22 February, 2017

checking in

all is fine...ish.

doing US taxes:
makes me swear in polish. very few things make me swear in polish. paperwork of the tax variety does it and does it thoroughly. i've come up with some interesting combinations that would make my dad's ears fall off, i'm sure. he'd say, ladies don't use that kind of language, but who the hell is a lady around here? it's an antiquated concept anyways. normally i self-censor because i seriously hate it when people swear in polish. oddly enough, i have no such problems with swearing in english. you may or may not have noticed this.

today's food intake:
breakfast:
a big bowl of strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries with really really good yogurt (low fat and fat free dairy products can fuck right off: pseudo-healthy bullshit based on outdated science that also taste like shit.)
lunch:
½ bowl of cheerios
½ bowl of cheerio dust-flavoured milk
dinner:
several miniature peppers filled with hummus
supper:
glass of bourbon on ice
bowl of blackberries

all the berries are really good right about now. i seem to not be hungry much. i blame the taxes and swearing. and maybe my latest meds.

social media:
the attention span that's been growing back after i'd given up on facebook seems to be in remission, since i am currently obsessed with waging war on twitter. i.e. waging war whilst on twitter, not waging war against twitter, though i might reconsider if i continue to obsessively waste my time preaching to the choir while america regresses into lower and lower and ever more colourful but increasingly terrifying levels of idiocy and what-the-ever-living-fuckness.

tweeting gives me the illusion of being in touch, of doing something, of being an active member of the #resistance, but damned if i believe that i'm changing any minds out there. trumpnation's  unfailing ability to look incontrovertible facts in the face and still kick them under the filth-encrusted mattress of ideology for the sake of convenience is as incomprehensible as it is reprehensible. i'm supposed to want to understand them. i don't. i want them to fucking stop lying. the end.

i've said it before and i'll say it again - for this reason, and this reason alone, i hope god exists, just so those filthy hypocrites can get their comeuppance in hell, where they rightfully belong.

whoa - a little brimstoney there, wasn't i? oh well. between the taxes, the limited food intake, and the political situation, it's surprising i'm still functioning fairly well.

blogging:
following lucy's goodbye post, i felt myself slipping away from this here little page. i feel like all i ever do here is complain and whine and cry and weep and gnash my teeth while rending my clothes and pouring ashes on my head. not every day, mind, but often enough that i feel like there is nothing really that i can say that will add to the sum total of cool shit out in the world.

so why post today? i blame the bourbon. frankly, i thought today's food intake in itself was interesting enough to warrant a blog post. so there you have it. i'll take "what i ate today" for 200, alec!

not saying goodbye, just saying i'll see ya around. i will continue to write shit when shit demands to be written. and in the meantime, hey, take care of yourselves; hang in there. the world will either right itself or we're in for a sweet little apocalypse and y'all know i'm excited about that!



03 February, 2017

platypus

FAMILY!

mr. monkey's family is here - mother in law, sister in law and two wee nephews. because of how many of us there are and the volvobeaste's spatial limitations, we decided to rent a minivan for familial weekend trips. alas, hotwire royally messed up our reservation which, coupled with the super bowl that's on this weekend, meant no minivan for us, which translates to alone time for me while mr. monkey takes his family out to see the alligators, the zoo, NASA, and the gulf while i sit and read in peaceful and much needed solitude.

it's been a good visit so far (my deep fear leading up to it meant my expectations were niiiiice and low) although there have been moments where i seriously considered murder*. the high point of the visit is easy to pinpoint: the wee one, the 2-and-a-bit-year-old, is cute as hell and he and i have gotten a schtick that goes something like this:

moi: platypus!
j: no, YOU're the platypus!
moi: no, YOU're the platypus!
j: no, YOU're the platypus!
moi: no, YOU're the platypus!
j: no, YOU're the platypus!

we can (and do) go on at length, both of us highly entertained. if i start off whispering, he'll whisper it back at me. if i yell, he'll yell. if i speak in polish, he'll revert to polish. the way he says platypus is something to behold and it makes me want to eat his adorable round head even more.

EEK! MORE FAMILY!

the day mr. monkey's family leaves is the day my dad arrives, driving down a car my parents are generously giving me. he will run a marathon (my dad never ever travels without running a marathon; thinks it's indecent or something) and take off several days later. a couple days after that, mr. monkey and i go off to new orleans for mardi gras and then, on the day we return, i just found out my cousin, his wife, and their three children are flying in and staying for 2 weeks. this means that from january 28 until march 9, we will essentially be non-stop hosting or guesting. the rate things are going, i suspect somebody else will announce their arrival on march 10, but that's ok. as long as i get some down time, i'm good... i think.


*yes, it was the 4 year old almost every time. how'd you guess?

24 January, 2017

toxic masculinity

i'm currently both watching and reading the expanse. it's a very good series, finally something sci-fi i can sink my teeth into. when you read and watch simultaneously, it can bring out problems all too clearly but the tv show seems like a solid adaptation of the books except for one thing: the male characters in the tv show are continually whipping out their dicks and waving them about (figuratively, not literally - that would make it an entirely different sort of tv show). there is constant testosterone-fuelled posturing and if not outright violence then at least the threat of violence is never too far removed. in the book, the same characters cooperate; in the book they act as if they were living precariously, one wall between them and the vacuum; in the book they talk things out, carry out orders, and might, at worst, mutter under their breath. but in the show each move forward is accompanied by such rich outpourings of testosterone it's a wonder anyone can breathe. i started watching the series before starting the book but even then i found the men's attitudes puzzling - why this bristling barely-suppressed rage at anyone and anything? why this inability to work together towards a common goal? is this really the way human beings would act in space?

i have written here before about the way television portrays feminine strength as essentially humourless bitchiness. think PMS all in extra big capital letters and you've got what tv execs think a strong woman is like. i'm glad to see that more and more television shows have gotten over this - think good wife, where female characters are shown as strong and funny and kind and confused and sometimes bitchy and sometimes emotional: all the things that make one human (imagine that! a woman who is also a human!) it's not perfect, but there does seem to be more writing that catches many of the nuances of full personhood.

i haven't really noticed the male portion of the equation until recently - if ever you think feminism is irrelevant, think of the ways that popular culture teaches both young men and young women to act. at its most 50's nuclear family basic women are to be coy, quiet, uninterested in sex, interested in relationships, caring etc. etc. men are to be aggressive, sexually and otherwise, uninterested in cooperation and all about their ego. sure, this is a gross oversimplification, but watch enough television and you will see these stereotypes play out again and again. if feminism is partly about letting women be all that they actually are (complicated humans!), it is about letting men do exactly the same. i do wish the writers of this really rather excellent show had taken a page out of the book, and let the men focus on getting the job done, rather than having to prove, again and again, just how macho and tough they are, while the world around them falls apart.

21 January, 2017

fermentation

i can pickle that:
i know i'm finally home because on my kitchen counter i have a jar of red cabbage sauerkraut, a jar of lacto-fermenting pickling cucumbers*, and a jar of homemade yogurt. these, as much as the curtains and the art on the walls, are clear indicators of my nesting instinct. together we put up a storm door that had been waiting for some TLC for months (it took some pretty nifty engineering solutions from mr. monkey - thank god we each have our own talents, because putting things together in ways that are superior to their original design is definitely not something i am capable of.) mr. monkey reorganized the garage and i've been airing out feather pillows that had gotten musty. i only wish we could have a laundry line out back, but i'm pretty certain it's outlawed here - disgusting and shameful behaviour of the poors and the immigrants. don't want none of that here!

moving:
we had friends over last night helping us move the last of our (very heavy) polish stuff from tb's house to ours. the night ended close to midnight for me (already past my bedtime) but it ended much later for mr. monkey. i came down at 4 am ready to tell the guests to go the hell home, but they'd beat me by no more than an hour and all i found was mr. monkey sleeping sweetly on a quilt, covered by a sheepskin rug. he was convinced (and thus tried to convince me) that when he lied down it was the opposite, and far more logical, set up: lying ON fur, and UNDER a quilt but i remain unconvinced, especially in light of his inability to take the stairs up to bed. this sort of thing happens rarely, thank god, though it does tend to happen whenever these particular friends come over. god love them, they're very nice, but they are good neither for the liver nor for the old circadian rhythms. i've said it before: my ideal social event starts right after work hours, and ends by 8-9pm at the latest. anything beyond that and i get resentful and cranky. still, it's nice to be able to say goodnight and know that nobody will be offended.

nuts!
sometimes you know your mind is entering a place that is one smidgeon removed from full on madness. it's good to catch yourself and step back before you plunge into that abyss. thursday i found myself standing at the back door, talking to the squirrel. it's been coming around daily and rummaging in my flower pots which are already pretty precarious because of the recent frost, and to distract it i threw down some peanuts for it. peanuts it just ignored like the dumb little furkin it is. so here i was, standing on the back stoop, talking to the squirrel (slowly and clearly, so that it might understand me):

moi: look, you moron! i gave you some peanuts! PEA-NUTS. RIGHT. OVER. HERE. don't you want them? listen, dumdum! PEEEEEA - NUTS. HERE!!!

then i realised what i was doing and i went sheepishly inside. the damn critter continued to ignore them and, with my track record with squirrels, i really can't blame it. but this batch is most certainly not poisoned, and i want it to leave my poor plants alone. but how do you reason with a squirrel?

march on:
on the topic of politics i will only say that i am so proud of all the women (and honorary women) who walked out today and spoke out with a big beautiful united roar. you go, ladies!

*yes, it's cucumber season in texas. go figger!

20 January, 2017

radio

while driving today i turned the radio on to my usual station (NPR, no surprise there) only to be greeted by the unctuous voice of the incoming commender-in-cheeto. i quickly smacked the off button and resigned myself to radio silence. if the united states has gone mad and i have to live here, i refuse to be exposed to the mouth-breathing diatribes of the millionaire vulgarian any more than necessary. when his voice graces ALL the radio waves and the secret police knock on my door, only then will i "voluntarily" turn my eardrums to what comes out of his tiny cat's anus of a mouth. enough about that.

*shudder*

searching through the airwaves for something else to listen to, i realised that the smorgasbord of radio stations around houston is really rather limited. what you have is this, in descending order of frequency:

1. the jesus stations. these occasionally play music that initially seems normal, but i have developed a hypersensitivity to content: i can scent "our lord and saviour" in 3 seconds or less.

2. the spanish stations. no problem with these, but there's only so much mexican polka music that i can listen to before i throw in my sombrero.

3. country. no, just no.

4. classic rock. not my kettle of fish. never was a fan, never will be. will stop on occasion when something nostalgic comes on.

5. rap. i'm not dismissive of rap as a whole - while i might not appreciate all of it, i don't make the mistake of an old person hollering, THAT'S NOT REAL MUSIC! and HEY, YOU KIDS, GET OFFA MY LAWN!!!  however, i'm not a fan of this particular sub-genre (don't ask me what it is, but it seems... i dunno... extra rappy?)

5. 80's music. when it's the stuff i love, it's great; when it's the stuff i hate, it's another channel i get to skip. seems about 30/70 not in my favour.

6. NPR, my beloved public radio. sadly, all too often of late they talk politics and my tolerance is low. i keep waiting for the secret police to shut them down. that day might be coming soon. i don't know. i don't wanna think about it.

when i do turn the radio on, i drive nervously jumping from station to station, knowing the pay-off is limited and unlikely, but hope keeps me alive.


EDITOR'S NOTE:
oops! i totally forgot the ubiquitous pop music station, brought to you by anonymous hook-ups,  a growing lack of respect for a solid arts education, and autotune!





13 January, 2017

genius of the wee hours

the night before last i couldn't sleep. unlike my typical insomnia* nightbrain™ was running full tilt on the hamster wheel. i tried to think calm soothing thoughts but instead, nightbrain™ kept whispering housekeeping suggestions to me: "pssst! the cereal shouldn't be in the laundry room**, why not do a little switcheroo and put the cereal in the pantry, where it belongs?" or "if you stack the metal boxes, you'll free up some shelf space in the office!" and so on. i eventually fell asleep some time before 3am, but it sure was worth it because the next morning i got up and implemented all of nightbrain's™ suggestions and you know what? nightbrain™ is fucking genius! i have spare booze in the laundry room now and cereal in the pantry! i have liberated 3 shelves in the office! we installed a lamp! i'm working on cafe curtains in the kitchen! granted, not all of the above is nightbrain™, but the fact is, i'm totally nesting.

what's cool is that i haven't really thought about these things. nightbrain™ came up with them all on its own, which means that i hadn't been thinking about them overtly, but somewhere under all the junk mail and dryer lint that constitutes my mind of late, there were plans being made. decisions decided upon. organization considered. now let's hope nightbrain™ can help me find a job.

* i'm tired. i'm NOT thinking about stuff. i can't fall asleep. my off switch is clearly broken.

** as i've said before, for a big ass house, this place sucks at storage. i keep one cabinet in the laundry room filled with pickling jars and lids, cereal, flour and sugar, as well as a big bottle of alcoholic plums***

*** the plums aren't alcoholics; they've been sitting in booze for so long they have now become one with it. boozy, boozy plums! come to think of it, they might very well be alcoholics by now...


12 January, 2017

tubes

on monday i had an endoscopy. i felt calm and relaxed about the whole thing right up until sunday night when it hit me that, hey! someone's gonna be sticking a very long tube with a camera at the end right into my giblets and rummaging around. then i got over it and slept.

when i got to the medical clinic and got presented with the nearly 1k bill, i almost decided, right then and there, that i could very simply stick an elongated selfie stick down my own throat, with similar effect but for far far less money. alas, common sense prevailed. having said that, i'm still not used to being billed for medical procedures and find it an absolutely odious way to run a country.

i was told to take off my wedding/engagement rings and because i so seldom do it, it took a whole packet of medical lubricant and some heavy duty contortions to get them removed. i told the nurses it clearly showed i don't pop into bars and pretend to be single on a regular basis. they had a chuckle over this (although it might have been the sight of red-faced me, grunting and twisting into bizarre postures to get those damn rings off).

in the pre-op room, i changed into a fetching butt-flapping robe, got fitted with a stylish hospital bracelet, and hooked up to IV. once in the operating room, i was told to gargle something vile-tasting, nearly impossible to gargle because of its viscosity. when i half-gagged, half-gargled as much as i could, dreaming of spitting the whole mess out, the nurse told me to swallow. low point of the day for damn sure.

in went an oxygen tube and a bite block. by then the drugs hit me because the last thing i remember is the gastroenterologist sticking a black thing in my mouth and then i woke up in the post op area, mr. monkey sitting beside me, stroking my head. i'd had full anesthesia before, and waking up from that is pure hell. whatever they gave me this time (some gorgeous thing ending in "ol", i think) was a down duvet of a drug. all the way home i went back and forth between slipping into a glorious semiconsciousness and talking ceaselessly. it was a strange combination, albeit a pleasant one.

i slept the rest of the day away and the following night. the verdict? my giblets are lovely to look at with the notable exception of my stomach lining which is the wrong colour apparently. funny how all these years nobody thought to mention that to me. too polite, i guess.

08 January, 2017

home

i don't know if it's the living out of a suitcase for 3 months that did it. or the glorious relief of the return to some semblance of mental health. or maybe it was the twinkling christmas tree that greeted me in my living room upon my return. perhaps it's simply a switch in the way i think about things. all i know is that this place is starting to feel like home. a proper MY home. i sit on the couch and take in my surroundings with pleasure. i'm filled with desire to tweak things, put up the remaining art, switch out a lamp - all indicators of nesting.

when i left, this place felt temporary and, in some small measure, hateful. i had little desire to do anything other than leave and make my home elsewhere. once again i'm surprised at the power of attitude, because i do think that above all else it is my decision to come back and make this my home that contributed the most to it starting to feel that way. sure, driving along the highways plastered with advertisements for medical procedures and gun shops still unnerves me, but i'm not going to let it get in my way of embracing the good. after all, edmonton has its own wealth of hateful ugliness to it, and since it's home i simply chose not to dwell on it. surely i can do the same here.

when i packed up my stuff for the move back south i wondered if i'd ever get a chance to wear my cozy scarves again. two days ago i got my wish - it went down to -4°C and we had to put our lemon and lime trees in the garage. for good measure we took in the potted rosemary too. yesterday morning we awoke to carnage: the ginger plants, the elephant's ears, the gorgeous huge bird of paradise by the pool, and many others seem to have taken a beating. i was surveying the front yard with a friend who said they would likely come back, but i've seen frost damage and this looked pretty serious to me. sigh... the first world problems of living in a sub-tropical region. we walked out and saw that the neighbour down the street did the right thing and covered nearly everything in his front yard with multicoloured sheets and fabric.

looks like laundry day, i laughed.
yeah - in africa! my friend, who is from south africa, answered.

fair enough. people aren't very likely to put their laundry out for display in north america, are they? still, next time these types of temperatures hit, i'll be sure to take my own load of laundry and scatter it about.

who'd have thought that -4°C would ever freak me out?

05 January, 2017

squirrel in the attic

mental health

the drugs seem to have kicked in. i'm in that sweet spot of not really feeling much of anything most of the time, and while i've heard people complain about this particular aspect of taking antidepressants, i'll take numb over miserable any day, thankyouverymuch.

i've gone off facebook and twitter. i've stayed away from the news. i'm working hard on maintaining my equanimity and separating myself from the shitstorm of "out there" seems to be a good start.

one thing that this whole adventure exposed is how far i am from real self knowledge. it knocked me off my smug complacency and it continues to do so in small after-shocks. but that's good, innit? it's good, sometimes, to be shown the limit of one's self-awareness. it just means i'll keep pushing ahead... in a while. in a little while. right now i'm taking a wee break.

books

one of the benefits of giving up social media and making a conscious effort to focus my energies on one thing at a time is that i'm back to reading books. it seemed for a while there that i was no longer able to sit and read for longer than mere minutes before i started itching to see what else was happening out there (an anxiety-promoting electronic FOMO). thankfully reading is back. phew! now i'm ready for the apocalypse.*

auto-complete is the window to your soul

i was texting sanity salad the other day and when i typed "talked about," one of the phone's autocomplete options was "vaginas" which made me super happy. apparently i type "talk about vaginas" often enough that my phone recognizes it as a pattern. sanity salad and i were tickled pink.

the eponymous squirrel

i'm assuming it's a squirrel. it might be an entirely different texan beast. a possum, perhaps? at any rate, something's up there and it's making a racket. might be time to revisit my old days of squirrel huntin'. this here's the country for it, that's for darn sure.


*it may be argued that i am always/never ready for the apocalypse. depends on the day.








01 January, 2017

happy new guy

2016 was an interesting year. i'll give it that. here's hoping 2017 is less interesting, and more given to peace and joy than the wanton decimation of democracy and beloved icons like its predecessor. let's all raise a glass to that, shall we?

we spent new year's eve with friends: eating, drinking, soaking in a hot tub, enjoying the balminess of the night, and generally being low key. after the last several years of hosting large new year's eve gatherings, it was lovely to simply sit on a couch and be.

when it came time to ring in the new year, we sort of missed the boat because PBS inexplicably played commercials at the very moment of midnight and by the time we got back to a commercial station, it was already after the fact, so we awkwardly clinked glasses of bubbly, hugged and kissed and then sat down again to watch a movie.

perhaps because i've been so... ahem... excessively mobile in the last year or so, i feel like all the usual trappings of tradition have become loosened, as evidenced by our unconventional christmas celebrations. with the socio-political changes in the world, too, it seems that tradition for its own sake is something to perhaps view with a degree of suspicion, or at the very least hold up to the light and question: why are we doing this? is there anything meaningful for us in this? what aspects are important enough to keep? what can be relinquished?

i see now that without the whole family around, i really feel very little need to have a traditional polish christmas celebration. it's definitely more about the people than the food, and when the people aren't there, it becomes stripped of meaning. grocery store sushi will do just fine, thank you.

i am reminded of our first few christmases in canada, just my parents and i: there was a poignancy to the fact that after all the preparations we would sit down to a meal of 3 just like any other day, that without the bustling noisy atmosphere, it never really felt proper, despite my mom's best culinary efforts. very quickly we started sharing our christmas eve supper with other polish families who were in the same boat, and having 10 people around the table made it seem festive, special, even without any blood ties.

it's quiet here, peaceful. green and warm and pleasant, and i'm working on getting the best out of it, and out of the new year.

dearest poultries, may this year bring you relief from ailments, anxieties, and uncertainty; may it bring you health and hope and joy; may you be loved and understood; and most of all, may you be at peace!




28 December, 2016

things fall apart (with sauerkraut and mushrooms)

eating inappropriately seems to be a thing. as stated before, christmas dinner consisted of leftover tuna casserole. tonight's supper is a glass of sparkling white wine and a bowl of cheerios.

it's worth noting, however, that today i did several loads of laundry, ironed some seriously wrinkled pants, helped mr. monkey with certain work-related documents, and started working on a giant batch of bigos, having recently been inducted into the family culinary secrets.

it must be said that from its description, the dish sounds rather... unappetizing? if properly made, however, it is of surpassing deliciousness and my uncle's version (originally made by my maternal grandfather who made this part of his Manly Cookery repertoire) is the very best i've ever had. my mom's, my mother-in-law's, anyone else's, really, simply doesn't compare, and last week my uncle allowed me to participate in the blessed event: watching, sprinkling things judiciously into a Very Large Pot, mixing, tasting, and mixing some more. the end result was phenomenal (each year we say he has surpassed himself, though how likely is it that perfection should get ever more perfect?) we'll see how mine turns out.  because it is a two day process one typically makes large amounts and freezes them for future consumption. i'll let you know. better yet, you can drop by for a taste!

so that's that.



things that happened, in a vaguely chronological order

friday:
i gave the 2 year old a black eye. not my proudest moment, and entirely accidental, but it happened: my elbow made contact with her wee little face and an hour later she looked like a total bad ass.

side note: i sure am missing hanging out on the bed with the small cuddly humans watching movies. mr. monkey, sweet as he can occasionally be, is not anywhere near as cuddly.

saturday (christmas eve):
woke up at 3:06am, 14 min before the alarm was scheduled to go off. the sky was that particular snowfall pink and a fine sparkling dust was blowing everywhere. the drive to the airport went off without a hitch, but the sheer madness there made me vow never to fly on christmas eve again. i was forced to unpack bits of one suitcase and shove it into another one, as one was too heavy and one was light. not sure why this couldn't have evened itself out, but what do i know of the science of stacking suitcases in an airplane to prevent listing? nothing, that's what.

arrived in houston in one exhausted coughing snotty piece. came home to find a christmas tree decorated by 3 lovely elves. mr. monkey was not one of them, but he did give them access, so that counts for something.

christmas eve, the biggest of big deals in polish culture, passed us by. we drank a way-too-sweet lambrusco and ate grocery store sushi and gyoza. no biggie.

sunday (christmas day):
drank coffee by the pool. mr. monkey tinkered with the volvo. i read a book outside. our supper was left-over tuna casserole. not particularly christmassy either, but it was a nice quiet day. if i wanted to run away from my excessive social life and fall into a fluffy quietude, then i have succeeded.

monday (boxing day):
went to a walk-in clinic. looks like it's bronchitis II. came out with antibiotics, cough syrup, and some wee pills that are supposed to stop the coughing. went to see star wars: rogue one, and enjoyed it quite a bit (hurray for low expectations!) the last scene was super cool and also very poignant in light of yet another celebrity death.

drove to austin in the evening.

tuesday:
did some official stuff in austin. the state capital office was in a gorgeous old building but seemed logistically stuck in the early 1980's: we had to fill out chits with our credit card info, and watched the lovely lady punch things into her surprisingly modern computer. i was expecting a typewriter and carbon paper, but nope, just lacking basic* credit card infrastructure. tiny cheap pens: small government apparently means tiny pens.

walked around austin for hours, hoping to adopt a stray agave pup, but alas, those things are hard to rip out of the earth sans shovel. we were ill equipped for this.

drove back home. went to sleep.


*once again, as with american banking, i'm shocked at how many years behind they seem to be here in certain areas: did i tell you about seeing a young woman paying for groceries with a cheque? or people lining up at a bank window to withdraw money?! i know, right? while also simultaneously boasting futuristic weaponry and state-of-the-art computer technology. a country of contradictions, this is.

15 December, 2016

exeunt, pursued by a bear

for the three months that i managed to hold an adult office lady job, one of my small daily frustrations  was the battle with the toilet paper dispenser.

our office had typical toilet cubicles, each equipped with a spinning 4-roll dispenser. in the morning, it was more likely than not that i'd come upon a dispenser filled with 4 virgin rolls, which meant that i had to start the damn thing. since the spinning mechanism was rather loose, each time i almost managed to grab a roll, it would spin away from me, leaving me holding the tiniest piece of paper, roughly of a size needed to daintily dab the lips of a fruit fly.

after several such attempts, i would find myself still toilet-paperless, having produced nothing but a sizeable pile of wee little paper scraps on the floor and having also pretty much managed to drip dry to the point of toilet paper pointlessness. by then, though, i was committed to the process.

eventually i'd get frustrated (this took longer than one would think) and start tearing the nearest toilet roll with one finger, while jamming my other hand into the receptacle to stop the inevitable spin. this, more often than not, ended up with me pulling out a mangled chunk of toilet paper that was only about 2 squares long, but approximately 47 layers thick, i.e. exceedingly comfortable to use.

take that, toilet paper bears!

14 December, 2016

a barber shop quintet (badgers not included)

heading south in 10 days. in the meantime i've got good days and bad - i haven't had a weeping episode since i quit my job but the purple bad boys don't seem to be kicking in quite yet. yes, i'm supposed to give them 2-4 weeks, but i was really hoping for the same sort of nearly immediate miracle that the pink pills brought me. or how the steroid injection in my elbow 36h ago (damn you, tennis!) seems to have completely taken the pain away. perhaps i need a steroid injection in my soul? brain? heart? not quite sure where it would have to go, although i do happen to know exactly where my anxiety and depression sit* (thank you, mindfulness!)

i'm doing good things like: seeing people, tickling kids, buying barbie dolls (ptooie!), drinking drinks, discussing skinny house blueprints, going to movies, etc. i'm also feeling deeply overwhelmed by relatively small things like: do i replace the battery in my car (linked to - do i keep the car? do i drive the car down south in the near future? do i give the car to my parents who might or might not be moving west this spring? do i sell the car? what do i do with the damn car? (again)) do i pay my urban planning association dues for this year (linked to - am i running away from this profession again? is this a cop out? what's wrong with me? etc.)? and if i pay the dues (i probably will, just in case), what do i do about my continuing education courses that are required?

the good thing about being a depression pro is that i know none of these things are insurmountable and can be attacked in small manageable pieces. the bad thing about being a depression pro is that i know that logic can be used as a blunt weapon with as much force as i can muster and it still won't make a dent in the darkness.

still, some light in said darkness. i saw my bananologist and we discussed what i have learned regarding future jobs/careers: i don't care about status (clearly if i did i'd have some by now). i don't care about being challenged (hey, living is challenge enough). i don't care about money (a position of privilege of which i am fully aware). what i do care about is relationships. the primary measure of any future professional success, or lack thereof, will be predicated on the quality of the relationships that i can build at work. N1 and N2 were clear indications of this and it's a good and handy thing to know. plus the most cursory glance at my 20 years of working reveals that i have not held any one job for any length of time. i have temped and part-timed my way through a big chunk of my adulthood, and not always because of moving. it's one way to keep one's feet out of the quagmire of politicking and bullshit. it's good to learn things.

and that's it for now.


*my depression sits right at the xiphoid process; my anxiety sits higher up on the sternum. now you know.

09 December, 2016

freedom or failure?

i resigned from my job on monday. i worked my last day yesterday. it was all done in a positive and classy way with no feelings hurt or bridges burned.

what i feel:

relief: from the increasingly overwhelming and ubiquitous misery and uncontrollable crying.

shame: what is wrong with me that i can't handle working a job like regular folk?

residual sadness and confusion: not expecting that to end overnight.

excitement: at going back to mr. monkey AND the 2 weeks i now get to hang out with my people.

hope: that i will figure something out to be a semi-productive member of society. i have some ideas but i'm not supposed to say because apparently that can take the place of doing, and we don't want that.

cold: it's been  hovering around -20°C here all week and it's showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. oh well, i have the clothes for it and i'll take -20°C over any flavour of september any day.

sick: i can't seem to shake this respiratory shit that's been hounding me, but hopefully once i'm back in texas, i'll be able to breathe properly again. one thing i'll give texas: i did not get sick once.

cautiously optimistic: i will work on embracing the good in my chosen home base. after all, i lived for 5 years in fort mcmurray; i think i can handle living in a beautiful-if-dull community in texas. besides, i was only dissatisfied living there, not sobbingly miserable. there's a difference, i have found out, and it's heavily skewed towards dissatisfied, as it's more easily remedied, and with less dependence on pharmaceuticals.

grateful: for the unfailing and ever patient support i have received from all the people in my life, and that includes the emails and comments from you, my faithful poultries.

i'm hoping that this blog can stop being a platform for my mental health issues, but if not, well, so be it. it's a surprisingly effective form of mental health support, and i won't shy away from using it but here's hoping i can fill these here pages with the occasional guffaw to take the edge off.


01 December, 2016

explanations

how do you explain to someone who has only ever had a situational depression that your depression is based on nothing but the chemicals in your brain? how do you tell someone you love and who loves you that you are broken and scared that he will stop loving you because of how illogical and broken you are? how do you explain to him that his attempts to make you look at this logically are not only fruitless but also hurtful? i know none of this is logical. i know i've only been here two months. i know he only left less than a week ago. none of this matters. what matters is that i'm broken and sad.

i am a broken fucked up nest of snakes, inextricably tangled, hopeless and stupid and annoying and useless. i know none of these things are true but the point is, they FEEL true, and feeling will always beat knowing when it feels this real.

mr. monkey told me to see someone. not a counsellor, someone else. i don't know who i'm supposed to see. a psychiatrist? he'll give me more drugs. i already have more drugs which seem to not be working. unless their point is to make me cry uncontrollably for long intervals, seemingly out of the blue in which case, they're working brilliantly.

seriously, though, if you have any ideas about how to explain depression to the un-depressed in terms that they can understand, i'd totally appreciate any links or suggestions.

took half a sleeping pill.
seem to be drying off a bit in the eyeball department.
good night.

30 November, 2016

rivers

a poem that took a long time getting written:


A river of bunnies, real loathsome and vile
Are strutting down Champs Elysees single file

A river of hedgehogs, hopped up on pink pills
Hot-wiring cars for some cheap nighttime thrills

A river of donkeys, so tough and tattooed
Could talk to your grandma and not once be rude

A river of weasels, all dressed up in blue
Went into a deli and ordered a stew

A river of swordfish, très fancy and suave
Picked up a marshmallow but ate a guimauve

A river of turtles, with wind in their hair
Are burning down Main Street to outrun the hare

A river of monkeys, bewildered by sin
Drank liquor and let all the strippers come in

A river of aardvarks, astute and aware
Uncovered deep truths and laid secrets bare

A river of kittens in warm fuzzy hats
Decided that dogs were superior to cats

A river of lizards, amazed all the while,
Walked in looking blah, but walked out in style

A river of hedgehogs, entombed in despair
Walked slowly with ashes and rain in their hair

A river of puppies came up with a plan:
They all quit their jobs and ran off to Bhutan

A river of possums, morose and uncool,
Picked up some plastique and blew up the school


27 November, 2016

stuff

the upside of minimalism:

  • fewer dishes to wash
  • reduced capacity for entertaining and elaborate meals
  • easier household maintenance
the downside of minimalism:
  • cutting your toenails with utility scissors 

black and grey

it seems like we haven't had sun here for weeks. this is most likely not the case, but that's what it feels like. all grey skies all the time, inside and out, baby!

this morning i put mr. monkey on the plane and only shed about 17 tears. i then went to the doctor and got myself diagnosed with bronchitis. the examination was perfunctory at best, and i feel that had i shown up with a leg bitten off by a tiger, he'd have diagnosed me with the exact same thing. still, he's the one with the M and the D after his name, so what do i know? maybe there's a particular sound that unwell bronchioles emit which all doctors can immediately recognize.

two of my ladies, knowing full well that i might be a bit of an emotional mess today, stepped up: sanity salad took me out for breakfast, and then, joined by crusty juggler, we headed for a day at the-formerly-largest-mall-in-the-world-alas-no-more-but-still-damn-well-big-enough-what-with-the-ship-the-amusement-park-the-waterpark-the-whale-the-skating-rink-and-the-walruses-or-whatnot. there's something about that particular mall (since i despise malls in general) that soothes me. perhaps because it is the mall of my youth, the place i'd go to hang out with my best friends when i was but a girl. there's also something strangely comforting about being surrounded by masses of humanity that you don't actually have to interact with. it's not a mood i get often, but when i do, west ed hits the spot.

we walked, we shopped, we tried on expensive penis-shaped hats, we laughed our asses off, and sat watching people skate,. after the mall, we went to crusty and d's house, where d made his Amazingly Delicious Udon Noodles and then crusty finished the night off with Ridiculously Yummy Lime Bars. i'm now in bed, feeling the greyness settle on me. perhaps i'll watch some telly and then catch up on my sleep. i pretty much decided that i'm taking tomorrow off work - the cough/chest pain combo, even though it doesn't pack the dramatic punch a heart attack, is doing a number on me.

this big empty house sure seems extra big and empty tonight. as much as mr. monkey's presence seems to immediately result in a mess, i would welcome it with open arms. i have a bananologist appointment on wednesday. hopefully she can help me unpack some of the bad decision-making that's been happening around here of late.

this is one of those posts without a satisfactory denouement, so i'll just cut it off here and bid you all adieu and a sweet night. know that your words of care and your encouragement and your worries about my health are most appreciated and really do help to lift the grey a little bit. you are, by far, the best poultries a woman could wish for!


things that go "plop" in the night

this house is noisy. all manner of snaps, crackle, and pops, but i don't really care all that much except when they wake me up at 4am and my body cares because it is jolted awake by an adrenalin surge. but otherwise, meh.

mr. monkey is here. this is making me see that he really is some sort of anti-depressant in human form, since i'm only now FINALLY realising that each time i leave him, i fall into deep depression. perhaps i ought to stop leaving him.

here's the thing: he wants me to come back. he misses me. he wants me there BUT he wants me to prove myself first (to the office, sure, but to myself predominantly) and the very possibility of going back to texas, while not at the top of my hurrah-list, is making me rethink my definition of home. because, sure, edmonton is home, but you know what is home most of all? mr. monkey. i bet y'all knew that already! i bet y'all were sitting there in your various arm chairs looking at my life choices, shaking your heads, and saying, tsk, tsk, is it really such a good idea to leave your man behind when you actually super-like him? my mom recently told me that for a person with depressive tendencies i seem to make a lot of life choices specifically designed to make my life harder. she's got a point.

granted, i was supposed to be the avant garde, the scouting mission, the one sent to prepare the way, all john the baptist like, but now that mr. monkey's horrid boss is no more, he is suddenly sleeping and enjoying work and not thinking about coming back right away at all. sure, who knows? with the inflamed orange anal gland in power in the US things might get all sorts of interesting (shudder) but for now, he's happy.


WRITTEN THE NEXT DAY OR TWO DAYS LATER, WHO KNOWS, DOES'T REALLY MATTER, OR (AS MY BOSS-FRIEND SAYS TO MOST MANY THINGS I SAY) IRRELEVANT:

he's flying out tomorrow morning and i've been bawling my eyes out like a crazy person, complete with snot bubbles and strange guttural howling noises and wheezing because i have no voice (see below) and here's the kicker: i've been suffering from some sort of respiratory infection that has me hacking out my phlegmy lungs, but in the last 2 days i've developed increasingly sharp pain in my chest and, because decisions are HARD, i'm having this super awesome wish that maybe it's a heart attack (hey! it could happen!) and if it is, then i won't have to go to work and i'll have a most excellent excuse to go be with mr. monkey while i recuperate! so this is where i'm at, my poultries, wishing for a heart attack, or trying to figure out what exactly a nervous breakdown might look like, because i seem to be too highly functioning for that, unless you count all the crying all the time, (although i do seem to manage to keep that outside of the 9-5).

ah, fuck. look, people, don't worry about it. or, you know, worry about it as much as you wish, but writing here is a strange and free therapy that i engage in, and i know i've been dumping a lot on you lately (worry not! i have a possibly funny post about toilet paper in the works! the chortles never stop here!) so if you're fresh out of words of sympathy etc. don't fret about it. just do like you do on zhoen's blog and drop me a stone (o) to let me know you're here, but no need to try and make me feel better because i have just recently added another pretty pill to my repertoire (a purple round one to go with the pink square one! hurray for pretty colours!) so hopefully that shit kicks in in a few days. hell, who knows, i might stop caring so deeply and thoroughly that i'll just stay here in this big shiny empty echoing snapping house, all by myself, and continue to go work for someone who, i'm fairly certain, has not yet said one positive thing to me about me or my work, and keep doing this corporate thing that i am evidently utterly unsuited for.

anyone wanna start a commune or something? i'm SO damn good at escape fantasies! if only one could get paid for that shit.

17 November, 2016

BANANANANANANAS!

i have another 2h before mr. monkey lands so i might as well talk to you. hi. how are you? are things going well for you? i certainly hope they are. i like you. i want you to be happy. am i happy? why, no, no i am not. i have my moments, sure, but i'd say that overall, the prevailing winds have not been happy winds.

the other day at work i gradually realised i was so anxious and tense that all the muscles in my head were feeling super twangy, like tightly wound guitar strings. TWANGGGG!!!! TWANNGGGGG!!! i had to use every power in my meagre considerable mental health arsenal of mindfulness to de-twang my muscles. i didn't manage to do it all the way, just enough to enable me to breathe properly. breathing is important, i'm told.

why was i so stressed? ah, see, there's this vicious circle that happens when you're depressed/anxious: you feel like shit, and so you come to believe that you're shit, and the work you're doing is shit, and you're liable to get fired in approximately, oh, say 5 minutes, and the anxiety caused by those thoughts causes you to become dull - all of that mental energy focused on the fight-or-flight response doesn't give you all that much intellectual wiggle room so you miss things, obvious things, and because you already feel like shit, you think, hey! i'm missing obvious things because i'm a shitty idiot who's shit at the job she's doing and that she's about to be fired from. this doesn't tend to make you feel better and so the spiral continues.

i'm currently learning to use the practice of mindfulness to nip this in the bud, but boy howdy, this particular anxiety attack was a doozy! (huh - is that how you spell doozy? seems weird, no?) at any rate, it happened several times and because my tennis elbow* was becoming seriously painful, i decided to go see my doctor. ok, confession time: i'd decided to go see my doctor about a month ago but somehow something always managed to come up and so i put my health second. tonight i finally saw my doctor and now i'm getting cortisone shots in my tennis elbow (whenever i get around to it).  i also told her that my anti-bananas medication isn't working any more. and i need more. please and thank you.

ok, let's reframe. i suspect that if i lived a normal life in which i lived in some sort of stability, with one job, in one place, with one husband, the anti-bananas medications would function quite well. alas, i keep engaging in massive upheavals like a crazy person (ha!) which means that my life choices have resulted in chaos that is far beyond the range of what your average decently acting anti-bananas medication can handle. the fault is not in the anti-bananas medication; the fault is in my life choices. i admit it, but nevertheless, i need more anti-bananas.

my doctor will consult her wise books, she will converse with a shrinkologist, and she will write me a prescription for something to will fill the gaps in my sanity. perhaps all this will work and it will result in me 1. not being fucking miserable all the time, 2. not having a twangy head, 3. figuring out what the hell i want from life (other than mental health, again, please and thank you).

in the meantime, mr. monkey's going to be here in just over an hour!!!!!!!!!!!!


*this time it's my left arm which i use to play tennis exactly as much as my right arm, which suffered from tennis elbow several years ago. i'm SO giving up tennis.

14 November, 2016

seven smiles

i've been wanting to write since last tuesday but, as you can well imagine, anything i'd have written would have been well marinated in tears and bile and a deep visceral anger. i didn't write the post i'd meant to write* and so i didn't write at all but then sweet lucy presented me with a meme that counterbalances at least some of the darkness: 7 good memories, an easy task, i'd think, given my ability to dress my past in garlands of joy (it's the present that is difficult, innit?)

  1. my first christmas outside of the communist block - we walk the streets of a tiny mountain town in austria where we are waiting out the seemingly endless immigration process to canada, and i am astounded by the sheer beauty of the store windows: lit up, filled to the brim with lights and decorations, sparkling and joyful. this is new to me after the dour greyness of the poland of my childhood. it seems like the very soul of christmas - snow, candles, toys, colours, and beauty - so much beauty!
  2. i'm walking to my university class, the first class i've taken since becoming a dental hygienist several years earlier. i'm excited at the intellectual stimulation that i'm finally getting but it's also summer - may? june? it's early afternoon and the sun is golden and syrupy and it lights up the cotton willow fluff that seems to be dancing from the sky in slow motion. years later, this moment comes back to me again and again as a confirmation of  quotidian magic. 
  3. my cousin calls my cell just as i leave the gym. i sit in the volvo in the rain and he tells me he has a daughter and i immediately love her, sight unseen, and sit in the car and we cry over the phone, both of us loving this small first child in the family. 
  4. i walk up to a street at the university and mr. monkey is there, waiting for me, standing by his bike, wearing one of his awful striped shirts. i see him and i feel my face breaking into a smile so huge it threatens to fall right off my cheeks. it's not dramatic. it's not romantic. it's just love, that's all.
  5. we're walking along a fern-leaved path somewhere in oregon. it's damp, green, misty and absolutely lush. the stream we are following weaves in and out of the foliage and then, suddenly, without any warning at all we find ourselves in a deep valley, the walls covered in a multitude of terns bedazzled by dew, which opens up to a wide white beach. you can hear the ocean out there... i don't think i've ever seen a place like this - elves should live here, not humans, and yet here we are. 
  6. i get off the tram and am walking to school. i can see my shadow on the sidewalk and i've got two huge red bows in my hair. i feel so grown up, such an independent girl. i'm in grade 1 or 2. 
  7. i've only recently gotten my driver's licence (late bloomer that i am) and i now have a brand new second hand car to go with it. i live in calgary but my friends and boyfriend are in whitecourt. it's a bit of a drive but when i fly along the secondary highways of central alberta, i feel indomitable, the world belongs to me: it's not the car but my own damn superpower that drags the highway beneath the wheels, pulling me along home. i am a goddess!
my natural tendency in these dark days has been to hunker down in the land of fantasy, or at the very least to stay away from the news. between that and full immersion there must be a happy medium that will keep me informed but not broken-hearted. i'm still looking for it. and in the meantime? books. 



* about how, at 44, i've finally been given to understand the full depth, breadth, and sheer unadulterated ugliness of misogyny in a way that evades my ability to forget the bad. oh, world, you are an ugly place right now!

06 November, 2016

#nospoons

i was living in my cousin's basement up to a week ago. that's where i had that breakdown from the last post. sitting on a sofa bed in the dark at 2am, bawling my damn fool eyeballs out. things feel better now.

last thursday i moved into my cousin's gorgeous brand new house that's huge and airy and modern  and white and echoing in all sorts of magical ways. it's never been lived in and because he feels it won't sell over the winter, i've been set up as a sort of house sitter. my rent is exactly what it would be in my parents' rental plus it's about a 7 min walk to work. i feel like a rich person without the encumbrances of furniture. just me and some beautiful art on the walls. i do get a bed. and a couple towels.

the night i moved in here, i went to the grocery store and bought myself the makings of a greek salad. i realised i had no knives so i bought one of those and only when i was unpacking the groceries did i realise that i had neither forks nor spoons. i cut the salad fixin's into large pieces and ate it with my fingers. the next morning's planned yogurt for breakfast didn't happen for obvious reasons and i broke fast with a glass of milk and granola eaten straight from a box. posting my plight on facebook (#nospoons) caused a friend to give me a beautifully bundled bunch of mismatched spoons from a second hand store and yogurt has become a reality. funny how simple life can be. i wanted to minimize my possessions. i wanted fewer spoons. joke's on me!

the house is right on the edge of downtown, and right on the edge of a ravine. there's the constant comforting drone of traffic on the road below but all i see is trees. it's a strange sort of lot and it's the reason my cousin bought it - best of both worlds. yesterday morning, i looked out the window of my upstairs bedroom at the large sloping yard and noticed that one of the pieces of recently laid sod was flipped upside down. i walked down in the afternoon and flipped it back over. this morning, another piece was upside down. i admit i was a little freaked out - animals don't scare me; bipeds with a bizarre sense of humour do. i called my cousin and found out the likeliest culprit is the coyotes that lived on this lot until it was taken from them by the development. coyotes i can deal with, though i do wish they'd leave the outdoor "carpeting" alone.

work goes. it's interesting and some days fulfilling. personality issues are being ironed out. i'm teaching myself that part of choosing to put my big girl pants on is growing a thicker skin or at least learning to take things less personally, or, at the very least, not considering running away whenever i feel mistreated or disrespected. most days i succeed. i meditate daily. i walk more than i have for the last year in texas. i miss mr. monkey and am consistently failing to get him to pick up his cellphone when i call, so our communication is limited to daily morning calls to his work landline and late evening skype sessions. clearly, he's not a fan of the telephone portion of cellular technology.

i will try to blog more, but right now i'm relishing my silence and peace. trying to piece together some semblance of balance and inner peace in what is really a rather unhinged time in my life.

09 October, 2016

elm branches outlined in snow

i tried newness. each time it was the old adage - wherever you go, there you are. some places were fine; some horrid, but newness by itself achieved nothing. just like coming home, despite the comfort level inherent in it, will achieve nothing without an active input of... oh god, i'm not quite sure of what, though it's some flavour of being a responsible grown-up who doesn't run away the second things turn wonky.

i drove home today from a delightful turkey dinner and caught snippets of my past in my rear view mirror. turning down one street conjured up flashes of my 20's. driving under an overpass brought back my teenage self, high school bound, high on the drug that is young adulthood. not whole memories but tiny shards with just enough context to bring back stories about my life.

that is the joy (and pain) of being home - so many tales on every street corner, under particular trees, around bends, and bridges. this place has stories of me written all over the map, and i am fine with that: right now i want to be somewhere that knows the stages of my being - who i was, who i am, all that happened in between. this place means i was, i am,  though no promises of i will be - one never knows.

it snowed all friday afternoon, all saturday, and a chunk of sunday. last year the october long weekend was sunshine and warmth - you never know around here. slush, snow, a windshield wiper that chose the most inopportune moment to self destruct, and a winter that came too soon (although winter comes when it comes. "too soon" is not a term that can be applied in this case, no matter what we think).


this one other small thing (again):

i've been angry for the last couple of days. impatient. petulant. livid. done. exhausted. because i feel the darkness coming and i am so profoundly sick and tired of it. i feel like i work on my mental health so goddamned hard and the chemicals in my brain are all, hey! you know what? FUCK you! fuck you and your effort!  mindfulness? pfffft! meditation? ptooie on your meditation! conscious breathing? i fart in your general direction! therapy? ha! expensive designer drugs? well, that was nice for a year or two, wasn't it? but now? FUCK those too! the joy of coming home? FUCK that! new job? MASSIVE SELF-ESTEEM CRISIS!!! FUCK YEAH! breathing? SO OVER IT! another 40-50 years of this? no, thanks. i am a morbidly obese person living on celery and water, running a marathon a day, and still gaining weight that (spoiler alert!) isn't muscle.

yeah, i realise i have moved cities (and provinces AND countries) in the last 6 years. i have dropped out of a lengthy career-type whatsit, gone to grad school, left my husband to live by myself twice, started two new jobs, etc. etc. all of which, statistically speaking, is pretty much designed to fuck up my equanimity, and i've done it not once, not twice, but, like, a whole bunch of times that still manages to stick to the single digits but just barely. so yeah, technically i know i have a right to feel this way, but i also know that i don't give a goddamned fuck about how unsurprising this is - i just want to feel human again. hissy fit? why, yes! yes, i am having a hissy fit! i am having a hissy fit because i'm so over being allergic to life.

and btw, dear poultries, don't feel the need to be helpful and stuff because this isn't an easy one (or any longer an interesting one, if it ever was that) to comment on. i have my tools; they have proven ineffective. i am searching for new tools, so really just wish me luck and move on. nothing to see here. someone will come by and clean up the mess soon, i'm sure.


05 October, 2016

ideological delousing

when i first told my cousin i had applied for a job in edmonton, his immediate reaction was to invite me to stay as long as i needed. when i got the job, he announced they'd hose down and delouse the guest bedroom in readiness for me. and indeed, when i arrived it was neater than i'd ever seen it. living here is noisier and far more chaotic than i'm used to, but it's pretty damn nice - pretty damn nice, too, to have dinner ready for when i get home!

yesterday, my second day at the office (an utter shit day: emotions welled up; i felt useless and annoying; i missed mr. monkey so badly it hurt; i wanted nothing more than to curl up and cry) i called my cousin after work to chat and he announced that the girls had lice. i itched in the capital region for the remainder of the walk, and, once home, we were all treated with lotions and potions, we washed hair, we dried hair, we combed hair. i was hoping to have been spared but alas, i found one vile creature and something that could possibly have been an egg. so. fucking. gross.

today the adventure continued: my cousin and his wife spent the whole day combing the kids' hair and nit-picking like a pack of tall blonde baboons after the girls were refused entry to school. i would have found it funny if i wasn't one of the afflicted. i'm sitting here now, tea tree oil, lavender oil, and some industrial strength concoction marinating on my head, killing the noxious creatures. wish me luck, wouldya?



30 September, 2016

update

sad homecoming turned into busy/fun/exciting/overwhelming homecoming, so, just as i suspected, it is fine. sadness will come. it always does, but being here feels so absolutely natural, like a puzzle piece just popped right in.

it smells like rotting leaves, the air is chill, there is a koselig feeling to it all, and mr. monkey's absence notwithstanding, things are good. i'm home.

29 September, 2016

today's theme: crying in airports

fairly self explanatory, methinks.

heading home is bittersweet.

28 September, 2016

the gelatinous sads

so i'm in the middle of an entirely unproductive morning, too busy feeling like shit to get shit done. crying, actually, because i suddenly feel like my silly little heart is gonna break, even though i know it won't, and i know we'll be fine, and i know we've done it before, but try explaining that to a crying heart. it just won't listen. and since whenever i feel like shit i come here, here i am. again.

let's talk this through, shall we? let's dig through all the gelatinous bitter tear goop and get at the hard kernel of truth beneath:

1. taking this job was the right and correct decision. i have no doubt of this.

2. moving back to edmonton is the right thing to do.

3. i have an unbelievable support network in edmonton - family and friends, and i don't mean "hey, you're ok!" friends but true heart's friends, amazing human beans that bring joy into my life and make me think better about myself.

4. looking for work in texas (like, seriously furiously looking, not just sending out a couple resumes as i did) was beyond me for reasons such as: i don't want to live in texas.

5. i don't want to live in texas. not for any length of time.

6. i don't want to live in the US. love visiting, don't wanna live here.

7. mr. monkey feels the same about 2. and 5., although maybe not as emphatically as i do, so me moving home is a good first step in getting both of us home.

8. i am excited about this job, like for realz, not just because it's a job.

9. i have a year+ blank in my resume, which means that i needed to get this job badly.

10. mr. monkey will be home in november for a week, and then i will be in texas for christmas. we will see each other. we can talk daily because technology.

11. staying in texas is not an option. if i stay in texas and fail to find a job, things between us will revert to tense and all the sweetness will be lost. i will hate myself, i will feel like i'm wasting my life, i will be angry and ugly and bitter. he will resent me, he will feel like he's working his ass off for the both of us, he will be tired and stressed and i will see it and hate myself even more. this has happened before and is not just a theoretical exercise. so, let me repeat: staying in texas is not an option.

having enumerated all the logical bits and pieces, it's clear that this is the correct decision and i am not making a mistake. what i am doing is feeling entirely reasonable feelings under the circumstances: this sucks. it sucks badly and hurts a lot but it doesn't change the facts, which are that i must put my big girl pants on (jesus! i haven't worn pants in months!!!) and feel my feels, and then get shit done and move on, and make things work.

27 September, 2016

pirate pairings

we were at tb's for both a hockey game and an unofficial goodbye. i admit i may have had one glass of cava too many by the time tb started telling us about the brunch he had in austin on sunday.

tb: it was a restaurant linked to one of the people from perla's*. it's called june's. june is a somali...

moi: (laughing) is she a pirate?!

tb: ?

moi: (guffawing) arrrrgh, matey!!!

tb: ...

moi: (bending over and chortling) does she have a wooden leg?!!!

mr. monkey: (miming) does she scratch her glass eye with her hook hand? hhhrrrt! hhhhrt!

tb: ...

moi: (starting to weep with hilarity) does she have a parrot on her shoulder? "polly want a cracker!"

tb:  ... as i was saying, june is a SOMMELIER...

moi: oh... that last bit must have seemed confusing for you then.

tb: i did eventually get what you were going for, having just seen captain phillips.

moi: oh, good...

tb: she does grog pairings.



*we'd all had a fabulous dinner at perla's on saturday.

26 September, 2016

coming right up

thursday afternoon i go home. this might be the very first time in my life i ever bought a one way ticket anywhere (well, except for the whole immigration thing but i didn't actually buy that ticket so it doesn't count)! i'm excited and happy and utterly miserable because it's hitting me now (again and again and again in little intense bursts of misery) that i'm leaving mr. monkey behind. it'll be fine, i'm sure, because i'll be busy and surrounded by my people, but i really do kinda like the guy. like, a lot. and we've been getting along really well lately which makes things worse. which sounds weird, i realise, but i kinda wish we'd be fighting and growly and mad at each other, and thoughtless and mean, so i'd be happy to leave. alas, we're disgustingly deeply enjoying each other right now. damn.

sanity salad visited for a lovely week. we meditated every day and walked and biked and kayaked and drank too much wine and lo, it was good. we spent this last weekend in austin and i can't recommend that city enough. it's everything that the woodlands is not - highly walkable, architecturally varied, filled with lots of independent businesses, many interesting looking people, great little restaurants, cooly renovated 50's architecture featuring a lot of breeze blocks, many dogs, great coffee shops, the most gorgeous landscaping i'd ever seen in a city (agaves! prickly pears! something that looks like a relative of lavender but smells like bitter orange mixed with sage! yukkas the size of giraffes! ivy! and more!) we saw less than we wanted but also managed to relax, which is important on vacation.

driving back (on a schedule since we had to deliver SS to the airport on time), we hit the classic texas rainstorm, which was not the best time to realise that our front tires are essentially bald. hydroplaning ensued but we survived. let's just say that it was very fortuitous that i sat in the back and missed most of the drama, because i don't have the best track record for staying calm in situations of near death and SS handled it beautifully, which is precisely what was needed at that moment. we got her to the airport with only a minor delay and all was good. directly after that, we went out to a japanese hot pot (shabu shabu) place where we met friends who wanted to say good bye to me over broth and slices of raw meat. then mr. monkey and i came home and continued to get along famously, which is really just getting annoying.

it's now half past ten and i'm still in bed, reading and writing, and doing my best to put off the inevitable - i.e. finishing packing. i don't mind packing, but i do mind having to get up... today. not normally - normally i am out of bed within minutes of waking. this is, i'm sure, some sort of psychological whatsit that i need to overcome and overcome it i will. as soon as i finish writing this. and reading this one other thing. and... well, ok, no, i will most definitely get up then. i'm getting hungry and it's getting close to lunch.




16 September, 2016

a weighty matter

two days ago i went to see my doctor about a thing growing out the side of my lower back. i didn't think it was cancerous but just in case it was a long-lost twin popping in for a lengthy visit i had her treat it with nitrogen. good bye, twin! as with my last visit, the first thing that happened was being asked to step on a scale. remembering how it went down last time*, i didn't look down. fuck that, i can hate myself for plenty of reasons that do not include a scientifically proven measurement of my weight.

at some point i mentioned having started swimming and walking again and the doctor said, ah! that's why you lost nearly 20 pounds. i nearly passed out, because generally, when i'm not paying attention, i tend to gain pounds, not lose them. then again, the temperatures over the last several months have hovered between jesus-h-fucking-christ-what-the-fuck-is-this and too-damn-hot-for-human-habitation, which means i ate a lot of salad. then the temperatures dropped to oh-for-god's-sake-you-have-to-be-fucking-kidding-me, with several hours before noon dropping as low as it's-fucking-hot, which means i restarted my walks. if nothing else, texas has taught me what it feels like to have sweat oozing out of your pores. i don't think i'd ever experienced that before, so thank you. at any rate, possible weight loss reasons.

mr. monkey, when informed of this development, started calling me skinny puppy again, which made me feel all good until i stopped to think a minute:

the weight that gave me hypertension was shocking.
the weight i accidentally lost moved me back to the place i was when i wanted to lose 20 pounds to be at a place i was when i wanted to lose 10 pounds. so when you look at it that way, it's a classic case of 3 pounds forward, 4 pounds back, to my detriment. still, i'll take the 20 if i can get (or lose) it.

then again, the following day, mr. monkey and i went to his company's health and wellness whatsit where we were measured, weighed, tested, and poked. the number on the scale yesterday? 10 lbs more than the previous day at the doctor's office. now, granted, i wore a weirdly heavy dress, but still... at any rate, any of my yeg readers waiting to see me again - don't expect anything other than what you last saw. minus the twin growing out of my back.




*got on scale, nurse called out a number, i hyperventilated, my blood pressure was checked and pronounced massively high**

**i have textbook perfect blood pressure. unless i've just been informed that i broke an unspoken weight barrier

12 September, 2016

recreational use of cheese

i have a culinary rant that needs ranting. it's small and insignificant as rants go, but there are some who will agree with me that enough is enough. i'm talking about the recently re-discovered and consequently ubiquitous mac'n'cheese. what's wrong with good old macaroni with cheese? NOTHING! nothing at all in its natural state wherein macaroni is smothered in vast quantities of cheesy sauce, and covered in a gorgeously browned gooey cap of molten cheese.

alas, this is not the way most places serve it. typically, you get a dish of macaroni in béchamel sauce with a more or less generous sprinkling of grated cheese on top. now many foods get served with a sprinkling of cheese on top without warranting the "n'cheese" in the title. if you only put cheese on top, you're basically using it as a garnish and garnishes don't deserve their own name. you don't order an omelette'n'parsley'n'tiny-slice-of-desiccated-orange, do you? why should this be any different? my point is this (as always, eventually, there is a point), macaroni in béchamel sauce sprinkled with some cheese is NOT mac'n'cheese; it is mac'n'béchamel... with a garnish.

proper macaroni and cheese requires that the béchamel sauce be knee-deep in cheese, insofar as béchamel sauce can be seen to possess knees, and that there be a generous, nay! a heaping! amount of molten cheese on top, as an added bonus not as a half-hearted nod to the dish's name. one shouldn't wonder what kind of cheese, or if any cheese at all, was used in the making of this dish. a proper mac'n'cheese should ooze. it should holler its cheesiness from the rooftops, making the vegan and the lactose-intolerant quake in their boots.

thank you.

10 September, 2016

eye roll, please

i just spent well over two hours searching online for a new smartphone (the one i have - and love - will not be able to come to canada with me). then i spent another hour looking for a case for the phone. now i'm spending even more time shopping for a salad spinner because i accidentally hurled the one i have - and love - onto the tile floor of the kitchen, cracking the bowl in several places. when i was in edmonton this spring and needed a temporary cell plan, it took me roughly 3 days (THREE DAYS!!!) to pick one. this is what happens when i shop online - i scour the reviews, the articles, the specs; i read and ponder and make mental notes. not so with big life decisions, oh, no: let's move to texas! let's get a job in edmonton and leave the husband behind! whoopeee! but heaven help me if i spend 8$ on a phone case and it's the wrong one!

salad spinner recommendations welcome in comments section.

08 September, 2016

neither here nor there

decisions:

i know i've mentioned this before, but i do tend to make my big life decisions on the fly. case in point 1. walking back from heritage days (a.k.a. meat-on-a-stick festival) over a year ago, i turned to mr. monkey and nonchalantly said, hey! let's do it! let's move to texas! case in point 2. while visiting my parents in ontario mid july, i suddenly got the hankering to text my friend n: hey girl! i wanna come home! any jobs at your place?! will work for peanuts. she responded with the highly professional and mature: whoa-whoa!  for realz?!? let me talk to the boss. and thus it is that a mere 3 months later, in about 3 weeks, i will be leaving mr. monkey, taking up a career-type job, and moving home. granted, i'm not leaving him in the manner that word tends to suggest, but for all intents and purposes, i am quite literally leaving him. in typical mom fashion, i worry more about him than me - i'll be swamped with catching up, working, settling in, drinking with folk, checking out all the new buildings, and will have little time to wallow. then again, he needs far less social interaction than i do, and will likely enjoy this opportunity to rewire the garage, retile the shower, and work on his spoon collection in peace. it will be fine and the year will fly by and then he'll come home and we'll take a month of constant fighting to readjust to each other.

animals:

if i were designing a human-animal hybrid, or if i could go in for some specialized corporeal augmentation, this is what i'd order:

1. prehensile feet (what a wasted opportunity for usefulness our feet are in their current state.)

2. prehensile tail, or at least an elegant feline tail (none of that canine or equine flailing about)

3. night vision

4. gills

5. chromatophores


texas: 

oddly enough,  once i got the job, i immediately started to enjoy texas. texas (and the states in general) go down easy in the short term but are unpalatable to me in the long term. visit? yes! live? no. live and learn, people, live and learn. i look forward to many wonderful visits to this beautiful country.

politics:

i am realising that my self-imposed american politics cleanse has done wonders for me. i care less, and not just cause i'm moving home to canada (after all, having a big, dumb, well-armed, ignorant, orange next door neighbour isn't exactly safe, and there is the possibility that post-november that is exactly what we'll have. i hope for hillary, but the media seems hellbent on ratings over rationality so who the fuck knows?) excessive exposure to insanity tends to spread said insanity. unlike my mental health, reality remains unaffected by my choices. well done, me, for backing away slowly and averting my gaze.