but somehow I think "I keep busy at work and buy lots of toys" isn't really any big indication of happiness - and hey! it's not psychotic, it's just the way we are. It all just seems so normal."
he: "Yeah, well I'm not much of a romantic. What's done is done. If he called you and asked you to come home, would you?"

And, that one, I couldn't answer. But, you know, I probably would.

Anyways, whatever. Going there is good for me but it's emotionally and physically draining. I pushed myself way too hard but now it's over with and if I go back for the Lester's wedding then I'll see them all again and there hopefully, won't be a shitload more bad news.

It's funny a little too, because I talked to T2 about it today and he said that he had the same thing back on the island but that she wouldn't talk to him or see him, even though he thinks it's something they have to talk about and he admires me for making sure I saw Scott.

I get the feeling that that's not over and done with though. Just a feeling. Could be residual "going home / island vacation" hangover. The last two days whenever I go there are always with my head back in Calgary and this time the last three days were continual hits of bad news, anger and sadness with a whole bunch of knowing people there needed me and I failed them in a way but that they still love me (and I them) just as much as ever.

With all those guys that's my fault because as Scott said, "You dropped off the face of the planet eight years ago and we never knew where you were until four months ago." That was what had to be done, the last time I saw them I was off to Ontario and he'd just gotten married and it wasn't until I got back that I realized there was no longer any reason to stay. That in fact, it would have been bad for both of us if I had.

But, seeing them all after so many years, feeling a bit like I should have been there, felt like being trapped between two different lives with no idea which way to turn.

So, the plan is now, to get some sleep and I think maybe this weekend I may just revamp the entire site. Lacey's gone, I've told who needs to be told about the big C, I've cleaned some things up in my head. It's time to make some changes and get on with what I want to do.

Monday, April 05, 2004

is it time yet?

Very bad sleep last night, but I've drug myself out of bed and am checking email before packing up my suitcase and the laptop and checking out of the hotel. Then I'm hiking (or crawling by the way I feel) with Brent, stopping off to see my brother, going to Tony:there's to get my tea and then I'm off home. Thank god. I'll be back tomorrow or Wednesday.

Sunday, April 04, 2004

little conversations

he: "So, how come you never got married?"
me: "Well, here's where I get to blame it on you. Are you sure you want to hear this?"
he: "Yes"
me: "You were too tough of an act to follow. You were supposed to come back."
he: "Jen, YOU left ME."
me: "I know, but I was going to sow my oats and get my shit together and you were going to come back. And you never did. We were supposed to be on the same page."
he: "It might have helped if you'd told me what was going on."
later. he: "So, did you? Sow your oats and get your shit together?"
me: "Yes. Yes I did. And now I'm done."

So maybe I didn't really have to write about him. I just had to sit there and look at him after not having seen him for eight years. And he sat there and looked at me. And everything that was ever there, still is. And I said a little bit of what I had to say. And, maybe, that's just going to have to be enough.

I'm tired of being here, right smack dab in the middle of every stupid mistake I ever made. And when he asks me if I'm happy and I say, without even thinking, that yes I am -I'm not sure if I'll ever really mean that. I don't say that I'm as happy as I can be but when I ask him if he's okay and he does say he's as happy as he can be, that he keeps busy with work...well, that just has to be enough. But is it? Can it be? We both are paying more attention to the things we can't say. And Mike just sits there and looks at us.

It think sometimes that we made decisions that seemed to be reasonable and informed at the time, only to learn later that they may have been imprudent. You thought you got what you wanted, only to discover perhaps you did not. You saw yourself as wise and mature enough to make the right choices, only to realize you were not. And then, without, quite understanding how you got there, you found yourself in a place you didn't really want to be, with no viable way out.

I took my lecture like a big girl because if there is anyone I'd quit smoking for it would be him. And since that is the next big thing I have to do, I promised him I would email him when I did it. And we laughed when I said, "I think of you everytime I go to the bank - my PIN number is still ......(year and engine size of his car in high school)" And he dimples at me and says, Mine's still the same too. Because his had something to do with me.

Life is too short for this. Life is too short to be without the people you love. And sometimes, that's just not possible and I think that may be the saddest thing of all.

I want to go home now. I love this place just as much as I hate this place. I've done the best I can with it, this week, but now, I just want to go home.

lyric at post:
..these little conversations, well for me they'll never do
now what am I supposed to do with broken sentences of you?..color>

Photos with thanks to FreeFoto.com / JWR / Tripod and MBF/M2.

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