Holy Mackerel

I was going to entertain you today with stories of me falling off chairs,,  getting stuck in a bathroom stall in the dark and having my head compared to a pimple. But not today. Today, I'm going to talk about a man. A man who had a great impact on my life, and on many others. Ian was my boss, in charge of making sure everything ran smoothly in our real estate office. He was the reason I went to work there back in 2005. He was the reason I stayed there. He was supportive, and kind, and gentle, and fearless. Ian passed away last Saturday after a four-year battle with cancer.  The entire office, the one I just returned to after a two-year absence, is in shock and a state of utter despair. Because Ian was a man who meant what he said and said what he meant, who always had nothing but wonderful things to say about everything (including how he felt, even when he felt like utter crap), and about everyone he met. Ian and I had more of a relationship than just manager and realto...

Although I have often spoken about feeling about a million years old these past few years, I honestly know what it actually feels like now, and I can also now honestly say that I AM OLD. Now excuse me while I sob into my fifth gin and tonic of the morning. So, I worked at my new library job last week, full days both Thursday and Saturday. The job basically entails a lot of shelving of books, moving of books, and not thinking too much about anything except barcodes, the Dewey Decimal system, and whether 906.1782346879 BLS comes before or after WHO GIVES A CRAP. You can pretty much say the job is a little mind numbing, but only in a good way. Seriously, though, libraries all over the world owe everything to pages (which is what my official title is, which is also a little funny because I'm a page at a library -- get it?). Without us, books and magazines would be strewn pell mell throughout the library, reference books on Floor 1 instead of Floor 3, and (god forbid) mysteries sho...

So, I got another call from Adonis yesterday, telling me his office has blocked my blog so that he can no longer read it while he sits at his desk pretending to work. I feel sorry for you, Adonis. Really, I do. And then I felt kind of proud that they felt it necessary to block my blog. I should probably get an award for that because, in my opinion, this is a HUGE success! Who doesn't want to be blocked by the federal government?! And then Adonis told me I should email him my posts, or type them out in Microsoft Word and email them to him so that he can read them at work instead of doing his job.  I told him I didn't have time for that, and Adonis laughed at me because he knew I had tons of time. But alas, I no longer have the time to even scratch my left buttock crease because, guys, I start my library job today, and I am still doing my biology course, which is a hell of a lot harder than my biology course last year, which is kind of making me freak out a little bit becau...

I thought I'd better post another post lest Adonis call me and spit wrathfully at me again for not posting often enough. Brothers. Is "wrathfully" a word? Not sure. Don't care. So, I'm sitting here, at the dining room table, and writing this instead of studying crap senior biology. Do you blame me? Didn't think so. I'm also scratching just above my right nipple, where one of my heart monitor's electrodes has left a rather nasty allergic reaction, not unlike a really large and ugly hickey. So unfortunate that it's not a hickey. I miss those days. Not that I'd really know what I'm talking about, because I'm pretty much a virgin. And not that hickeys are even itchy and all raised, like a hive might be, so maybe I should have started out by calling it a really huge and nasty hive instead of a hickey, but if I had done that, you probably wouldn't still be reading this right now. Am I right? I'm also trying to not feel guilty for...

So, my brother Adonis called me today, telling me I wasn't updating my blog enough and he felt he was losing touch with me, his only sister whom he loves more than life itself, and I then wanted to say well then why don't you pick up the damn phone and call me, but I didn't say that because it would sound kind of rude, and I am never rude to people, animals or even rocks, because rocks have rights too, guys. I'm not really sure what Adonis meant by his pronouncement that I don't update my blog enough. I mean, I know I don't update it as often as I used to (before school happened, and since my life as I once knew it fell apart and I died and went to hell), but still, I can't just be expected to update this thing every single day, can I? Just in the hopes that someone is actually reading it, and actually cares what they're reading? As it stands, half of what I say here is pure bullshit anyway, so there you go. However, I suppose I should be quite honou...

So, guys, I just applied to three nursing programs in the hopes of getting into one of them for the fall. Nursing is what I've decided to go for, now that my career as a paramedic has most probably ended before it even began, sort of like the egg coming before the chicken, which can only happen to me. I came to the decision a little while back that nursing was probably a better career for me than paramedic. This, after thinking everything through carefully, and trying not to get emotional about it. Not getting emotional has been getting easier as time's gone on. Pretty soon my ears will get all pointy and people will start calling me Dr. Spock. Ha. Ha. Meanwhile, I'm starting a Grade 12 Biology course through distance education, which is so exciting I can hardly contain the urge to scream. Yeah, it's THAT good, guys. Actually, it's not bad because I'm pretty sure a large percentage of it is more or less a repetition of what I just took in my anatomy/physiol...

Things are going oh so smoothly here on the ranch. NOT. So far this week (and it's only Wednesday, I think), we have one sick boy at home with what seems to be a bad virus that has so far attacked his abdominal region, his throat, his chest, and his joy for life. Dee is sad and sick. We also have a sick Em, who isn't quite as ill as Dee because she is still able to go to school and get things done, but who has been sick with a cough/cold thing since about Christmas time. Apparently there's a "thing" going around these here parts, creating havoc with waay too many people, most of whom seem to be in my house. I have as yet to get sick, which is, in itself, a true miracle because I am usually the one who gets sick approximately thrice a week. I've been feeling a bit under the weather, but haven't really succumbed to any awful crap. Yet. Although, now that I think of it, I am on antibiotics for a sinus infection, but I can't say it's awful,...

This past weekend was extremely eventful. Not only did we vacuum the living room rug, but we also got up the courage to remove the guinea pig cage (which was homemade and awesome, and which sat on our old coffee table, which we hadn't used as a coffee table since Em was born because we are anal in that way and decided that we would rather not have a coffee table for a thousand years than have our tiny little vulnerable and perfect children knock their little heads on a corner and end up in the emergency room getting stitches). As you who read this sensational blog will know, our last guinea pig, Mo, passed away last week, on Mr. Handsome's birthday. You could say it put a bit of a pall on festivities. ANYWAY, the piggies lived on our coffee table for the past seven years. The table had been put in a corner of the dining room so that the piggies would be near us, because guinea pigs are very social animals, and we're nothing if we aren't extremely sensitive to the nee...

Here I am, back again for yet another dreary and depressing entry into what is known as my amazingly exciting life. Believe you me, all I tell you is true. I am not making anything up. And I totally understand your feelings of envy, wishing you could be me. But, I'm here to tell you, you can't. It's not easy to be me, and this is why: 7 a.m. I open my eyes. I can hear both kids as they get themselves ready for school. Yes, that's right. They actually get up BY THEMSELVES and get their own breakfast, brush their own teeth, and head out the door for school ON TIME, without nary a blink from their mother. I have clearly trained them well. I close my eyes again because the kids obviously don't need (or probably even want) me around. That way, they can get away without brushing their teeth, can take an extra three helpings of snacks for their lunches, and not have to deal with my fetid morning breath. 8 a.m. Mr.Handsome begins rousing. 10 a.m. Mr. Handsome actually...

Oh, hello there. Me again. Still depressed. Still feeling like Life has crashed into me head-on and run over me about eleventy-million times. Which it kind of has. Still have heard nada from anyone at the school. They're all ignoring me, guys. It's like they hate me or, even worse, don't care. Not a nice feeling, either way. With classes starting today, I'm a bit anxious to get this stuff figured out so that I know where I stand. Meanwhile, I spent the better part of last week making phone calls and trying to find the right people to talk to, so that I could better figure out my options. So far, my options are limited ... as in, I could just lie in bed until September and it wouldn't matter, except that my kids might start wondering where I was. Maybe. So far, what I know is that I will be applying to enter the four-year university nursing program, and the two-year practical nursing program, and re-applying for the paramedic program. What I still don't know...

Oh. Hello there. Why, yes, I'm still alive. Thank you for asking. At least, I think I am. Just a second. Yup. I'm alive. But just barely. Lots has happened since I last wrote on Dec. 16, which is almost two Oh weeks ago, which is a lifetime in the world of the blog. And when I last wrote (on Dec. 16), I was getting all ready for a nice big Christmas holiday, which I so badly needed. Firstly, I should have known I was totally jinxing myself by writing that. And secondly, I got what I asked for, and then some. Boy, did I ever. And, before I go on, can I say that I've missed you, and hope you still remember me??? So, when I last wrote, I had one more exam to do, which was my lab exam. As well, I had one lift to accomplish before I could heave a heavy sigh and forget about body parts for at least a week. Well, as luck may have it (and by luck I mean the kind of luck that makes you want to twist your underwear in a knot and stuff them into your throat, because that wou...

I have probably never wanted a holiday as much as I do this year. No, that's not true. I KNOW I have never wanted a holiday as much as I do this year. Yeah, that's better. Because, guys, I've been working so very very hard. So hard, in fact, that I've pretty much lost every single reader I ever had on this blog, which would amount to about 2.5. It's been so long that I almost forgot how to write a blog post. Oh, you're so funny. I heard you say, "Forgot? You never could write." Hahaha, very funny, folks. So, like I said, I've been really busy, probably busier than I was when I gave birth to my firstborn child, Em, when I believed I was so incredibly busy I only had time for two naps a day. Since September, I've barely had time to scratch my left butt cheek with the vigor I am used to, having to resort to a quick jab with the point of my pencil as I study. And study. And study some more. And now, the semester is over. One more exam tomor...

Just when you thought you were one of those people who had everything... http://cgi.ebay.com/Grey-Squirrel-Birch-Bark-Canoe-Fox-Taxidermy-Full-Mount-/250737463987?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&hash=item3a611e12b3

Finals. That is all.

Mr. Handsome, while brushing his teeth: You know, I keep forgetting. Me: What? Mr. Handsome: I keep forgetting...brush teeth first, THEN have a crap.

Amidst all the crap that was last week, the worst thing that happened finally happened: our first, and oldest, pet passed away. You know how sometimes you just know that something really bad is about to happen? Or how sometimes you just know that someone (or something) is going to die shortly? Well, I had that feeling about Furry, our guinea pig. The six months or so, she was moving a little slower, sleeping a little more, and losing a bit of weight. We started giving her more food by hand because we thought that perhaps Mo, our 2-year-old guinea pig from hell, was stealing all the food (because she does). I'd sit with Furry and she'd nibble on pieces of cucumber (from the middle part out) or green pepper, as pleased as a pig can be. Although she never really gained back any weight, she seemed fine otherwise. Totally happy, eating, drinking, curious, doing all the normal piggy things. But all along, I watched her, because something told me her time was coming. It wasn't...

Like it's not bad enough that I struggle daily to keep up with my mammoth studies of anatomical drawings of men's gargantuan genitalia, but now the final exams are looming, I still can't lift a 200-pound person in a chair up two flights of stairs, and my arthritis has flared up to an entirely new level of agony and utter torment. That is probably one of the worst parts of having arthritis: the routine unpredictability of it. For weeks, nay months, I can feel pretty damn good. I am never without pain (that would be waaay too much to ask for, of course), but then, almost overnight, I will wake up and feel nothing but. Last night, I took codeine and some Tylenol so that I could actually fall asleep and maybe get a few hours without the gnawing of my joints waking me up (or keeping me up), but even that was apparently too much to ask for. This strange thing happens now and again when I take codeine, and the fact that I never know when it's going to happen makes my life ...

Note to Mr. Handsome: Read this post at your own risk. Don't blame me if you fall over in a dead syncopic episode due to extreme prudishness. I've finally figured out a way to totally gross out Mr. Handsome, and make him pray for freedom from the chains of marriage.  You may think that an odd statement regarding one's spousal unit, but then, you obviously just don't know enough about Mr. Handsome's and my relationship, for our relationship is entirely based on one-uppance. And that is why it's worked for so many years. Either that, or we're insane, which is probably very true as well. Every week at school, we have a class called Medical Terminology, whereby we have to study some body system, learn the spelling and meaning of all the words, and then spew them out during the weekly test. So much fun. Seriously. Especially when said system for the week is the male reproductive system, in all its infinite glory. The other evening, I sat down to go over the...

If it wasn't bad enough that I had a wee eyeball issue last week, as well as a major toothache that is still rearing its ugly head with pain, I came home today to dog crap on our living room carpet. Five nicely-shaped nuggets of the canine variety, more specifically, poodle-like. Oh, yeah. And no one saw it until I came home. Strange coincidence.  Guess who picked up the chocolate bananas? Yup. While I wore my paramedic uniform, no less. That's how brave a medic I am. In addition to the rather large Tootsie rolls on the carpet, this week also brings a megaload of tests. I had one today to make up for the one I missed last week because of my stupid eyeball. I have one tomorrow that should be fine, and is supposed to be written, although the teacher's definition of "written" isn't written at all. More like fill in the blanks and match some words and definitions. Wednesday brings us a test on the male reproductive system, and we all know what that means. Lot...

That does it. As if it wasn't enough that two of my teeth decided to give me grief the other day...Now I have to go to the hospital to get my eyeballs checked out because I think I may have another retinal detachment happening, which wouldn't be a good thing, in case you were wondering. Looks like the Cloud of Doom has decided to sit right on top of me and give me just a little more grief. Yeah, sure. Bring it on. I love grief. And doom. And then the dog vomited. And peed. On our living room carpet. Again. Now all I need is a couple of Jehovah's Witnesses coming to my door with pamphlets on how I too can be saved...