Something about the fluid alto-voiced note combined with the feel-it-in-your-chest deepness of a gong brought tears to my eyes at the beginning of yoga class last night. Eyes closed, focused on breathing, bringing awareness inside.
The beauty of it made my heart ache.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Gemstone
I was in a rush getting ready to leave for work and forgot to put it on, but I don't feel too bad because since I got that new camera and took a picture of it and a hundred other fascinating-only-to-me-sorts-of-things, I can look at my ring and covet it from afar.
And one of those things I love about Jeff? He notices when I don't wear it.
In This Corner, Weighing In At....
Obviously choosing his name wasn't much of a stretch.
I can't believe he's still alive after a year with us...
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Boobies, Babies & A Nue-noone
For whatever reason, maybe because the sky is blue and the grass is still green? Because she hasn't been watching many Dora DVDs lately?, my daughter has of late had an endless fascination with my breasts. She calls them boobies. She wants to look at them and when she pulls my shirt down to get a better view, she giggles with a downward flash of eyelashes and says "Mine a baby. Dat mine boobies, Mummy." How she ever figured this out I will never know because I breastfed her for only two weeks before deciding "Ow, ow, ow.....this isn't supposed to hurt like this...ow, ow, ow"....tears streaming down my face, biting on a facecloth to keep from screaming and then relief - "Get this baby a bottle of formula right FUCKING NOW!!"
A vigorous nurser is what the doctor told me. Vigorous my ass...it felt like I was being chewed apart by metal jaws used to capture wild bears. I couldn't figure it out because I breastfed my son with no difficulty. I mean, it's not like I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Then again, this was a girl baby. And in my experience, having one of each, THEY ARE VERY DIFFERENT FROM EACH OTHER.
Making the decision to give up trying to breastfeed was, emotionally, very difficult, and I only felt better about it after finally making up my mind. I remembered reading somewhere that the father should give baby the first few bottles because even though she may be hungry, it doesn't smell like mommy and baby might not take it. So, we got the bottle ready, and my hubby sat in the rocking chair, our precious little cargo in his lap and damned if she didn't reach for the bottle to bring it closer to her mouth. I burst into tears, "You little bitch!"
In short order, my breasts healed and sharing feedings with Daddy and Big Brother meant they too got special bonding time with this new little one, who already sensed we were wrapped around her sweet little fingers.
Last night she and I had cuddles before her bedtime, and once again, she tried to pull my shirt down to see "her" boobies. Then she pointed at her own chest and said with a silly grin, "Not you (r) boobies, Mummy. Dat MINE." And then she asked me, "Mummy, where mine baby come out the tummy?" I answered that she came out of Mummy's Nue-noone.
Her reply? "Mine not like dat. Mine a penis." Clearly, she has everything figured out.
A vigorous nurser is what the doctor told me. Vigorous my ass...it felt like I was being chewed apart by metal jaws used to capture wild bears. I couldn't figure it out because I breastfed my son with no difficulty. I mean, it's not like I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Then again, this was a girl baby. And in my experience, having one of each, THEY ARE VERY DIFFERENT FROM EACH OTHER.
Making the decision to give up trying to breastfeed was, emotionally, very difficult, and I only felt better about it after finally making up my mind. I remembered reading somewhere that the father should give baby the first few bottles because even though she may be hungry, it doesn't smell like mommy and baby might not take it. So, we got the bottle ready, and my hubby sat in the rocking chair, our precious little cargo in his lap and damned if she didn't reach for the bottle to bring it closer to her mouth. I burst into tears, "You little bitch!"
In short order, my breasts healed and sharing feedings with Daddy and Big Brother meant they too got special bonding time with this new little one, who already sensed we were wrapped around her sweet little fingers.
Last night she and I had cuddles before her bedtime, and once again, she tried to pull my shirt down to see "her" boobies. Then she pointed at her own chest and said with a silly grin, "Not you (r) boobies, Mummy. Dat MINE." And then she asked me, "Mummy, where mine baby come out the tummy?" I answered that she came out of Mummy's Nue-noone.
Her reply? "Mine not like dat. Mine a penis." Clearly, she has everything figured out.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Pills
We got good news from the vet that Marla is going to be ok. The lump turned out to be a fat deposit, and she has arthritis which will have to be treated, but first we're dealing with antibiotics for the gross-me-out-bloody-diarrhea, likely a bug or something she ate, but this is clearing. She is on the mend.
As a side bonus, because our dog DOES NOT CHEW HER FOOD, giving her medication is very easy.
Now if only I could get my hubby to take a damn Claritin tablet for his allergies...maybe I should tickle his cheek and shove it down his throat too? But then, see, I'd only know if he swallowed it when he licked his nose.
Which is a possibility. ;>
As a side bonus, because our dog DOES NOT CHEW HER FOOD, giving her medication is very easy.
Now if only I could get my hubby to take a damn Claritin tablet for his allergies...maybe I should tickle his cheek and shove it down his throat too? But then, see, I'd only know if he swallowed it when he licked his nose.
Which is a possibility. ;>
Oh! There You Are!
We went to an apple orchard near our home this weekend and as family outings go, it was a good one. My daughter also thought it'd be a hoot to play hide-'n-seek among the hundreds of trees.
All I can say is I was pretty happy she was wearing a bright pink sweater...the little shit.
W-T-F?????
I've removed the National Geographic Photo of the Day feature because just now I almost had a heart attack scrolling down to see what I expected would be another lovely picture of an ancient Mayan ruin or a sunset in Bali.
Imagine my surprise, which quickly turned to the metallic taste of fear and disgust, to see today's picture is A CLOSE-UP OF A BAT.
And we all know how I just adore those little creatures.
Imagine my surprise, which quickly turned to the metallic taste of fear and disgust, to see today's picture is A CLOSE-UP OF A BAT.
And we all know how I just adore those little creatures.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
The Reason I'm In Love
This is my Jeff and I'm totally in love with him.
He is my best friend, and he makes me laugh, and another day I will write a whole lot more on why I love him.
Not the least of which is because he gets rid of bats and looks fucking hot doing it.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Miss Marla
Our Marla is an 85 pound-would-like-to-think-she's-a-little-piece-of-lap-fluff-doggy-but-umm-she's-not. She is a mixed breed (Australian shepherd and Rottweiler) and is showing the signs of hip dysplasia and what we're pretty sure is a tumour growing on her right side, which is being checked this week.
She came to us over 5 years ago, already mature in years: happy (read: whining constantly for attention), well-trained (read: she didn't, and doesn't, pee on any furniture); and loving (read: whining constantly for attention). There have been times that we have not been the best pet owners owing to mounting frustrations over things that had nothing to do with her, and for god's sake, Dog, stop that damned whining I'm trying to think!, and our underappreciation at times on what a terrific dog she really is.
I don't give a shit anymore about the loads of dog hair covering the brand new futon at the cottage. I don't care that she barfs on the living room rug leaving stains that I cannot get out (no matter what magical product is supposed to work to remove it). I don't care that she whines urgently at 2:30 in the morning because she has to go outside RIGHT NOW to do her business. My heart is breaking because we have to help her up the stairs from the family room when we go to bed at night. Tears fall when Jeff has to lift her up into the back of the truck because she cannot make the jump anymore and she looks at us with those big brown eyes to say, "Please. Help me. I cannot do this alone."
Knowing we may not have much time left with her is a horrible way to truly realize just how much joy and love she brings us...and love her we do. She is on the receiving end of even more cuddles and hugs and kisses from all of us because we understand that the time she has left should be enjoyable and filled with love. She has made us realize that good dogs are a precious gift and we are ever thankful for being on the receiving end of that lesson.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Today's Silver Lining
Mornings are tough these days. So are afternoons. And evenings.
But sometimes, a little thing like wearing the right pair of underwear can make you feel a whole lot better.
But sometimes, a little thing like wearing the right pair of underwear can make you feel a whole lot better.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Lesson 3: Apparently I Can't Read. Or Count.
Lesson 2 was supposed to include ceramic animals. Lesson 2 instead was on Post-It flags. Lesson 3 might include my learning how to follow instructions on posting items on this blog.
This is Lola. She sits on my desk and I look at her and touch her bumpy hide when I need a good laugh. She never seems to mind.
Lesson 2: Fancy Post-It's
I love the sound they make being pulled out of their 
little tabbed homes. A perfect "thwick".
Careful if you try this at home.
little tabbed homes. A perfect "thwick".Careful if you try this at home.
Lesson 1
Colored plastic paper clips are a simple way to brighten up a dull office.
My next class will instruct you on where to place funny ceramic animals.
(Hint: nowhere close to your boss' ass - tempting though that might be to some.)
My next class will instruct you on where to place funny ceramic animals.
(Hint: nowhere close to your boss' ass - tempting though that might be to some.)
This One is Heavy
I've only written briefly about this once before, and seeing as there are very few people who read this site regularly, it feels somewhat safer to be writing about mental illness, depression, specifically.
For as long as I can remember, it has been a part of my life, and while on the surface I think it's great it's being discussed more openly by people in all walks of life, it also makes me very uncomfortable and fidgety to hear it being discussed so candidly. A contradiction, yes, but I can't help squirming with the beginnings of an anxiety attack as yet another segment appears on tv celebrating this "cause du jour". For the most part, my experience has always been a private suffering so that to see it 'out there' leaves me feeling dreadfully exposed and vulnerable.
And yet, here I am, writing about my own very personal experience...
It's a beautiful September day - blue sky, cool, crisp weather - exactly my favourite time of year. This morning, I could sense the tentacles of darkness reaching for me, trying to grab hold and sink in. And with every fiber of my being, I am desperately trying to not let that happen, all the while knowing I'm standing right at the edge of tumbling over, ever ready to retreat inside myself for days and weeks on end. It is this trepidation, this knowingness of what's just ahead that tires me out most easily. In short order, though, there is a certain relief because when the monster arrives, it's just there. No more wondering when or how. It just is.
I have been medicated periodically for over 15 years, and have yet to find the magical combination that works for me. Most of the drugs I've tried have left me zombie-like, numb and foggy. I hate that feeling even more than the melancholy and hopelessness that swirls constantly amid the crippling self doubt; the hours spent inside my own head as the devil on my shoulder whispers a constant barrage of horrible, nasty, self-defeating expressions; the certainty that I will never measure up - all of this combined leaves me feeling like a ghost. One little gust of wind and I will quite literally just drift away in tiny particles of dust. There are moments when I stamp my foot against the ground to check that YES, I AM STILL HERE.
I guess by writing about this I'm trying to feel less shame about this disease.
It's a work-in-progress though, because I am quite discomfited by the idea of clicking on "Publish post"...
For as long as I can remember, it has been a part of my life, and while on the surface I think it's great it's being discussed more openly by people in all walks of life, it also makes me very uncomfortable and fidgety to hear it being discussed so candidly. A contradiction, yes, but I can't help squirming with the beginnings of an anxiety attack as yet another segment appears on tv celebrating this "cause du jour". For the most part, my experience has always been a private suffering so that to see it 'out there' leaves me feeling dreadfully exposed and vulnerable.
And yet, here I am, writing about my own very personal experience...
It's a beautiful September day - blue sky, cool, crisp weather - exactly my favourite time of year. This morning, I could sense the tentacles of darkness reaching for me, trying to grab hold and sink in. And with every fiber of my being, I am desperately trying to not let that happen, all the while knowing I'm standing right at the edge of tumbling over, ever ready to retreat inside myself for days and weeks on end. It is this trepidation, this knowingness of what's just ahead that tires me out most easily. In short order, though, there is a certain relief because when the monster arrives, it's just there. No more wondering when or how. It just is.
I have been medicated periodically for over 15 years, and have yet to find the magical combination that works for me. Most of the drugs I've tried have left me zombie-like, numb and foggy. I hate that feeling even more than the melancholy and hopelessness that swirls constantly amid the crippling self doubt; the hours spent inside my own head as the devil on my shoulder whispers a constant barrage of horrible, nasty, self-defeating expressions; the certainty that I will never measure up - all of this combined leaves me feeling like a ghost. One little gust of wind and I will quite literally just drift away in tiny particles of dust. There are moments when I stamp my foot against the ground to check that YES, I AM STILL HERE.
I guess by writing about this I'm trying to feel less shame about this disease.
It's a work-in-progress though, because I am quite discomfited by the idea of clicking on "Publish post"...
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Rollin', rollin', rollin'.....
We went for a bike ride after dinner last night and herein lies FANTASTIC news to share!
My legs were not as jelly-like pedalling, my bum hurt less sitting on the very narrow seat provided, and this time? I PEED BEFORE WE LEFT.
I think you'd agree...I'm growing as a person.
My legs were not as jelly-like pedalling, my bum hurt less sitting on the very narrow seat provided, and this time? I PEED BEFORE WE LEFT.
I think you'd agree...I'm growing as a person.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Sanctuary
Words cannot describe the experience I had last night at my first yoga class in over 12 years. But I'm going to try...
To start with, who knew that an old chicken coop could be turned into such a beautiful and peaceful studio? (It even contains a bathroom which I was happy to have an inaugural pee in because I cannot go anywhere in public without finding out first and foremost the location of such facilities.) Honey-colored floors and soft lighting, a lovely bronze gong hanging on the wall, a few lit candles, and the pleasing scent of burning incense, not overpowering in the least, just...soothing.
There were 11 women in the class and each of us laid out our yoga mats; blocks and cushions were pulled close and there was chattering among them before the class began. I sat at the back of the room wondering if I'd be able to quiet my mind from a constant stream of internal dialogue and also worrying about gurgling noises coming out of my stomach, or worse, a fart escaping. BECAUSE THESE THINGS HAPPEN.
The moment arrived with the gentle and comforting bonnnnngggg of the gong. Our instructor, Judith, mentioned that it was perfectly acceptable to smile during the next hour and a half. That we shouldn't worry about holding any one position, that the most important thing to remember was focusing on our breathing.
Goosebumps appeared on my arms and tears filled my eyes as the sound of OMMMMMMMMM was intoned through 12 pairs of lips. We did this with a specific breathing exercise and it was truly one of the most exquisite, stunning songs I've ever heard.
Several sun salutations, warrior stances and goddess poses later, I felt lighter, stronger, and happier within than I have in a very long time. Taking this time for me was, and is, invaluable and I felt much more peaceful this morning. Next week's class can't come soon enough.
Namaste.
To start with, who knew that an old chicken coop could be turned into such a beautiful and peaceful studio? (It even contains a bathroom which I was happy to have an inaugural pee in because I cannot go anywhere in public without finding out first and foremost the location of such facilities.) Honey-colored floors and soft lighting, a lovely bronze gong hanging on the wall, a few lit candles, and the pleasing scent of burning incense, not overpowering in the least, just...soothing.
There were 11 women in the class and each of us laid out our yoga mats; blocks and cushions were pulled close and there was chattering among them before the class began. I sat at the back of the room wondering if I'd be able to quiet my mind from a constant stream of internal dialogue and also worrying about gurgling noises coming out of my stomach, or worse, a fart escaping. BECAUSE THESE THINGS HAPPEN.
The moment arrived with the gentle and comforting bonnnnngggg of the gong. Our instructor, Judith, mentioned that it was perfectly acceptable to smile during the next hour and a half. That we shouldn't worry about holding any one position, that the most important thing to remember was focusing on our breathing.
Goosebumps appeared on my arms and tears filled my eyes as the sound of OMMMMMMMMM was intoned through 12 pairs of lips. We did this with a specific breathing exercise and it was truly one of the most exquisite, stunning songs I've ever heard.
Several sun salutations, warrior stances and goddess poses later, I felt lighter, stronger, and happier within than I have in a very long time. Taking this time for me was, and is, invaluable and I felt much more peaceful this morning. Next week's class can't come soon enough.
Namaste.
Monday, September 8, 2008
On The Road Again
We went for a bike ride yesterday. I haven't ridden a bike in, oh, 15 years?
Five minutes in and my legs were tired from pumping, my feet tingly from poor circulation, my back was getting stiff and need I mention how sore my ass had become? I do not have a tiny bum by any stretch of the imagination and yet all the padding in the world wasn't going to soften the blow of each and every little pebble I ran over.
Feeling the wind cooling my head through the slats in my brand new bike helmet; seeing the open trail ahead of us, waiting for our exploration; hearing cows mooing in the fields as we pedaled past them made it worth every little twinge of pain I'm feeling today.
The best part though? Gulping down a glass of cold water upon our return home and then realizing I still had enough leg strength to make it to the bathroom before peeing my pants.
Little blessings everywhere...
Five minutes in and my legs were tired from pumping, my feet tingly from poor circulation, my back was getting stiff and need I mention how sore my ass had become? I do not have a tiny bum by any stretch of the imagination and yet all the padding in the world wasn't going to soften the blow of each and every little pebble I ran over.
Feeling the wind cooling my head through the slats in my brand new bike helmet; seeing the open trail ahead of us, waiting for our exploration; hearing cows mooing in the fields as we pedaled past them made it worth every little twinge of pain I'm feeling today.
The best part though? Gulping down a glass of cold water upon our return home and then realizing I still had enough leg strength to make it to the bathroom before peeing my pants.
Little blessings everywhere...
Friday, September 5, 2008
Cranky
1. I am wishing so very much I could ram into your car because you have been ON MY ASS for several winding, twisting kilometers and now you've cut in front of me. Do you really the metal grill of my truck in your backseat?
2. I'm having an "Ally McBeal" moment in which I'm dreaming of punching your lights out and giving you an atomic wedgie just because your cologne reeks and it's making it difficult to breathe in the elevator. Can anyone else hear Elton John's 'Rocket Man' or is it all in my head?
3. If you leave the toast crumbs and blob of jam on the counter ONE MORE FUCKING TIME, I'm gonna go all Sarah Connor on your ass. I think the men in our lives either understand this whole PMS-ing thing or, at the very least, understand the need to pretend they understand it. Either way, clean up the god-damn crumbs. I say this with love, of course.
2. I'm having an "Ally McBeal" moment in which I'm dreaming of punching your lights out and giving you an atomic wedgie just because your cologne reeks and it's making it difficult to breathe in the elevator. Can anyone else hear Elton John's 'Rocket Man' or is it all in my head?
3. If you leave the toast crumbs and blob of jam on the counter ONE MORE FUCKING TIME, I'm gonna go all Sarah Connor on your ass. I think the men in our lives either understand this whole PMS-ing thing or, at the very least, understand the need to pretend they understand it. Either way, clean up the god-damn crumbs. I say this with love, of course.
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