walking

My available topics of conversation over the past few months: baby, baby, labour, breasts, baby, baby, labour, labour, hope, breast, baby, baby, labour, baby, dog.

The poor poor dog.

I understood in theory that The Dog would have to take at least a temporary backseat to the offspring since she’s relatively self sufficient while a newborn human will need the time we have historically devoted to the dog. We’re five weeks away from the estimated due date of the Offspring and oh, the poor poor dog. As it’s happening before my eyes and the dog hasn’t had a walk in at least 4 days and I think I forgot to feed her supper last night and she’s still following me around the house with deep affection in her eyes – I have Le Guilt. The offspring isn’t even HERE yet but just having him fully embraced in my pelvis has me choosing to be a neglectful dog mom.

Today I committed to refocus on my girl. We walked/waddled for an hour, I minded good posture while she minded sniffing all the parts of the neighbourhood that she hadn’t smelled for awhile. It felt good to wander the ‘hood to do a few errands and I do love walking with the beautiful, focused, prancing pooch.  It was a relief to see her continually adjusting to my new physical self where I am slower and more awkward than I was a few short months ago. Today The Dog would pause and take a glance behind her to make sure I was still coming along behind. The Dog, she patiently walked me.

We’ve been told that The Dog can already hear the Offspring’s heart beat from deep within my body, smell my different pheromones and I’m sure that’s why she’s become more focused, more affectionate, more  concerned with me than ever before. As we get ready for the newest member of the family to arrive, we’ve stepped up The Dog’s  training to commands like “leave it” to prepare for her first encounter with baby vomit, diapers and other things she’s sure to deem delicious. She’s been introduced to a newborn and was very focused on helping clean his cradle-capped head with her giant tongue and thus, we have deemed her as having much potential as a big sister.

I keep picturing a gorgeous autumn day in October or November when The Dog can walk both myself and her little brother around the neighbourhood. I hope we can keep the small human alive and well while continuing to ensure that The Dog, the first of our dependent family members, continues to be healthy and happy.

Thank gawds her patience is easily bought by a big disgusting bloody bone. I’d better stock my freezer.

BPA

I forgot my water bottle at home so I’m at my cubicle, drinking water from a clean yet previously used plastic bottle.

By reusing the plastic, the BPA is probably leeching into me then into The Inner Child’s body and generating a third arm on his itsy bitsy self. I think about these things quite regularly now that I’m the sole provider for a small human that exists somewhere near where my kidneys used to reside.

Oh hold on – the bottle is a Type 1 plastic made of polyethylene terephthalate
and Wikipedia didn’t mention anything about it killing me softly, quickly or having any negative effect on me or the Inner Child at all. It is the same type of plastic they use to make polar fleece. I had no idea that polar fleece was a type of plastic.

Is it unhealthy to model all of my behaviours based on info garnered from publicly edited Wikipedia articles?

wanted: hookers

You know what I did yesterday?

No, not that. Although that would be fun…

I watched people work. It’s one of my favourite things to do. I watched them work, occasionally offered beer/water/pop, then retreated to try to nap. And was unable to nap because there was so much Work To Do. I wasn’t doing the work, involved in the work, or expected to contribute to the work, but hell, it totally interfered with my nap knowing that six strapping DIYers were in my basement, using drills and sharp knives.

I watched this:

Before Drywalling

Turn into this:

After Drywalling

I am swimmingly impressed.

There is also a bedroom with a closet AND a utility/laundry room with a sliding pocket door. That pocket door brings me a type of joy that I can’t quite express. It’s a door. It slides into the wall. It makes me giddy.

This reno must be part of The Husband’s nesting process. I’m busy growing the little one into a bonafide being that can breathe in the outside world, making lists, crossing off tasks, filling out copious amounts of paperwork. And he is preparing by Making Beautiful Space. Yes, we really could use extra room now that a small person is about to come and live with us and I will have to move everything from the spare room (aka The Inner Child’s room) to somewhere else in the house but… we live in a house equipped with a large unfinished basement designed to pile loads of crap and The Inner Child is expected to be very very small for quite some time. But, once reality hit that this babe could really be joining us, The Husband declared that The Basement Will Be Finished In Time For Inner Child’s Arrival and holy batshit, he wasn’t kidding.  It’s flown together, friends and family showing up with drills and tool belts and sweating until deep into the night to help The Husband Get Shit Done.

This morning, the morning after The Drywall Party, he can barely get out of bed but the Massage Nazi is on her way over to help him finish drywalling the staircase.

If the upcoming volunteer painting crew is as effective as the drywalling crew, I think I’ll be expected to provide food, drinks AND hookers.

So… anyone got a line on hookers that work for breakfast sammiches, pizza and beer?

all folked up

I woke up this morning to my dog licking my hand in a manner than can only be described as desperate. She only does this when she really needs a human to open the door for her so I rolled out of bed but rather than following me downstairs, she hopped into my spot on the bed and promptly went to sleep. Bitch only lickin’ to steal some valuable real estate on the bed. Jerkdog.

So while being serenaded by The Husband and The Dog’s snoring, I’m finally sorting through photos from last weekend. I’m still, 6 days later, recovering from 2.25 days of Folk Fest. All week at the office I had to hear “wow, are you alright?” or “should you BE here today?!?” because seeing my somewhat pregnant self slugging around like I’d been on a 5 day bender is concerning for other people. Each time I fessed up to partying my pants off all weekend but no one seemed to believe me. I stayed up to the morning hours and had a helluva great time – I wish I’d been there longer because I missed doing and seeing things on my list but I think if I’d stayed even 2 hours longer, I’d have passed out from sheer joy mixed with exhaustion. And I even garnered a nap on 2 out of 3 days.

I saw old friends  and made new friends:

Max's hand with Jules

I saw my favourite world-traveler/activist and the moment of seeing each other was very Lassie/Timmy, slow running towards each other, arms wide open…  except for the part where I was so overcome with excitement that I caught my bag’s zipper on my shirt and got wound up and completely restrained. We spent our first few moments squealing while trying to get me untangled. It was actually a pretty fitting reunion moment.

Professional Protester and All 'Round Awesome

I also saw a Bunny On A Rope(tm):

Bunny on a leash

I convinced a man to take off his shirt:

shirtless man

I did not see Schmutzie however I was able to locate the specific table at the pub where I expected her to be. I felt vaguely like a stalker, confidently walking up to a table of strangers-to-me friends-to-she based purely on evidence from her Flickr photos. It was kinda awesome, actually.  Alas, although I met Mr. Head, I did not see Schmutzie nor The Palinode. It would have rounded out the weekend but not every weekend can be perfect.

My mom and I take our folking rather seriously – as soon as gates open, we’re there. As soon as a stage opens, we’re scoring the spot that is a perfect view of people-watching and stage-watching. We picnic lunch and then take a break daily around supper, usually at the food tents (BUTTER CHICKEN AND MINI DONUTS, I LOVE YOU) then hop back to the stages. If a very loud band comes on stage or someone we’re not passionate about watching, we go and cruise the arts market because we can hear the band clearly while we shop. My mom is the Ultimate Girl Guide, packing food, rain gear, tarps, jackets and glow in the dark gear.

Delhi 2 Dublin onstage

HARD CORE, people. That’s what we are. Only, you know, in a folky way. It’s not just folk music but any music that can be defined as “music for the people”. This year closing out the musical menu on each night were K-Os (R&B), The Wailers (Bob Marley’s reggae peeps) and Corb Lund & The Hurtin’ Albertans (country).

Our fave: Delhi 2 Dublin – for when you need to dance and can’t decide if you’re prefer an irish reel, north indian beats or reggae:

And that, my friends, is why I’ve been recovering for the past six days.

So… what’s your favourite festival?

guilty and blessed

Hello.

Wow, it’s rather echo-y in here, isn’t it? I shouldn’t be surprised – I threw white cloths over the furniture, turned off the lights and shut the door behind me in the middle of January. I wasn’t really sure if I’d be back, I didn’t even hire a house-sitter (or blogsitter as it may be) because I needed to step far away and I couldn’t gauge how long I’d need. I even stopped posting on Grace In Small Things because every entry would show exactly what was going on in my world and I wasn’t ready to face being happy.

I have a case of survivor’s guilt. And paranoia that putting my thoughts into the world makes them significantly more real and thus more readily available to fail. Silly. 7 months without and I miss this space greatly since I need the catharsis and an outlet. Without it, I find I’m mentally itching. I’m not processing thoughts as well as I could yet I stayed away because I have significant traffic that arrives from pregnancy loss websites and I remember being that person, searching for solace, searching for sameness, searching for answers. I remember being that person and showing up to a site with a happy pregnant lady or happy baby and feeling the punch in the gut of envy. As much as it made me feel so bad to be so upset at another’s joy, it’s a form of post traumatic stress disorder where even the thought of what I didn’t have put me into a new cycle of grief.

And now, I’m that happy pregnant lady.

We’ve become blessed beyond imagine, found hope after darkness and from where we’re standing, it’s starting to feel like we’ll really-for-sure-no-joking be welcoming a very small person into our lives in mid-October. Every kick, every nauseating morning, every swollen appendage – it’s a constant reminder that we’re so very blessed. It’s marvelous and magical and confusing and exhilarating and every day I want to hold in my memory forever because I can’t stop marveling at this experience. Part may be hormonal where I’m weeping while trying to choose a baby memory book, realizing that this is finally happening. My body is so far working the way it should and although every day is tinged with fear, I’m starting to focus less on losing this baby and more on how to do right by him once he takes his first breaths on his own.

Our first ultrasound was in mid-February. I laid on the table trying to hold myself together, waiting for the sonographer to tell me she couldn’t find the baby, struggling to hold back tears and fighting nearly overwhelming terror. I had the urge to get off the table and just walk away before she could break the bad news. When she said “baby has a strong heartbeat” offhandedly, the dam burst. I was sobbing, sobbing so hard because finally, oh heaven’s finally, a sonographer was giving me good news while I laid covered in jelly. I wept so hard, trying to explain how happy I was between sobs and the tech quickly called in The Husband who had been in the waiting room. He saw that little heart beat as he walked in the room and the joy actually overwhelmed our trepidation. This baby was nestled in my uterus, heart beating fast and strong.

Thinking about it still makes me cry.

Thus I remain, feeling blessed and guilty at the same time and desperately hoping that this feeling of overwhelming grace is found in some way by all those that are searching for it.

Because even with the taint of fear, it’s a marvelous journey.

my gimpy right foot

There are moments when everything goes well, but don’t be frightened. –Jules Renard

(that’s from Miserable Bliss via schmutzie)

My right foot is really heavy today. I was walking to the new cafe for a bite when it became apparent that my right foot weighed more than my left foot.  I was sure that this was a new thing since I do walk quite a bit in my daily life (usually to my coworkers cubicles and then back to my little cubicle, but still). I stared down and caught myself limping, trying to swing my foot out further to SEE if my right foot looked more swollen. I then spent my commute to and from the cafe pondering a life with one gigantic foot. Would Fluevog craft a special boot for my massive appendage? Would I start volunteering, fundraising and lobbying on behalf of Giant-Foot Affliction charities?  Is there even such a thing as giant footism?

On closer inspection, my right boot wasn’t laced as tight as my left – once the laces were evenly tightened, my feet regained equilibrium. Easy fix.

And that, my friends, has been the theme for 2009.

WCB Sask (don’t even get me started on those assholes) finally began sending wage loss benefits in late December for The Husband (5 months after his back surgery. Idiots.)  and coincidentally, the first cheque arrived on the day he went back to work on light duty. That was our only outstanding worry so thus began 2009, carefree and fancyfree!

And it’s continued that way. It’s creeping me out. I guess I’m a fatalist because I’m just on edge, waiting. I’m actually creating anxiety in myself because I have no anxiety. I’m now hyperaware yet all signs lead to happiness, prosperity and laughter these days. Projects on schedule, bills paid, house awesome, Husband nifty, dog cute. Everything checks out.

Totally freaking me out.

Cold breeze coming into the house? It’s not the furnace or structural problems or a sign we need to replace windows - the back window was open.  The dog staring out the back window growling? As much as I though a murderer was hiding in the yard, bunny tracks point to a local a jack rabbit that’s attempting to take up residence in our yard. A suspiciously large cheque arrives in the mail unexpectantly? A phone call to both parties involved reveal the $$ amount is true and ours. A purchase online hasn’t shown up? An email to the sender is zinged off but the package arrives that afternoon.

I’m either going to buy a lottery ticket or buy a bomb shelter because dudes, could this possibly continue for much longer? Could it?

(tell me yes)

burglar alarm

The dog is standing at the back door, a low growl rumbling in her throat as she looks out into the darkness.

I just rechecked the door locks and the motion detector yard light and everything is secure. That should make me less on edge but having our laid back pooch sounding caution is giving me the heebie jeebies.

Last month a man rang the doorbell. I held the dog by her collar when I opened the door because my dog, she’s a love whore. I am well aware that a muscular black dog running at your face to coat you in french kisses isn’t always a welcome (or understood) thing.  When presented with humans, she dances and licks and dances until she’s in a frenzy. I held her collar so she’d stay put while I figured out what door guy wanted.

He started with  ”Do you have an alarm system, ma’am?” and my CSI-watching, paranoid imagination went into overdrive as I was responding “no”. My red flags were waving and alarm bells screaming – why are you telling a stranger that you have NO SECURITY SYSTEM?!? And out of my mouth came “no but…”  head nod toward dog “she bites.”  At that, the salesman’s eyes opened wide and he stepped back, staring hard at my pup who was straining against my hold to get at him to please please just let me give him a kiss, just one… oh my, his breath smells like chicken for the love of all things holy let me kiss him!

If he’d been a dog person, he would have noticed her tail wagging at top speed but instead, he quickly wrapped up the conversation and walked quickly to the next house.

Since then, we’ve arranged to have a system installed because really, we suspect that our dog would greet an intruder with slobbery, dancing love, following from room to room as he took our belongings. Ever since the salesman visited, I’ve felt a slice of guilt for even allowing someone to believe that she’s anything but an eager to please girl who loves to make out with strangers.

Now, as she stands in our dim kitchen, growling into the darkness, I wonder if I wasn’t lying to the salesman. Maybe she’s more than just love and naps and I’m not sure I’m willing to open the back door to investigate until the daylight arrives… just in case.

blink blink

(blink blink)

Well that was quite a hiatus. I have a new job which I adore so I spend more time with coworkers working on cool software and discussing fecal transplants rather than spend my days staring at the ceiling, hoping for the light at the end of the tunnel to move closer. And once I’d stopped blogging for a month during a really busy project, I couldn’t seem to come back.

our house in the middle of the street

But now, it’s 2 months past deadline of my “101 things to do in 1001 days” so I’m back to give an update because I have ignored #101 Blog weekly so I can be reminded of these 101 things and how it comes to be that they become reality. Oops.

I had some incredible success and I’ll include most of the incomplete items on the next list with some modifications. These are all things I’d still like to do. I’m not taking it as a failure that I completed 36% of the list. I didn’t realize how all-encompassing some of these items would be, leading me to new experiences that I really wasn’t expecting, some good, some never to be re-visited. The joyous points:  #60 Volunteer with a group I’ve never volunteered with before led me to the Humane Society which led to Sunday mornings walking dogs, which also helped with #15 Size 14 because I’m down 32 pounds now that I’m walking an extra 2 hours every week. Walking led to being dog foster parents and we now experience the joy of hosting dogs without actually having to own them. We just came off a week long stint with 2 of the teeniest puppies, having all the laughter and joy of puppy-hood and just as we were about to be driven crazy by puppy antics and puppy poo, it was time to take them back. It’s a great job, paid in doggy kisses and slobber and we both adore it.

Each item on my list made me start thinking and questioning. I didn’t complete #28 crochet a scarf to give away to the dropin center (a large local homeless shelter) because the point itself made me think that one scarf may help one person but wow, there’s lots of cold people here… so we did a winter jacket collection at work instead, which introduced me to people who live out of the Drop In Center which led me to being part of Project Homelessness Connect which stretched my empathy and made me feel like a part of my community. I overcame my Fear of The Kitchen, went through my cookbooks and worked through #100 Try 20 new recipes. My version of cooking is no longer just “add heat” and I now shop for things that are not labeled “instant”. I can make BUTTER CHICKEN from scratch, from memory. Anyone who’s had to eat a meal at my house made by me would definitely call that miraculous.

My absolute favorite achievement: #71 Stop paying rent and start paying a mortgage

That’s right, we’re mother-f*ing HOMEOWNERS now, dude. It’s still too amazing to be true. We still feel like the bank made some sort of clerical error but it just doesn’t matter because we have LAND and WINDOWS and APPLIANCES. I hesitated to hang up a bulletin board that would leave a permanent mark on the wall and The Husband laughed “It’s YOUR wall, do whatever the hell you want with it”. So I did. Because it’s my wall.

Each point on the list would lead to another list of points to explore. I did not realize that a simple list of 101 things would introduce a never-ending journey. I’m excited to see what the next 1001 days will bring.

What was your crowning achievement in the last 1001 days?

run, bunnies, run!

 

“You must be the change you want to see in the world” – Mahatma Gandhi

I don’t remember the first time I volunteered for something. It could have been through early mornings in guilt ridden religious classes or through Girl Guides earning badges in community service. Maybe it was my curiosity regarding medicine or the urge to wear a special red and white striped apron that led me to candy-striping at the next community’s hospital, driving what seemed like hours every Tuesday evening to refill linens and hand out fresh ice water. It could have been a school or band fund raiser, taking tickets or selling tickets or arranging events. I don’t remember a start, and I don’t imagine an end to spending some portion of my spare time doing unpaid work. I can trace the need to my parents who have always in my memories been volunteers – although being teachers may have initiated them since teachers are expected to supervise extracurricular activities without pay nor often any thanks. They’ve volunteered their time, skills, and efforts in local theater, lobbying, art organizations, board of directors for the local co-operative, coaching sports teams and now, although technically paid a stipend, they work with housing in their home town and give much more time and care than they are paid for.

Volunteering is like coffee in the morning – it brings me satisfaction and I can’t imagine life without it.

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that every has.” – Margaret Mead

I was making a list the other day on what volunteering has brought me personally – I’m a “volunteer coordinator” for a non-profit organization and sometimes I have to sell the idea of volunteerism to people who have amazing skills that our organization can use. And also to sell the idea to friends and family who are spinning their wheels in their daily lives, just needing some fresh air infused into their routine. Without volunteering, I would never have learned:

• to tell a wicked choose-your-own-adventure story that mesmerizes a child. This skill was learned and needed during summer Brownie/Sparks camps during a really freaky thunderstorm.
• to speak publicly and enthusiastically about things I believe in.
• to make burgers and juice to serve hundreds with total strangers and loving every minute of it.
• to pace myself and not take on too much or too little.
• that just because a perk of volunteering during halloween is permission to go through the haunted house for free, it’s not necessarily a good idea (Yes, I ran out the emergency exit side door screaming. I’m at peace with my woosiness.)
• that learning and trying out new skills is always an option.
• the joy and pride of watching the final runners cross the finish line during a 24 hour relay marathon.
• to ask for help.
• to teach a mentally ill person how to communicate via email with his loved ones.
• to laugh as children challenge each other to run through an autumn maze fundraiser.
• how to guide people who want to help but just don’t know how volunteering could work in their life.
• that our unwanted belongings mean the world to a complete stranger starting a new life.
• that three hours of my time means that a community organization now has a web presence to field FAQs and give contact info and directions to their location.
• that if there is a will, there’s always a way.
• what the back room of a casino looks like while counting $300,000 in a locked cash room with seven other people.
• the joy of watching a mother and her newborn during their first day together while bringing fresh warm blankets to their room.
• to give a little, to give a lot, to know that both helps.

I’ve been a volunteer coordinator for awhile now and have a system so that it takes only a couple of hours a week during lunch to get the job done. I help in a clothing drive once per year, but that’s not until next month so I’m itching for a new way to help, a new task, a new learning experience.

I’m waiting with baited breath for an opportunity that I’ve applied for. I checked the local volunteer listings (Canada here, USA there) and of all the listings in my neighborhood, one especially caught my eye. Quick, picture me doing this:

“Bunny Exerciser – Dogs aren’t the only ones who need exercise! Weekly commitment required.”

Yes, I thought it was a good match too.

impending hope

I’m currently visiting the prairies, right this very second at my hostess’ home checking in on The Dog who willingly crated herself this morning. She’s finding the five household cats quite difficult – she’s trying to be friends and it ended this morning with a Feline Circle of Hiss cornering her in the kitchen that scared her so bad, she peed. Yep, it’s been that kinda day for her. While she was cowering in her crate for the morning hours, pondering the Feline Occupation, I’ve been running errands for a Big Wedding. The last few days before the wedding is always hectic if you’re in it and I’m hoping to take some of the stress off by ending a hand, or at the very least, ready with a syringe of valium. 

Other than the stress that is The Dog’s life currently, it’s all going smoothly. It’s exciting to have two wonderful people ready to stand before friends and family to say “yeah, I love this person and we’re gonna be together for the rest of our days”.  The Husband and I also included in our ceremony a little bit concerning our plans for world domination, but we always like to stray from the traditional.

So that’s my note for the week. I’ve been packing to come here, driving here, whipping about all over the city, and will even be stopping by My Hometown to see The Parental Units when the wedding celebration has concluded. I love a vacation that includes travellin’.  

Oh, and I’m knitting socks with this Regia Canadian Color sock yarn when not running around or driving places. The yarn is way brighter than the photo. I may go blind so I’m trying to keep the knitting minimal so I can at least have enough eye power to drive home.

Have a great weekend!