Freak Magnet Dave

Papa Bear

2010-05-27T09:55:00.003-05:00

The Squeeze and I offered to take the kidlets this past Victoria Day long weekend so their mother could enjoy a weekend off to do chores and have some fun with her friends. Baby Mama dropped the girls off Friday night and we had a fun night, keeping busy with colouring books, stickers, and of course, running around like lunatics playing with the dog. We even managed to squeeze in a visit to the local park to play on the swings.

We kept them up a bit later than their usual bedtime, but it was all part of the plan so we could sleep in for a few extra minutes Saturday morning. Surprisingly, the plan actually worked. After spending the morning playing indoors due to rain, we headed out to a matinee of Shrek (whatever number this last one is). This was our first attempt to take the girls to a movie. While watching videos at home, they have the attention span of fruit flies. They are, after all, five and nearly four years old. Since Baby Mama had passes for the girls, at least I wouldn't be ticked off about wasting the money for something they wouldn't sit through. I'd only be out about $50.00 for the two adult tickets and refreshments. Ya, much better. I couldn't believe how focused they were on the movie! I hardly heard two words from them.

The weather on Sunday couldn't have been better. We slathered a cup or two of SPF 60 sunblock on the kids (and our leather ottoman) and headed out to a park on the lake where the girls had a blast playing on the playground equipment and swings.

There were a couple of kids there who I'll call Punkass1 and Punkass2 and their dog. Punkass1 was about ten years old and Punkass2 was his younger sister who I'm guessing was around eight. PA1 and PA2 were there with their little dog that they placed in a child's swing and swung back and forth, which I'm pretty sure the dog wasn't thrilled about. Then they began twisting the swing until it was tightly wound and released it sending the dog into a dizzying spiral. I approached a couple sitting on a nearby bench to see if they happened to be their parents, but they weren't. Apparently the kids were there unsupervised. While I was expressing my shock to this couple over PA1 & PA2's actions, they removed the dog from the swing. As I approached The Squeeze and the girls at the swing set, PA2 picked up the dog and walked back toward the swings. I had seen enough. "Don't you DARE put that dog on that swing again!", I shouted. PA1 & PA2 just gave me this look of attitude, and I said "If you put that dog on the swing again, I'm calling the SPCA, and you're going to lose that dog. What you're doing is abusive and stupid." They got the point and wandered away. When I looked over to the bench where they were sitting, I saw PA1 on a cell phone. I assumed maybe mom was checking in on him. I guess distant parenting is better than none at all.

A short time later, the girls were climbing on the playground equipment, having a good time running around and going down the slides when this new addition to the mix I'll call Punkass3 came on the scene. He was about 9 or 10 and apparently a friend of PA1 and PA2. He carried a toy shotgun which he proceeded to point at Brynn and chase her making shooting sounds. Brynn came crying to me because this strange older boy was scaring her. I told the kid to knock it off. Then he started doing the same thing to Zoe. He pointed the gun at her and asked "Do you like this?" She was also not impressed and came over to the safety of her dads.

I had had enough. I walked around the playground structure where PA3 was now standing and calmly asked him "Does it make you feel like a big man making a 3 year old girl cry?" He looked a little shocked that I actually confronted him, and simply said "no". I told him "stay the fuck away from my daughters or I'll kick you ass." PA1 heard this and said "you can't do that!" "Pardon me?", I asked. "You can't threaten him", to which I replied, "I can and will do anything in my power to protect my girls." "You can't threaten a kid," PA1 said again. "Watch me," I said as I turned to go back to my kids.

PA3 left the playground in one direction and PA1 and PA2 walked out another way and as they did, The Squeeze heard PA2 say to her brother, "I told you not to call him!" So it appears that PA1 had called in reinforcements after I chastised him and his sister for their antics with their dog.

The Squeeze pointed out something that got me thinking. He said "you know, I have a feeling those kids are abused." As I thought about it, I realized he could be right. The first two kids were mistreating their helpless, frightened dog - something I can't fathom, especially after being blessed with the best, most loving dog ever. And the third kid pointing a gun and asking "do you like this?" It brought images to my mind of that child being hit and his parent asking the same question.

I discussed the incident with a teaching assistant friend of mine and she said she can't believe how mean kids are to one another. She told me that if she had young kids she wouldn't send them to the school she works at. It's a rough, inner-city school where many kids are under-privileged, and it made me stop and count my blessings. And it made me realize that I have to watch over my girls closely. Because I want to protect them and shelter them from what other children might do to them, mirroring what they know.

Wait and Weight

2009-11-18T13:26:00.003-05:00

Hi again...remember me? I'm the one who swings by these parts every month or two to keep you updated on my life. I'm a procrastinator, I admit it. Always was, always will be. I remember back in school I would hear the phrase "What are you waiting for? Christmas?" from countless teachers. Things haven't gotten much better. In fact, it nearly IS Christmas, so apparently this is what I've been waiting for. OK, that was a stretch, but I'm tired and hungry. Give me a break.

Speaking of winter, I decided to finally bite the bullet and fork out the money for some snow tires for the car. I've always relied on the all season tires that came with it, but truth is, I've been sliding around this past winter and promised myself I'd try to stay on the road and alive this winter. I called the dealership where I've been getting all my work done for the past 16 years, and told them I wanted 4 tires and winter rims installed. They took my info, told me they'd mark the rims & tires and put them aside for me for my appointment on Monday.

I showed up Monday morning at 11:30 and was told it would take 30 to 45 minutes. No problem. So I went into the waiting area and hung out there, waiting patiently. Shortly after 1:00, the guy from the service desk came in and propped himself in front of me and said "We have a bit of a problem with your tires. We have the snow tires here, but we can't seem to locate the rims. The computer shows that they're here, but we just don't know where they are."
"It took you 90 minutes to discover this?" I asked.
"I'm really sorry, we've looked everywhere, and we don't know if they've been stolen or what's happened to them. Unfortunately, we've taken your other tires off the car, so we've just got to get them back on for you and you'll be ready to go."

I sat there stunned for a while. They left me there for 90 minutes while they knew they didn't have the rims. By the time they got the tires back on, I had been there for two hours. For nothing. I sent an e-mail to the shop's customer relations person, so we'll see what happens. When I got home last night, there was a voicemail from the guy at the parts desk saying that some wheel-something-or-other was in and that I should call for an appointment to have it installed. It should take 2 1/2 hours, he said. Hmm...only 30 minutes more than it took them to do nothing. Not bad! However, I think they've made some sort of mistake because putting on four snow tires that should already be on the rims should take somewhere in the area of 20 minutes or so. I've seen race cars get all four tires changed in about 20 seconds, so I really don't know why it would take 2 1/2 hours. But I digress.

Earlier on that same day I visited my chiropractor to go over my MRI results. My back sucks. Bones are degenerating, discs are bulging...it's not pretty. So he's referred me to another chiropractor who does decompression therapy. Apparently I'll be laying on the rack while it stretches me for 30 minutes. I'm not really freaked out by that, in fact I'm looking forward to seeing if it will relieve this constant pain. If not, we'll look at other options, including surgery. I SO don't want to have back surgery, so keep your fingers crossed that the rack will work. At $75 a session, it better work! My chiropractor thinks I'll have to go for 6 to 10 sessions. But let's discuss the elephant in the room (pardon the pun). I need to get back to losing this excess tonnage. I want to get back on the treadmill so bad, but currently I'm afraid to go on in case my back/hip locks up on me and knocks me flying. The Squeeze and I are currently examining a food plan that some friends are on. We'll see about it. Unfortunately, Christmas is coming.

Another Month. Another Post

2009-09-16T14:42:00.003-05:00

I'm not sure what's up with my infrequent posts lately. How can a month fly by without so much as a "here I am wasting time at work" update? Perhaps Facebook is becoming too addictive and time consuming. Or maybe my life isn't nearly as exciting as I once thought. Nah, that can't be it.

So what has been happening in my life this past month?

Well for starters, my business partner and I have been getting ready for me to fully take over the business. He's been at it for about a thousand years and he wants to find something else. Something full-time so he doesn't have to have all these little side jobs. Something that pays. We're pretty much there. He's got a few things here he wants to finish up, then he'll be in one day a month to do the book-keeping for me.

I had an appointment with a specialist to get a throat scope done in early August. Before my father passed away earlier this year, he complained of a burning sensation when he ate. I've had that sensation a few times lately, and being the hypochondriac that I am, I demanded that my doctor send me for a scope to make sure I didn't have esophageal cancer like my father. I was all worked up getting ready for this scope to happen, only to discover it was only an initial meeting. The scope won't take place for a couple of months. Sheesh. The doctor put my mind at ease though. Based on my complaints and symptoms, it sounds like I might have some reflux, but he said it's not a bad idea to get it checked to put my mind at ease.
Thank you, Dr. Specialist!
Screw you, shitty family doctor-in-training who didn't want to give me the requisition for the scope!

Just before the end of August, Zoe, my little 4 1/2 year old had her soccer finals. Her usual games took place on weeknights right around the time I get done work. Tack on the hour drive, and I didn't get to see any of her games. Luckily, the finals were on a Saturday, and at that time I still had Saturdays off. I drove in to Hooterville, stopped by my baby-mama Weezie's house, but the door was locked and there was no answer. I assumed they were already at the soccer park, so I headed on over. I arrived to find the parking lot jam packed, except for the large muddy pit that I managed to park in. I fumbled with my lawn chair, camera case, umbrella, the dog, her water bottle and my coffee and made my way onto the field.

Apparently there were about 6 or so different games going on at the time. I wandered about with all the aforementioned gear, trying to find the right pitch. The problem with not being at any of her regular season games is that I had no idea what colour her uniform was. I was wandering around blind. Three of the pitches had kids under the age of 5 playing, so it could have been any of them. I had no luck finding Zoe or Weezie, so I called the house and Weezie's friend answered.

"What time is Zoe's game?" I asked.
"2:50" I'm told.
"OK, it's 2:48, where are they?"
"They're in the bathroom. They had a little emergency."
"Oh my god, they're still at home!? The game starts in two minutes. OK, just tell me what colour uniforms they have."
"Blue."
"There are three different shades of blue out here. Do you know which one?"
"Not the really light one, and not the navy one."
"So the royal blue. Alright I see them on the field. I'll go set up there and wait for them to get here."

As I hang up the phone and try to walk, I feel resistance on the leash. Stella is in the process of taking a steaming dump on the grounds in front of countless little kids and their parents and coaches. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that sometimes she has very wet poop which often doesn't break free and I need to wipe the little girl. So with an audience watching, I put down all of my accessories and do what I had to do. I bagged up the evidence, picked everything back up again, walked to a nearby garbage can and made my way to the sideline of the pitch. Ten minutes into the game, Weezie shows up and gets Zoe padded and dressed to go on. The only one who didn't want to be there was Zoe. She had played a game that morning that her team won, and now she was just bored. She kept wandering off the pitch to come over and play with the dog.

"Get back on the field Zoe, you're team needs you!", we shouted.

We were met with any number of protests including, but not limited to, "I'm tired, I'm hot, I want to play with Stella". The only time she wanted to play was when she was on the sidelines with the other kids. Then she came to life. On the pitch she just stood around and watched the ball whiz past her. Good times.

Oh ya, they lost that game.

That takes us to the cottage. On August 29th, FWIG, his mother, The Squeeze and I went up north for a week of relaxation. Nothing terribly exciting happened, which is fine by me on a vacation. Oh. Except for spotting a black bear upon returning from town one afternoon. It certainly made me think twice about going for walks in the woods for the rest of the week.

It was a week filled with reading, eating, and a bit of knitting. Right up until the point where I realized I screwed up and had to pull out a few inches of my scarf. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, or some such crap. All is well, and it's nearly done now.

This morning I stepped on the scale. And I wept. Actually it was more of a gasp of terror. Now that my chiropractor is getting my back somewhat back in shape, I might be able to get my ass back on the treadmill and work off some of the poundage I've packed on over the past year and a half when my mother became ill and was hospitalized. It's SO easy to fall off the wagon.

Last night I watched the season premiere of "The Biggest Loser". Mainly so I could feel a bit better about myself. Now I'll watch them lose 20 pounds a week while I try to lose one or two. They're gonna piss me off.

And with that I'll end my monthly rant. Really, I'll try to be back sooner!

Was I Too Harsh?

2009-08-04T13:37:00.003-05:00

So I'm cooking away in the kitchen yesterday afternoon when the phone rings. Some unknown phone number appears on the call display screen. I answer and am greeted with something like "This is your second call regarding interest rates on your credit card...blah, blah, blah...press 1 to speak with one of our friendly operators."

Naturally, I press 1 because I'm pissed that I get about five of these calls per week between work and home.

"I understand you're interested in lowering your interest rates...", the friendly operator starts.
"Actually, I'm interested in not getting any more of these calls from you people," I replied. "I get these calls constantly, and I'm on the Do Not Call list, so why are you still calling me?"
"The Do Not Call list is only for sales calls. We're not selling anything," she says.
"Oh, really? Well tell me, what exactly is it you're not selling? (I may have been born in the morning, but it wasn't this morning!)
"We're offering you a reduction in your credit card interest payments."
"You have no idea what interest I'm paying now. I'm not interested in your services. Remove my number from your list."
Then the friendly operator says "Enjoy your high interest rates."
To which I replied "Enjoy going to hell."
Good thing those telemarketing parasites don't have feelings.

Ewwwwwwwwwwwww!

2009-07-08T10:04:00.002-05:00

Let me preface this by saying I am not a fan of critters. Spiders, snakes, rodents, bugs...you name it, I call for The Squeeze to rescue me. Unless I'm feeling really butch at that moment. So you get the picture. Moving right along...

I left the house this morning with my dog on our way to work. Luckily I happen to work a block away from my house, so I usually leave about 15 minutes before I have to open my shop. This gives me ample time to let Stella do her business, and to arrive at the shop, unlock, and power up the computer, and turn on the lights.

This morning, I left a bit later than usual. There was laundry to be done, and some tidying up in the kitchen that was desperately needed. I stepped out the front door, and started walking down the main driveway of our complex when my next door neighbour called out to me from her garage.

I can't think of the last time I saw her, let alone spoke with her. She and her husband are pretty quiet, and keep to themselves. The look on her face showed some distress.

"How are you doing, Mary?"
"I'm OK. Can I ask you a favour?"
"Umm....sure."
"There's a dead mouse in front of my front door."

I'm sure I looked at her with a very blank, dissociative stare, both waiting for and dreading the upcoming question.

"Could you pick it up for me please?"

I could feel my eyes protruding a little bit as I shuddered inside.

"You don't have to do it right now. You can take the dog for a walk first."
"I better do it now, because I'm actually heading to work right now," I informed her.

I stepped to the side to see the offending critter at the entrance to her home, and there it was, lying on its side. Certainly dead. I looked back at Mary and asked if she might have something I could use to pick it up.

"I have a plastic bag," she said, which she then provided.

I've been picking up dog poop for nearly a year, so I just imagined that I was putting the baggie over my hand as if to pick up one of Stella's little piles. I grabbed the mouse by the tail, flipped the bag inside out, and tied it up. I looked in Mary's garage for their garbage can, and she looked at me like I had lost my mind.

"No, no! Put it in yours!" she said.

With time wasting, I didn't have time to go back into my house to throw our HER mouse, so I just said "Nevermind, I'll throw it in the can down the street."

Naturally, Stella had to leave another pile for me as we walked to work, so there I was balancing my bag with my lunch and other things I bring to work, my umbrella, Stella's leash, and a bag with a dead mouse, while I tried to stoop and scoop.

I am SUCH a multi-tasker. And SO butch! The Squeeze won't believe me. Of course, if I do tell him about this, he might expect me to kill my own spiders at home. This just might be our little secret.

Are You Freakin' Kidding Me?

2009-06-05T13:52:00.003-05:00

OK, so I've mentioned about a thousand times that people who are lost have a real knack for coming into my shop and asking for directions. The one that happened moments ago pretty much takes the cake.

I was sitting at the computer, eating lunch and surfing the interwebs, when in walked an attractive young woman.
"I'm not sure if you can help me," she started. "I'm looking for #___ This St."
"Is it a business you're looking for?"
"It's __________."
"Oh, ok, that's just in the next building over, up the stairs on the second floor."
"How do I get upstairs?" she asked.

WHAT!? Did she just ask me how to get upstairs? Ya, I believe she did.

"Just walk in the front door and you'll just walk up the stairs."

Seriously. "How do I get upstairs?"
I guess I could have told her to walk around the back of the building and shimmy up the drain pipe, and shift herself along the eavestrough, and knock on the window, but I kinda have a feeling she would have done it. And that would just be mean.

The really sad part is that she appeared to be holding what I'm assuming was a resume in her hand. Good luck with that.

At Least She Wasn't Wearing A Dress

2009-04-28T09:56:00.003-05:00

Saturday morning I met up with my baby-mama for the hand-off of the girls. My niece was having a birthday party for her son who was turning three, and for the event she rented a pretty cool indoor playground facility for a few hours that we ventured to.

There were about a dozen or so youngsters in attendance along with a variety of parents. All of the kids had a blast climbing up the platforms and weaving their way through paths and across bridges and down a variety of slides. There was an eating area where we had a bite to eat and to do the customary birthday cake and singing of 'Happy Birthday' and destruction of wrapping paper, after which the kids returned to the play area.

Throughout the time we were there, I had to take Zoe to pee once and had to take Brynn a few times to wash various food items from her hands. Each time we were in there, Brynn said "I don't have to pee yet." She's getting so independent.

About an hour before we were due to go, Brynn came running up to me. "Daddy, I have to pee!" "Uh-oh...hope it's not too late," my niece said.

I took her to the bathroom, she pulled down her pants and I lifted her up onto the toilet and I waited to hear the sound of success. She said something about her underpants being wet that I didn't quite catch. Not until after she hopped off the toilet and wiped did I notice that she hadn't pulled down her underpants when she pulled her pants down. I didn't notice because her shirt was just long enough to cover them.

Since I wasn't given a change of clothes for such an emergency, she had to go commando and I had to wash out her underwear in the sink and bag them up for the drive home.

When I came out of the bathroom, my niece asked me if we made it in time. "We did, but things didn't go well once we were in there."

As word of our misadventure in the bathroom made the rounds, much laughter filled the place. Brynn went back to playing and having fun with the other kids, and I was ever so grateful that she was wearing pants that day.

The next night I discovered an e-mail from my baby-mama that said she got quite a laugh out of Brynn saying "Daddy made me pee my pants" several times that afternoon and the next day.

I hope this won't require years of therapy for her.

Some Random Stuff

2009-04-16T09:22:00.002-05:00

I tell ya, that little girl of mine is too cute.

Easter Sunday, The Squeeze and I picked up the kids and headed to my brother and sister-in-law's place for lunch with the family. Upon entering the house, Brynn hawk-eyed in on some foil wrapped chocolate eggs that were "hidden" behind the couch in the living room. She drew in a gasp and began scooping up the goods. Then she saw more under the table, and on the window ledge, and by the TV, and around the piano, and by the lamp. She was scooping up chocolate like nobody's business. Zoe just stood by, looking at everyone while Brynn lost her mind.

As people milled about and found their way into the kitchen, dining room or family room, Brynn and I found ourselves alone in the living room for a moment. She walked up to the ceramic bunny bowl on the end table, brought her face in line with the bunny's and said "Thank you." That just melted my heart. To witness the sweetness, the innocence and the kindness of those words...I just can't tell you what I felt inside.

And now for something completely different....

Yesterday I had an elderly couple come into my shop to have an old wedding picture framed. I believe it was the woman's parents or grandparents in the photo, I don't recall which. At one point another client came in to pick something up and asked "Oh, is that your wedding picture?". If I were them, I'd be quite insulted. "Just how old do you think we are?" I'd ask. But they didn't seem bothered.

Obviously the photo was black & white, gray tones to be precise, so I was sorting through some gray mats to compliment the photo. They didn't like the gray, they wanted black. OK, no problem. A bit harsh and heavy for the piece, but it's not hanging on my wall. Then she asked for a metal frame. Again, not what I would pick. She wound up choosing a black metal frame with silver stripes. A little busy for my taste, but like I said...

After entering everything into the system, they got up and started to leave the store when the husband asked me the price of a framed nude sketch. As I looked at our stock list for the price, his wife really seemed to want to rush him out of the place. "What do you want with that picture? You don't know the lady." I gave him the price and they left.

I walked around the table to put the frame sample back on the wall and that's when I saw it.

Remember the Seinfeld episode where Poppy peed on Jerry's couch? That's right. The chair he was sitting on had a big wet spot. I'm thinking that's why the wife was trying to rush him out of there. She must have noticed it, or perhaps noticed that his pants were wet.

I spent the next hour or so blotting, diluting with water, blotting, diluting, blotting, spraying with Lysol, diluting, blotting. Out, out, damned spot! Out I say!

The fun never ends here.

A Gereration Lost

2009-03-14T14:40:00.004-05:00

Following my last post where I mentioned that my father was quite ill and losing his battle with cancer, I'm saddened to report that he passed away in late February, just about ten months after my mother's death to the same horrible disease.

I was able to stay with him during his last night in his own home. Unable to put up with the discomfort of being helped upstairs to his bed, he chose to sleep on the sofa in the living room, while I sat up by him most of the night. I knew things were coming to an end very soon. He hadn't eaten in a few days, was only able to drink very small amounts of water or Ensure in a day. His feet had swollen, apparently a symptom of kidney problems. And he was taking 10 fast acting morphine and 4 slow acting morphine pills a day as well as many other medications.

I helped him with his medication on that Saturday night, sitting beside him while he tried to take the five pills he was to take at bedtime. We started at 10:00 pm. It took until 11:30 until he took the last of them. Through his morphine-induced fog he was able to tell me in his frail voice that everything hurt. He was in a lot of pain and somewhat disoriented.

In the morning, he was due to take seven pills, but wasn't able to take a single one. He asked to go to the hospital. I called my brother and sister-in-law to let them know what was going on, and they called his doctor to make arrangements. It was around noon when the hospital had a room ready and we called for the ambulance to transfer him. It would be about three hours later when he had his first shot of morphine. Nearly 16 hours had elapsed since his last morphine pills were taken. I can't imagine the pain he felt. Eventually, he was outfitted with a morphine pump which game him a dose every 15 minutes.

Much of the family spent Sunday and Monday with him at the hospital. He was in such pain Monday evening. The morphine pump allowed us to administer additional doses as needed, but with a maximum number of doses per hour to prevent overdose. At one point he was pretty distressed and I'll never forget him yelling out "Help me!" as best as his voice was able, my sister frantically pressing the button on his pump.

I drove home that night, exhausted from the past few days and went to work on Tuesday morning, planning to return to the hospital after work. At 5:30 I received a call from one of my brothers. "Dave, can you come up to the hospital now?"
"Oh, God. Are things getting worse?"
"Ya, they did," he said.
"Is he gone?"
"Ya, he is."

I called The Squeeze and found he was already home from work, scribbled a note and taped it to the shop door and proceeded to walk the dog home. The Squeeze met me halfway and we walked home in silence until I got in the door and broke down. I got in the car and drove to the hospital. It seems that at times like this, it is inevitable that you get behind slow drivers and stuck at every red light. I even had to stop for gas or risk getting stranded in the country. Between bouts of tears, I calmed myself by reasoning that he is now out of pain and at peace, together again with my mother who he missed terribly, and my brother who died nearly ten years ago.

When I arrived at the hospital, I met my brother's widow in the parking lot and we hugged. But I needed to get inside. When I made my way onto the ward, I was met with a throng of family members. I remember hugging my aunt and uncle - my parents' closest friends, whose son is also battling cancer. I walked into the room to see many of my nieces and nephews, my sister, my brothers, and my father lying on his bed. I held his hand, whispered in his ear, told him I loved him and thanked him for being my father, and gently placed kissed fingers to his lips.

The next few days are a blur. I stayed at his house with my dog, crating her as needed while making funeral arrangements or running errands. I drove back home a couple of times to get clothes and grab a shower and touch base with The Squeeze. Most days and nights my father's house was full of family, gathered to be together, sorting through photographs, writing the announcement, and looking after all the other details one must tend to at times such as this.

Friday was the visitation, and I was touched by the sheer volume of people coming to pay their respects. All of my dearest friends arrived to offer their support, and it was so gratefully received.

The funeral service and burial was performed on Saturday, followed by a luncheon put on by the ladies of the church. My brother got up to say some words about our father, and offered up a moment of silence to pray for our cousin who was in intensive care, having just undergone emergency surgery due to complications from his earlier cancer surgery. My brother has a way with words, and there was hardly a dry eye in the place. He spoke of holding my father's hand when he passed away, and reflected on many of the things his hands had done throughout his life. From cabinetmaker to house painter, even mentioning his famous "gehst du!", which is German, loosely translated to "get out of here!", often accompanied with a comical, yet effective backhand to the head when we were acting up as kids. The cousin in intensive care does a mean impression of my father doing this.

And so we gathered again at the house to reminisce and be together, realizing that we are at the end of an era in my family. The glue that held my family together is gone, as it was when my grandmother passed away many years ago. We rarely see each other now, our cousins, aunts and uncles. As time marches on, we become more than the branches of our family tree. We grow and move on. We become roots, and branch out ourselves with our own partners and children and grandchildren. The roots we had are gone now. There's no going back. Those roots now exist only in our memories, and in our own character. They are reflected in the things we have learned and in turn pass on to our own children, wishing only that they had the opportunity to know them as we did, or at least as long as we did.

Nearing the End

2009-01-28T11:53:00.003-05:00

My father was taken in to see his oncologist yet again yesterday. He had a bone scan last week, and they determined that the cancer hasn't spread to his bones, but the cancer in his liver has spread and is very aggressive. My brother asked the doctor what kind of time line they were looking at. My sister and my father didn't want to know, so the doctor spoke with my brother privately. Last night when I got in from work, my sister-in-law (the family bearer of bad news) called me to give me the update. She asked if I wanted to know. After a long pause, I decided that I would rather know the prognosis. She informed me that my father has between 3 to 6 months.

The doctor again suggested that he should make alternate living arrangements rather than staying in his house alone. In the recent past my sister and another of my brothers has offered to have him move in with them, as they have one-floor homes, and he has refused. He still wants to stay at home. My sister-in-law suggested that we take turns staying with him until such time comes that he is not physically able to get around and will likely be hospitalized.

At this point only two of my brothers and myself are aware of the time he has left. My sister and my other brother do not know, nor do any of the grandchildren. The Squeeze asked me last night after the call whether or not I'd like to know how much time I had left if I were in my father's shoes. It was difficult to answer, but I finally said that I would. It would make me do things that I might not if I thought I had a lot of time left. I would spend more time with friends and family. I would probably do a lot of writing. I would let those closest to me know how much they meant in my life.

This is not going to be an easy time, especially after losing my mother to cancer nine months ago. So often I wish I could just go back in time. Back to my teen years when I didn't have a care in the world and Death hadn't yet come to call. But that is folly. I am where I am at this point in time as planned by someone or something much more powerful than me. I am blessed with a loving, supportive husband, and we have two wonderful little girls in our lives that bring us so much joy. I have an incredible network of friends who are there for me when the wheels fall off. I have family that has been dragged through Hell more times than I care to count, and I know we'll pull through this again. And I have faith that my mother and brother are waiting to welcome my father when his time with us here is done.

Sometimes The Jokes Write Themselves

2009-01-23T13:23:00.005-05:00

OK, just had to share this from www.totallylookslike.com
The comments cracked me up, especially the last one.

Barack Obama Totally Looks Like Ilham Anas

noone
January 23rd, 2009 at 6:06 am

All black people look prety much the same

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MechanicalHamster
January 23rd, 2009 at 6:35 am

Dude… Not cool.

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noone
January 23rd, 2009 at 7:37 am

Whatever, it is true tho.

PS I am not a rassist.

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KaBooM
January 23rd, 2009 at 7:41 am

nor are you a good speller…

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har
January 23rd, 2009 at 9:12 am

Yes, you sir put the “ass” in RACIST!

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Telephone Troubles

2009-01-22T14:53:00.003-05:00

Just before the Christmas holidays, a sales rep from the local cable company wandered in and explained that they are now able to offer multi-line service for businesses. Since I have my home phone, TV and internet with this company, I know what a savings it is to have the flat rate bill and not pay through the nose for every long distance call I make. All calls to anywhere in Canada and the U.S. are included for no extra charge. We could now have the same savings here at work. Seemed like a no-brainer. So it was arranged that our phone service would be switched over the first week of the new year.

I was a bit surprised when the day came and not one, not two, but three technicians showed up to make the changeover happen. It was a fairly painless procedure and they were done changing our phone and fax lines within an hour. The only real difference was the number to access our voicemail is different that the old system, so that might take a bit to get used to. No big deal.

A couple of days later, I had people either come into the shop or call me on the phone stating that they hadn't heard back from me after leaving a message. I figured the first person might have just dialed the wrong number, but soon enough it became apparent that there was, indeed, a problem. I called the cable company, they did some tests, and everything seemed to be fine now. They figured that our old provider must not have discontinued our voicemail on their system and that the missed messages were in limbo out there somewhere. But like I said, they tested it, left a message, and everything was now fine.

After my business partner was in on the weekend, he batched out our debit terminal at the end of the day and noticed that when he did so, the light on our main phone lit up and displayed "Line in use". Something was wrong. The debit terminal should be on the fax/data line. The problem is that on occasion, customers want to pay over the phone by credit card, and if I'm on the phone with them, I can't process the payment and confirm for them that the payment went through.

I called the cable company and explained the problem and arranged for a technician to come in and fix the problem. Excellent. Everything would be fine. Then I realized something. Since we had the phone lines switched over we hadn't received any faxes. That seemed odd because at the very least we receive one of two junk faxes each week.

I went to the office next door and had them try to send me a fax. It rang and rang and rang, but never got answered. I called the cable company and explained my most recent issue. It was explained to me that perhaps our fax machine was not able to work on a digital line, and that I should check with the manufacturer to see if that was the case. I called Canon and asked them about it, and they told me that was correct, but that a simple fix might correct the issue. The technician walked me through a number of steps to change the speed of something-or-other (I'm a techno-peasant, what of it?), and said that it may or may not work depending on the amount of traffic on the line at any given time. So I went next door again and had them try to fax me again. Still nothing. I called the cable company again to ask what I needed to do to get my fax operational. I was told that I required a machine with Super G3 technology (whatever that is). So I went ahead and did some online research and decided to order a new machine that met that requirement from our local office supply place.

The new fax machine was delivered the next day. I put it together, put all the business information in there and set the date and time. Then I went next door again and asked them to try faxing me again. Same thing exactly. WTF? They suggested I try to fax them, which I did, and it worked fine. They tried to phone my fax number, and it just rang and rang. OK, I can send faxes, but not receive them. What's going on there? Fortunately, the new fax machine has a handset, so I decided to use it to call my main line. That's when I discovered what was wrong. A completely different number appeared on my call display. Our fax number had been changed.

You guessed it. I called the cable company yet again to ask why they changed my fax number. The customer service rep asked for the number that showed up, I told him, and he said, "Yep, that's your fax number. That's what I have here." I assured him that it was not the right number, and that I wanted the old number we've had for 15 years back. It's on our website, letterhead, business cards, advertisements, etc. He asked me to hold while he tried to figure it all out. When he returned about ten minutes later he said, "Ya....we have a bit of a problem here. It appears that your previous supplier did not want to re-release the number to us."

"Well, that certainly is a problem for you because I informed your sales rep of our phone number and our fax number, and they were both to remain the same. Had we been told that one of the numbers would be changed we would not have switched over," I explained. "As it is, I've already spent nearly $200 on a new fax machine because I was told that our old one wouldn't work on the new line, only to discover that this one isn't working because the number is wrong. It's quite possible that the old unit would have worked after all. So much for saving money by switching over."

Then he explained that we can have our old number back, but it would take about five days. Why he didn't tell me that right off the bat is beyond me. He made it sound as if we were unable to get it back at all.

Next on my list was to call the sales rep who sold us this service. I explained my dissatisfaction and he was very apologetic. He has no idea how the number got switched, but he assured me that he would look after it and make sure everything will be corrected. He's never had this problem before. Of course. That's because it never involved me in the past. I was sure to mention the likely unnecessary purchase of the new fax machine to him as well. We'll see what happens, but I won't hold my breath.

Today one of the cable company's technicians came by and worked his magic. He completely understood what I was telling him, and he got to the root of the problem and did a bit of rewiring and got our debit terminal back on the data/fax line. He was hoping he could get our old fax number hooked up while he was here, but unfortunately that was not to be. Next Tuesday is the date we've been promised.

Speaking of phones....

Over the past several months I've been telemarketer-free here at the shop. It was so nice not being bothered several times a day that I sort of forgot about those calls coming in and what a pain in the ass they had been. As it seems, nothing lasts forever. Yesterday they began again. I received a call from some scammer from "IPA". This number used to appear on our call display a lot. They say they are some sort of management consulting company and asked if we had a chance to look over the information package that was dropped off last week. There was no package dropped off. This is one of their lines. As I recall, the number they call from is in Chicago, so I highly doubt that they'd be "in the neighbourhood". I told the guy that I was sick of getting calls from them. They called a while back and were supposed to have someone stop by to see us. It never happened. I told him to stop wasting my time and not to call again. Things got a bit heated, I did a bit of yelling. It was kind of nice to get it out of my system.

I keep a list by the phone of numbers that have called and been nothing more than this type of lame telemarketing/scamming. I make a habit of quickly Googling strange incoming numbers, and more often than not, the "Who Calls Me" website pops up, indicating it's a telemarketer/scammer. Earlier this afternoon the phone rang and displayed one of those numbers and when I answered I said "Toronto Fraud Unit". "Yes, hello," said the woman calling, "Do you accept Visa and MasterCard?" "Excuse me ma'am, but you've got the Toronto Police Department Fraud Unit." I was amazed at the speed at which she said "Oh, I'm sorry! Wrong number." and hung up.

I could have some real fun with this.

Back On The Wagon

2009-01-07T10:28:00.002-05:00

I was supposed to have my annual-and-a-bit check-up with my cardiologist next Monday. The last time I saw him was around October of 2007, and he was impressed. I had been taking care of myself for the first time in...well, ever really. I made it a priority to get my ass on the treadmill every morning for an hour, and I was being a bit smarter about the food I ate. I had gone from a "HOW THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN!?" 375-380 pounds to a somewhat healthier 280. Yes, he was blown away.

Since that time I have pretty much abandoned that healthy routine. I have had intermittent knee/back/hip/sciatica pain that I was able to use as an excuse to avoid the treadmill. I also had to deal with the sudden illness and subsequent death of my mother in April. Every day after work for a couple of months I would go through some drive-thru and grab a burger and fries or something just as evil, and I would eat it while I drove to Hooterville to visit my mother in the hospital before visiting hours ended. I stuffed down my feelings with junk food, looking for comfort, and instead, created a cycle of self-loathing for having no self-control. Now that my father is battling cancer, I feel like I'm still spiralling out of control awaiting the latest news or test result from his oncologist.

I've lost sight of what led me to lose the weight in the first place. Initially, it began with fear of the direction of my business, which caused me to lose my appetite. I lost a few pounds and figured perhaps I could use this to my advantage. The biggest factor though, was the desire to be around for a long time to watch my girls grow up. So now I'm focusing on that thought again.

Like I said, I had my cardiologist appointment scheduled for this coming Monday. That thought filled me with fear. When I was at my heaviest, he would harp on me about heart disease, diabetes, and all those other fun things that so far I managed to dodge. "You're a ticking time-bomb", he'd say. And it would scare me. I also felt like a failure. The last time I was there I felt great. The doctor did everything but kneel and bow before me for my achievement. I was proud of myself. In less than a year and a half, I have gained back 45 pounds and do little to no physical activity whatsoever.

I dreaded this appointment coming up. I remembered that at my last appointment he had given me a requisition form for some blood work to be completed prior to this upcoming appointment. Where this form is now I have no idea. I found it a few months back, but since then it has disappeared. I called the cardiologist's office and spoke with the receptionist about the form. Apparently it takes one to two weeks for the results to be obtained and sent through, so we'd have to re-book our appointment and I could pick up a new requisition form at the office. I requested a Monday appointment so I could get in on my day off. The next available Monday appointment is in May.

This morning I got back on the treadmill for 30 minutes to get back into it. If I get serious again and maintain a daily routine on the treadmill and watch my diet, by the time that appointment rolls around I could perceivably lose most, if not all, of the weight I had put back on. This is going to be a pretty intense four months.

New Year's Heave

2009-01-01T20:40:00.002-05:00

My little puppy Stella has come of age. She's six months old and was in need of being spayed. Since I've got the luxury of being off for about two weeks over the holidays, I figured it would be best to have it done during that time so she could recover at home and not at work with me where people inevitably get the urge to pick her up. After a bit of research and advice from clients and friends, I decided to go with a vet about 30 minutes from home rather than our usual vet two blocks away. It's a cleanliness issue really. Our usual vet is fine for check-ups and shots, but I don't get that clinically sterile feeling from them. Could be the dirty, urine-stained peel & stick tiles on the floor and the stench of urine in the place. Not only does the new vet have a very clean-looking place, their prices are considerably lower than any in our immediate area. The other added bonus is that they are open 24/7 and do surgical procedures day or night.

I booked my appointment for the evening of January 30. I dropped her off mid-afternoon and the spaying was to take place between midnight and 3:00 am. Stella was a bit freaked out as soon as I pulled into the parking lot. She began whimpering before I parked the car. How do they know? She was checked out by one of their vets, paperwork was filled out, and she was led away. Of course I was concerned with her being away from The Squeeze and I, but I tried to put that out of my mind.

I received a call the next morning stating that she was ready to go home at any time. The surgery went well and she was recovering. I drove in to pick her up and made it back home before noon where I waited for Weezie to drop off the girls for us to have overnight so she could ring in the new year with some friends.

Perhaps the timing wasn't great because trying to keep a nearly four year old and a two and a half year old away from a post-surgery puppy is about as easy as herding cats. Stella was pretty groggy and was not herself. She had no interest in eating, and didn't even want to drink her water. Shortly after Weezie and the girls arrived, Stella vomited a couple of nice puddles of yellowish-orange bile onto the rug. I ran off to get the can of carpet cleaner from under the sink, and I heard Weezie yelling at Brynn. "No! Don't touch that! NO!!! Don't put that in your mouth!!! GROSS!!!" What is it with kids? They won't eat their dinner but they'll put dog barf in their mouths.

Later that afternoon when The Squeeze came home, we had dinner with the girls, and Stella was wandering around under the table doing her usual "I hope one of these monkeys drops something" thing. I figured she might just want to eat something, so I thought I'd put a few tiny pieces of ham in her food dish among her kibble. She inhaled the ham, so I thought things were looking up. No sooner did I turn toward the sink and turn back, and there was another pile of bile (Now With Chunks 'O Ham!) on the kitchen floor. I guess it was wishful thinking that she was ready to keep anything down.

As the evening wore on, I put Brynn and Zoe to bed, and it wasn't that long afterward that The Squeeze and I followed. I was unsure whether we should allow Stella in our bed as she has been for the past couple of weeks or to put her in her crate, but The Squeeze figured that she was done throwing up, so I agreed.

Stella parked herself on my half of the middle of the bed, leaving me with around a third of the bed. Tossing and turning were out of the question for me. I stayed awake for quite some time, worried about hurting Stella's incision and listening for one or both of the girls to start crying. Right at midnight I heard some muffled screaming. I sat up, figuring it was Zoe, because it didn't sound like crying, but more like shouting. At that same exact time, Stella saw fit to vomit on the fitted sheet right where I had been lying. "Happy Freakin' New Year", I thought to myself.

I went down the hall to Zoe's room, and she was fast asleep. I walked back into the bedroom and heard the screaming again. Turns out it was a couple of kids whooping it up outside their house across from us. I grabbed a wet cloth and scrubbed at the vomit on the bed. What the hell do I do now? The Squeeze is snoozing on his half of the bed, the spare sheets are in the bedroom where Brynn was sleeping - and I dare not walk in and wake her up! I couldn't go sleep in the basement like I had to do the previous night (due to disturbing noises coming from The Squeeze's CPAP machine) because I wouldn't hear the girls if they woke up in the night. I did the only thing I could do. I put a T-shirt over the wet spot, put Stella in her crate, and crawled back into bed.

Here's hoping that this ordeal is a farewell to 2008 and not an omen of what 2009 has in store.

Doing My Civic Duty

2008-12-04T11:00:00.002-05:00

About 100 feet from my shop's front door is an accident waiting to happen. For weeks...probably months, I have walked past this menacing foot high piece of steel post sticking out of the ground, and thought 'some kid is going to fall on that and get impaled'. It's not just a round pipe, but rather more like the shape of a tophat when looking down on it, with a rather sharp brim. I never really knew why this thing was sticking out of the ground, but I assumed there was some sort of sign there at one time, and that perhaps the City came by and cut it down for some reason, leaving this little hazard to await its victims.

Two weeks ago I took my little Boston Terrier, Stella, out for a pee break, and we went merrily about our walk when something or someone in the parking lot caught her attention. As puppies are prone to do, she lost focus on everything else around her and turned her head to see whomever or whatever caught her eye. When I called her to get her attention and continue our walk, she bounded through the air like a typical playful pup and landed on this abandoned post. A yelp like I have never heard filled the street and parking lot. Luckily she was more frightened than injured. How her tender belly didn't get punctured is a mystery.

I made my way back into my shop and immediately called City Hall. I explained the situation and the location of the post and was informed that the City doesn't own that property and is not responsible for removing it. They seemed to think that it belonged to the owner of the plaza. I called the property superintendent right away and they came to see me about it. I pointed out the post and the super told me that the City does own it. The super isn't even legally supposed to cut the grass in that area because it doesn't belong to the plaza, but they do it anyway because if he didn't, it would never get done. He recalls that there used to be a sign there a while back to indicate the location of a fire hydrant in the event it was covered with snow in the winter. I called the City back and told them that the super said it's not the plaza's property. In her most professional manner, the clerk on the phone told me "Well, he's full of it."

"Well, be that as it may," I told her, "apparently there was a fire hydrant sign on this post and something needs to be done about this before some kid wipes out and the City gets sued."
"Oh, is there a fire hydrant there?"
"Yes, on the other side of the sidewalk between the sidewalk and the road."
"Well, that's the Region's responsibility", she informed me.
"Oh my God! Are you serious? I can't believe something this simple is so hard to have resolved."
"I've already put a report in, so someone on the Parks and Road Maintenance crew will be out to take a look at it," she assured me.
"That would be terrific. Thank you for your help."

I continued our routine walks, taking care to make sure Stella steered clear of that post for about a week. On Friday last week a City truck pulled up in front of my shop and the worker asked if I was the guy who called about a post. I showed him where it was, and in no time he had it removed from the ground and had the hole filled. It was that easy - provided you had the right equipment to yank this cement-anchored sign from the ground.

It was such a little thing, but somehow I saw that it could seriously injure any one of the hundred or so little kids who travel along that path to the local school. All it takes is a bit of ice on the sidewalk, kids goofing around, pushing and shoving, and someone could have been seriously hurt. I wish I had done it sooner, before Stella landed on it. I'm just thankful that she didn't injure herself. Then I'd be kicking myself.

Enough Already

2008-11-18T11:25:00.003-05:00

I spent my Monday off in the kitchen. The Squeeze and I were having my old buddy and 'best babe' Mary and her hubby over for dinner, so after spending a small fortune at the grocery store I chained myself to the stove and began cooking.

The menu for the evening would be some cheese and paté and other nibblies while we sat about and chatted and drank some wine, then onto the main course of lasagna and Caesar salad, followed by a dulce de leche cheesecake and whipped cream for dessert. Several times through the lasagna-making process, I thought, 'why didn't I just buy a frozen one?'. But, I cook with love. And probably better ingredients. While the sauce simmered for a couple of hours, I began working on a pot of jumbalaya to take to work for our lunches this week.

The afternoon wore on, and eventually I had the lasagna prepared and resting in the fridge, the jumbalaya cooked and portioned out into containers, and the bacon and croutons cooked and ready for the salad.

I packed Stella up and took her to the pet food store that our former neighbour manages so I could pick up another huge bag of Stella's food to get us through the next month or so. I reminded her of the invitation to The Squeeze's party that we never heard back from her about. Turns out they were away on vacation and got back the day after the big party. When I told her that we got married at the party she screamed with excitement, came running around the counter and gave me a huge hug. Eventually Stella and I got over the volume of the scream, paid for the food and headed back home.

When we returned to the house there was a message on the phone from my sister-in-law. "Dave, we just got back from Dad's doctors' appointment. Call us back." I forgot that he had a meeting with his oncologist and a GI surgeon about possibly doing surgery on a hiatus hernia that was causing pain when he ate. After trying to call my sister-in-law back several times and getting a busy signal, I managed to get through. It turns out that my father's cancer has spread to his liver. He is having another scan on Friday to check out his bones and brain because he's been complaining about back pain and headaches. They aren't able to do any more radiation for whatever reason, and the GI surgeon said that they can't open him up to fix the hernia at this point. "I wish we had better news for you," the doctor said.

So again, now we wait. Hearing that from my sister-in-law was quite a blow. Part of me is crushed, and a part of me is in denial and doesn't want to face what this means. I'm dreading what we'll learn next week. My father is pretty much resigned to the fact that he's going to die soon, and he's quite fed up with the chemo and radiation and doctor's appointments he's been going through. As he says, "What a waste of time." I think he's ready to go, but I'm not ready to let him. I'm still sitting here waiting for a miracle.

Needless to say, I wasn't completely present for our company, but I did enjoy the visit and the opportunity to have dinner together. My mind just drifted onto other matters. I'm still in a fog of disbelief, and I'm waiting to wake up and find this has been one of my weird dreams.

Puppy Trials

2008-11-12T17:17:00.002-05:00

Stella, our five month old Boston Terrier, has developed a late night and early morning ritual. When we go to bed at night, we bring her up on the bed with us and snuggle with her for about half an hour or so. Just until the last person awake (usually me) is about to drift off, then we put her in her crate a few feet from our bed for the night.

In the morning, the first person up (usually The Squeeze) takes her outside to do her bidness, brings her back inside and puts her food in her dish. Some mornings she'll eat the food before heading upstairs, some mornings she just runs up without eating. Her goal in coming upstairs is to get in bed with me and snuggle until it's time for me to get up.

It's just so cute having her nuzzled up close, snoring away, that I've been tempted to not put her in the crate at the end of the day. The thing that's prevented me from letting that happen is the fact that The Squeeze and I outweigh Stella by about...oh, a ton, and one little turn from us in the middle of the night would spell certain doom for her.

Now I have another reason not to do it. The Squeeze took Stella out Monday morning, and she sprinted back up to snuggle with me right away. Only an hour or so after she came back in, I was taking my shower when The Squeeze walked into the bedroom and discovered that Stella had peed right below the pillow on my side of the bed. This was rather out of character. She's been doing great with the housebreaking, and I can't recall the last time she's had an accident in the house.

So I stripped the bed and threw the sheets and the miraculous no-seep mattress-protecting underpad in the wash. Luckily she didn't get the comforter, because I usually have to take that to the laundromat due to its size. That night The Squeeze and I made the bed and had a nice fresh bed to sleep in for the night.

Last night as we were getting ready for bed I heard The Squeeze yelling from the bedroom. I left the bathroom to see what was going on. Stella peed on the bed again. I had just taken her outside less than an hour prior. This time she got the comforter too. This was just after 11:00pm. Again, I stripped the bed and lugged the soiled bedding down to the laundry room and began washing. I even decided to jam the comforter in as a second load instead of letting it sit there wet on the basement floor. It fit fine. I wonder why I wasted so much time and money at the laundromat in the past.

The Squeeze had moved us into the guest room for the night, but it wasn't until after midnight before I joined him. And there was no pre-crate snuggling that night. And there wasn't any post-pee snuggling this morning either. I don't mind having clean sheets on the bed, but twice in two days. Come on.

I'm pretty sure I'll cave on my new "no dog on the bed" rule as early as tonight. She's just so darned cute, how can I not cuddle with her? I'll just say "piss on it" and hope she won't take it literally.

On a somewhat related topic. Tonight the pup graduates from Puppy School. I want to get her into more classes to fine-tune her training, stop the jumping up and pulling on the leash. My goal will be to be able to walk her down the street without a leash and know she won't go from my side. Wishful thinking?

Now THAT'S a Party!

2008-10-20T15:28:00.002-05:00

Sunday we threw a party to celebrate The Squeeze's 50 birthday. We've been planning it for a number of months and it all led to October 19 at 3:00pm. We arranged for the party at a golf course between Hooterville and our own city, so it's not a killer drive for anyone. We got there around 1:00 to get the balloons blown up and arranged, and to set up the chocolate fountain and all the dipping items.

People started trickling in just before 3:00, and The Squeeze and I accepted the help of our friends in finishing the balloons while we got changed. The bar was open and the drinks were flowing, veggie and cheese platters were being sampled, and did I mention the chocolate fountain? If there is one thing people need at a party, it's a chocolate fountain.

There were about 90 people in attendance, and dinner was set to be served around 5:00. At 4:30, an announcement was made. This was much more than a birthday party. It was our surprise wedding. The Squeeze and I were outside of the building on opposite sides with our witnesses, listening through the open doors and gasps, cheers, and applause filled the hall. And then the music started. Our witnesses entered the hall and stood by our lay chaplain, then The Squeeze and I walked in toward each other and took our positions. As the ceremony was being performed, I looked into the crowd and saw faces streaked with tears of joy, and looks of shock and disbelief that we managed to keep this all a secret.

We said our vows, we signed the register, we had our first marital kiss, and exited the hall to our closing number "At Last" by Etta James. We were quickly followed out by our family and friends who congratulated us for taking the plunge and keeping it a secret, and cursed us for keeping it a secret. "I would have had my hair and nails done" was heard from more than one person.

It was a hard secret to keep, but we had to keep it to get the desired effect. The only person we told was The Squeeze's gay cousin's ex-wife, Doc Swallows, who acted as our photographer. We had to make sure she was up to doing this for us, and she was thrilled. Doc took a boatload of pictures of The Squeeze and me, with siblings, with kids, with in-laws, you name it. I can't wait to see the pictures. The ones I most want to see are the shots she took of the crowd when the lay chaplain announced the wedding was taking place. I am dying to see the looks on their faces.

The Squeeze Turns 50

2008-10-17T03:50:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was The Squeeze's 50th birthday. He's been on vacation all week, and I've got the luxury of having a couple of days off to spend with him and do some running around for his big party on Sunday. He spent his birthday as most people do. Working on some plumbing and installing a couple of toilets here at the house with our friend Dan. He was actually in his glory. He loves doing this kind of stuff, there just usually aren't enough hours in the day to do it unless one happens to be on vacation. I kept myself busy getting last minute details for the party organized and in the evening I worked away at assembling a dresser from IKEA.

After The Squeeze and Dan finished for the night, Dan headed out to meet up with his Mrs., and The Squeeze and I, sharing the brain again, wanted to head to our local Chinese buffet for dinner. Part of the reason for this is that they offer a free meal on your birthday, and we figured we'd take advantage. It was 8:30 on a Thursday night. We pulled into the parking lot and it was empty. Not one single car. We figured that if, in fact, the buffet was still going, odds are the food wouldn't be quite as fresh as if the place were busy and the dishes constantly replaced.

We decided to try the other nearby Chinese buffet, The Mandarin. Now, we're not normally too crazy about this place because the quality doesn't quite compare to our local eatery, but we figured, hey, a free birthday dinner, even if it's not that good, isn't bad.

We made it through the door at 8:45 and were informed that the buffet closes at 9:30. No problem. We could do a lot of damage in 45 minutes. We were led through the cavernous restaurant to a far away room where we were seated. The Squeeze informed the waiter that we were there to celebrate his birthday and asked about the birthday special promotion and flashed him his driver's licence as proof. The waiter smiled and nodded, took our drink orders and left the table.

In our room there were two other tables of two, and one table of about 24 loud, screaming, laughing women who I assume from the conversation (and there was no way you couldn't hear) were school teachers out to celebrate a co-worker's birthday. Either that, or she always wears a tiara. When I say it was loud, I don't think you quite appreciate what I mean. I mean loud as in 'I couldn't hear The Squeeze when he talked to me' kind of loud. As large as this place is, I can't believe they had to sit us next to this table of screaming Mimis. At one point when we got back from the buffet, they were all posing for photos after recruiting a diner from a nearby table to play shutterbug. The whole time screaming things like "Grab her boob!" and "Who farted!?". Ya, that's who's teaching our kids. God help them.

After two trips to the buffet and a round of desserts we were ready for our bill. When it arrived, I looked at the bill and noticed that they didn't charge us for only one meal as we expected. We were billed for one adult and one senior's dinner. We sat there and scratched our heads over this one and figured that our waiter must have misheard us. The Squeeze called over a waitress who was busying herself setting up a nearby table and asked if they still do the free birthday dinner. "Yes. Oh, it someone birthday here?", she asked in broken English. "Yes," The Squeeze answered, "but they billed us for one adult and one senior". "Oh, ok", she said and walked away. A moment later we were surrounded by four or five servers and a slice of birthday cake with a candle in it, as they butchered "Happy Birthday". How so few people sang in so many different keys is beyond me. The Squeeze took a bite of the cake and discovered that it was in keeping with the poor quality of the rest of the food that night. A light smear of icing and they could re-serve it to the next poor sucker.

We waited at our table for a few more minutes and then The Squeeze said "so...they still haven't fixed the bill", before going over to the waiters' station to ask about it. Our waiter said that they don't give free meals for birthdays there, but a waitress there thought they did. Another waiter agreed with our waiter, saying that they don't do free dinners. The Squeeze returned to the table to tell me what had transpired.

Our waiter came back to the table to collect the money and said, "You get the 20% senior's discount." How very odd, we thought.

It wasn't until we were walking out the front door that the laughter hit us. "Oh my God! He thought you were over 65! He must have thought you were showing him ID to proove you were at least 65, and he couldn't do the math." The Squeeze even stopped at the door to look at the pricing sign. Sure enough, seniors 65 and over save 20%. "I've got to put this on the blog," I told him. " "I can hardly wait to read it," he said.

"Well Gramps, let's get you home and see if your pension cheque is in the mailbox yet."

Notes:

The Mandarin, as I discovered from their website, does not offer free meals on your birthday.

The Squeeze does not look anywhere near 65. Most people think he's in his early 40's. In fact, recently when we told someone he was turning 50, they asked which of us was older. Nice. Real nice. I'm seven years younger. Just so you know.

"Swift" Chalet

2008-09-30T13:56:00.003-05:00

The Squeeze and I were driving home from Hooterville after visiting the kids and my father and we were really getting our hunger on. The original plan was to get back in time to do our grocery shopping, but that didn't happen. Since we didn't have much in the house to eat, we coasted on to the nearby Swiss Chalet drive-through for some chicken to go.

Let me just say that you always get screwed at the drive-through window. If it's Tim Horton's, you wind up with a burnt, deformed or "substituted" cookie or burnt coffee or watery hot chocolate. At McDonald's, you drive off only to realize they didn't give you the ketchup you asked for. There are, however, eight packets of salt, so that's pretty close.

But back to Swiss Chalet. I drove up to the mic, was told to hang on for a second, and eventually began to place our order. Two 1/4 chicken and shrimp dinners, one dark meat, one white meat, both with rice, and one order of fries and an extra chalet dipping sauce.

$25.15 was the total, so I paid the young guy at the window and while we waited I read our bill and realized that he rang in two soup and sandwich meals instead of the 1/4 chicken and shrimp dinners. Who would order two soup and sandwich meals for dinner? That's more of a lunch thing to me. I flagged him down and told him of the error. He yelled at the kitchen guys to scrap the order and told them what we actually wanted. He then called for someone else to help him with the register to figure out how to cancel the wrong order and enter the new one. Naturally there was going to be a difference in price.

I heard them discussing that the new price was $29.67, and my freakish math brain kicked in and gave me the difference of $4.52. I reached into my pocket and had the exact amount in my hand while the two guys at the till were pulling out calculators and cell phones to punch in the numbers and come up with the difference. Our guy finally announced to us that we still owe $4.52, and I dropped the money into his hand. He turned back to his till to count out what I had given him so he could make change, and the startled look on his face when he realized I had handed him the exact amount, made me think that he had seen a ghost. He turned to me with a stunned look, cracked a smile and gave a chuckle. Not sure if it was a "how did you know?" or a "damn, you're good!" response.

So there we were at the drive-through window, still waiting for our food as two other cars now waited in line behind us. At this point, about 10 minutes had elapsed since we placed our order. A woman who seemed to be a supervisor came to the window to announce that they had run out of rice, and asked us if fries would be ok. Sure. Why not? So now we were getting two dinners with fries and an order of fries to go with that. I was tempted to cancel the extra order of fries, but I was really hoping to get home to eat that night, so I didn't bother.

The supervisor came back to the window to apologize for the long delay and told us she would give us a discount on the meal for the inconvenience. Sounded good to me. She came back a moment later, realizing that we had already paid, and offered us our choice of desserts instead. We each asked for a caramel chocolate cheesecake, and a few moments later our order was ready and we were on our way.

When we arrived at home we fed Stella and sat down to our meals and complimentary desserts. By the time we were done, I was feeling quite full. That dessert just crossed the line. I should have had the soup and sandwich.

Another meme...Why not?

2008-09-17T09:41:00.002-05:00

My favorite age: 19...oh, the angst!

My best friend: The Squeeze.

My celebrity crush: Don't think I really have one.

My defining characteristic: Good sense of humour (or so I'm told).

My most evil moment: Wow...Grade 8...Catholic school...caught chewing gum...ordered to weed the nuns' garden...keyed their car (just a little).

My favorite food: I can't say no to chocolate.

My grossest injury: Not visually gross, but I broke my back in high school while tobogganing (nun karma?).

My biggest hatred: Slow drivers in the passing lane.

My most illegal activity: DUI (years and years ago), liberating music files.

My need for justice: Abusers of children and animals.

My most knowledgeable field: 80's music and pop culture.

My life's goal: To not be living in a cardboard box under a bridge.

My mother's influence: Love, Family, Kindness.

My nerdiest point: Playing sax in the high school band and having to wear the red velvet vest and big bow tie.

My oldest memory: I have a snapshot in my mind of me at about age 2 wearing ~~a red velvet vest~~ red overalls, and dancing as my sister and her friends were listening to 45's on the portable record player in the living room.

My perfect date: A leisurely walk through Niagara-On-The-Lake, a picnic in the park, and snuggling at home afterward...that's how I got The Squeeze.

My unanswered question: Why are the right-wing religious fundamentalists the most hate-filled people?

My random fact: I have a touch of OCD that forces me to see if words/titles/names/sentences are divisible by 3. (the preceding sentence was! whew...now my house won't burn down.)

My stupidest decision: "Moving" to BC in the late 80's...it lasted about 3 days.

My favorite television show: The Office.

My style of underwear: Boring briefs. Anything smaller would disappear.

My favorite vegetable: asparagus.

My weakest trait: envy...greed...sloth...I'm sure there are 3 or 4 others.

My X-men power: I've never seen the X-men, so I don't know what my options are, but I'll take a guess at invisibility. Admit it, you can't see me right now! OK, how about a great sense of hearing?

My strongest yearning: drop 100 pounds or so.

My moment of Zen: Holding Brynn when she was a baby, giving her a bottle and having her hold my pinkie with her whole hand. Best. Moment. Ever.

Rude Awakening

2008-09-10T10:43:00.002-05:00

The Squeeze was up at the crack of 6:00 this morning. He took the puppy out for a pee and let me stay in bed a bit longer. At 6:45 the phone rang. What the hell? The Squeeze came in with the phone. "It's the alarm company. Your store alarm went off."

I was told by the alarm company that the alarm went off, someone was in the store that did not have a password and that the police have been dispatched. "Did they give you a name?" I asked. They gave me the name. It was my superintendent. "Call off the cops!" I hate those false alarm fees.

While I was on with the alarm company, the super tried calling me. I called her back, the alarm was still blaring in the background. It appears I failed to inform her that we switched alarm companies last month. My bad.

As it turns out, the water heater in their apartment directly above my shop broke and was spewing water through their place. They had just installed new hardwood floors up there. I'd be pissed. At any rate, water, as we all know, has a bad habit of running downhill. "It's leaked down into your place and your whole table in back is covered in water.

OH! MY! GOD! Yesterday a customer dropped off an antique map to be framed and due to the size of it, I was not able to put it into a folder. I left it on the main table out back. I was also half-way through framing a wedding invitation for a client that needs to be done for the wedding this weekend. I felt like throwing up as I made my way to the store.

Thank god it wasn't leaking on the main table! It was the side table that got soaked. There was still damage. The walls are bulging from the water, a collage of war medals had their mat destroyed. Luckily the photos weren't destroyed. I had a few pictures of my own that were on that table waiting to be framed. They should dry out alright. There was also a stack of prints belonging to a local politician that had been left here about a year and a half ago. They were going to call us whenever they needed one framed. They never called, and there they sat. Believe it or not, I called their office yesterday to let them know we still have these things here and they keep getting moved back and forth because we have no room to store them. Watch them show up today for them.

A number of banker's boxes filled with our files got soaked, so we're waiting for the papers and folders to dry out. I've already picked up new boxes to put them in. The store smells like wet wood and cardboard and I can't open the doors to air the place out because Stella will run outside. I've got the A/C running to try to get the humidity out of here.

I'm ready for bed.

The Screamer

2008-09-05T10:35:00.003-05:00

Yesterday the Business Partner and I were at work and our accountant's assistant was scheduled to drop in to do some bookwork for us. I was on the grassy area across the parking lot from our store letting Stella have a pee when I saw the bookkeeper enter the store. I walked back in, praised Stella for being a good girl, and as she always does, she sat while I took off her leash. What a good girl...yes she is. Yes she is!

Stella, always the social butterfly, walked over to the bookkeeper to greet her with a sniff at her feet. The bookkeeper let out a strange shreik that made me think Stella had licked her toes and tickled her (she has a thing for licking feet).

"Oh, is she licking you?" I asked.
Again she screamed. "I'm terrified of dogs!"
"Really?" I asked, incredulously as I scooped Stella up.

The bookkeeper apologized several times for the outburst and for the fact that we had to keep Stella barracaded in the back of the shop while she was working here.

I understand that people have irrational fears, but there is just something funny about this woman in her late 20's or early 30's, freaking out over an 11 week old puppy. It was also very difficult for me to think of her as a mature, competent professional after witnessing her outburst.

Would it have been out of line for me to suggest hypnotherapy to overcome this fear?

STELLA! STELLA!!!, etc.

2008-09-03T14:39:00.004-05:00

I can't believe I haven't thrown up a post (wow, I bet THAT would hurt!) in nearly two months.

What the hell have I been up to?

Well, I've been spending my days at work, my evenings working around the house, weekends running around, visiting kids, visiting my father, attending family functions, and for the past few weeks every waking moment has been spent keeping an eye on Stella, my little Boston Terrier pup.

Stella came into our lives somewhat unexpectedly. Although The Squeeze and I had long planned to get a Boston Terrier, and we had the name picked forever, the time was never right. (Translation: $1500 for a dog? Are you crazy!?) Well, lo and behold, I saw an ad in the local paper at the end of July. "Boston Terrier pups for sale $650.00"

Tempting. Very tempting. But I put the thought out of my mind. The next week, there was another ad. "Boston Terrier pups. Two females left. $350 firm." I called The Squeeze. "Call them" he said. So I did. That night, August 8th, we took the short drive to see the two pups, and we picked our little girl from the two remaining. They were both spoken for, it's just that whoever got there first got their pick of the litter, as it were. Had the other not been claimed, it would have broken my heart not to get both.

I have the luxury, owning my own business, to bring her to work with me. Luckily, the Business Partner has fallen in love with her too, not to mention all the customers who just can't get enough of her and the other business owners in the plaza who keep coming in to visit her. The Squeeze and I have finally met all of our neighbours in the complex after two years. It's funny how when you walk a little puppy down the lane way, everyone comes out to introduce themselves and get a few minutes of tongue time with the pup. Umm...the dog's tongue, not the neighbours'...that would be just too weird.

Needless to say, what with trying to get her housebroken, I haven't been exactly getting a whole lot of work done here. There have been two times where customers have been in, taking waaaaaaay too much time to make up their minds than is necessary, where Stella gets up from her nap and winds up peeing on the floor. Not her fault. I'm pretty on top of things when there's nobody else here. She goes out several times a day, and quite often just flops on her back and soaks up the sun. Sometimes it's hard for her to empty what needs to be emptied because people keep coming up to her to pet her and play with her, and she forgets what she was about to do.

We're also doing crate training, which she's been great with once we realized that it's best to keep the crate in the bedroom with us. Those first two nights when she was in the living room were hell. All is well now. She begins puppy class on Friday, so that should be fun. Eight weeks later we should have a perfect dog. Pfft...ya, right.

We just spent the last week up north and we brought Stella along with us. She had a blast as all dogs tend to do when they spend their days sleeping, eating, playing in the sand and water and farting. Oh, that's right. Bostons are notorious for their flatulence. Ohhhh...speak of the devil. Damn it! How can something so sweet and cute be so foul smelling?

The cottage was fun. The worst part was getting up in the middle of the night to take her out to pee. This cottage is in the middle of nowhere, with no electricity. That means when it is night, it is black. I mean, can't see in front of your face black. The Squeeze and I made an agreement that we would both get up with her so we could have one of us hold a flashlight and check for bears or wolves, and the other keep an eye on Stella. It's so much easier at home where there are streetlights...and no bears or wolves.

On the trip back home from the cottage Saturday afternoon, The Squeeze and I had a bit of a vehicular breakdown. Electrical problem, it turned out, but we were faced with the very real possibility that we would be stranded for three days in a small Northern Ontario town until the shops re-opened on Tuesday after the holiday Monday. Luckily, Canadian Tire (aka Crappy Tire) managed to resolve the issue and sent us on our way, only a couple of hours behind schedule. I'm getting Honda to look at the car before this weekend's trip away.

Once I get a chance to sneak away from Stella, I will upload some pictures from my camera onto the computer so I can post some (hopefully) amazing shots from the cottage, as well as some new pictures of the quickly growing puppy.

For now, I leave you with this one which was taken the night we brought the little girl home. Oh crap, this is where all my spacing gets screwed up. Sorry about that.

My Brush With Fame

2008-07-16T12:36:00.005-05:00

The Squeeze and I headed out around 9:30 Saturday morning, about an hour ahead of the Business Partner and his hubby, on our way to Chicago to see Yaz in concert. Yaz (Yazoo to the folks across the pond) was back with their 25th anniversary reunion tour and from the first day I heard about it, I have been pumped. Only You, Situation, Don't Go...these were the songs that defined my youth and perhaps my entire generation. I still don't get why so many people my age have no idea who I'm talking about when I mention Yaz. I mention Alison Moyet, I get a blank stare. I mention Vince Clarke, again a blank stare. I mention Erasure, sometimes I get a glint of recognition in their faces. How about Depeche Mode? Usually that gets an affirmative response. But by the time I tell them of Vince's connection with DM and the paths which brought Yaz together again, I'm met with that 'deer in the headlights' look. What's wrong with you people!?!? Most of the time that reaction is guaranteed when the people I'm talking to are mid-30's or younger.

Our drive was supposed to take just under 8 hours. Factor in a one hour delay at the border and stops for lunch and a number of bathroom breaks, and we got there in about 9 1/2 hours. Not too bad I suppose. We arrived at our hotel at 6:00, handed the car keys to the valet and went inside just in time to miss the nightly wine hour. Oh well, there would be others. We took the elevator up to our room and flopped on the bed for a few minutes and waited for BP and the hubby to arrive. They arrived within the hour and we set out to find a nice place to eat. We checked out the menu at the restaurant connected to the hotel, but we figured we'd take a quick tour of the neighbourhood to see if there was anything else calling us.

We hiked down the Magnificent Mile for a bit, and headed our way back up State St. and past the venue of the concert on Monday night. We decided to head back for dinner at the hotel, and had a very enjoyable dinner. The staff was very accommodating and attentive. I had a very nice pork chop with white cheddar mac & cheese (to die for!) with grilled asparagus. Our waiter even managed to scare us up a couple of bottles of wine that we really wanted to try but he thought they sold out of. Like I said, he came through.

As the four of us sat at our table following our dinner and discussed business, I glanced over into another booth across from us where two women were just seated. My eyes bulged. My heart stopped. "Oh my GOD!", I whispered to the table. "I think that's Alison Moyet." Everyone slowly turned their heads to take a look. Some said "Are you sure?" I said "Are you new!? I know Alison Moyet when I see her." There's no mistaking that smile, that face. Needless to say, I kept catching glances of her while I turned to talk to The Squeeze, who was perfectly positioned between Alison and me. As I said, we were discussing business, but from the moment I saw her, I heard nothing of the discussion. All I heard was the dialogue in my mind. "Should I go over there? I don't want to bother her. But this is a once in a lifetime thing. What should I do? What should I say? What will she say? What will her friend do? Did I have too much wine? Did I have enough wine? I should go there before they get their food. Am I going to be a nuisance? Will she be nice? What if she's not nice and shatters my image of her? What do I do???"

"I'm going over," I said to the table as the three of them looked on in disbelief. The Squeeze got up to let me out and I approached the table, grinning like an idiot, I'm sure. Alison looked up at me with a smile.

"I am SO sorry to bother you," I offered, "but I just had to come over to meet you. We drove nearly ten hours from Toronto to see your show on Monday and I just couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you sitting here. And I can't believe this is a 25th anniversary tour because you look like you're still in your 20's."

"I'm a fright," she replied as she laugned. "I've been flying all day and haven't even washed my hair yet."

"Nonsense. You're stunning. Could I be a total pain and ask if I can get a picture with you? I have a friend flying in Monday for the show and he is a HUGE fan of yours too and he simply will not believe I met you."

"Oh, absolutely! Can we do it here on the bench?", she asked.

"Squeeze! Grab the camera!", I yelled over as I sat down beside Alison. Just then, their waitress came by and said "Oh, will you be joining them?"

The monkey chatter in my brain said "Yes, yes I will. I'll have dinner again right here!" But reality clicked in. "No, I'm just bothering them for a moment. I'm with that group over there at that table," I sadly reflected.

Thank God I gave The Squeeze a crash course on the new camera the week before. He came over, said hello and got ready to take the shot as Alison put her arm around my shoulder. The flash went, the shutter clicked. It was done. I had to check the screen before leaving. It looked very nice. I was thrilled.

I thanked her for indulging me and told her how much I was looking forward to the concert on Monday. Again I apologized for interrupting them, especially her friend who looked pretty ticked off the whole time I was there. But as my friends said, you can't go out with someone that famous and not expect to have people come up and say hello.

As we left the restaurant to head back up to our room, I had our waiter look up what Alison and her friend were drinking and bought them a round.

"Any message?", he asked.

"Tell them it's from the annoying guy with the camera."

"OK, will do."

"And tell her I'm looking forward to seeing her show Monday night."

"What show is that?", he asked.

"You're not in your 30's yet, are you?", I asked as I turned to leave.

Could I possibly look more like Peter Boyle?

Awaiting My Long Weekend

2008-07-11T14:30:00.002-05:00

This past week has been a major pain in my back. Monday (my day off) I tore up the carpet and underpad in the soon-to-be master bedroom and pried up about 87 million staples from the plywood below. I then moved on to the hallway where I tore up the hardwood that the previous home owner had installed (poorly). After that, upon his return from work, The Squeeze and I removed the laminate floor from the guest room. Oh yes, I almost forgot. All of the baseboards in the aforementioned rooms had to be removed too, which meant about 4 thousand finishing nails had to be removed. By the end of the day my hands felt like hot hamburger meat. How blisters never formed is beyond me.

Why did I do all this, you ask? Because we decided to do the entire second floor (except for the bathrooms) in new hardwood, and Tuesday morning our installer was arriving. When the installer arrived, we looked at each other a moment, and he said "You have the picture framing shop over there." Ahh....right, now it all made sense. He's actually a new client of mine. Jordan is a super nice guy, quite friendly...perhaps a bit indecisive when it comes to picking a frame. But let me tell you, he knows his hardwood! When I came home Tuesday night the master bedroom looked incredible. Wednesday he returned to do the hallway and spare room. Again, it's simply amazing.

Wednesday night we needed to move everything that we had piled into the office/temporary master bedroom that had come from the other two rooms. The Squeeze didn't get home until 7:30. Luckily, our good friend and eager beaver, Dan, came over to help. Thank God! Because after moving just a few small items (if you consider a solid oak dresser to be small), my back gave out. I spent the remainder of the night hunched over and carrying small piles of books and such. I was pretty much useless when it came to things like book cases, dressers, desks, beds, and well, pretty much anything that couldn't be carried while I was at a 90 degree angle.

Dan and The Squeeze worked until about 10:30, removing the carpet that we're saving for a friend's basement, and giving me the underpad to roll up around the broken nailing strips from around the room. I was quite a sight, squatting on the floor rolling the stuff up, but it was more comfortable than standing.

Luckily, the next morning I was a fair bit more limber. The Squeeze and I got back in the room and tore out the baseboards and nails just as Jordan arrived to do the final room. I couldn't wait to get home that night to see the finished result. It was amazing. Instead of two rooms with carpet, one with laminate, a hardwood hallway and vinyl bathrooms, it's all hardwood (except the bathrooms, of course).

This weekend, young Norbert, the 22 year-old "kid" who works for me at my shop will be coming over to do all the new baseboards. This requires all of the furniture to be pulled a couple of feet from the walls tonight. I'm not terribly jazzed about that, but when I think that just about everything on the second floor will be done by the end of the weekend, it makes it a bit less painful to do. Unfortunately, The Squeeze is working late tonight, so I'll tackle that myself until I screw up my back. Then we have to pack because Saturday we leave for Chicago to see Yaz! I can't wait to see this concert. I'm not necessarily looking forward to an 8 hour drive, but I'm sure it will go fast. Ya, right.

Two Years Ago Today

2008-07-04T09:11:00.003-05:00

You know how people say "It seems like yesterday, but it also seems like a lifetime ago"? Today I'm thinking the exact same thing. Two years ago today my life changed like I'd never imagined possible. It was the day my little girl Brynn was born.

I remember being here at work and getting the call that my baby-mama Weezie was heading in to the hospital. I tracked down the Business Partner so he could come in and cover for me. I took my camera to capture all the coming cuteness. I took pictures of my new tiny baby, printed them on my way home and showed them to The Squeeze, and we both stood there in our kitchen and cried. We were so happy and overcome with joy. Nothing has changed.

Happy birthday sweetie!

I love you more than you could ever know.

Daddy

Happy Birthday. Wish You Were Here.

2008-06-24T16:21:00.003-05:00

Today would be my mother's 77th birthday. Not being able to call her and wish her a happy birthday or to bring her a cake I made or a beautiful bouquet of flowers to enjoy is a tough thing to accept. She's been gone 11 weeks and in some ways it seems much longer, but she's missed like she passed away yesterday.

I met with a friend last night who was complaining about how much her mother was driving her nuts. "I keep thinking to myself, 'Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. I don't want to hear your voice!', but then I realize there will probably be a time that I will wish I would be able to hear her voice and I won't be able to." Yep, it's a sad time when it comes. Appreciate what you have while you have it.

My sister-in-law called last night and left a message that she and my brother are taking my father across the border to Buffalo today for an MRI. By taking him to the U.S., it avoids a potentially lengthy wait to have the testing done here in Canada. I'm not sure how it all works financially, I'm sure it's out of pocket payment to get it done there, but it beats waiting, even if it's free here. We found out with my mother that time is not your friend when facing cancer. His doctor is supposed to have the results of his test this afternoon. It's after 5:30, so I'm just waiting for a call. Perhaps there will be a message waiting for me when I get home.

I'm hoping it's been caught very early and that he'll be alright, but deep down I'm terrified.

I Can't Go Through This Again

2008-06-20T15:47:00.002-05:00

My sister-in-law just called me at work.

She and my brother accompanied my father to his doctor's appointment today. He's been having stomach problems for a while now. He often feels like throwing up (and often has) after eating. The doctor used a scope to see if he could determine what the problem was. The diagnosis is not good. It appears my father has esophageal cancer.

It's been just over two months since my mother lost her fight with cancer. I think I'm in shock over this news. I can't accept it. But I know I have to. I'm sure he's scared of what's to come. He watched his beloved wife rapidly fade away. Will it be the same for him? I'm scared of what's to come. I just don't understand this. It is so unfair.

His doctor is sending the results to the local cancer center so my father can be seen by an oncologist. The doctor said that surgery and radiation are options, but it is a major surgery. What will this do to him? I'm sure we'll know more in the next week or so.

As with my mother, I would greatly appreciate everyone to think positive thoughts for my father, and to keep him in your prayers.

Giddy-up!

2008-06-17T09:23:00.002-05:00

Another whirlwind weekend! Friday night The Squeeze and I joined my business partner and his squeeze and the young lad who works for us and his girlfriend for a night of fun. We started by seeing John Pinette do his stand-up routine. It was a great show. If the name doesn't ring a bell, go to YouTube and watch a few of his numbers. Funny, funny stuff. In honour of Mr. Pinette, The Squeeze and I took in a Chinese buffet before meeting the others for the show.

We planned to visit the girls Sunday morning before taking my father out to the racetrack to watch the ponies do their thing. Knowing time was tight, we made alternate arrangements with Weezie, my baby-mama. She was thinking of going out to a movie Saturday night with her girlfriends, but her mother bailed on her and hit the bingo hall to get her fix. We decided to go see the kids that night so Weezie could go out, and we'd get to spend time with the girls and not have to rush out early Sunday morning.

We arrived late afternoon and Weezie and the girls presented The Squeeze and I with our Father's Day gifts. Zoe made us a cute card and a decorated mini-pie tin for my keys and change. Brynn made me a card in the shape of a necktie, and she had painted a coffee mug for me. Weezie also got us a card and some scratch & win lottery tickets. After we opened the presents, Weezie's friends came to pick her up and she was on her way.

We had a fun time playing with the girls until it was time for dinner. Zoe eats like a bird, but I managed to get her to finish her lasagna. Brynn...no problems there. She especailly loves vegetables, and asked for more three times. Guess that explains why I always find corn.....nevermind. TMI!

After dinner I cleaned up and washed the dishes while Poppy and the girls played with their huge Play-doh collection. Then the four of us went into the family room and played in there until it was time for Brynn to go to bed. She was pretty exhausted. I heated up a bottle of milk for her and took her up to her room, changed her, hugged her, kissed her good-night and put her in the crib with her bottle. She sucked on the bottle as I was leaving her room, then she pulled it out and said "Bu-bye Da-da". "Bu-bye sweetie, see you soon", I replied. I closed the door and tried to fight back the tears. Am I the luckiest guy in the world???

When I came downstairs, Zoe and Poppy were playing quietly until it was time for her to head off to bed. It's so strange how well-behaved she can be when it's just her, but when her sister is around, Zoe just refuses to listen and will do everything in her power to annoy you. The typical attention-getting routine, I guess.

We headed home shortly after Weezie came back from the movies, and we got into bed moments after getting in the house.

Sunday morning we headed out to meet my family at the track for Father's Day. Everyone was there except my one notoriously late brother and his wife. I still don't know why they didn't show. Maybe they were there but couldn't find us, but we're a pretty tough crowd to miss. I haven't been to a horse race in years, and I didn't have a clue what I was doing then, and I still didn't know that day. I placed a few bets and didn't win anything. I liked the names of two horses, so I asked my sister how I could place a bet for both of them.

"You could do an exactor," she told me.
"Ya-huh....and that means...?"
"Just tell the person in the booth that you want to box 5 & 7, for example. If 5 & 7 come in first and second, in either order, you win the exactor pot."

I decided I'd go for it, except I was thinking of 5 & 9. As The Squeeze and I headed to the ticket booth, I thought, "Hmmm...my sister wins all sorts of contests. I should probably play 5 & 7 because that's what she just happened to say." So I put down $4 on a $2 boxed exactor on 5 & 7. When the race started, 5 & 7 were in the lead right off the start, and I became one of those people who was sitting there yelling at the horses. They kept their lead and 5 & 7 finished first and second. On a four dollar bet I won $66.40. As I went to collect my winnings, my sister-in-law asked how much I bet, and I told her I put down $100, just to freak her out. Hehehe...it worked.

The Squeeze and I went together on a couple of triactors, but we sucked at trying that. Our problem was that we examined and bet based on the statistics of past races, or at least we think we did. We really had no idea how to read the race programmes. I tend to do better by picking a name I like, or riding on my sister's coattails. The sad thing is that my sister wasn't betting that day. She was just there to hang out and look after her hilarious 2-year-old grandson.

We all made our strategic plans for the last race. I picked a couple of horses for another exactor, and as I walked past my family, my father joking said, "Bet on #11 to win", and everyone laughed because 11 was a long shot with huge odds against him. I laughed with them all, but once I was at the ticket counter, I placed my planned bet and decided to place a bet on #11 to win. Wouldn't you know that #11 won?! Of course, by that time a lot of people must have bet on 11 and the odds dropped quite a bit, but I still wound up winning $56.50 on a $2 bet.

The Squeeze and I split the winnings, and much like at the casino the week before, we came out ahead. I announced to my family that I'm considering quitting my job and gambling for a living, and we laughed and laughed.

We discussed going out for dinner and decided upon a nice popular family restaurant not far from the track. The Squeeze and I raced there so we could put our name on the waiting list. We arrived, somehow managed to find parking, fought through the crowd outside and in the lobby and wrote my name and number in our party (10). We discovered that it would be at least an hour wait. My brother suggested another place down the road, so we headed over there, but left our name on the list in case that place was packed. Sadly, it wasn't. I think it took about an hour before getting our food. Most of us ordered fish & chips, and both were very, very greasy. My sister didn't get her order until we were all about half way through ours. We weren't even able to have a conversation because we were seated in the "dining room" about 3 feet away from the band which never took a break.

I envy the people who claimed to be us and took our table at the other restaurant.

A Life In The Day

2008-06-13T14:46:00.004-05:00

What a time The Squeeze and I had last weekend. Friday night we had the girls stay overnight with us to allow Weezie to go out with the girls. Not THE girls...we had them, but I mean her girlfriends. Hooterville was having its huge annual festival, and there was a big dance at the firehall that she wanted to attend.

We got the girls to bed at a respectable time after their bath, and as usual I was awake in bed most of the night being hypervigilant to every little noise. At around 5:00, Brynn woke up and started crying. Not wanting her to wake Zoe up, I snuck into their room and picked Brynn up and brought her into our room I where reclined on the bed with her and cuddled her until she fell back to sleep. I tell ya, there's just something amazing about having this adorable little part of me asleep next to me. Babies rock. She turns 2 in just three weeks. Can I still call her a baby? Damn right I can!

In the morning, The Squeeze and I got things moving like a well-oiled machine. Breakfast, showers, dress the kids, and on the road to Hooterville. We watched the parade from my father's lawn, and it just amazes me how kids pay attention to the strangest things. This parade had a few bagpipe bands, a couple of marching bands, fire trucks, horses, you name it, they had it. But nothing got the girls as excited as when a dog walked by. "Doggie!!!!" I guess it's like how they play with the box that their amazing gift comes in.

After the parade, we had a quick bite of lunch and headed back to the downtown for some of the festivities. We watched a friend take part in a strongman competition, dragging a transport truck down the street. Brynn had a snooze in her stroller, and Zoe got to have a pony ride before she got her crank on and really needed a nap.

Weezie took the kids back home and The Squeeze and I debated what to do. Driving to Niagara Falls to take in a bit of casino life seemed like the thing to do. OK, in reality, we went there for the buffet that my father raved about the previous week. He went there with my sister and her family for their anniversary, and was quite taken with the buffet. He's not much of a talker, but he sure did go on about the buffet. And since it's right there in the middle of the casino, well, it just made sense to slip a few bills in the slot. The buffet was quite nice. We're definitely going back. All the peel & eat shrimp and desserts are reason enough to go back.

We hit the gaming floor and we each dropped $60 or so into the slot machines. As we pretty much resigned ourselves to the fact that we'd cut our losses and head home, I passed a bank of machines that called to me. "Hot Shot" it was called, and it was a progressive game. There was a jackpot of about $98,000 to be won. I slid a $20 into the machine and began to press the buttons. I was up, I was down, I was up again. I thought about cashing out when I was at $60. I played a bit more. Up to $80, down a bit, up a bit, down a bit, and then I hit the button again and wound up winning one of the lesser progressive pots. I was at $229 and that was good enough for me. I cashed out, handed half to The Squeeze and we headed home. That game paid for our gas, dinner, gambling, parking, and a few bucks on top of that.

Since the night was still young, we headed back to Hooterville to catch the festival fireworks from my friends' father's fenced-in fortress. Sorry, I was on a roll. Once the fireworks were over, The Squeeze and I headed over to see a few of my nephews in their band that was performing in the back yard of some guy named "Bubba". It was about 10:00 at night, and there was the band, jamming at a volume that was pretty much heard throughout all of Hooterville. In the dim light I recognized a couple of my nieces in the crowd. They greeted me and pointed off to the side of the audience. I looked over and saw my sister and brother-in-law standing there. Their son in the lead singer in the band, so I guess I wasn't too surprised to see them there, even though it was a much younger crowd. I figured The Squeeze and I...OK...I thought The Squeeze would be the oldest one there. As I walked toward my sister, I saw her pointing over beside her. What's with everyone pointing??? Then I realized who she was pointing at. The was my 75-year-old father standing there enjoying the show. Alright, maybe he wasn't enjoying it, but he was there. "It's so loud here, even the mosquitos are staying away," he said.

Two doors down from "Bubba"'s is a seniors' residence.
"Umm...wouldn't the seniors all be in bed at, like...7:00 trying to sleep?" I asked someone.
"Ya, but they've all got their hearing aids out."
"Good point."

However, at the crack of 11:00, in through the back gate and through the crowd marched several O.P.P. officers. One walked up onto the deck and ordered the band to shut down. I couldn't help but laugh when a young man behind me piped up "They wouldn't have to stop playing if they were indians!" A reference to a long-standing native standoff in a nearby town that the police seem to be powerless to do anything about. Sadly, there just may have been a bit of truth to his comment.

The party broke up and The Squeeze and I were on our way home for the night. We were amazed at how much activity we managed to pack into one day. Some days we barely have the energy to shop for groceries. But this was all fun, and it certainly didn't feel like anything we HAD to do.

This weekend we'll be visiting the girls on Father's Day. Still can't believe that day applies to me! We'll see them Sunday morning, and then my family is taking my father out to the race track to bet a couple of bucks on the ponies. Apparently they have slots there. I'll be looking for "Hot Shot"...maybe I can break even again.

Brush With The Black Creature

2008-05-30T09:48:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I was telling the business partner about The Black Creature, and he came up with a few theories. Perhaps s/he is homeless, disfigured, Muslim. No idea. Shortly after we had our discussion, BP had to head over to a client's place with a huge piece that wouldn't fit in a car. Luckily the client lives just a couple of blocks from the shop, so he headed out the door and started to walk there. As soon as I saw him cross the road, I saw The Black Creature just a few doors away, heading the same direction BP was travelling. I immediately grabbed the phone and called his cell. After a few rings he answered.
"Look out! The Grim Reaper is behind you!!!" I said.
"What?"
"Look behind you."
Then I heard a gasp and he quietly chuckled into the phone, "Oh my God!"
"See what I mean? It looks like the grim reaper."
"I think it's a woman", he said after she had passed him.
She pulled her hood down further and turned her head so he couldn't see her face as she got closer. She still had her wheeled luggage, but she also carried another bag. All black.
Perhaps I'm obsessing, but I'm thinking of hanging out in the parking lot on my day off and tracking her to see if I can find another piece of this puzzle. OK, ya, that even sounds weird to me. Who's the strange one, eh?

Joined At The Forehead

2008-05-27T09:28:00.003-05:00

My good buddy (let's call her 'Hooves', because that's what I call her) invited the gang out to see her hubby perform at the Hooterville Legion on Saturday night. Her hubby is quite the performer. Great voice, great on the guitar, beloved by seniors and children alike. He performs with a woman he's been musical partners with for years.

After we enjoyed dinner at a nearby restaurant we made our way to the Legion. We were there right for the start of the performance, so there were maybe 30 people there, tops. As the night went on, and the cheap booze flowed, the hall gathered more people. Perhaps 50 or 60, which incidentally was far below the median age in that place. Much of the repertoire consisted of old country standards that the older folks just ate up.

At one point, Hooves' sister asked me who Mrs. So-and-so was dancing with. "Who's Mrs. So-and-so?" I asked, not knowing any of the seniors in the place except for Hooves' parental units. "The one with the gray hair," she replied. "Ya, you're gonna have to narrow that down a bit more," I shot back. "Point taken!"

Aside from the music, the highlight of the evening was one couple who were on the dance floor pretty much non-stop. Personally, I love to see seniors dance together. There's something very heart-warming about it. Same goes for seeing older couples walking hand in hand. Before I get all sentimental and sad, let's get back to the dance....This couple would dance to any song they played, and Hooves actually informed us that this couple shows up at many of the functions that her hubby plays. Apparently they live in Hooterville, but they're kinda like groupies. The strange thing was the way they danced. They would spin around the floor, holding one another, and aside from the times he was spinning her, they connected their foreheads as they danced.

It was sort of like a National Geographic segment on rams or something. We couldn't figure it out. I tried it with my friend Neen while we sat in our chairs, and it nearly gave us headaches. You can't look into each other's eyes when you're that close. Knowing that nobody but the people there would believe it if we said it, I had to snap a picture. Luckily, Hooves had her camera with her, so I made use of it while she was away from the table.

As the couple danced, I would have The Squeeze pose and smile toward me, to make the head-butters think I was taking his picture and not theirs. It took a few tries, because they didn't stay still very long. When Hooves came back to the table, she said "I should get a picture of this!" When I told her I already had, she fired up the camera to see the picture. She got a quick glance of it and just howled before the batteries died. I never really got a good look at it, but I'm guessing it was OK. Probably a bit dark because they were at a bit of a distance and I don't know if the flash would have lit them sufficiently, but Hooves' reaction made me think it was alright. I'm waiting for her to e-mail that picture to me at some point so I can put it here. Again, until then, this will have to do:

The Black Creature

2008-05-24T11:45:00.003-05:00

I've mentioned several times the strange people that wander into or by my shop, but I've recently discovered a new and intriguing favourite. For the past few weeks I've happened to be on the computer out front and looked up to see a person walking down the street. This person, not sure if it's male or female, walks somewhat quickly, never looking up, and pulling a small, black piece of wheeled luggage behind him/her. He/she is entirely clad in black. Black pants, black shoes, and a black hooded sweatshirt. The hood on this sweatshirt is huge and everything save his/her hands is covered. There's something rather "Grim Reaper" about the whole thing.

Every time I see him/her, it's the same thing. Same black clothing, same wheeled suitcase. He/she passes by a few times a week that I notice, likely more since I can't always be out front to see him/her.

Yesterday our mail carrier came in, we had our usual little chat, and she said, "Have you seen The Black Creature?" I knew who she meant right away. "With the sweatshirt?" I asked. "Ya," she said. "I see him or her on all sorts of streets on my route. I wonder what's up with that." "No idea, but I hope there's not a scythe in that suitcase," I replied.

My mission: to have my camera at the ready to get a picture to post here. I don't know how likely that is to happen. My camera is slow, the focus sucks, and The Black Creature walks at a pretty good clip. I wonder if the wardrobe will change as the weather continues to heat up. Only time will tell.

Until then, you get this.

Purging

2008-05-21T12:32:00.003-05:00

Pretty much every weekend since my mother passed away last month The Squeeze and I have gone to visit my father in Hooterville while we're there to see the girls. He's been coping alright all things considered, but has had some stomach issues he's been seeing his doctor about. He's lost nearly 20 pounds since the start of they year due to all the stress of my mother being ill and passing on.

He's been sorting through some things at home. He's gone through dressers and packed up many of my mother's things. He couldn't believe how much Avon stuff she's bought over the years that never even got opened. A family friend sells the stuff, and she just hated to say no to her. She always liked to help others out. I'm not sure what he intends to do with it.

A couple of weeks ago, my father mentioned that he had been cleaning up and tossing out little things that my mother had hung on to for years for some reason. Little crocheted baskets from someone's wedding...stuff like that. Most of these items were stuffed into beer steins from Germany that sat on a shelf in the dining room. He had washed everything and wiped down all the shelves, and he just wants to get rid of all the knick-knacks. He asked me if I wanted a pair of ceramic cats that were drying in the dish rack in the kitchen. I looked at them and realized that I made them nearly 30 years ago when I dabbled in ceramics. They weren't a gift for anyone. I just made them and left them there on their mantel years ago when I moved out. He wrapped them up and made sure they went with me.

He told me that the next week he was going to wash everything in the china cabinets and clean the glass shelves and doors.
"I don't know why anyone needs all this stuff," he said. "It's just something else to have to clean."
"Well, it's all part of her set, and it was something that she loved. I remember buying some of the crystal bowls and vases for her for birthdays, Mother's Day...Christmas. Just last Christmas I managed to find that covered butter dish for her china set on e-Bay to replace the one that broke" I told him.
"If you want to, you can take them home with you," my father said.
"I'm not going to empty your house out."
"Well, I'm never going to use any of this stuff."
"We'll figure it out later. Not now," I said.

On our drive home that night I was feeling a bit overwhelmed with emotion.
"You know," I said to The Squeeze, "I would love to have my mother's china and crystal set. They were such a part of her, and I'd love to have them as a memento and be able to pass them on to Brynn one day."
"Why don't you tell your father you want them?" he asked.
"I'd sort of feel like some kind of greedy, grave-robbing ghoul taking stuff from his house."
"Well, he said he doesn't want it."
"Ya, but I've got 3 brothers and a sister who might," I answered. "And I don't want to cause any wars with everyone else. If they expressed a desire to have it, I'd probably just back down to keep the peace."
"But if it's something you want..."
"If anyone wants this stuff for any other reason than sentimentality...if they want it strictly for the value of it, I'd offer to just pay them what they want so I can hang on to it," I told him.
The Squeeze just sat there and let me process my thoughts.
"I always said that when my parents were gone, all I wanted was their wedding picture. I just want a memory to hang on to. This crystal and china set mean family to me. We often used it at family gatherings. It brings back memories of good times."

I had a bit of a meltdown as I drove, just thinking of their wedding picture.
"What does that picture mean to you?" The Squeeze asked.
"It means hope. It was the day they started out on their journey. They got married, had three kids in East Germany, escaped there with the kids with little more than the clothes on their backs. They found their way here, started building a life for themselves, had three more kids, worked hard for what they had, and provided us with what we needed. They faced the pain of losing a son, seeing another son deal with the aftermath of a horrible industrial accident, and found the strength to carry on. They were there during their children's marital difficulties, they were there to offer their support when I came out. That picture represents their innocence. That picture represents their dreams."

Last weekend, The Squeeze and I were back for a visit. Again my father talked about cleaning out the china cabinet. I built up my nerve.
"When you want to let go of some of this stuff, I would love to have the china and crystal set. There are a lot of memories in it for me, and I'd love to be able to use it on special occasions and tell people the history of it. Then I can pass it on to Brynn one day," I explained.
"I guess that's all people do with this stuff, just pass it down to someone else," he answered. (Where did I get my sentimentality?)
"You can take it with you any time," he said.
"I don't want to cause a fight with anyone if someone else would like to have it too," I told him.
"I doubt anyone else would want it," he answered.

I'm not so sure. I'm trying to figure out how to handle this. Should I talk to my siblings about this first? I really don't want to step on anyone's toes, and I don't want to look like I'm loading up the goods before anyone else can. I remember when my grandmother died many years ago, and some of her kids dove in and emptied the place of valuables and antiques. I'll never forget one of my aunts offering my mother some of my grandmother's underwear. Unreal. I don't want this to happen. Any ideas?

More On The Floor

2008-05-14T10:11:00.002-05:00

As expected, I received no call from the Depot about my floor on Sunday. While I was out and about on my usual Monday off, I decided to call the department manager from my car at 11:30 before going into my chiropractor's appointment.

Much was said. Mostly, "what the hell is going on there!?!?" You know, that type of thing. As we spoke, she was walking through their receiving area looking for my flooring. She told me she would give me a call back in a few minutes. I was not a happy camper.

After my call, I had my laser treatment, went to the bank, stopped for lunch, stopped somewhere else for an ice cream treat (it's my downfall), and drove to the hospital for my ENT appointment at 1:30. The phone rang as I was parking my car. It was the department manager. Two hours later.

Yes, she found my order. She had authorized a free delivery to make up for the inconvenience. However, that wouldn't happen until Friday. How is waiting four more days less of an inconvenience? I told her that wouldn't work since we wouldn't be home. She said I could come in to get it and she would knock the delivery fee ($60.00) off of the bill. That worked for me.

"When I show up to pick this up in a couple of hours, will someone know where it is?"
"Go to the front desk and ask for me to be paged, and I'll get it for you, but I have also put many sarcastic notes in the system so people can find it," she assured me.
"Alright, we'll go with that."

Once I finished my appointment, I drove to get my flooring. I walked up to the front desk and asked for the department manager. The woman at the desk (not to be confused with the girl from the last time), told me she was back at the flooring department and that I could find her there. OK, she had told me to have her paged, but I'll play along. I went back and waited while the DM finished up with some other customers.

I introduced myself and she said, "Hi, nice to meet you, I am SO sorry for all of this. Are you still mad at me? I felt so bad because I really wanted to fix things for you and you just kept ripping a strip off of me on the phone."
"I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you, I'm just so frustrated over this whole disaster. We ordered this flooring two months ago and there has been one screw up after another. I just want to get my floor put in," I explained.

The DM asked the guy from the department (yep, the same guy from Saturday night...the same guy who screwed up the initial order) to go get my flooring and bring it up front for me. I then joined the DM at the front desk to have the order straightened out and credited to our Visa.

As you may recall, the first roll I received was 4 1/2' tall by 12' rolled up. The corrected order should then be 6' tall by 12' rolled up. Guess what arrived. A 12' long roll. I looked at it with wide eyes. "Oh, they rolled it the other way this time...hopefully this can fit in the car."
"Uh-oh...you don't have a truck with you?", the DM asked.
"Nope, I'm driving an Accord. I was expecting this to be 1 1/2' longer than the last roll. Well, let's give it a try."

I thanked the DM for her help, and she apologized again for the major screw-ups. Flooring Guy followed me out to the car with the flooring on a cart. I opened the trunk, flipped down the little pass-through and fed the roll through it toward the front of the car. Flooring Guy just gave me this look as if to say "you're pretty stupid to have only brought a car for this", and I simply said "Don't...even", and sent him on his way. After reclining the passenger seat and dropping the window, I was able to get the roll to rest on the side mirror and close the trunk. No problems.

I brought the roll home and placed it in the livingroom. "How will we get this upstairs?", The Squeeze asked me later that night. Good question. Either it has to go back outside and passed up onto the balcony or we unroll it downstairs and roll it up the other way. I think we'll do that tonight to get it out of our way until our installer can make it back to put it in. Hopefull this weekend.

I hope we're not in for a surprise when we unwrap it and unroll it. Keep your fingers crossed.

How Does Home Depot Stay In Business???

2008-05-10T19:23:00.002-05:00

Somewhere around the last part of March The Squeeze and I ordered our Armstrong vinyl flooring from Home Depot. That was our first mistake. The floor of the ensuite measures 5 1/2' x 8'. They sell the flooring by the square yard, so we ordered 2 yds. x 3 yds. (6' x 9') or 6 square yds. We explained to the guy in the flooring department exactly what we wanted, so we assumed he would order things correctly. That was our second mistake. We were told it would be two to three weeks before it would arrive. Fair enough.

A couple of weeks went by, and we received a call telling us that our order was in. We picked up the flooring and a few other things and brought it home and parked it out of the way for a week or two while we waited for the people who were coming to install it for us. That day, I brought the flooring up to the bedroom and as I talked to the people who were there to install it, I noticed that I was leaning with my elbow on the end of the roll that was standing up beside me. OK, who can tell me what's wrong with this picture? Give a cigar to whoever said "how did you get your elbow to the 6' level?" It wouldn't be a problem if I was 8' tall, but I'm about 6'1", meaning that the roll of flooring was a fair bit shorter than me.

I got the measuring tape and discovered it was only 4 1/2' tall. There is no way a ensuite that size should have a seam in the floor. What the hell went wrong? Upon inspection of the label, I discovered that they did, in fact, send 6 square yards, but it was 4 1/2' by 12', not 6' x 9'.

Needless to say, I took it back and spoke to another woman in the flooring department. She was very apologetic, and she promised to get us an explanation for the error and most importantly, get us the proper size ASAP. A few days later, after not hearing from her, I called the store. She wasn't working in the flooring department that day, but I did speak to the department manager who went searching for information. She called back and explained that the flooring comes on a 12' roll, so they sent 6 square yards and apparently (ya think?) didn't pay attention to the dimensions stated, although upon closer inspection, she didn't notice the sizes were actually mentioned. She said that since the original salesperson didn't explain the 12' roll thing, she wouldn't charge us for the extra. She did have one question. Did I want 6' x 12', or 9' x 12'. Oh. My. God. I was stunned. Why would I need 9' x 12'?

So anyway, she ordered the new piece of flooring and told me it would be in within two weeks. Friday night I received a call saying that the new flooring was in. Saturday evening I drove back to Home Depot to pick up my new piece of flooring. I checked in with the girl at the front desk, I signed for the flooring, and she walked me way down to the lumber end where the computer indicated it would be. Outside. WTF? Why is a roll of vinyl flooring being stored outside with the lumber. Well, apparently it wasn't out there, because she couldn't find it. We walked all the way back to the special services desk at the other end of the store. Did I happen to mention that I have a pinched sciatic nerve that just shoots from my ass to my foot when I stand or walk? Ya, pain. Big time pain. So I'm limping around the store for about 20 minutes or so by this time.

This girl called someone from the flooring department to come up and see if they could find the flooring. Guess who showed up. The very first guy who put our initial order in. He wandered about the store for about 20 or 30 minutes before returning to say he couldn't find it. The girl reversed the pick up slip and had me sign another paper.

"We'll have to have the department manager locate it and give you a call tomorrow," she said.
"And who will be delivering it to my house?", I asked.
"Umm...I'll mention that to the manager."
"This is just absurd. This whole ordeal has been the biggest pain in the ass, and it will be the last time I order anything from this place," I informed them. "I'll be dealing with Lowe's and Rona from now on."

I would have loved to just leave my cart with the few items I picked up while waiting sitting there as I stormed out. Unfortunately, I was using a gift card that I still had over fifty dollars on. I pushed my cart as I limped behind it to a cashier to get my few things rang through. I still have over $30.00 remaining on the card. Apparently I WILL be back.

That was the man's equivalent to storming out of a room and slamming the door behind you, only to realize that your dress got caught in the door.

So I wait and see what happens. I'll be sure to update.

FMD To The Rescue

2008-04-29T09:10:00.002-05:00

I'm at home Monday afternoon, my day off, working on a ridiculously annoying jigsaw puzzle and observing the antics of one Ms. Winfrey when the phone rings.

"Dave?"
"Yes...?"
"What are you doing?" It's Weezie, my baby mama.
"Laundry, a puzzle, Oprah, and just about to get dinner started."
"I need your help."

So here's the scoop. Weezie had her oil changed on Sunday. I mean that in the literal sense, not the bow-chucka-waw-waw sense. Her first mistake was that she had it done at the Hooterville Canadian Tire. Now for those of you not from Canada and not familiar with Canadian Tire, well, suffice to say most people lovingly refer to it as Crappy Tire. It's a Canadian institution up here. They have everything for your automotive, sports, camping, painting, cooking, wiring, plumbing, and so-forth needs. They are known for fairly reasonable automotive...ahem..."repairs". Though anyone I've ever known bitches about the work done.

Monday morning came along and Weezie packed up the kids, and made the one hour drive to The Big City, dropped the kids off at daycare, and continued on to work. On her way that morning, she detected a smell. Sort of like the SUV was overheating. Immediately, she suspected the radiator. When she arrived at work, she lifted the hood and noticed something wasn't right. She called Canadian Tire in Hooterville and told them what she found. She told them that although they did the work and checked all the levels of everything, it smelled like it was overheating and that she noticed that they forgot to replace the cap. There was some fluid sprayed all over her engine.

The mechanic she spoke to told her to pour some water in and that should temporarily help until she gets a new cap put on that night. So Weezie poured in some water. Ya, unfortunately, it wasn't the rad. The cap they left off was actually the oil cap. That's right, she poured water into the engine.

She asked me if it would do any harm if she drove it with water in it to a nearby Canadian Tire. Some people never learn. I told her not to drive it, but to call a tow truck. Unfortunately, she was in a parking garage and there was no way a tow truck would be able to get in there, so she had no choice by to drive it down the parking garage and onto the street.

This is where I came in. I had to meet her at work to get the carseats from the SUV, install them in my car, and pick up the girls at daycare while she waited for the tow truck. Once I got the girls picked up, we headed to the local Canadian Tire and waited for Weezie to be towed in. After about 20 minutes or so of hearing Brynn whine "where mama? where mama?", I see the big-ass flatbed tow truck with Weezie's SUV on top.

The driver got the SUV off and into the garage and Weezie came over to express her disgust over the whole situation and to say hi to the kids. She said the mechanics probably think she's some stupid woman who doesn't know what a radiator is, but by the same token, how stupid is a mechanic who doesn't know enough to put the oil cap back on? And he was apparently a professional who works on cars every day.

She headed back to give the driver a tip, and as soon as she walked away, Brynn started crying for her mother. We're talking panic attack, full tears and all. She's such a dramatic little thing. Where does she get it? Weezie finally made her way back to the car and she told me that they probably need her vehicle overnight. They'll need to flush the engine. I'm hoping they also plan to shampoo the engine and replace all her belts too, since they've been sprayed with oil. And the Hooterville store will be footing the bill.

I drove us all back to my place, the whole while listening to the girls nattering, singing, crying in the back seat. They were getting pretty hungry, it was already past their bedtime. How does she do this every night? She usually drives an hour, I was driving about 20 minutes or so and I needed some Advil. When we got to my place, I handed over the keys and let Weezie be on her way with my car to get the kids some food quickly and get them home and ready for bed.

I haven't heard from her yet whether or not they will have her SUV ready by the end of the day. If so, she's driving to get me at work after picking up the kids, and I'm taking her back to Canadian Tire to get her SUV, and we'll both be on our merry way. If not, she's hanging on to the car for a while.

It's a good thing I live across the road from work.

Freak On Line One

2008-04-22T14:05:00.003-05:00

Sometimes advertising doesn't pay. We've been running a few ads in the local rag the past couple of months and we've had mixed results. The first month we showed a collection of war medals that we've framed, and that brought in a few people with medals and photos to frame. This month we ran a picture of a violin that we framed.

Today I took this call:

Freaks R Us, how can I help you?
Do you have that picture?
Which picture?
The one in the paper.
Which picture is that?
The picture of the violin in your ad.
Ummm...we have a digital image of it.
What does that mean?
That means I have a copy of the photo we took in our computer.
Oh, because I'm looking for a picture of a violin.
OK...well, this wasn't a picture of a violin, it was an actual violin that we framed and took a picture of as a sample of what we do.
Yes, that's what I want.
You have a violin you want framed?
No, I just want a picture of a violin like the one in your ad.
Well, again, this wasn't a picture of a violin. Someone brought in an actual violin and wanted it put in a shadow box. That was just a picture that we took of it once we framed it.

Once this "Who's On First?" skit ended, she asked where we are located and I told her. She lives about two blocks away and she couldn't seem to get the directions through her head. I should have told her to just look out her window and I'd wave at her.

We've been here 15 years and she couldn't figure out where we were, even though there's a number of very well-known and established businesses and restaurants nearby thatI mentioned that she just couldn't place. I told her 3 or 4 times which plaza we're in, and she says "OH, near that thrift store?" They've been there about 3 months or so. "Ya, that's the place."

I can't wait for her to pop by to pick up one of those violin pictures. It'll happen. Mark my words.

Renos Are Coming Along

2008-04-21T14:16:00.008-05:00

I have no idea how long we've been having work done to our house. I'm reluctant to look back in the blog to see when it all began. It's probably longer than I think and I don't want to confirm that. It's been dragging on because the guys we've got working on the place are doing this as a sideline to their day jobs, so they're here on the weekends only. The good news is that there is finally light at the end of the tunnel. Well...this part of the tunnel, that is.

The ensuite has come a long way these past two weeks. Our tile guy came in the previous weekend and did the majority of the shower tiling, but there were a couple of things that I wasn't crazy about.

This is how it should look. That rust coloured accent tile should wrap around as if the tile were bending around the corners.

This is what we got in one corner:

It's not so much wrapped around as it is a mirror image. I'm afraid the OCD in me wouldn't let me live with that. So we had to have those tiles removed and re-done.

Now that corner looks like this:

Ahhhh....much better.

Then there was the outside corner at the entrance of the shower. Our tile guy did this:

What you're seeing here is those tiles on the left side of the picture extend so that their UNGLAZED edge is flush with the face of the tiles on the right side of the picture. The problem here? Once the grout is on, they're still going to be UNGLAZED edges with little spacer nibs sticking out. It worries me that he didn't seem to see anything wrong with that.

This is what we finally got there:

Now we have a nice finished bullnose edge. Smooth, glazed, finished. Ahhhh.

The next step is to have the primed walls touched up a bit and have them painted, then the floor can go in, the cabinets and toilet can be installed, the lights, counter, sink, faucets,...ok, maybe we're not THAT close to being finished.

Once we're done in there, we can clear out the master bedroom, get our closet done, and paint the room and move in!

While all of this work is going on, the powder room on the main floor is also in a similar state. One day we'll be settled in here.

Up All Night

2008-04-18T09:35:00.002-05:00

This past month or so dealing with my mother's sudden illness and subsequent passing has been somewhat of a living nightmare. Aside from all of the emotional and familial dealings, my physical self has taken a shit-kicking.

I have been travelling to Hooterville on a nearly daily basis ever since my mother was first admitted to the hospital. I would be there on my days off and I made the trek right after work pretty much every day. On my way, I would grab some kind of offensive food substitute to tide me over for the evening instead of the fairly healthy meals I'm used to having with The Squeeze. A burger and fries was often the choice for its ease of eating while driving and it's ease of access en route. Then there were the countless cups of coffee and donuts or cookies or whatever horrible thing my stressed body was craving. I admit it. I'm an emotional eater. And the dinner bell has been ringing loud and steady. Add to that the fact that I have had a pinched sciatic nerve for over a month that makes it difficult to stand let alone get on the treadmill as I used to every morning.

I've been noticing the pants are feeling a bit more snug, and I just feel kind of...well...gross. I hopped on the scale the other morning to find that I had gained nearly 20 pounds. I was startled, but not surprised. I managed to drag my ass onto the treadmill a couple of times this week, flopping my "pins & needles"-filled right leg around like something that was not of my own body. After a while I felt like how I imagined Terry Fox felt as he ran across Canada. Not to minimize his heroic effort, at least he didn't have a leg that pain shot through at every step.

I'm really trying to be good. I'm trying to get back in the swing of healthy eating, though I'm still making visits to see my father here and there. I just need to stay out of the drive-throughs.

Last night, my business partner and our Squeezes decided to go out for dinner. There's a roadhouse down the street from my shop and they recently delivered a menu and flyer promoting their specials. On Thursdays they have a deal on their burgers. Normally the burger and fries is $8.95, Thursdays, all day, they are $3.00. OK, so the fries aren't included in the deal, so that makes it $4.00. Five dollars if you want cheese. I thought I'd try a little appetizer they called "Hot Pepper Bottle Caps". I sort of imagined jalapeno poppers, filled with a cooling cream cheese. What arrived were disc-shaped slices of jalapenos, breaded and fried, with a ranch dipping sauce. The business partner and his Squeeze have wheat issues, so they couldn't help me, and The Squeeze isn't much into hot spicy stuff. He did try one or two, and I thought his eyes would fly from their sockets. It was left to me to polish off. They were mighty hot going down, but I figured I could handle it.

I had my burger and fries and a glass of beer and we decided to call it a night and head home. I got into bed and fell asleep around 10:30. I woke at 11:00 to the sound of The Squeeze snoring. I felt wide awake. I went down to the rec room and worked on a puzzle and watched a couple of TV shows I DVR'd that night. I finally felt tired again, so went back to bed around 1:30. I think I slept maybe another half hour and woke up again. I felt like I had a cannonball in my stomach. I think my stomach was fighting a losing battle with the hot peppers.

I made several trips to the bathroom last night, and at one point decided I'd just crawl into the bed in the guest room rather than disturb The Squeeze with my constant door opening and closing and hopping in and out of bed.

Let me just say that by the time early morning rolled around, the peppers had found their way out. And I thought they were hot going in! Were it physically possible for me to do so, I would have done a handstand in the shower to cool off.

I'm at work now, still feeling that cannonball in my stomach. I don't think those peppers are done with me yet. I have my "Back in 5 minutes" sign at the ready. Have at me peppers. I won't soon make that mistake again.

Gone Too Soon

2008-04-08T18:54:00.007-05:00

Thank you to everyone who has been sending me warm wishes and praying for my mother to recover. Sadly, this post brings very sad news that my mother passed away Monday night.

We had a glimpse of hope last week when we met an oncologist who arranged another MRI and thought surgery and radiation might help. She was transported to a larger hospital for the MRI, but just a couple of hours after she was returned to her regular hospital room, the doctor called our family in. She was dying. Nothing could be done. Her organs were shutting down, and her lungs were filling with fluid.

We all drove there as quickly as we could. My mother was surrounded by my father, my sister, my three brothers and me, our partners, as well as many of her siblings and grandchildren. In total there were about 30 of us in her room. Her IV line and feeding tube were removed and she was given oxygen and morphine to ensure she wasn't in pain. She hung on for about 6 hours, with quick, shallow breaths, and an erratic heartbeat. My father quietly begged her to wake up and be alright. But we all knew she was on her way.

At 10:30, the nurses came in to move her a bit and give her another shot. When we walked back into the room her eyes were open and she was looking at my father. She hadn't opened her eyes for more than a few seconds for the past few days. He had renewed hope. I held her hand and kept my other hand on her wrist checking her pulse. She moved her eyes and looked at me. "We're all here for you Mutti," I whispered. "Everybody is here to take care of you. We all love you."

She closed her eyes. She stopped breathing. I lost her pulse.

Someone called the nurse who came in, put on her stethoscope and placed it to my mother's chest for a moment. The room fell silent. "She's gone," she said. I already knew. I think we all knew.

My father looked stunned. "What?", he asked the nurse in disbelief. "I'm so sorry, sir. She's gone."

I couldn't let go of her hand. I just kept holding on. And we cried. We took turns hugging her and giving her a kiss good-bye, and hugging each other to give support as much as to receive it. I leaned in to give her a kiss, and I whispered in her ear as I stroked her hair, "Zoe and Brynn are going to miss out on an amazing Grandma."

We all stayed with her in the room until well after midnight, and I continued to hold her hand until it was finally time to go.

We all went back to my father's house (so used to saying 'my parents' house'), and we discussed arrangements, wrote the notice for the newspaper, confirmed pallbearers, selected her clothing, and did all the other things that everyone hopes they never have to do.

Today we went to the funeral home to arrange the visitation and service and select her casket. Wednesday is the visitation, and Thursday morning is the funeral service.

I'm already exhausted from the emotional drain. These next two days are going to be so taxing to my entire family, especially my father. And my thoughts are constantly with him. My parents' lives revolved around each other. They were inseparable, and I just don't know how he'll go on without her.

We love you, Mutti. You will be missed.

Very Sad News

2008-03-29T13:22:00.003-05:00

I arrived at the hospital to visit my mother Friday night and was met by my three brothers, sister, father and two sisters-in-law sitting around my mother's bed while she slept. Everyone looked pretty expressionless. "Did the MRI results come back?" I asked.

I don't recall who answered me, but I was informed that the results were back, and things did not look good. My sister-in-law took me into the hall to give me the news. The MRI indicated that my mother did not have a stroke as we thought, but rather that she has brain cancer. It is terminal. It's too late, too far gone. They are giving her medication to reduce the swelling and relieve her pain somewhat, but it won't get any better than that. We don't know how long she has left with us, and the doctor is pretty sure that she doesn't know us when we visit. He advised against resuscitation. It would be better to let her go.

It's pure agony watching my father deal with this. Tuesday was their 57th anniversary. And now he's losing his one true love, his partner, his friend and wife. The one thing that snapped me out of the shock of receiving the news and brought me to tears was to look my father in the eyes as he sat at my mother's bedside holding her hand while she slept.

One by one we left her room to head home and deal with our grief. My father and I left the room and walked to the parking lot where we hugged beside his van. I told him I'd be back today after work, and that he should call if he needed anything. I sat in my car and cried as he drove off. My drive home was mixed with sadness, rage, pleading, disbelief and acceptance. Some of those well-known stages of grief in no particular order. I cursed and begged my higher power in the same sentence.

I'm waiting to wake up and discover this isn't real.

Dave And Weezie's Day Of Fun

2008-03-26T17:00:00.001-05:00

It's been a busy few days. I went to Hooterville to visit my mother Good Friday afternoon and got to spend some time playing with my niece's son who is just a few months older than Brynn. There were a lot of family members there to visit, which is usually the case. My mother was sitting up in a wheelchair, which is nice to see. She seemed a bit more alert, but still not communicating. We wheeled her down to the sunroom for a change of scenery, and to give her roommates a break from our noisy brood.

When I got home, The Squeeze was home from work and we decided to go out for dinner and a movie. There is a big bingo hall about a block or two from our house, and every time we drive down the road, one of us will jokingly ask the other, "Wanna go play bingo?" Needless to say, we've never been in. The Squeeze has never said 'yes' when I've asked, and I just laugh when he asks, because I know he doesn't want to go in there. I haven't been to a bingo hall in ages, and when I've gone with friends in the past we nearly get kicked out because we're having too much fun and disrupting the die-hards. While we ate dinner, he said, "Do you want to play bingo instead of going to a movie?" I looked at him in shock. He was serious. We drove to the bingo hall and he hopped out and found out what time the next games start. We had about 30 minutes or so, so we drove to the bank to get some cash, hit Timmie's for some coffee to enjoy while we played, and stopped by the house to pick up my dusty old dauber I recently unpacked.

It wasn't until we got up to the counter to buy our cards that I realized that I didn't know what I was doing. I just always bought the same thing as Weezie. We each bought a 3 strip, which is 9 cards. We figured we could handle that much better than the 5 strip which I've always called the Family Fun Pak. The place was packed, so it took a while to find two seats. Luckily we sat beside a nice couple with British accents and they told us what extra tickets we needed to get. I went up, emptied my wallet a bit more and came back with a stack of cards I divided between us. By the time the last game came about, due to the extras I bought, we each had 5 strips or 15 cards. The Squeeze said "I can't follow that many cards", so I took one of his extras. He had 4, I had 6. The ink was flying. The lady beside me had about 15 strips taped in two sheets, one above the other and she would flip back and forth as the numbers were called. I couldn't do that to save my life. Needless to say, we left there empty-handed, and empty-walleted. This sure isn't the 25 cents a card bingo you played at the carnival and used kernels of cow corn to mark the numbers. I think we spent around $60.00 in total between us.

Saturday I got to watch the kidlets in Hooterville while Weezie, my baby mama had a spa day with a couple of her friends for one of their birthdays. Aside from Brynn crying her eyes out and breaking my heart when she saw me, things went well. I guess she just figured out that her mother was leaving, and that's why she was freaking out. But not a minute after they left, all was well and we had a very fun day.

After watching the kids, I popped into the hospital to visit my mother before heading home. No changes to speak of.

The Squeeze and I were invited to Weezie's for Easter dinner, so we brought our baskets full of chocolate and stuffed bunnies for the kids. I don't know if they were more excited about the chocolate or the little wind-up bunnies that hopped all over the place. The kids were adorable in their little matching dresses and Brynn had her bunny ears on. Zoe broke hers earlier, so she was out of luck....or in luck, depending on whether or not she really wanted to wear them. We took the kids up to visit my mother for a bit. My mother was asleep when we got there, even though there were several family members sitting around talking, but she soon woke up. She seemed happy to see the girls. Her eyes kind of lit up and she tried to force a smile.

Earlier that day my brother called to let me know they were planning to have an Easter dinner picnic at the hospital. Sort of a potluck type of thing, just so they could be together with my parents. Unfortunately, with the prior commitment and only about 4 hours notice, I couldn't stay there for dinner. We got the girls back home and enjoyed dinner with Weezie, her sister, brother and mother. Those kids were hopped up on chocolate, and as the evening wore on, and Weezie's siblings left, the kids just kept bouncing off the walls. Between Weezie's back spasms, her mother's freshly replaced hip and my pinched sciatic nerve, it left The Squeeze as the only one able to run around with them, which he just loves to do. Pretty sad that only one of the four of us had a fully functioning body.

Monday morning I met up with Weezie after she dropped the girls off at daycare to cross the border and do a bit of shopping in Niagara Falls, NY. There was really nothing I needed, but she was on a mission to buy some clothes for the kids. She found all sorts of deals. The best of all was finding red velvet dresses for next Christmas on sale for $3.99. Ya, that's right. $3.99. However, when we got to the till, they rang up at $2.99. Unbelievable. She also bought some chocolate and munchies that were on sale, because there wasn't enough in the baskets, apparently. She was on a mission to buy some sort of cover for Chapstick that a friend of her's had for her nephew. We went to EVERY dollar store in the city, and there are a LOT of them. A whole lot of them. Nobody seemed to have what she was after. I told her she'd have to beat up her friend and steal her's.

I was exhausted and it wasn't even 2:00 yet. Perhaps because we hadn't eaten yet. After just one more dollar store, Wal-Mart (the evil empire) and K-Mart, we went for lunch. There was a woman in one of those "Mart" stores, not sure which one, who was quite a large woman. She had no neck, or rather...it was a very large neck. Remember Jabba the Hutt? It was kinda like that. Anyway...as we were leaving the parking lot, I saw her drive past us. We wound up behind her at the stop light. On her car was a bumper sticker that said "Abortion Stops My Beating Heart". I couldn't help but think....the extra 300 pounds you're carrying aren't doing your heart much good either. But then, I should talk.

The benefit to me of being there shopping was that I managed to pick up some big honkin' balls of yarn that were on sale for another project. I'm going to make a blanket for Zoe. I just need to finish the two berets I'm fighting with. Things aren't going well with one of those. I don't think the yarn has any give. I'm trying to do the brim in a 1x1 rib stitch, but it just turns into a big floppy mess that doesn't stretch or bounce back. Oh man, you know that scene in The 40 Year Old Virgin where the two guys are doing their "You know how I know you're gay?" bit? I think one of the answers could be "You knit berets." So I'll move on....

After dropping Weezie off, I drove to Hooterville Hospital. It was my parents' 57th anniversary. It's a bitter-sweet celebration this year. It was made even tougher by my father asking me to read my card to my mother, since he didn't have his glasses with him. I guess it wasn't enough that I was in tears at the store when we bought the card. I stayed pretty firm while reading it in front of both parents and a sister and brother who were also there. Then he asked me to read their cards to her as well. How I didn't fall apart is beyond me.

I am SUCH a wimp.

Not Much Has Changed

2008-03-20T10:13:00.003-05:00

It's been a long, exhausting week with all that is going on with my mother. She's been in the hospital just over a week now, and I'm trying to spend as much time there as I can. It's tough when I live about an hour away and have to work for a living. I've been making the drive there and back nearly every night or during the days when I'm off. I'm seeing some family members I haven't seen in quite some time. It's nice to know that a lot of people visit and sit with my mother, whether she realizes it or not.

On Monday morning when her doctor returned from his vacation, he came in to see my mother. He asked her how she was doing, and she mustered up the strength to say "not too good", and she really hasn't said much since then. She still sleeps most of the time, and when she is awake she seems confused and non-communicative. On Monday afternoon when I was there I asked her if the doctor came in to see her and she slowly shook her head. Two of my nieces were there and they told me that the doctor was there and has arranged for an MRI to be done. After they left, I was alone with my mother, and short of offering her drinks of water, wiping her mouth and trying to think of things to talk about, I simply didn't know what else to do. My mother had been placed in her wheelchair earlier that day and she just looked around and seemed terribly bored. I flipped through a magazine with her and she looked at the pictures of a bunch of famous people I've never heard of. She held the magazine and studied the cover for about 15 or 20 minutes until my brother and sister-in-law arrived.

It's so hard to see her like this and not know what's going on in her mind. Is she aware of what's happened? Is she processing thoughts? Does she know who we all are? When I ask her "have you had a lot of visitors today?", she'll look at me, seem confused, and shake her head. I would then be told by someone else that she's had at least ten people visit her already that day. Does she not understand the question? Does she not know or remember that people were there? Does the movement of her head not correspond to the signal her brain is sending?

I was there again Wednesday night, and when I arrived I found my father, sister and niece waiting in the hallway while the nurses were in her room moving her from the wheelchair to her bed. My sister told me that the MRI is scheduled for the 27th. Apparently that's pretty fast, but in my mind, it should have been done the day the doctor finally arrived. When we were let back in the room, again she was drifting in and out of sleep. My sister pointed out that my mother had been catheterized. I guess that will keep her from having to make her own way to the bathroom in the night like she'd done a few times according to the other two women in her room. Why she didn't just press the button for a nurse is a good question. Does she remember the button is there? Does she know what it's for? Does she just not want to bother a nurse? I have no idea.

After my sister and niece left, my father and I sat in her dimly lit room and talked. He told me she didn't eat anything at dinner time. I tried to keep very positive. I mentioned that when she gets out we'll have to get home healthcare. He said he just hopes that she'll pull through this. I think he's preparing for the worst, but hoping for the best. My heart was just breaking for him. He said if she makes it and comes home, they'll have to get rid of the house because of all the stairs, which is something I've been pushing for for quite some time. I know that the move would be a whole new set of stresses for a time as well, but I'm thinking of the long-term benefits for both of them. I told my father about the insights I was given by two friends of mine whose mother had a stroke several years ago. They told me how she managed to get back about 90% of her speech, but it took time. Their mother also was not communicative because quite often what came out of her mouth is not what she wanted to say. She simply refused to speak. I'm not sure if this is what's going on with my mother or not. My father is very frustrated and heart-broken that she doesn't say anything to him. The doctors and nurses keep telling him to keep talking to her, but it's a tough thing to do when you get nothing back.

In retrospect, my father said that he thinks she hasn't been herself since the summer. She took a fall at the cottage and one day there my aunt was cooking something for dinner and asked my mother if she wanted to make the salad. My mother said, "no, you can do it". That is SO not my mother. I guess when you're with someone every day you tend not to notice little changes in their behaviour over time, but when someone sees you only every so often, the changes are much more noticeable.

My mother was asleep, so my father and I gave her a kiss, told her we love her, and we both made our way home. So we all continue to visit, pray, hope and wait. March 24th will be my parents' 57th anniversary. How do we celebrate that at a time like this?

Update On My Mother

2008-03-11T10:10:00.004-05:00

The Squeeze and I stopped by my parents' place Sunday evening after visiting the kids in Hooterville. Two of my brothers and their wives were there when we arrived but were getting ready to head out. My mother was sitting on the sofa, not quite looking herself as has been the case for the past couple of months. She also wasn't saying anything.

I had to step outside to move my car so my brother could get out and when I parked again, my other brother and his wife were coming out the door. He gave me the update of what's been going on with my mother. Late Friday afternoon she had her appointment with the geriontologist, so my brother stopped by earlier that day to go over some of the things they need to ask the doctor. My mother was having a very bad day that day. She was very unsteady on her feet, even with her newly acquired walker. They decided to take her to the hospital to be looked at. From there they took her by ambulance to another hospital about half an hour away and performed a CAT scan and did some bloodwork. The scan showed a number of dark spots on her brain. Scarring, apparently. There is one larger spot about 2 cm x 3 cm. They think this may be an indication of a stroke or mini-strokes. This could explain her blacking out episodes.

Later that day she saw the geriontologist, and he put her through a number of tests. He asked her to write her name, and she managed to crudely do that. He asked her to write a sentence, and it looked like she was trying to draw something. When the test was done, she scored 15 out of 30. Not too bad apparently. The doctor doesn't think she has Alzheimers. He feels that she's going through a severe depression which is quite common after a stroke. My brother thinks it could all be building up...losing a son nearly nine years ago which devastated her, another son seriously injured in an industrial accident, another son's depression and suicide attempt, estrangement from some of her grandchildred (divorce, fighting and all the crap involved in that). Hard to imagine that I'd ever be the one that didn't cause her grief!

Saturday she started a low-dose course of Ritalin and an anti-depressant. If she doesn't perk up a bit in the first few days, they're going to slightly up the dose. The anti-depressants won't really take effect for about two weeks though.

So anyway....after my brother and sister-in-law left, I went inside and joined my father and The Squeeze who were sitting and talking at the dining room table. My mother was laying down on the sofa. My father said she sleeps about 15 hours a day or so. She used to never be able to sleep through the night. She would often complain about being so tired but not being able to sleep. My mother hasn't been eating or drinking much either. My sister-in-law bought her some Ensure to drink so she gets some nourishment, but a can of that would last her three days. Just crazy. My father said she did have a bowl of soup he made her for lunch. He cut up some sausage and put it in the soup, and when she finished eating the soup, she spit all the sausage into a napkin. She had been storing it in her mouth instead of swallowing it.

My father said it's been tough because he's had to learn how to do everything. My mother just sits on the sofa and looks at the TV or sleeps. He's doing laundry, cooking, cleaning. In all my time I haven't seen him do any of this, except for barbecuing a steak here and there. He's even been bathing her, and he's not getting any younger either. After our chat, we told him to give us a call if there was anything we could do to help. I gave my mother a hug and kiss and told her I love her and that we'd be back next weekend. She mustered up the energy to say "I love you" back, but she just didn't sound like her.

I was a bit choked up on the way home. I felt so bad for what both my parents are going through, and the love and dedication I see in action. "You know," I said to The Squeeze, "my father doesn't really cook. I hope he's not just having a can of soup and a sandwich for every meal." That's when I got the idea that I would cook and package up some meals for them to have at their house.

Monday I spent the day preparing some food that my mother often cooked. Rouladen, potatoes and red cabbage. I thought my father would really enjoy it, and maybe my mother would even eat some. I packaged up a few containers and included some split pea & ham soup I made, and some peaches in simple syrup that we made in the fall. I arranged with my baby-mama, Weezie, to meet at the day care and she would take the food to Hooterville with her since she lives just a few blocks from my parents.

This weekend I think I'll do up a crockpot of stew and take some more containers over on Sunday. It's the least I can do. They have to eat and they've provided pretty well (hmm...maybe TOO well) for me as a kid. After the drop off, my father called to say thanks. My brother and sister-in-law have taken some food over there too, so I know they're being looked after. I asked him how my mother was doing, and he said she was doing a bit better. He said "she was sitting up here", which I think he meant at the dining room table. I could hear another of my brothers and his wife chatting in the background. I'm glad they have company.

When we go by next weekend I'll see how she's doing, and I'm going to bring up the idea of getting home health care for both of their benefits. Maybe even have Meals On Wheels bring them food. It's hard to see parents aging. I have this fantasy in my mind that I'll go there one day and see my mother doing what she loved, entertaining, cooking, walking, talking and laughing with the family. I'd be happy with the last three.

March 12, 6:00pm
Got a call from my father. My mother is getting worse and he has taken her to the hospital. The doctor on duty wanted to send her home, but my 76 year old father simply can't look after her in this condition. Luckily my brother was there with them and he made sure she stayed there. She'll be there for the next few days anyway. I don't get this, but her doctor is away until Monday and apparently nobody else in that fucking place knows what the hell they're doing and aren't able to run any tests. WTF?

Death to Telemarketers and Energy Marketers

2008-03-07T10:39:00.002-05:00

Is it me or has the volume of annoying salespeople multiplied exponentially? At work I get so many junk faxes that waste our paper and ink. The worst part of it is that the geniuses that design these things insist on using huge blocks of the paper with a black background and white lettering. I'd be less annoyed if they just used black letters on white background. I've called, I've faxed back, and they still keep on coming. I think the government needs to step in and put an end to this practice of bulk ad faxing. If someone wants to sell me something, using my paper and ink to do it isn't the way to go. Isn't there some company out there that makes a fax machine with a screen that allows you to view the incoming fax and gives you the option to print or delete them?

I've also been receiving countless phone calls from all sorts of weird area codes, and most of the time there's nobody on the other end. I've Googled these numbers and have found a whole world of people who are experiencing the same thing from the very same numbers. Last week I got a call from one company and they wanted to stop by Tuesday to discuss how they can help my business grow. Sure, why not humour them. Of course, nobody showed up that day. Big surprise. Today I got a call from the same number. I tore a strip off the poor woman who called. Told her about the site. Told her about the person who was supposed to come by early this week.

HOLY CRAP! Just got another salesperson while I was typing this!...where was I?

So anyway, I told the woman that not only did I think they are a scam, but they are a poorly orchestrated scam. I told her to take me off their list and not call here again.

I'm now keeping a list of all these phone numbers along with the time of call and that I've asked to be removed from their list. Who do I call when they call again? I tell ya, the government needs to get in on this.

Back to the call that just arrived...she asked for the manager, I asked what it was about, she's from the Ontario Business Directory and she was updating the contact information they have. OK, harmless enough I guess. She read off the list of our information and then told me we'd be published for the price of $249.

"Excuse me? Is this something we've done with you before?"
"You have been listed on a promotional basis to this point."

Guess what? I told her to take me off their list. Good god, isn't it enough that we pay a fortune for a yellow pages ad, not to mention newspaper ads? Everybody and their brother is trying to suckle from this teat, and quite frankly, I'm a bit raw at the moment.

Saturday morning as The Squeeze and I were about to head out, there was a knock at the door. The very same door with the little metal sign that says "NO SOLICITORS". The Squeeze opened the door and was given the pitch from Steve, the Direct Energy parasite. Steve asked to see our bill to "ensure we have price protection". The Squeeze pointed out the sign to Steve and said, "Do you see this sign?"

"Sir, I'm just trying to save you money on your utilities, blah, blah, blah..."
"I'm not interested."
"But blah, blah, blah..."
"I'm not talking to you Steve."
"But blah, blah, blah..."
"Goodbye Steve, I'm closing the door now."

If there's one thing that chaps The Squeeze's ass it's energy marketers. See, many years ago his father was scammed by one of these parasites when he wasn't in the early stages of Alzheimer's. He received a "rebate" cheque in the mail which apparently became a binding contract once he deposited it. It caused no end of frustration for his family. So needless to say, The Squeeze was fuming after he closed the door. We walked out seconds later to go shopping, and found Steve knocking at our neighbour's door. I guess my blood was boiling at seeing how The Squeeze was affected, so I went up to Steve and asked him why he would be so ignorant to knock on a door with a "NO SOLICITING" sign. Clearly we don't want people like him trying to sell us their crap.

"Well sir, we're just trying to make sure people are getting the best rate, blah, blah, blah."
"Well Steve, you see, his father was scammed by the likes of you while he had Alzheimer's, so that kind of left a bad taste in his mouth toward energy marketers."
"I can assure you this isn't a scam, blah, blah, blah."
"You know Steve, you'd be amazed how few scammers actually admit to it. The guy who scammed his father wasn't a scammer either."
"I'm sorry I wasn't able to help you..."

Did I give Steve the finger or was it my mind's finger? I don't recall. As The Squeeze and I drove off he said, "You know it just pisses me off that I spent $1.49 for that sign!"

"Maybe we could take it back to Home Depot. Tell them it doesn't work."

And we laughed, and laughed...

Oh! My! God!

2008-03-06T13:19:00.000-05:00

Thanks to Kenneth, I was alerted to something that I can only describe as unbefuckinglievable. Those techno dance gods known as Yazoo (or Yaz to those on this side of the pond) are reuniting for a concert tour. Yes, that's right. I'm still blown away by the thought. That sensual yet kick-ass vocalist, Alison Moyet has teamed up again with techno-wizard Vince Clarke, formerly of Depeche Mode and currently of Erasure, after more than 25 years for a string of tour dates throughout the UK, Europe and the United States. A four disc box set retrospective called "In Your Room" is being released in May and it contains remastered versions of "Upstairs at Eric's" and "You and Me Both", plus a boatload of remixes, and videos. I'm dying. I want it now.

The U.S. tour takes them to Oakland, Los Angeles, Chicago and New York. It doesn't look like Toronto or anywhere close is going to happen. When I told The Squeeze about the concert he said, "Let's go to Chicago".

Huh? What? He's normally the Voice of Reason. I come up with crazy ideas, and he talks me down off the ledge. I'm Lucy, he's Ricky. After checking the calendar for a full moon and the back yard for large pods, I realized that he was being serious. The Business Partner also thought it was a good idea.

"But it's an 8 hour drive," I said.

"So," they said.

I proceeded to do some investigating into getting tickets. It appeared that tickets don't go on sale until Friday at noon. Yet, somehow I found that a number of people on a couple of sites I found already had tickets. The American Express "Front of the Line" tickets didn't even get released yet. I discovered there was an advance presale for fans. What!? Aren't we all fans? After much searching and gnashing of teeth, and signing up for fan clubs, I found the Holy Grail. A password allowing me to buy tickets before they went on sale to the general public. I went to Ticketmaster, typed in the quantity of tickets I wanted, typed in the secret code, and there I was! Row D, smack dab in the middle.

I had about two minutes to confirm my purchase. I was asked to log in using my e-mail address and password. I entered the e-mail address and put in a password that The Squeeze and I often use and it came back stating that the password was incorrect. They then asked if I wanted a new password sent to the e-mail address. Tick, tick, tick, tick....

Yes, send me a new password! I received it quickly, and it asked that I change that temporary password to a new one. Tick, tick, tick, tick....aaaaannnnnd, we're out of time. The tickets have been released.

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!"

So I logged in again, asked Ticketbastard to find the 4 best available seats and lo and behold, the exact same seats came up. I guess that can happen if they aren't up for grabs to the public yet. I entered the e-mail, the new password, and found myself at a new window asking for all my info to purchase the tickets. Only this time I was granted five minutes to enter all the info. Name, address, phone, yadda, yadda, yadda, how to ship, payment information. Visa. Card number. No problem, it's burned into my brain from use. Expiry date. Oh crap. Where's my wallet? Oh come on...where is it? Tick, tick, tick, tick....

I ran downstairs and checked the table where I normally place it when I come home. Not there. I checked the kitchen table, nope. Counter, nope. Coat pocket? Woohoo! Jackpot. I ran back upstairs and entered in the date in just enough time. It's official. I have my tickets. Or at least a confirmation of tickets purchased.

Now I need to do some research of where to stay and what to do in Chicago. It's gonna be a busy day or two.

All That's Missing Are The Mirrors

2008-02-19T14:14:00.005-05:00

Sunday was supposed to be a rather brutal ice storm in this area, so we played it smart and visited the kids in Hooterville on Saturday so we wouldn't be on the roads in those conditions. We had a fun time, even though my little girl Brynn was having the typical 10-days-after-the-vaccination flu-like symptoms. She was very sucky and just wanted to be held and rest on daddy's chest. I couldn't have been more willing to oblige her. I just love to hold her and rub her back, and it's the most amazing thing to have her feel so comfortable in my arms that she falls asleep against my chest. Love it, love it, love it.

As the kids were being hauled up to bed, The Squeeze and I headed over to my folks' place for a quick visit. They informed us that my mother had taken a fall in the bathtub the previous week and was still quite sore. She's had a few episodes where she just blacks out and falls. Not sure what's going on there. She passed out in the tub, hitting her head, left hip and leg. Her left foot is still looking pretty nasty. My mother didn't want to go to the doctor right away, but my father finally got her to agree to go a day or two after the fact. It's weird when the youngest child begins parenting the parents. "If you fall again, especially if you hit your head, get checked out right away!" I had to put a bit of fear into them by letting them know that my friend's mother fell and hit her head and wound up in a coma, and sadly died. "Don't mess around with that stuff." I also suggested that maybe it's time to move into a bungalow so there's no chance of falling down stairs. Her knees are also bothering her a lot, so the stairs aren't doing her any good. Years ago I mentioned that they should move out of their big house, and the answer I got? "We're too old to move." What does that even mean? My mother finally has her appointment with the gerontologist on Friday. I told my father to be sure he tells the doctor about the fainting too. But he said he's only seeing her about the memory stuff. Humour me. Tell him about the fainting. Maybe these things have some ties.

Sunday we kept an eye out for the storm, but it didn't seem too bad. We decided to go spend a bit of time at an art exhibit not far from our house, grabbed some lunch and did our grocery shopping. I started to prepare our dinner and our lunches for the week, and after we ate The Squeeze cleaned up and put the pots in the sink to soak. We retired to the basement to watch some tv. I was relaxing on the sofa, knitting away at the blanket that I'm making for Brynn when I had a thought.

"It's still early, what do you say I put some wood in the fireplace?"

"Sure," said The Squeeze.

I crumpled up some newspaper and put on some kindling and opened the damper. There was quite a downdraft coming down the chimney. I lit a rolled up piece of newspaper and tried to get an updraft going. A bit of smoke was coming into the room so The Squeeze opened the window a crack. It seemed that the draft turned and the smoke began going up the chimney so I lit the newspaper beneath the kindling, figuring we were well on our way to a nice relaxing fire. I closed the glass doors and opened the vents on the bottom to allow air to help pull the smoke up the chimney. Within seconds black smoke began pouring into the room from around the doors. Something wasn't right. The smoke was not going up the chimney. In a matter of seconds the room filled with smoke. I was panicking. The Squeeze ran upstairs and I'm yelling "Get the extinguisher! Get the extinguisher!!!" He disabled the smoke alarms so that wouldn't add to our grief, and rather than bringing the extinguisher, he brought down the huge pot that had been soaking in the sink. He brought it to the fireplace and scooped water out with his hands.

"Shit! That water is hot!"

"I don't care!" I yelled as I jumped in and started scooping water onto the burning paper and kindling.

While I was downstairs dousing the flames, The Squeeze went upstairs and opened the garage doors to clear the smoke. When the fire was out, I went to the top floor and opened windows and turned on the exhaust fan and brought down a portable fan to place in the basement window to suck out the smoke.

It was amazing how quickly the smoke filled the room. It was also amazing how slowly the smoke cleared. Our throats were sore from breathing it in for the brief moments we had. The Squeeze stayed on the main floor for a while, but thinking that the fire may start up again, I hovered in the basement so I could keep an eye on it. Eventually, the smoke cleared and we were able to unwind from this bit of unplanned excitement. Unfortunately, we have a very smoky smelling house, and this just isn't the kind of weather you want to keep your windows open in. I can smell it every time I resume working on the blanket. I'll be sure that goes into the wash before I give it to her.

I'm doing some reading on using a fireplace. I'm not quite sure what happened. The chimney's not blocked. We had it swept last year and it's capped. There was a good amount of cold air blowing down. I guess I just didn't have the updraft I thought I had. Not sure why it didn't work this time when I never had a problem before. While I'm researching, I'm going to look into a gas fireplace insert. Now what to do with the cord of wood in our garage...

Ways to Maintain A Healthy Level of Insanity

2008-02-06T15:18:00.000-05:00

I saw this on Facebook and some of them gave me a good laugh:

1. At Lunch Time, Sit In Your Parked Car With Sunglasses on and point a Hair Dryer At Passing Cars. See If They Slow Down.

2. Page Yourself Over The Intercom. Don't Disguise Your Voice.

3. Every Time Someone Asks You To Do Something, Ask If They Want Fries with that.

4. Put Your Garbage Can On Your Desk And Label It "In."

5. Put Decaf In The Coffee Maker For 3 Weeks Once Everyone has Gotten Over Their Caffeine Addictions, Switch to Espresso.

6. In The Memo Field Of All Your Checks, Write " For Smuggling Diamonds"

7. Finish All Your sentences with "In Accordance With The Prophecy."

8 . Don't use any punctuation

9. As Often As Possible, Skip Rather Than Walk.

10. Order a Diet Water whenever you go out to eat, with a serious face.

11. Specify That Your Drive-through Order Is "To Go."

12. Sing Along At The Opera.

13. Go To A Poetry Recital And Ask Why The Poems Don't Rhyme?

14. Put Mosquito Netting Around Your Work Area And Play tropical Sounds All Day.

15. Five Days In Advance, Tell Your Friends You Can't Attend Their Party Because You're Not In The Mood.

16. Have Your Co-workers Address You By Your Wrestling Name, Rock Bottom.

17. When The Money Comes Out The ATM, Scream "I Won!, I Won!"

18. When Leaving The Zoo, Start Running Towards The Parking lot, Yelling "Run For Your Lives, They're Loose!!"

19. Tell Your Children Over Dinner. "Due To The Economy, We Are Going To Have To Let One Of You Go."

Anyone have any additions to the list?

This Sinus Thing Is Soooo Draining

2008-02-02T13:40:00.001-05:00

OK, so I know I've bitched and moaned more than a few times over the past nearly two and a half years about this sinus thing I've been suffering for just as long. Many, many trips to see "my doctor" (I see a different resident every time I go in), have resulted in little more than frustration and a frequent prescription of nasal spray. I've tried saline rinses, neti pots, decongestants, antihistamines, antibiotics, steroids, Flonase, Nasonex, all to pretty much no avail.

I'm always asked the same questions:
Do you have any new pets?
Do you have carpets?
Is there mould in the house?
Do you smoke?
Did you move into a new place?

Answers:
No, in fact we haven't had a pet in about 4 months.
Hardwood on the main floor, carpets in the bedrooms.
Not that I'm aware of.
No.
Yes, but that was a year and a half ago and this started a year before we moved.

The last time I saw "my doctor" back in October or November I think it was obvious that I was about to snap. I basically told her that for more than two years, I've been SUFFERING from this sinus thing and that the usual sinus spray solution wasn't working. I told her I was fed up. Something had to be before I cut my own head off. I demanded a referral to an ENT (ear, nose & throat) specialist. She told me she'd arrange something for me and be in touch, and then she handed me another prescription for Nasonex. Sure, why not?

About a week or so after that I received a call informing me that I had an appointment for a CAT scan the following week. It was all pretty quick, unless you count the two years I've waited until that point.

I went for the CAT scan, and waited for a call from "my doctor" to let me know what the result was. After waiting for a few weeks, I was just about to make the call when I received a letter in the mail informing me of an appointment with an ENT specialist on February 1st. Finally, the ball was rolling.

Yesterday, February 1st, the weather report called for seven types of hell and 6 to 10 inches of snow. I called the ENT clinic to see if I was still on, and they told me I could come in earlier since some of their patients had cancelled due to the weather. I got there at before 10:00 and still had to wait until about 11:00 before I was called in. My appointment was for 10:45. Glad I arrived early. I was asked about my condition by the nurse. I answered all of the questions listed above and then some. I told her it's been going on 2 1/2 years and at that she looked rather concerned. I wasn't sure how to take that. She seemed surprised when I told her I had already been for a CAT scan, and that the results should be on their computer. She went off to look for them and came back about 25 minutes later. She then had me sit on their exam recliner while she sprayed some sort of crap into my nostrils. "This will allow the doctor to insert the tubes in your nose and down your throat, so the spray will numb your throat, just to let you know." The nurse sprayed away and I was greeted with one of the worst tastes I have ever experienced. "I have suckers if you'd like one to take the taste away". I declined, not wanting to appear to be a wimp. She then walked away and left me in the examining room alone. About a minute later, I realized that I was unable to swallow. My throat was constricting. I began to panic. Nobody was around and I was sure I was going to die right there alone. I had to concentrate on my breathing. I felt a bit dizzy and disoriented for a few minutes.

I kept my eye on the clock that hung on the wall facing me. About 15 minutes after the initial panic my throat seemed to open up again. Another ten minutes passed before a resident came in, introduced herself to me and shook my hand with what felt like the hand of a well-chilled corpse. "Your hands are so nice and warm! I'm freezing in here today," she informed. "It sure feels like it," I replied.

The resident asked me the required questions again, plus a few others. She stuck some small version of a log-splitter into my nostrils and spread them to just before the tearing point and scoped out the area with a flashlight. The resident then took her icy corpse hands and feelt the sides of my neck, then walked out of the room and I was left alone again.

After another lenghty wait, in walked the doctor with the resident. So let's look at this again. I got there at 10:00, was brought in at 11:00 and then, at about 12:25 I finally saw the doctor. Did I mention that my parking meter expired at 11:27? But I digress. The doctor asked me the usual questions again, and a few new ones. She asked the resident to make sure that the CAT scan they had looked at was, in fact, mine and not those of another patient of theirs by the same name. Once it was confirmed that they were my pictures, the doctor asked me if I felt pressure behind my left eye or in my left cheek. "Oh my God, I've got a huge honkin' tumor," I thought. I told her that I wasn't sure if I feel pressure or not. I've had this for so long I think I'm just used to all the discomfort. She tried to insert the scope tube into my left nostril, but encountered a bone spur from my septum that blocked the path. She moved on to my right nostril and slid that tube right down my throat. Rather uncomfortable. Perhaps if she was there while I was unable to swallow nearly an hour earlier I wouldn't have felt a thing, but who am I to say?

When she finished with the scope, she brought me over to the monitor to show me the CAT scan results. Apparently this bone spur on the left side of my septum is preventing my left sinus from draining properly. This could be the cause of my problem, though she couldn't guarantee that surgery would resolve it. The doctor told me that I have a couple of options. Go ahead with surgery, or maintain an agressive saline rinse and Nasonex regimen for a few months and see where that leads. I would have to rinse and spray every morning and every night instead of just in the morning as I've been doing. If the saline and Nasonex clears it up, that doesn't necessarily mean it's cured either. It could return if I stop doing that. I opted for the rinse & spray for a few months. I will see her again in April to see if things have changed for me.

I tried the saline spray they gave me before bed last night, and it didn't seem to go beyond my nostrils, so this morning I dug out my neti pot and gave that a try. I put the spout in one nostril and poured and it just didn't flow out the other nostril like it should. I got a very pathetic drip at best. I'm hoping that that will change over the next couple of days. We'll see how things go over the next couple of months. Perhaps I'll be in there getting that surgery in the near future. Maybe while I'm in there I'll get a bit of Botox, maybe have her tighten up my turkey neck, maybe a little lipo on the gut & butt. Or I'll just get my ass back on the treadmill.

Just Catching Up

2008-01-29T12:14:00.000-05:00

This has been a busy couple of weeks, so I'll just do a recap of various events.

About a week and a half ago I had Zoe for the day. My baby-mama Weezie's mother was in the hospital getting a new hip, and Zoe, as frequently happens, was ill. Normally when one of the kids is sick, Weezie's mother would look after them, but she was using that "I'm having surgery" excuse that day. So Brynn was dropped off at daycare, Grandma was dropped off at the hospital, and Zoe was dropped off with me while Weezie went to work.

After a bit of crying about mommy leaving, we managed to have a fairly fun day. Of course, being ill, she didn't want to eat anything. She just drank water. Once she was done crying for her mother when I put her down for a nap, she did manage to sleep for a couple of hours, allowing me a bit of time to relax. When Zoe woke up, she was finally ready to eat. Sort of. A few goldfish crackers and a slice of cheese, which for Zoe isn't really bad.

Weezie dropped Brynn off with us after work so she could visit her mother for a while, and The Squeeze and I had a fun time with the kids. I got dinner ready and we all sat down to eat. Of course, at this point Zoe really didn't want to eat. Brynn, on the other hand, was pounding it back. That's my girl! Zoe just wanted water, while her plate of boneless pork ribs, mac and cheese, and corn sat untouched. Weezie cooks these boneless ribs for the kids and they love them, so we picked some up to ensure they'd eat. She would sip her water and slide her sippy cup across the table toward The Squeeze aka "Poppy". At one point, The Squeeze tried to work out a deal with her. "Eat just one piece of meat for me and I'll give back your cup." So Zoe smiled at her Poppy, and put a piece of meat in her mouth. She chewed for a minute and turned toward me with a very sad look in her eyes.

"What's wrong baby? Does your throat hurt when you swallow?" I just figured that with her cold and all, that's why she wasn't eating much. I've been there. No sooner did she nod at me (clearly oblivious to what I meant) then she projectile vomited on the table, the floor, herself, and the chair pad beneath her. So much for that piece of pork. And that slice of cheese and goldfish crackers from the afternoon. I immediately stripped her off and carried her up to the tub for a good hosing down. The Squeeze, god bless him, cleaned up the aftermath in the kitchen.

This past weekend was a lot of fun. The Squeeze and I looked after the kids at Weezie's place in Hooterville while she brought her mother home from the hospital with the new hip installed. That night we went to a 40th birthday party for a friend of ours. There was a whole lot of Mexican style food, much of which was prepared by a saucy Venezuelan woman with a knack for double entendres. She even brought her penis pistol. Ya, it's better to forget I mentioned that. It appeared that she had a thing for Kenny, the birthday boy. Many of us were placing bets on what time they would be getting it on. The majority of the group squeezed into the hot tub on the deck while the rest of us sat inside watching the lunacy through the patio door, keeping an eye on the clock as our guessed time approached. Shortly after my guess of 10:00 pm passed, we headed for home.

Sunday morning, we went out for breakfast and made our way to a giftware and furniture show near Toronto to find a new sofa for our house. We stopped in at a major big box furniture place on our way there and saw a nice leather piece we liked, but we're not in a rush...we'll see. We stayed at the show for maybe an hour or so, finding nothing that we liked.

As we drove home, we decided to catch a matinee. We saw the musical bloodbath, Sweeney Todd. Ummm....wow. There was a whole lot of blood going on there. A light-hearted little romp, it ain't!

I spent the first part of my Monday morning in the dentist's chair getting my teeth cleaned and my gums stabbed. I got a clean bill of dental health. Surprising, considering that I'm really not as big of a flosser as I used to be. I just hate how I tend to shred the stuff and how it sometimes makes my gums bleed. "That means you should do it more," says The Squeeze. Ya, whatever. I must be doing something right. After the cleaning, I apologized to the hygienist for any popcorn residue she may have found from the movie the day before. She said there was no evidence of it at all. Ya, I rock.

I spent the rest of the day and much of the night cooking in the kitchen. I made a ever-growing pot of Curried Coconut Sweet Potato Soup. It was ever-growing because when I tasted the first batch of it, my head nearly blew off from the excess of ginger I put in. I pretty much doubled the recipe again without the ginger, figuring it would be ok. When The Squeeze tried it, his eyes widened at the heat of the ginger. Oh come on! So I made another gingerless batch to add to it yet again. I fiddled with seasonings and coconut milk and broth, and at 11:30 pm, I think I finally achieved success. Of course, now I have about 24 or 30 servings. I'll be putting individual servings in Ziplock bags and freezing them tonight. While I fiddled with the soup, I also made a huge batch of basmati rice and butter chicken for our lunches this week.

Tonight we're joining friends at a fund-raising event where many area restaurants are serving signature soups. The Squeeze suggested I set up a table, since I made enough.

He's a funny, funny guy.

Mr. Mom's Week

2008-01-16T16:57:00.000-05:00

The week went fairly well. As well as can be expected when a totally unprepared parent looks after an 18 month old girl with a will of her own. Last Monday was the handoff at daycare and I brought Brynn home. The Squeeze was away on business for the week, so that meant it was just the two of us. The most difficult time happened to be mealtimes. I don't know what it was, but every time she was in that high chair with dinner or breakfast in front of her there was grief. It wasn't a meal without sobbing, wailing, and much food in her hair. When I calmly stated, "no, no, that goes in your mouth, not in your hair", she lost her mind, and consequently, I lost mine.

On Tuesday morning I took her to daycare to keep her in her usual routine and told the workers that it appears she's got a bit of a cold. No biggie. It's a daycare. The place is swimming with illness, so they weren't terribly concerned. Every night at home I had a humidifier going in her room with that menthol stuff that hopefully clears the airways. While she slept, she would cough and then cry for about ten minutes until she fell asleep. This happened about every hour. Needless to say, I didn't get a lot of sleep those first few nights either.

A couple of days went by with no major problems, but Thursday the daycare called to see if I could pick Brynn up early. Her cold was really bothering her and she was insufferable unless she was constantly held. She had a bit of a fever, so I gave her some meds to reduce that. Friday morning I took her to see her doctor. They tested her for strep throat (Weezie had it the week before), but it was negative. Just a cold. They told me to keep giving her Advil over the weekend to keep the fever down and make her comfortable. When we got back home, we just cuddled for a while until The Squeeze got back home. WooHoo! Always good to have an extra set of hands and some moral support. The first thing I did was run out to get some more Advil and a few new books for Brynn. She loves books, but I was starting to lose my mind reading the same four books that she brought along with her. "The Wheels On The Bus" can only be read so many times before the lyrics turn to "The blade in my wrist goes slash, slash, slash. Slash, slash, slash. Slash, slash, slash."

We all spent the weekend together and had a good time. Brynn just loves The Squeeze, and the feeling is mutual. He's wrapped around her little finger. We visited the folks on Sunday and she was a bit cranky, but after about an hour or two she warmed up.

Monday was another daycare day. I was hoping to get in to see my chiropractor, because a week of lugging around 30 pounds gets to a guy. No luck. He wasn't working that afternoon. I had to wait until Tuesday. When I picked her up in the afternoon, I had her on the floor while I put her coat on, and a little girl around four years old came up to me and said, "Are you her grandpa?" Nice, kid. Real nice. "Though technically I am old enough to be her grandfather, I am actually her daddy."

Tuesday morning I was starting to feel a bit rough. I was stuffed up. After taking Brynn to daycare for the last time, I came home and gathered up her things and did some laundry. In the afternoon, I loaded up the car, stopped off at the chiropractor for a good crack, and headed to meet Weezie at the daycare for the handoff. We unloaded my car and loaded up her SUV, and we went in to get Brynn. We watched her play in the little play kitchen for a few minutes before she looked up and saw us. She looked up, smiled and toddled on over. Weezie and I figured Brynn would be so glad to see her after this week. Brynn made her way over, looked suspiciously at Weezie, and held her arms up to me. Well, I didn't see THAT coming! When Weezie took Brynn from my arms, she screamed bloody murder. It was as if she didn't recognize her. OK, she came back with a tan, but still! And it went on and on. She was only calm when I held her. "You must be loving this," she said. Ya, I just love to hear my daughter cry. NOT!

Weezie took Brynn to put her coat on, and she kept on screaming. When I was putting the carseat in Weezie's SUV and she held her, it was non-stop screaming. I had to take her and let Weezie finish with the car seat. I buckled her up in her seat, while she cried, knowing that she wasn't going with me. I closed the door and listened to her fading cries as Weezie drove off.

I came home to a very empty house. She's only been with me for a week, but the place sure didn't feel the same. When The Squeeze came home from work he said the same thing. We miss her so much. As much hard work, stress and pressure as it was, there was so much happiness. I miss having her sit on my lap as I read the same books to her over and over and over. I miss the way she "talks" to me. I miss that little laugh and that big grin. I miss hearing her say "Dada" and "Papa". And "ball" and "Pooh". I miss how as I read her book "Kiss Hello, Kiss Goodbye", she would go "mmmmmmmmmmmwaaaaaaaahhh" and kiss me. I miss how she hums the tune to "The Wheels On The Bus". Most of all, I miss picking her up from her crib in the morning and cuddling with her.

Weezie called last night to tell me that Brynn calmed down and when she saw Zoe, it was business as usual. On Friday, her mother has hip replacement surgery, and she wants me to take the girls for a few hours while she visits her after work. We can't wait.

Last night I was really feeling terrible. Everything aches. My nose won't stop running, I'm coughing and blowing my nose raw. I'm popping Advil and cough candies. When I went to bed last night I was shivering and just couldn't seem to get warm. It looks like Brynn left me a little something to remember her by until Friday. It's a small price to pay for a "Kiss Goodbye".

Mmmmmmmmmmmwaaaaaaaaahhhh!

Havin' My Baby

2008-01-04T11:07:00.000-05:00

It's that time of year when the cold hits and the lucky go someplace warm. Maybe it's just the people who aren't in debt that go away. Perhaps it's people who don't care about debt, but want to get away so badly they don't care about going further in debt. I know some of each.

Somewhere in that list is my baby-momma, Weezie. This year she's taking Zoe off to Cuba with her along with another friend and her daughter. That means that I get to look after my baby Brynn for a week. Hmm...she's 18 months old today. Can I still call her a baby? Hell, I'll be calling her my baby for the rest of my life. She'll put up with it.

I'm looking forward to having Brynn at our house and seeing her every day. Of course, the fear is there that she'll want her mother, and will be a sad little girl, which just breaks my heart. The part of this whole situation that I haven't yet mentioned is that The Squeeze is away at a conference for work that very same week. What are the odds?

To maintain some sense of normalcy in her routine, she'll continue to be in daycare for the week, which she just loves. I'm sure it beats being bored hanging out with me, and it's several hours less pressure per day for me too. If she'd be good with it, I'd be happy to just sit and hold her all day, but she'd put up with about five minutes of that.

The Squeeze gets back Friday night, so we'll all get to have fun together over the weekend. Before he leaves and Brynn arrives on Monday, we need to do some work around the house to toddler-proof it. We need to re-install the basement door that's been off since we moved in. We need to pack up the Christmas tree and decorations. I need to get some outlet plugs and make sure the construction zones are inaccessible. I have to pick up a non-slip bath mat too.

Luckily, the business partner has offered to work while I have Brynn. You just never know if the daycare is going to call, needing her to be picked up if she's sick or something. Working that week would require me to have to close the shop early each day in order for me to pick her up before the daycare closes anyway. It will all work out, I'm sure.

I'm pretty confident that I can handle a couple of hours in the morning and a couple of hours each night. I'll get Weezie to bring all of her toys with her.

away from us

2007-12-28T18:01:00.000-05:00

The Squeeze was stuck working Sunday, so I took a solo drive to Hooterville to visit the kids for the afternoon. It was to be the first of a few daily trips there for different functions. Monday, Christmas Eve, is usually spent at an open house held by my friend Paul's parents. It's a chance to see some old friends I see about once a year. Even though Paul wouldn't be making the trip from Vancouver this year, his brother, who I'm also friends with, would be there. Tuesday, Christmas Day, we would do our own thing here at home, then go to Weezies to share Christmas with her and the kids. Wednesday, Boxing Day, is usually spent at my parents' house. My mother usually goes all out and cooks for about 25 or 30 of us.

After visiting the kids on Sunday night, I decided to pop in for a quick visit with my parents and confirm the Boxing Day plans. My mother seemed tired. She told me that she had gotten up to go to the bathroom one night and passed out. I really wish they would move from their big house into a bungalow before she falls down the stairs. I mentioned to my mother that I had been doing a lot of baking for Christmas. She told me that she hadn't done any this year. My father told me that she had put some cookies in the oven and forgot about them and they burned. That is not like my mother at all. I asked if everyone was going to come over on Boxing Day. "Is that tomorrow?" she asked.

That question startled me. For it to be Boxing Day tomorrow, it would be Christmas today. And that was still two days off. My father gave me a concerned look. "Have you talked to Margaret?" he asked me, referring to my sister-in-law. My mother answered, thinking that he was talking to her. He informed me that over the past week or two, my mother has been forgetting things and doing strange stuff. She has a doctor's appointment on January 4th to get an assessment.

My father told me that she wouldn't be able to cook Christmas dinner this year for everyone, but invited us all over for a visit. I told them we'd bring the girls over on Boxing Day. Again, my mother asked, "Is that tomorrow?"
"It's on Wednesday," my father told her.
"Are we going to be here?" she asked.
"Where do you think we're going to be?" he asked.
"Well, I have my doctor's appointment," she replied.
"That's almost two weeks away," he said.

My father informed me that my mother wasn't even able to write the Christmas cards this year, so my father did them all.

I told my parents that I needed to get back on the road so I could get home before the grocery store closed, and I managed to keep my composure until I got into the car in the driveway. I had a meltdown. I sobbed for the entire hour back home. I just felt like I was losing my mother. She didn't seem the same. I feel so terrible for the person I'm losing, and I feel terrible for the love and companion that my father has been with for over 50 years that isn't the same person.

The Squeeze lost his father to Alzheimer's Disease, and I know what a horrible disease it is. I am so afraid of what's yet to come.

The Squeeze called my cell when I was just a few blocks from home, and I told him briefly what had happened because if I got into it much further, I wouldn't be able to see the road. He was waiting for me at the front door with open arms and I was finally able to unload all the sorrow that was inside me.

I called my brother to see what he knew. I wondered if maybe she might have had a mild stroke or maybe it was early signs of dementia. He thought it was likely the latter. He told me that my father had told him that they went for groceries, and upon their return, my mother walked into the living room, sat on the couch with her coat still on, and turned on the TV. My father asked her if she wanted to put the groceries away with him. She normally puts them away right away. She forgot all about them. I told him about the confusion over Boxing Day, and he sounded a bit more concerned. Our sister thinks that it might be a problem with medications, and I'm praying that she's right. I guess we'll find out next week.

By the time Boxing Day rolled around, my siblings had decided to do a small potluck at my parents' house. Buns, meat, salad...stuff like that. My mother even managed to make a roast. She said she was feeling a bit better, but she still looked awfully tired. After everyone headed home, The Squeeze and I washed the few dishes that were left, and tidied up a bit. I asked my father if he wanted a hand putting away the banquet table in the sunroom. He told me he would do it in the morning since it's not very heavy. My mother added, "it's dried out now so it's not too heavy." Her statement made no sense. My father and I gave each other a knowing glance, and our hearts sank just a bit more.

The Buffet

2007-12-21T14:35:00.000-05:00

The Squeeze and I popped in to a local Chinese buffet for dinner early this week. I'm really starting to re-think this whole self-serve buffet idea. When it comes right down to it, it's kind of gross. On any given night, that scoop in the Egg Foo Young that you're using has been handled by a couple hundred other people. And they don't call them 'The Great Unwashed' for no reason. The transfer of bacteria must be astronomical. At least in a regular restaurant you're only subjected to the poor hygiene of a cook and a waiter.

We were seated, placed our drink and soup order, and proceeded up for our first load. As we took in the selection and began scooping up our choices, The Squeeze spied a little girl of about 7 or 8 years old, looking somewhat dirty, picking up chicken balls with her hands and putting them on her plate.

"You shouldn't use your hands to handle the food. You should use the serving spoon."
"I can't handle it. They keep falling off."
"Well then you should have someone help you."

We went back to our table and enjoyed our soup and plate of food while suffering through the volume of a nearby family. While the young son was using his outdoor voice and carrying on, Dad was on his cell phone, using the same voice as he chatted with someone about buying a car for scrap. Ya, it really wasn't an upscale crowd that night. I also noticed that the little girl who was handling the chicken balls was seated about two tables away from us with her family. There were two women, one man and two other little girls with her. I'm not sure what the family dynamic was. Perhaps it was kids, mother and grandparents, but it was hard to tell.

After waiting a while, we decided to go back for another round. As I came around one of the buffet stations, what did I see, but that same little girl at the chicken balls again. Only this time she was not using her hands to put chicken balls on her plate. She was using them to put chicken balls from her plate back into the serving tray.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" I said to her.
"I'm sorry!" she said with a start. I guess I surprised her.
"You do NOT handle food with your hands and you certainly don't put food you've touched back so other people eat it."
"I'm sorry," she said again.
I walked back to my table in disgust and looked at the table where her family sat.

I walked over to their table, looked at the plate belonging to whom I believed to be the girl's mother, and picked up her egg roll with my hand. I looked at it and put it back down. All three adults at the table looked at me in horror. The mother said "What are you doing?!"
"Oh, is there a problem? Do you not like people touching your food with their hands?" I asked.
"No! I do not!" she shouted back.
"Well what makes you think that everyone else in this restaurant wants to eat the food that your daughter has been taking off her plate with her hands and putting back in the serving trays?"
Throughout the restaurant I could hear gasps and the sound of silverware dropping. I walked back to my table and called for my cheque.

OK, that entire last paragraph was merely fantasy, but I thought of it after I left the place. In a way, I really wish I had thought of it while I was there and actually done it. What do some parents think? Little kids can be walking petrie dishes at the best of times, let alone in the thick of cold & flu season. We all know how kids are. Coughing, sneezing, wiping and picking noses and grabbing crotches.

Ya, I'm really thinking that ordering from the menu has its merits. You may not get the quantity or the variety. But think about all the stuff you're NOT getting. And that's not so bad.

I'm Not As Dumb As I Look

2007-11-30T10:34:00.000-05:00

Last night as I was returning my rental car, I stopped at a gas station at a very busy intersection to top up the tank. A few guys pulled up in a Hummer and I heard the driver casually say to one of his friends, "I don't know, I'll ask."

"Excuse me," he said.
I was thinking, 'please don't ask me for directions, I don't know the area.'
"Yes," I replied.
"Are you interested in a surround sound system?"
I looked at the guy with an 'are you really that stupid to think I'd fall for that' look.
"It's an awesome system."
"No, I'm good, thanks."
"We can make a really great deal for you."
I put the nozzle back into the pump, turned to the guys and said, "I may have been born in the morning, but it wasn't this morning."

With that they drove off looking for their next mark.
A blond girl filling her VW Bug at another pump was looking at me with a quizical look, wondering what was going on.
"Trying to sell me a hot surround sound system."
"Ahhhh."
"Either hot merchandise, or empty speaker boxes, you know how it is."
"Scammers are everywhere. I'm sure they'll get someone to fall for it."
"Sadly, I think you're right."

Had I thought about it at the time, I should have taken their license number and called the police. As I pulled out of the gas station, I saw their Hummer in the oncoming lane, looking for a fool willing to part with his money. Unfortunately, I wasn't in a position to turn around and get their plate number. I hope someone does.

Let this be a lesson to everyone out there to beware of this scam. I've heard about it many years ago. Some sucker hands over a few hundred bucks and gets nice wooden speaker boxes with crappy little Radio Shack speakers, if any at all. Or a receiver box with a few bricks and newspaper stuffed in so the bricks don't slide around.

Sad. Just sad.

A Few Minor Issues

2007-11-29T10:37:00.000-05:00

Last night was the night to pick up the new (to me) car. I arrived at the appointed time, met with my salesman and signed all the required paperwork.

"One thing I wasn't able to do," he said, "was to touch up the chips in the paint that we were going to do for you because it's too cold to do it right now. The paint won't dry and cure properly. So here's a bottle of touch-up paint that you can use when we get a warm day or if you have a garage you can do it in there."

Alright, not a big deal, I can dab with the best of them. Ya, I know, the thought hit me later... they're a freakin' car dealership. Surely they could have pulled it into a bay for a bit to do that like they said they would.

They also replaced the front windshield because the old one had a small crack in it. Bonus for me because man, is it ever clear. That reminds me, I have to see when I can remove the lovely masking tape that keeps it in place until the silicone sets up.

The night we took it for the test drive, the light that lets you see the clock, radio and heat settings was not working. The salesman made a note for the service department to fix that. Yep, that's right, it still isn't working.

"Try the heater and make sure it's working," he said.
"It's working," I said, "I just can't tell what temperature it's set to or what mode it's on."
I told him that it didn't feel like any heat was blowing from the central vents.
"Switch to recirculating."
"And how do I tell if it's on recirculating without being able to see it?"

We'll make a note of that little problem. It was a bit of a pain driving home and not having my central control system working. What radio station was I listening to? Do I have my heater on the right setting? Now I know what blind drivers feel like.

OK, it's all a bit frustrating. I have to go back today when the business partner gets in so they can work on it. I'll have a loaner for the day...or until they get it done. I'm sort of dreading what that loaner might be. I remember one time, at band camp...no, that's another story entirely.....many years ago a part of a tree fell on my Nissan (pieceofcrap) Pulsar during an ice storm, and I had to have some work done. You know, new hood, new paint job. While it was in the shop, they provided me with a "loaner". In my opinion, anyone who would drive such a car would have to be a "loner". I think it was something like a Pacer or Gremlin or some such thing. It was about eight tones of brown, due to being Frankenstein-ed from many, many other vehicles. It had an AM radio that gave nothing but static, and the heater didn't work. This was in the middle of winter, folks. In Canada. Holy cow, where was I?

When I arrived home last night, I thought I'd just look at the owner's manual and perhaps find that it might just be a fuse causing the lighting problem. I opened the glove compartment and there was....nothing. No owner's manual. Stay down, blood pressure, stay down.

So I have a little list in my hand of the things that need to be addressed when I go in today. If they can't get it fixed today, I'll have this loaner until Saturday. As long as it's not that same car from many years ago I'll be OK.

FRIDAY UPDATE:

All is well. I took the car in, they gave me a nice new Civic as my rental, and I made my way back to work for an hour or two before they called to let me know my car was ready. The control panel is working, and now that I can see the heater modes, I discovered that the central vents do, in fact, work. I just needed to know what setting it was on. I'm just waiting for a manual to show up. The salesman told me something interesting. He said about 1 in 5 cars that gets traded in has the manual with it. I was stunned. Where the hell do people put them? Doesn't everyone keep them in the glove box or is it just me? My business partner told me that the manual for their new car is under their bed because his partner has been reading it in bed. They drive a Mini...maybe they just needed the extra space. ;o)

So God, Told Dave, To Trade In The Arky, Arky...

2007-11-22T10:23:00.000-05:00

It's official, and perhaps a bit sudden, I have divested myself of my Ark. My land yacht. My hugh-freakin'-bungous behemoth of an uncomfortable, fuel-sucking SUV. Yes, I am now in my final week with my 2003 Honda Pilot. Don't get me wrong, I didn't totally hate it. Just about 90% hated it. Pretty much from the week I bought it last October. It started with the uncomfortable steel bar in the seatback that pressed against my lower spine. The dealership I bought the thing from dicked me around. I wrote some letters, got some response, but after a couple of attempts to take the Ark back to have the problem resolved, I was left unimpressed. What really irked me was that this dealership is about half an hour or so from home, so it really chapped my ass when I made the trip one day only to be told that the guy who was going to help me with the problem was off sick that day. Thanks for the heads up.

Anyway...moving along. I bought the Ark as perhaps an over-reaction to the fact that I needed to have a 4 door to lug the kids and their stuff around. Getting stuck in the back seat of the 2003 Accord Coupe (I LOVED that car), while tending to Brynn last Thanksgiving was what got me to think it was time for a 4 door. As FWIG can attest, getting in and out of that back seat of the coupe was no easy feat. Once was enough for me. Now that my baby-mama moved the kids to Hooterville, getting there and back every weekend in the Ark is nothing short of an assault on the environment, not to mention my wallet. With gas prices on the rise again, and oil reaching an all-time high, it seemed to be the time.

Last night I dragged The poor cold-suffering Squeeze out in the rain with me to a dealership to look at a car I found on-line. When we got there, we were told that car had been sold, but another was just traded in that day and it fit the bill perfectly. It's a 2004 Accord Sedan, fully loaded, and most importantly, it was also a 5 speed manual transmission, which I really wanted. If I'm going 4 cylinder, it's got to be a stick. More fun to drive and better on gas. They need to clean, safety, and certify it and it should be ready to go hopefully Monday. Driving that car last night was so comfortable and familiar, and most importantly, no steel bar across my spine.

Eww! Eww! Eww! Eww! Ewwwwwwwwwwww!

2007-11-13T10:32:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, like every morning, I dragged my butt out of bed and proceeded to the kitchen to take my pills and vitamins and grab a bowl of Mini Wheats (wheats, wheats, la la la la la la laaaa...sorry, couldn't resist. Damned catchy commercials.). In an attempt to minimize using every glass in the house, The Squeeze and I each keep a small Tupperware cup on top of the water cooler in the kitchen. Every so often we toss them in the dishwasher, but since it's our own germs we're dealing with, it's not really a worry to us. When I was a kid, I remember we kept a yellow Melmac teacup hanging on a hook by the sink and my whole family used it to get a drink of water from the kitchen tap. Perhaps that explains why many in my family suffer from coldsores. Who knew?

Anyway...where was I? Oh yes, I was taking my pills. I popped the pills into my mouth, grabbed my green cup, held it below the water-cooler nozzle to fill up, brought the cup to my mouth and took a drink. Something wasn't right. I felt something crawling on my lip. I pulled the cup away and there in my cup was a yellow sack spider. Needless to say, I threw the cup, spider and all into the sink, followed by my mouthfull of pills, while I screamed like a school girl and did the "Icky Icky Icky" dance around the kitchen.

What have we learned from this story? Many things:
- I don't like spiders, especially on my lips.
- I have the ability to scream like a schoolgirl.
- I shouldn't do tasks in a dimly lit kitchen.
- I should look into my cup before filling and drinking from it.
- There are many benefits to individual bottles of water.
- I may require therapy.

On another note....

The weight loss thing seems to be at a standstill. I've made it down to 284.5, and have upped and downed 3 or 4 pounds in the last few weeks. I had a 24 hour flu bug last Sunday, which kind of knocked a lot out of me, so I was off the treadmill for a few days. Add to that the fact that I was going to have company over that day which of course I had to cancel. That means that The Squeeze and I had a large amount of cheese and crackers, guacamole & chips, and other munchies I planned to serve my guests. I'm not sure when I'm going to have another free weekend day to have them all over, but it likely won't be before the new year. And nobody likes blue cheese....unless it's supposed to be blue, and then I'm all over that. So anyway, ya, we've been snacking.

But I'm back on track now. (That means the snack food is gone.) But Christmas is six weeks away. To bake or not to bake? It just isn't Christmas without my butter tarts, empire biscuits, peanut butter balls, key lime squares and all the other goodies. Of course I'd have to give them all away. Oh my god, I think I just gained two pounds typing that out!

Oh No They Dih-hnt!

2007-11-01T09:50:00.000-05:00

This is just too funny to believe.
http://famouslikeme.blogspot.com/2007/11/looks-delicious.html

And The Freaks Just Keep On Coming

2007-10-24T11:33:00.000-05:00

I've been wondering recently, where have all the freaks gone? I mean, I've had the occasional slightly odd person cross my path, but I'm talking about the type that you can't make up. Wonder no more. I met her this morning...and it stretched out to this afternoon.

I was sitting at the computer at work doing some on-line research, hoping to locate a print that a client asked us to look for, when the front door opened. In stumbled a woman with high heels and huge hair. I'm talking tall, curly, streaked, with some kind of bandana thing going on in there somewhere. She dragged with her two large framed pictures, a cardboard tube and a very large purse. She asked if I was The Partner. "No, I'm his partner," I informed her.
"Oh, ok...I know his partner," she said, meaning his life partner, not me. Still with me?
Since she could hardly seem to recall his name, I'm sure they're quite close.
While she was talking to me, she opened the door and walked back out to her car, still talking, to drag in another huge framed oil painting.

The woman proceeded to remove two prints from the cardboard tube and I recognized the artist immediately, since I purchased some of his work on the east coast a few years back. She brought one of the framed pieces along as a reference of the kind of artwork she has in the room she planned to put these pieces in. OK, it's a seascape, so are the two prints. I get the idea. Why she felt the need to bring it in is beyond me because she said the new ones don't need to match it. Allllrighty then.

I pick out a blue mat and she immediately protests. "But it's a blue picture, what other colour were you thinking of putting in there?"
"I don't know...maybe brown to go with that rock."
Oh dear god, kill me now. I pulled out a brown mat that matched the rock, and immediately she said, "Oh no, I don't like that. Maybe a blue will work."
Guess what shade of blue she liked? Anyone? Yep, that's right. The first one I had picked out. Then she asked if we had any marbled mats. I had to break the bad news to her that although the other piece she brought in (her daughter's diploma) was done with a marbled mat, they were, in fact, quite out of style and rather unavailable. I showed her the six or eight remaining colours available in a marbled mat, but they weren't just ugly, they were fugly.

"How much would it cost to do another one like my daughter's diploma?"
"I'll have to figure that out in the computer, but let's finish this one first."

We settled on the mat and frame for the first piece and I began entering the information into the computer. When I asked her for her postal code, she drew a blank, but said it's out in the car. Again, while talking to me, she walked out to the car, kept talking as if I could still hear her, and brought in some form of ID that had her postal code. I got everyting entered and gave her the price.

Then she rolled out the next piece, another seascape. Part way through that one, she starts asking me how much it would cost to frame a mirror she has at home. I told her that since we have about 1400 samples, it varies quite a bit. So off she went pulling samples off the wall for her mirror when we hadn't finished the second seascape yet.

"Oh what time is it?", she asked.
"It's 11:20," I told her. She had been in the shop about 45 minutes by that time.
"I should be going, I have such a migraine from the weather. So what frame would look good on this one?"

About 15 minutes later, she finally came to a decision on the frame for the second piece. While I had my back turned and was beginning to enter the components into the computer, she had rolled up the two pieces and put them back in the tube before I had a chance to measure the second one. So she had to pull them back out so I could get that information. I gave her the price on the second piece, and that's when she asked for a discount. So because she at one time met my business partner's spouse, yet didn't even know his name, she figured she could get a discount the very first time she brings something in. I explained that generally we do bulk discounts when doing many of the same item, since our suppliers give us a break on those orders. I didn't bother to tell her that we give discounts to our regular loyal customers. She'd learn that down the road somewhere.

"Oh, I really don't feel well...I should be going. Do you think this oil painting could be revived with a new frame?" OK, aparently she's not that ill.
So I start showing her some new combinations for the large oil painting that would give it some new life, and within seconds she was back on the mirror. "It's about 3 feet by 5 feet," she said.
"Well, let me enter everything in for the oil painting and then we can look at a frame for your mirror."

I gave her the price of the large oil which was over $500, so she wanted to see other options. Of course she didn't like anything else she saw because the first one looked so great on it. Since she had rolled up the other prints, I kind of figured she was just getting prices, so I told her we could just leave in what we had and later on when she's ready we can take a look at other options for it.

Next she began pulling more frames off the wall for this mirror of hers. Of course, she's looking at some of the most expensive moldings, and she wanted to stack two of them together to make a huge frame. Ca-Ching!

"What time is it?" she asked again.
"It's 12:15," I answered.
"Oh, I need to go, I have a client at 1:00," she said.
"Well, I'll just enter the information for the mirror and give you an idea of the price."
"Do you have a bathroom I could use?" she asked.
"Sure, just back there in the corner, light switch is on the left."

While I entered the information for the mirror, she walked to the bathroom and washed her hands, and then my jaw hit the floor. She left the door open, and next thing you know, she was pissing like a racehorse in there. Then there was a flush, and no sound of washing hands after the deed was done. I don't know what grossed me out most. So many things to choose from.

I gave her the price for the mirror, which was about $1200 using the frames she selected. She didn't seem too bothered by it. She gathered up her pictures and took them out to her car, and brought in a photo of her daughter. "What frame would look good with this?"

For someone who didn't feel well and had an appointment, she sure did take her time hanging around here. I showed her a couple of ideas, but didn't bother to put anything in the computer at this point. She borrowed a couple of samples to check the colour for the mirror, and I'm hoping I get them back. She said she'd bring them back tomorrow or her husband will bring them back this afternoon.

I'm hoping he brings them back today. I'm dying to know what kind of guy could put up with a scattered character like that. If things get more interesting I'll be sure to update.

An Empty House

2007-10-11T22:12:00.000-05:00

Wednesday night we took our old cat, Calicoco, to the vet to be put down. It's a terrible thing to have to go through, but we knew it was the right thing to do. She was so thin and lethargic. She wouldn't even eat a piece of turkey I offered her. Not a good sign. We also discovered that she had started to use the carpet in the soon-to-be master bedroom as a litter box. I guess we'll be replacing that.

As much as we anticipated this coming, it didn't minimize the pain or amount of tears shed. The Squeeze and I often joked, telling Cali that if she keeps up whatever annoying thing she was doing, she'd get the big needle. Ya, we're morbid like that sometimes. When it actually happens, it's not so funny.

We were greeted at the vet's office by their resident cat who looked bang-on like our old boy Emmet who had to be put down two years ago. It made us think that Emmet was waiting for Cali on the other side. This time we chose to not stay and witness her passing. It was torture to watch Emmet's life end, and we just couldn't bear to do it again. We held her one last time and handed her over. As we walked out to the car we both sobbed. I have some guilt over not being there to comfort her as she slipped away, but I know she was in caring hands.

I'm trying to find some comfort in the thought that Cali is once again with her pal Emmet and The Squeeze's mother (Cali's original guardian). Even though we no longer need to worry about keeping her from eating my orchids, or stepping in a puddle of her vomit, or making sure we're home at a regular time to give her her meds and feed her, we're really going to miss her. I miss her loud purrs and silent meows. I even miss when she would find her voice at 4 or 5 in the morning and wail throughout the house.

She was the furthest thing from a lap cat you could imagine, until I managed to coax her on my lap with her Feline Greenies. For the past couple of years you could hardly get her off your lap. I'm glad we we able to share that contact. I'll miss the way she would drool while you pet her, and the way she would sit at the patio door for hours watching chipmunks and squirrels in the back yard. I still expect to see her on the couch when I walk through the house. It's pretty quiet in here.

Thanksgiving, Kids, And The Cat

2007-10-09T09:53:00.000-05:00

This past weekend was Thanksgiving for those of us up here in the great white north. The good folks at Ripley's are calling me because for the first time in humankind, someone actually lost weight over the Thanksgiving weekend. That someone would be me. I can't believe it. Somehow I managed to lose 1 1/2 lbs on this homage to gluttony holiday. My body fat has now gone down to 25%. Woohoo!

Sunday we had The Squeeze's younger brother and his two sons over for dinner. It was the usual fare. I kept the pre-dinner snacks light so we wouldn't be too stuffed to eat dinner. Then we broke out the usual suspects. Turkey & stuffing, mashed potatoes, lots of veggies, gravy. The Squeeze and I each had a full plate of food and halfway through them, we felt stuffed. There was a time when we'd finish it no problem and go back for more. One plate was the limit, and after that I could hardly manage to sit up and lean forward in my chair. The Squeeze's bro brought his trademark pumpkin pie for dessert. Good stuff. Of course, we did have to wait an hour or so to enjoy it or we would have died after our first bite.

Monday The Squeeze and I drove to Hooterville where we met with Weezie and the kids at her new house. Very nice place. Good neighbourhood. Nice sized rooms. She's had a crew of people in there painting and getting the place ready to move in at the end of the month. The paint colours are very fresh and cheerful. But enough of that....

We swapped vehicles (rather than go through the nightmare of taking the kids' car seats out of Weezie's SUV and installing them in the Ark, and swapping them back a few hours later) and took the girls to my brother & sister-in-law's place for my family Thanksgiving gathering. It couldn't have gone better. My nephew and my niece had their daughter and son, respectively, there, and they're right there between the ages that Zoe and Brynn are. There was even a 5 week old puppy there, much to Zoe's chagrin. I just don't quite get what there is about a soft, fluffy, cute little puppy that makes a two year old shriek in terror. Then again, this is the same kid who had a meltdown over TMX Elmo. Brynn didn't even flinch. Even when the puppy jumped up and knocked her over on the lawn.

They both had a good time playing, getting passed back & forth between relatives, eating lunch. Everything was perfect until Zoe veered from her path back up my brother's laneway and jumped right into a mud puddle. Those things are like magnets to kids. When I called Weezie to let her know we were ready to bring the girls back to her place, I let her know about the puddle incident. I told her that only the shoes, socks and dress were affected. She laughed and said "well, what else is there?" The diaper was not involved, but did need changing anyway.

On a sad note, our 20 year old cat Calicoco appears to be on her way out. She's been off her food for over a week. I had her at the vet's last Monday for bloodwork and X-rays. She wolfed down the food they offered her while she was in their care, so of course we bought some of that. She's now lost interest in it. The vet said her liver enzymes are elevated, and the X-rays show either a mass on her liver pushing against her stomach, or her innards are just sagging and shifting. Of course a $500 untrasound could pinpoint that. And there's the option of surgery. Oy! She's 20!

She's been peeing outside of her litter box. So far she's keeping it in the laundry room and not going on the carpet or hardwood. The Squeeze discovered that she had been going under the basement stairs and peeing under there. I caught her doing it behind the furnace. This morning, there were two puddles right there in the middle of the laundry room. I dread the thought of waking up one morning or coming home from work and finding her dead on the floor. I think we might be taking her in to be put down in the next couple of days if things continue like this, and I'm sure they will. :o(

Weight Update

2007-10-05T10:21:00.000-05:00

As good as this looks to me, I heard something on the radio this morning that kind of chapped my ass. A mother and her son were on CBC Radio 1 this morning talking about how the son was grossly overweight and he then lost a ton of weight and ran some crazy long distance run. He's the same height as me. He now weighs 210, but was at 320 at his heaviest. At one point in the interview he said "I'm never going back to size 44 pants again."
Bitch, that's what I'm in now!

Creepy TV

2007-10-03T09:50:00.000-05:00

This morning I was watching The Today Show as I usually do while taking my stroll on the conveyor belt to nowhere. There was some sort of glitch that resulted in no audio for a few minutes. Growing tired with the silence, I checked out the on-screen guide and saw that an episode of Diff'rent Strokes was about to start on TBS. Sorry...I mean The Peachtree Network. What's up with that? So I switched channels and waited for that familiar song to start.

Now the world don't move
To the beat of just one drum
What might be right for you
May not be right for some...

What I didn't realize is just how creepy that into to the show is. I'm not talking about the corny music, I'm talking about the whole pedophilia-ishness of the visuals accompanying the tune.
It starts with the New York skyline and fades to millionaire widower Mr. Drummond (Conrad Bain) riding in the back of his chauffeur-driven car as he peers out the window at the sights of Harlem.

Cut to a shot through a chain link fence of Willis and Arnold (Todd Bridges and Gary Coleman) playing basketball with several other children. Willis holds Arnold up in his arms while Arnold throws the ball horizontally, ending miraculously in an arched shot right into the basket. A couple of "gimme five"'s and a little finger-gun action, not unlike that from Isaac from The Love Boat, and the boys look up. Arnold actually has a look of fear in his eyes as he grabs Willis' hand and they break into a run. One would think someone was after them.

Cut to a shot of Mr. Drummond squatted down beside his waiting car with the back door open. He reaches out his hands with this "come here little boys" look and when they arrive, he pretty much pushes them both into the back seat before getting in himself and signalling to the driver to burn rubber.

There are a few other slum shots before another peek into the back seat with Mr. Drummond sitting beside Willis as he slings his arm around him. The driver stops the car in front of Mr. Drummond's building and the boys get out, looking up at the building while Mr. Drummond ~~cleans up~~ slides over. The camera tilts from the base to the tip of the tall column, before cutting to a rear-view of Mr. Drummond, Willis and Arnold walking into the front door of the building.
Before walking in, the three of them glance back over their shoulders.

I'm guessing Mr. Drummond was looking to see if there were any witnesses. I can't help but choke back a tear thinking that the boys were taking one last look at their innocence.

Look for yourself. That's what I'm talking about, Willis!

Up & Down...no, not like that!

2007-09-26T09:39:00.000-05:00

This weight loss goal/obsession is driving me nuts. I'm on that damned scale every morning, hoping for the best. Some mornings it's good, some it ain't. Monday morning was good. I clocked in at 291.5. Not bad, still dropping.

It was shaping up to be a good day. It happened to be my birthday, and I got the new Family Guy dvd from The Squeeze that morning, so I watched a few episodes while I was on the treadmill. Damn funny stuff. After that, I dragged a vacuum through the house, did a bit of dusting, cleaned the kitchen, scoured the bathroom and had a shower just in time to leave and pick up Brynn for a doctor's appointment. We had a fun few hours together. She's just so darn cute! Every time I looked at her in the back seat, she'd crack a smile and giggle. Melt. My. Heart.

On the way home, I picked up a few items at the grocery store to snack on with FWIG, his friend Jiggs, and The Squeeze before heading out for dinner and a play. As luck would have it, The Squeeze got stuck in traffic and got home just in time for us to head out to the restaurant, which meant that it was up the the three of us to eat the munchies and drink the wine.

Our first choice of restaurant near the theatre happened to be closed on Mondays, so we cruised the downtown and settled on a sketchy Thai place. I go there quite often with other friends. The food is great, but it's not the cleanest place. As I told Jiggs, if you have to go to the bathroom, hold it until we get to the theatre. I had Pad Thai and I decided to experiment with a coconut shake with "black pearls", which essentially is huge honkin' tapioca at the bottom of the shake. Thanks to the 1" diameter straw, I had little problem sucking those babies up.

We made our way to the theatre and parked in a nearby lot. Good thing Jiggs was there. She informed me that although I did put the Club on my wheel, locked the doors and set the alarm, I somehow managed to miss the fact that my window was all the way down. Ya, I know. That's enough out of you.

The play was entertaining. Not the greatest, not the worst, but a fun yet predictable romp.

We drove home, said our goodbyes, and got to bed. When I woke in the morning, I did my ususal treadmill routine with a few more Family Guy episodes, had my shower, got on the scale and OHMYGOD!!!! I was up three pounds! WTF? Those damned snacks. OK, let's see...baguette with balsamic and olive oil, cream cheese & red pepper jelly, a wedge of parmesan, crackers, grapes, spiced olives, wine. Damn it! It was the grapes! Those damned grapes made me gain three pounds! Or...maybe it was everything else but that. I had more carbs that day than I've had in a long, long time.

Today was a bit better. I'm at 293. I've also been checking my percentage of body fat on the scale on a weekly-or-so basis. When I first broke the 300lb barrier, I was at around 33% body fat. That's right, I was about 1/3 fat. Last week, I was at 29%. This morning I was at 27%. I guess that means I'm gaining muscle, and that's good. Muscle burns fat. I have to keep telling myself that. It's not just the weight on the scale, but what's making up that weight.

When I was heading to work this morning, I crossed paths with a woman from the shop next door.
"Dave, you've lost weight!", she said.
"Ya, I've been working on it for a few months now."
"Well keep up the good work, you look great."
"Thanks."
As she walked toward her car she turned back and said, "I'm stopping at Tim Horton's on the way back, do you want me to pick up something for you?"
"Sure, I'd love a honey lemon tea. Nothing in it."
"Is that all?"
She seemed disappointed. It's like she wanted me to have a dozen donuts or something.
Maybe I'm just paranoid. But just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean everyone's not out to get me!

My Interview

2007-09-19T15:25:00.000-05:00

I received my list of interview questions from Kathleen recently, so I guess it's time to come up with some answers, but first...the fine print:

Interview rules:

1. Leave me a comment saying “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with a post containing your the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Alright, so where was I? Oh yes, now I remember.

1) What made you decide to lose weight?

I've tried it several times before with limited success. The idea to finally get my act together hit me just over a year ago after Brynn was born and I immediately fell in love with her. I realized that I wanted to be around to watch her grow up and one day walk her down the aisle. Also, the thought of her not having a dad to spoil her was heartbreaking, and I was determined to do whatever I could to remove that possibility. I drove around with a picture of her propped up in my car to remind me to stay out of the fast food drive-throughs. Sort of like how Homer Simpson covered up the sign that Mr. Burns put in his work station that said "Don't forget, you're here forever", so it said "Do it for her" and had pictures of Maggie up there covering the extra letters. (I guess he made the "i" out of the "n" & the " ' "). Look at me over-thinking! Anyway, after some stress at work earlier this year, I didn't have much of an appetite, and I figured, if life hands you tapens, make tapenade. Mmmm...tapenade. So I started to go for walks in the morning to clear my head and then started to keep an eye on the scale. I figured this is something I could control as opposed to many other parts of my life that I couldn't. Serenity prayer, anyone? Happily, it all seems to be going well. I've set a realistic goal and I'm more than half way there now. Feeling better is a huge bonus, and I'm not feeling deprived, which is very important for me. I still have occasional treats, but I make them small rather than extra large. We tend to not bring crap into the house, so we're not tempted to eat it. Of course, the most important part is staying active. I'm on that treadmill for one hour every morning, rain or shine. My goal is to be able to shop in a regular clothing store and not a "big & tall" shop where everything is twice the price. Damn it, fat people aren't necessarily rich! What, because they think we have lots of cash to blow on food we can sign over our paycheck for a dress shirt? whew...rant over. Another big reason for doing it was because unlike most people who are carbon-based, I am fear-based. I thought, "If my business fails, I'll need to get a job somewhere, and who would hire a 375 pound guy?" I also recall seeing an interview with some doctor who made the comment that obese people generally do not live long lives. "Show me an obese 80 year old" he said. Good point. The fear of dying early and leaving The Squeeze alone tore me apart. I want us to live a long happy life together. 'sniff'...Tito, pass me a tissue.

2) Is your life how you thought it would be after agreeing to help Weezie have a baby?

It's better than I could have ever imagined. Looking after Brynn when she was younger was a bit scary because I didn't have a freaking clue what I was doing. I certainly didn't ever sleep when she stayed at our place overnight in case I didn't hear her crying in the night. Slim chance of that slipping past me! The Squeeze and I had some discussion about my doing this. Mostly about how this would change our lifestyle and the responsibility involved in being a father. I am SO glad we agreed to do it. I really can't get enough of Brynn. I also get the added bonus of being Daddy to her big sister Zoe too, so that's really cool. We see them every weekend, and it bums us out when we have to leave and they head off to bed. The Squeeze and I keep looking forward to the time when they are a couple of years older and we can take them to different functions and events, have them as flower girls at our wedding...stuff like that.

3) What's the best part about living in your city (Hamilton)?

Good question. We're actually living in a neighbouring city with lower taxes and a cleaner and less scary downtown, so I'm loving that. A benefit is that there's a fairly good cultural community here that offers lots to do (theatre, music, movies, festivals). We're close to the big city of Toronto and close to Niagara Falls and its wine country. Ya, I suppose the best part would be its proximity to all we need.

4) Other than your recent trip to St. Louis, when was your most recent trip to the States? Where did you go and what did you do?

Hmm...I'm terrible with dates and things, but I think it was a few years back when we visited a friend in Vancouver and we took a day trip into Seattle. Pike Place Market, the original Starbucks (ooh, ahh). I'm kind of hard-pressed to think of what all we did there besides shop.

5) How did you know FWG?

I was out for a drive in a rather seedy part of town one night many years back, and while I was waiting for a red light to change, this strange, long-bearded, ragged, down-on-his luck kind of guy stepped up to my car with a squeegie and a spray bottle, and had the most pathetic look in his eyes. I said something like "don't you dare touch my car, asshole" or "get a job" or some such thing. And he said, "but mister, I just need to get enough money for a haircut". "Well today's your lucky day, I've got my own clippers! Hop in!" So we headed back to my place, where I scoured about four months of filth off of him a la Silkwood in our shower. While I waited for the Raid louse fogger bomb to do its thing in the shower when we finished scrubbing him down, I misted the sad fellow's hair and beard with Dettol and tore through the tangles with a wide-tooth disposable comb. I lopped off several inches of unkempt hair before I was able to pass through with the #3 guide on my clippers. Surprisingly, he cleaned up quite well. We decided to keep the beard, but I insisted it be close-cropped to match his stylish new haircut. I gave him a spare toothbrush and showed him how to brush his teeth. Unfortunately, he lost a couple of them during this first effort and I realized something had to be done. I put him on my benefits plan, naming him as my spouse, and after several painful trips to the orthodentist, he has a mouth full of perfect teeth. We've been keeping up with the haircuts and the clean teeth for quite some time, until the day I met The Squeeze. Not wanting to scare him off, I told him that FWG is just a friend. Besides, by this time, I had lined up a good job for FWG so he was pulling in a pretty good salary. So my only option was to kick FWG out of the house so I could be with The Squeeze. Thanks to my willingness to help out a sad, pathetic soul, FWG is the man he is today.

Or...he's been friends with The Squeeze for over 20 years and that's how I know him.
Take your pick.

So if anyone wishes to be interviewed by yours truly, lemme know and I'll see what I can come up with.

It's Hard To Get Good Help & An Update

2007-09-18T12:03:00.001-05:00

The other night as I was heading home, I had a hankering for a Southwest Taco Salad from Wendy's. I walked in, saw there was only one older man waiting for his order and figured I was in luck as there wouldn't be much of a wait. After standing at the counter for a few minutes while the staff scrambled around and ran into one another like something out of a Three Stooges flick, I was finally asked for my order.
"Taco salad to go", I said.
I waited for Buddy to figure out the buttons on the register and was asked for $6.49. I handed him a $10 and watched as he looked into his cash drawer with the look of utter confusion.
"Uhh...hang on a sec", he said as he walked away with both his mouth and cash drawer wide open. The supervisor came by with rolls of coins and traded them with buddy for some $20s.
While she did that he gathered up my salad and the chili that went with it. Meanwhile, the man that was standing at the counter when I walked in was still there waiting for the rest of his order. "Can I just get my fries so I can go home?" he finally snapped to anyone in the back that might have been listening.
Buddy handed me the order and I looked at him and informed him that I was still waiting for my change.
"Huh?"
"My change from the $10 I gave you before you ran off to get change for your till."
"Oh."
He gathered up the change while I looked into the bag he handed me.
"And also the salad dressing, the chips and the sour cream for the salad."
"Oh......what kind of salad dressing?"
"The one that usually goes with the Southwest Taco Salad."
I've had this salad enough to know what goes with it.
While Buddy gathered up my salad components, the other man at the counter was gifted by another worker with the extra large fries instead of the regular size he ordered.
As I was heading home I wondered, is giving someone extra artery-clogging fries really doing them a favour?
Several months ago I would have thought that would be worth the wait, now I'd see it as sabotage.

Speaking of which...here's the newest update!

Another Update...And Canning Season Hits

2007-09-11T10:26:00.000-05:00

I got on the scale this morning and for the first time in ...hell, I can't remember how many years it's been, I came in under 300 pounds. It looked to be around 299. The Squeeze suggested that I get on the digital scale that I've never been able to use due to it's weight restriction of 300 pounds.

I stepped on that scale and expected to see an ERROR message because I figured I was still too heavy for it, but instead I watched the digital numerals scrambling until it determined my weight. 296 pounds. Oh. My. God. I really can't believe it. It's still a pretty big number, but it sure as hell beats 375! Just shy of 80 pounds lost. I wonder if I can make it to 275 by Christmas. How awesome would that be to be 100 pounds lighter than I was last year? When that time rolls around I must decide whether to do my usual Christmas baking and be sure to give it all away or forgo it entirely. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that stuff. I just love the creative aspect of it.

Speaking of cooking and all that fun stuff, canning season has hit and I've got the bug. Yesterday I went out and did some shopping so I could make my red pepper jelly. I haven't made the stuff since Sept. 11, 2001. Seems like a strange time to do it, but I already had that day planned to make it, and it sure beat sitting in front of the TV watching the carnage over and over again.

But back to yesterday...I had to pick up some new jars because I think I sold them all in the yard sale when we moved. When will I learn? I hit the grocery store to buy a pile of red peppers, sugar, vinegar, pectin and all the other little things I'd need. I cleaned and sterilized the jars and began cutting the peppers. I was making a double batch (12 one cup jars). Turns out I had enough peppers to make three, possibly four double batches. When will I learn?? After blending the peppers and vinegar, I poured the mixture into a large pot and added the 13 (yes, 13) cups of sugar and added the pectin at the appropriate time. The mixture filled 12 jars perfectly. They were all processed and after removing them from the canner, I was rewarded with that satisfying click as the lids formed their seals. Ahhhh....all is well. How is it that 13 cups of sugar, 3 cups of finely chopped peppers (plus a few chopped jalapenos), 3 cups of vinegar and 1 1/2 cups of liquid pectin makes 12 cups of red pepper jelly? Go figure.

Wednesday night I'm making corn relish, and on the weekend I'm making bread & butter pickles and relish. I might also get some chutney going too. We'll see how time holds out. Half the fun of making this stuff is giving it away to friends and family. Let's face it, that stuff is packed with sugar. Better them than me. ]:o)

A Weekend of Food

2007-09-04T11:14:00.000-05:00

After stepping on the scale this morning and lamenting the direction of that little blasted needle I realized that this came as a direct result of a weekend of nearly non-stop eating.

I suppose it all started Saturday when I joined a friend for lunch at a sushi buffet. I didn't really overdo it there, but by the same token, I could have stopped before I did. But it's sushi!

There was one thing that pretty much guaranteed that I wouldn't continue eating there, and this comes with a warning for the squeamish. Just as we were finishing our meal, an Asian family of some configuration (two old women in their 70's or 80's, one man in his 40's, and I'm assuming his 20-ish son and daughter) was seated behind my friend. We continued chatting at our table for quite some time as food was being delivered to the table behind her. As I glanced around the restaurant my eyes locked on that table. Seated between the two youngest members was one of the old women. What I witnessed nearly made my jaw hit the table. This old woman would take her chopsticks, pick up a piece of food, chew it for about ten or fifteen seconds and then spit it into a bowl beside her plate. No, it wasn't just a bone or some item that most people would put aside rather than swallow, but we're talking every bite. Yes. Every. Bite.

My friend was quite entertained by my disgust and fixation on this woman's practice, but I really had a hard time absorbing what I was seeing. The biggest question (and there were many) was "why is she spitting it all out?" Other questions such as "why would they take her out to a restaurant?" came to mind.

As she continued chewing and spitting her meal, not to be confused with actually eating her meal, her bowl quickly began to overflow. This bowl was about a foot away from her mouth, so she literally spat the masticated projectiles toward the bowl. Many times she missed, many times it hit the mark and rolled down the pre-chewed mountain onto the table.

I felt sorry for the server who would eventually have to clear the table. Picking up plates, glasses and cutlery that people have had in their mouths is one thing. Carrying a bowl full of the food someone chewed is another thing entirely. Let's not forget whatever was on the table near the bowl. It also seems to be a bit unfair to the owner of the restaurant. It's all you can EAT, not all you can chew and spit. If everyone did that, we could chew and spit every buffet restaurant out of house and home.

I am so curious as to why someone would do this. A few options come to mind:
1, She's a bit nutty.
2, It's her way to control her weight (even though she was quite thin already).
3, My friend thought she may be unable to swallow for some reason (throat cancer?).
4, She actually disliked absolutely everything she tried.
5, They had a bet to see who she could make throw up first.

I had to get out of that place, so my friend and I went for a drive to an apple farm out in the country where I picked up a couple types of apples, some cider, and an apple pie. As we were leaving, we heard one of the staff telling another customer that the MacIntosh apples were ready to be picked if they wanted to pick some themselves. Now Mac's are The Squeeze's favourite apple. He loves the tart taste, but the ones that the grocery stores are selling right now are last year's apples that have been in cold storage. Their texture changes quite a bit and they become mealy, so he hasn't had a good Mac since early this year. We loaded up the ark and headed back to pick a bag. It was a pretty big bag, actually. We have enough apples to choke many horses right now.

I've been doing some research into apple pie recipes, so I'm going back to the farm to pick up different varieties in a week or so, and I'll be on a baking mission. I love harvest time! All the farmers' markets...all the fall colours, cozy warm clothes and autumn comfort food.

Which takes us to Saturday night. FWIG, The Squeeze, a couple of his buddies and I made our way to a little event called Ribfest. It's an event that draws thousands and thousands of people to enjoy their choice of ribs from any of about 16 vendors from across Canada and the US. It's an outdoor event on the lake with live bands, booths of assorted merchandise and beer tents, but of course, it's all about the ribs.

Due to the fact that FWIG and I had a few stovetop s'mores at the house while we waited for The Squeeze's buddies to arrive, I was only able to eat half a rack of ribs while everyone else had a full rack...or more. Then of course, there were the funnel cakes. After we got home that night, we had to sample that apple pie I bought earlier. It was ok, but I think I can do better.

Sunday morning, The Squeeze, FWIG, and our friend Karen went out for a brunch buffet. Oh my god, kill me now! It was a fun time. We sat and lingered afterward and chatted for quite some time. But The Squeeze and I had work to do. Due to a neighbour complaining to the condo property manager that our back yard tap was dripping, we needed to replace some washers. Or so we thought. In the end we wound up having to replace the entire faucet and the shut-off valve in the basement. While we had the water shut off, it seemed like the time to replace our laundry faucets as well because they were on their last legs.

We finished those chores with just enough time to give the house a very quick cleaning in time for The Squeeze's cousins from out west and his brother to come buy before - yep, you guessed it - going out for dinner. We went to a very nice Thai place and had a rather sensible meal. Perhaps Dairy Queen for dessert was pushing it.

We got to spend some time on the holiday Monday with the kids, which was quite nice. Brynn is walking now. A bit unsteady, but that should be replaced with confidence in the next week or two. She's getting brave. She can walk across the room, squat down to pick something up, stand back up and keep walking. They grow up so fast.

Food-wise, we did ok on Monday, and we even spent some time in the evening making freezer peaches to enjoy over the winter months. But, like I said, the scale was not my friend this morning. I've been upping my treadmill routine over the last couple of weeks. From 45 minutes each morning to 50 and now 55 minutes. I'm attempting to get rid of unnecessary sugar, which means this morning I had Shredded Wheat & Bran instead of Mini-Wheats (wheats, wheats, la-la-la-la-la-la-la) which had a fair bit of sugar. Today there was none. The Squeeze asked how I liked it. My response was something like, "It's ok. A bit dry and tougher to choke down, but I'll get used to it".

Wow, it's almost lunch time. I'm back on the wagon with my salad, an apple and yogurt.

You know, the more I think of it, the more I think that old lady at the sushi place may have been on to something.

Kinda Bummed

2007-08-26T20:29:00.000-05:00

For the past several months, Weezie (my baby momma) has been working toward getting a new house for her, her mother, and the girls. She had a house next door to her mother's, but it was pretty small and she really needs to have each girl in their own room. Otherwise, it could be a nightmare what with Zoe rocking and nattering on forever when she's put to bed and keeping Brynn up. Likewise, when Brynn wakes up and cries, Zoe would be woken up too. It could make for two tired, unbearable children. Weezie sold her house earlier this year and she moved in temporarily with her mother next door. Weezie and Zoe sleep in the two bedrooms in the basement (which used to be my apartment once upon a time), and her mother and Brynn sleep in the two bedrooms on the main floor. It's not an ideal situation as Weezie's mother has some knee and hip problems and going up and down the stairs is a bit painful for her.

A few weeks back, Weezie sold her cottage on the lake just outside of Hooterville. This, in addition to the money she got from selling her house, would allow her to purchase a new home that they could all live in comfortably. Once that is done, her mother could sell her house and have a little extra bingo money.

Weezie has been looking around for a few weeks now for the perfect place, but hasn't been having any luck. Anything in her price range doesn't have the layout (4 bedrooms on the same floor, living room, family room, eat-in kitchen and dining room) she wants. All the places that do have it all are way out of her price range in this area.

Last week she informed me that she was going to put an offer in on a place in Hooterville! That's about an hour from The Squeeze and me. We felt this sense of sadness and seperation when we heard this. The idea that she's moving the girls away from us was a bit of a blow. We felt like we weren't going to be able to see them as often. We'd have to drive so much further. I might have to trade in the ark for something a bit more fuel efficient.

Enough about us. The benefit of her moving to Hooterville is that she has a lot more support there. Most of her friends live there. My parents live there. Another couple that I know and have a very close bond with live right across the street from this house. If she's at work and one of the kids has to be sent home from daycare because they're sick (Zoe is the little queen of fevers), she has any number of people who could pick them up rather than drive an hour back home. Ya, she'd be commuting every day, but she's a nurse and can transfer to the local hospital or seniors' home if need be. The other thing that scares me about this move is that there's an in-ground pool in the back yard. Don't get me started on the fears THAT brings up!

But look at me jumping the gun. She was only putting an offer in. If they accepted her lowball offer, great. If not, it wasn't meant to be and she'll keep looking.

Weezie called me Saturday. They accepted her offer.

She's getting an inspection Monday. If all goes well, it's a done deal.

She's already looked into child-proof fencing around the pool and a pool alarm. That sets my mind at ease. I see the benefits to this move. So much more support. I grew up there, and it's a great place for a kid to grow up. There's a huge park and school behind their fence. My parents can see the girls more. And really, I used to make that drive daily to work before I moved. I'm sure I can handle doing it on Sundays. We could even take the girls overnight Saturday and come back Sunday afternoon with them. This could actually mean we'll get to spend more time with them.

We got to look after them today while Weezie was in Hooterville for a shower, and it was a blast. Brynn is at the stage where she's taking about two or three steps all by herself. She'll be booting around on her own in no time. She does the cutest thing where she climbs on pillows on the floor, lies down, and just laughs her butt off. Zoe informed me that she had to use the potty, so we hung out in the bathroom and waited for a while until we heard a little one second tinkle. Yay!

*Sniff* they grow up so fast.

Sometimes I just sit back and think "who would have ever thought my life would take all of these twists and turns?"

Our Week At The Cottage

2007-08-24T18:01:00.000-05:00

We returned from our relaxing and booze-filled vacation on August 18th, and I've been so busy I haven't had a chance to get on here until tonight. I'm sure FWIG will have some tales to tell, but this is my story. And I'm sticking to it! So here's a recap of the week...

Saturday:
After getting the ark loaded nearly to the ceiling, The Squeeze and I headed down the highway and picked up FWIG. How we managed to add his stuff (golf clubs and all) to the already packed ark, I really don't know. We stopped at a sub shop moments after that for a quick lunch before taking the long trek north. The strange fellow behind the counter kept making odd comments about my sub selection. "That's a pretty big sub, eh?" And while we sat eating, he even called out "How are you enjoying that sub?" Ya, buddy, just give me the sub, leave me alone and nobody gets hurt.

We followed the directions provided by the owner, and finally made our way down the long stone driveway. And I mean long. It wound and swerved around for quite some time until we
made it to this quaint little bridge.
Ya, I gasped. I figured that the weight of the ark, the mountain of luggage and of course the three strapping lads inside would surely break those dried up little boards like twigs and we'd be the headline in the local paper if and when we are found.

As I slowly approached the bridge, I inhaled deeply, because everyone knows that doing that removes about 800 pounds or so from the vehicle. I'm sure you already know that we made it across without a problem. Clever little readers you are!

Another short jaunt beyond that we found the cottage and its owner, Murray, awaiting our arrival. Murray gave us the grand tour and instructed us on the procudures for getting water to the tank and using the propane lights, etc. etc. After I signed my life and bank account away, Murray headed home and we began to unload the booze. I mean...ok, ya, I mean booze. Part of the plan of this week was for The Squeeze and I to get rid of a lot of the partially full bottles of assorted booze and a lot of our wine from the wine rack. I think we had about 5 or 6 cases of booze. There would be no need to visit a liquor store. Until Monday. Hey, we ran out of vodka. What can I say? It was a big seller.

But let's get back to Saturday, shall we?

By the time we unloaded everything and claimed our rooms, the local grocery store was closed. Having no food to eat for dinner, we decided to go out to a local restaurant for dinner. We figured we'd do the same for breakfast the next morning and then do our shopping for the remainder of the week. We found a little greasy spoon on the outskirts of the nearby town. Interestingly enough it was called "Outskirts". Some places just name themselves. The signs posted on the door seeking an experienced cook and waitstaff should have made us think twice, but we were hungry and perhaps temporarily blind.

There were maybe 5 or 6 tables of townsfolk sitting around the place and only one waitress for the place. That wouldn't be a problem in most restaurants, but for some reason it just seemed to spell disaster. Lucky for me I ordered soup to start because that would have to do me for about an hour while we waited for our food to arrive. FWIG, after mocking me for my general love of soup, eventually broke down and ordered a bowl before his stomach began to consume itself. We had both ordered fish & chips, The Squeeze ordered a stuffed pork dish. At one point, the waitress finally appeared and apologized for the delay. "The fish is frozen, so we have to [I can't believe I'm typing this] unthaw it." Unthaw. No wonder it took so long. It must be quite a challenge to re-freeze frozen fish. How does one know when it's done?

Finally we saw her emerge with a couple of plates and she walked toward our table, and kept on going to the table behind us. Oh. My. God. We were thinking everyone else in the place was already done. Turns out this cruel trick would be played on us a few more times before at long last our food was delivered. I wouldn't be exaggerating if I said we sat there for about an hour before the food arrived. The fish was edible at best. The Squeeze's pork was bone dry. By this time though I could have eaten the business end of a dead skunk.

We blew that popsicle stand, hit a variety store for some bread, milk, cheese and crackers, each grabbed an ice cream cone for dessert and headed back to the cottage. I'm going to guess that we cracked open a bottle of wine, and then we headed down to the dock to lay back and look at the amazing display of stars in the black sky. A great night to a hectic day.

Sunday:

The day began with the three of us making our way to the local tourist information centre. What better place to get a good recommendation for a decent restaurant for breakfast. They didn't steer us wrong. We loaded up on a great breakfast and moved on to get our groceries. And man, did we shop! I think we blew over $300 that day alone. We picked up enough cheese to bind up a senior's home.

When we arrived back at the cottage, we found our friend Pablo and his dog Chilli had arrived. This guy really loves Ontario's northland. He flew in from Vancouver for this vacation. I'm not sure if he ever revealed to us how he made it inside the locked cottage while we were gone.

This is how Chilli spent the entire week:

Our first dinner together that night was pretty amazing. Planked salmon, roasted corn on the cob along with some rice and asparagus. Ummm....ya, and a couple bottles of wine.

FWIG wrote a little something in the guest book that the owners keep for people to leave their comments. He wrote a week's worth of posts from the point of view of a man who seemingly is driven mad while at the cottage. Complete with mention of the rain making the ground easier to dig "the holes", and the lake looking like blood. And I was kinda hoping we might rent the place sometime in the future.

The Rest of the Week:

OK, it's a bit of a blur. Could have been all the booze, I don't know. All I can say is that it involved some Lego

a three day Monopoly game

some scenery

uhhh.....ya (and this is with a couple of cases of wine hidden in the bedroom closet)

a huge honkin' dock spider up FWIG's shirt (EWWWWWWWW!!!!)

and one tired Chilli dog.

To my amazement, I received a note from the owners with my deposit refund yesterday. This is the note:

Did that say "it has all happened"?

A Break Between Vacations

2007-08-08T10:51:00.000-05:00

Here I am at home again. But just for a few days. We returned from our trip to St. Louis on Tuesday and I managed to get the majority of the laundry done before we head up north on Saturday. I'm really looking forward to getting up there to relax. St. Louis was a great time, and we spent a lot of quality time with friends old and new. One day we made our way to the St. Louis Zoo and despite the heat had a great time.

Our flights down there went off without a hitch as did our drive back with our friends. Luggage arrived where we did, no delays. All was well.

The one thing that didn't go well was the fact that I was away from the treadmill for nearly a week, and although we didn't go crazy with food, somehow I managed to pack on about ten pounds! Yes, that's right, ten pounds! What a blow to the spirit that is. How can something that takes three or four weeks to get rid of come back in less than a week? How unfair is that? I even made a point to not have dessert after meals because I was trying to be good. I can't imagine what would have happened if I had them. YIKES!

I was so exhausted when I got to bed last night. Unfortunately, this morning at 8:00 we were expecting our new plumber to show up and check out the job. I barely made it out of bed by 7:30 in time for my shower, so there was no exercise this morning either. The reason I didn't get on the treadmill this morning is that it is in the next room to the master bedroom. Since it gets kind of warm up here, I tend to wear the bare minimum while I'm on it, and believe me, it's nothing I want to subject the poor plumber to. As it turned out, he didn't arrive until after 9:00. He's working away in the next room as I type, and it will probably take him 2 (possibly 3 days). I swear I'll be on the treadmill tonight.

Tomorrow I'll be at work while my business partner has some appointments. It sucks to have to work during vacation, but what the hell. I'm home and don't have much else planned. Aside from catching up on sleep. I hope to do a lot of that next week.

Another Update

2007-08-01T16:30:00.000-05:00

For some reason I was thinking that this would take me out of the "MORBID" category. Actually, it appears that I might still be a few ounces away. Oh well, close enough for me! Hopefully by tomorrow it will be official and I'll have a BMI less than 40. Keep those fingers crossed.

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

2007-08-01T14:57:00.000-05:00

Well kids, today's my last day here at the salt mine for a few weeks. WooHoo!

Tonight we're packing our bags and getting ready to take off tomorrow night. The Squeeze has to work Thursday, but I'm taking it off to get some running around done. I'm going to take Brynn to Hooterville to visit my folks and celebrate my father's birthday a day early. It's always fun to spend time with her. Brynn, that is. I'm not calling my father "her". She's cutting more teeth, so she's drooling like a St. Bernard. A really, really, cute St. Bernard.

After we get our shit together, we're taking a shuttle to Buffalo where we will spend half a night. That's right. Half a night. Because we have to be at the airport at 4:00. AM. That means we have to be up around 3:00 which means we'll only have about 4 hours of....oh God, I can't think about it. Then we make our way to St. Louis by way of Chicago. It's strange, but I'm really not worried about not having our luggage transferred when we stop in Chicago. I'm sure everything will work out fine.

We'll be spending a few days with some friends there and will be driving back with a couple from Montreal that we know. There was a whole lot of planning to arrange this screwed up schedule!

When we get back the middle of next week, we'll have time to do laundry, relax a bit, and maybe do a couple of things around the house. Then we're heading north for a week of relaxation at the secluded cottage without electricity. We've still got to get all the gear so The Squeeze can use his CPAP machine. Damned sleep apnea. It didn't really dawn on me until after I booked the cottage with "propane appliances and lights" that we need electricity to run that thing. Who knew? So we need to get a generator from my brother, a battery of some sort and an inverter (whatever the hell THAT is).

My main concern is that I don't lose focus and start eating crap. It's bad enough I'll be away from the treadmill for nearly two weeks. That reminds me...I need to look up what to do to avoid being attacked by a bear while in the woods. Someone said bring a bell. Someone else told me to carry a big stick. I guess that way the bear can signal for his next course with the bell after eating me. And I'm sure the stick will make a nice toothpick.

If I don't check in late next week, I'll catch you all after August 18th!

I'm Flattered...And Flustered

2007-07-28T09:23:00.000-05:00

Yesterday as I was walking to work, one of the other business owners down the plaza shouted to me.

"Hey Dave, how ya' doing?"
"Not bad, Don, you?"
"Doing good. You're looking fine!"

Now, I'm not sure if he was being honest or if he was just being nice so I'd let him look something up on the internet in my shop later that afternoon. Either way, I'll take the compliment because, damnit, I feel fine!

....And now for another update....

Two more pounds and I lose the word "morbidly"!!
According to the charts, I should weigh 189 max. to be in the "normal" category.
I can't even imagine! I'm sure my bones weigh more than that.

For the past few days I've been doubling my treadmill routine, so I'm doing a total of 90 minutes which is about 4 1/2 miles and around 900 calories a day.

I can't wait for that ensuite to be done so we can move into that bedroom and I can set up our weights in the office where the treadmill (and our bed) is. I need to get going on weight training.

Speaking of the ensuite, it looks like we're going to have to take a close look at the wiring Joe did in there. We had a co-worker of The Squeeze's stop by the house last night and while we were showing him and his wife around, I happened to touch the light switch he installed in the ensuite. It was sitting somewhat crooked in the box on the wall, so I just moved it slightly, and the power cut off. Upon closer inspection, it appears that the wire he had connected to the switch had snapped. It broke right where he cut away the insulation on the wire. Ya, it appears he severly clipped the wire itself while stripping off the insulation, so there we were with a live wire hanging there in the box. Scary! So it's quite possible that we could have any number of wires just ready to give way.

Two days ago we had a guy from a reputable plumbing place in to see what needs to be fixed so we can pass inspection. We're awaiting his phone call so we can get things rolling.

Wish us luck.

Another Update

2007-07-24T12:36:00.000-05:00

Still not feeling totally up to par, but I've been getting back on the treadmill the last few days. There hasn't been a whole lot of progress the last couple of weeks. Actually, now that I look at it, two pounds a week is pretty good. I was just hoping for some quicker loss. It's been fluctuating between 308 - 310 for the past week or so. I think it's time to step it up a notch.

Date Night

2007-07-24T11:58:00.000-05:00

Saturday afternoon after finishing work, The Squeeze and I whipped up a couple of burgers on the barbecue and enjoyed a nice casual dinner. We spent some time hmming and hawing (more hmming than hawing actually), as we looked at our ensuite from hell and tried to come up with some solution. As neigher of us was feeling any sort of motivation to tackle any of the projects we need to address, we decided to scan the newspaper and see what movies were showing. Ah ya, avoidance...that'll get it done! Really, we just were in no frame of mind to work on the house.

The Squeeze wanted to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, which I wanted to see as well, but I figured the theatre would be packed full of annoying theatre-goers. Perhaps we should wait a few weeks. What else was on....hmm....Hairspray. Ya, I'm thinking not. Nothing else really appealed to us, so I figured, what the hell, let's see Harry Potter. As long as we get in early enough and stake our claim we should be ok. There was a 7:00 and 7:45 showing. It was 6:30. The 7:00 show was out of the question, but 7:45 would give us time to buy the tickets, go to the local big box book store nearby, and hit the grocery store before the show.

Following FWIG's example, I planned to pick up a bottle of popcorn seasoning to take into the theatre with us. I noticed at the last movie I went to that they no longer provide shakers of seasoning for your popcorn. I noticed instead that they sell little packets of the seasonings at the concession counter. I could just imagine how much they soak you for a little packet of white cheddar flavouring. I'm pretty sure that the theatres were really feeling the pinch of supplying about five cents of seasoning on your $8.00 bag of popcorn. Maybe they should consider jacking up the price of admission.

As we had a gift card to redeem, we had to see a real live human being to get our tickets. By this time it was about 6:50. I asked if the 7:45 movie was sold out yet. No, but there were only 58 tickets left. I asked the clerk where and when the line-up forms. She informed me that they are already lining up outside cinema #5. As it turned out, people were already in the theatre holding their seats.

Crap. So much for taking off and looking at books for half an hour or so. And so much for popcorn seasoning. I figured I'd just bite the bullet and buy their little packet. The Squeeze went into the theatre to grab us seats while I waited in the slowest line ever to get out snacks. After about 20 minutes I finally got my turn at the counter. I decided to get the Simpson's movie bucket combo. A big bucket of popcorn that I figured would be easier for us to eat from rather than a deep narrow bag. Not to mention it comes with a free refill. WooHoo! The combo also includes what is pretty much a bucket of pop, just in regular huge cup form - no handle. I grabbed one for The Squeeze too. I don't want to infect him with this lingering cold. And it would just be weird for a lot of the folks there to see two grown men sharing a drink. Did I mention that the drinks come with a free refill too? While I was placing my order, I noticed the little sign that stated that the first popcorn seasoning was free. Additonal packets are 49 cents. Not too bad actually.

By the time I made my way into the theatre, it was about 80% packed. So there we sat and ate and drank until the movie started at about 8:00. Hard to believe we sat in a theatre for an hour before the movie to see this. No wonder my ass was killing me by the end.

The movie was quite good. That Harry Potter is one moody, self-centered teenager in this one. "Me, me me...it's all about me. Everyone is keeping things from me. Nobody tells me anything. The Dark Lord is trying to kill me." Sheesh, like we all haven't been through all the same stuff! Suck it up Harry!

Surprisingly, the audience was not annoying in the least. I had a guy beside me who kept talking back to the screen during previews, but that was about it. No, I'm not talking about The Squeeze. I didn't get kicked in the back of my seat by some irritating kid. No obnoxious people talking through the movie. Minimal people walking back & forth in front of us.

The real kicker in all of this is that we never did go get refills on the popcorn or pop. That's probably a good thing.

The Inspection

2007-07-20T15:11:00.000-05:00

Yesterday morning the inspectors came to check out the renovations for the first time. First the plumbing guy showed up. The Squeeze took him upstairs to show him the ensuite, and the first thing the inspector said was, "where is the vent stack?" The Squeeze pointed to the main stack on the other side of the room. Apparently, that wasn't quite good enough. It would seem that when you have fixtures more than five feet from the main stack, you need to have another vent. As it stands now, if we were to flush the toilet, it would also suck out the water from the P-trap under the shower, allowing sewer gas to seep into the room through the shower drain. Ya, that's not good. Also, Joe the handyman hooked up some funkadelic toilet drain system requiring him to cut out the garage ceining below and building a drop box to house it. Turns out, that drain is too steep of a decline. He could have just hooked it into the old toilet drain that was already there. Now we have to rip all of that out, build out another frame wall to double the width of the existing frame wall for the vent stack to go up and connect into the main vent.

I guess this would make much more sense if you could see the drawings, but you get the idea.

When the next inspector arrived seconds after the other one left, he informed us that the plastic pipe he used on the exhaust fan is not to code. It needs to be rigid metal duct pipe. Apparently that should have been in the instruction booklet, which I'm guessing he didn't read. There was something else he pointed out...I know there was, but I can't recall right now. Let's just say that we're both a bit pissed that he didn't know all of this, considering he even had the provincial building code book there with him.

It looks like The Squeeze and I will be getting all of this fixed and putting Joe on hold until we get re-inspected. Once that is all done, he can come in and drywall. That seems to be what he's best at. I'm just so pissed at all of the wasted time and money for shit that needs to be ripped out and re-done. The worst part is that he's an acquaintance of The Squeeze's, and it just makes things a bit stickier.

This project is killing us.

On a much happier note, my cold seems to be pretty much gone. I spent most of the day at home yesterday since the business partner was in the shop, so I was able to relax. I played some online poker and some other games between rests. This morning I even got back on the treadmill for the first time in a week.

Today I stumbled upon this infectious video this kid made. Now I have to download some Scissor Sisters tunes to my iPod tonight. It's so catchy, and the kid did a great job with it.

Wish us luck on the re-renovating!

No, I'M It!

2007-07-18T14:52:00.000-05:00

Okie doke, after some not-so-deep thought, I've come up with my list. But first, the fine print...

-We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
-Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
-People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
-At the end of your blog post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
-Don't forget to leave them each a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.

And now, eight fascinating things about me:

1. I met The Squeeze through a pre-internet BBS system that he ran for the gay community in our city. I was leaving a message for a friend of mine, and The Squeeze started typing to me. I thought my computer was screwed up or possessed. We chatted on-line for a while, then on the phone, and we finally met in person the night before my 30th birthday, many weeks after our first on-line meeting. Our work schedules were hard to work around. We met at the local gay bar. He was there with a few friends, and I was there with a friend of mine who knew The Squeeze. My friend dragged me over to The Squeeze, introduced us and ran off. We spent some time chatting, and then The Squeeze took off with his friends to go to another bar. I thought that was the end of it. I thought I was being rejected. Twelve years later we're still going strong.

2. I have tried many hobbies, do them for a while, get bored and move on. Including, but not limited to: painting, ceramics, macreme, rug hooking, crocheting, stained glass, knitting, gardening, fishkeeping (twice), furniture refinishing...I'm sure I'll remember others later.

3. I love entertaining. Nothing gets me more upbeat than having friends over for dinner or drinks or just hanging out. It's the cleaning up beforehand that I hate doing, but I love when the house is clean. I love creating meal plans and preparing all the food. It's the overfunctioning that I learned from my mother.

4. I love getting my back adjusted by my chiropractor, but the thought of getting a massage creeps me out. Why? Because I am MAJORLY ticklish. I would giggle like a schoolgirl and pee my pants if I were to be massaged.

5. I broke my back in highschool. Lumbar 1 & 2, I believe. I had a tragic toboggan accident when I was in grade ten. One wintery Friday night I was out with a bunch of friends at the local hill and I was taking my turn going down. About halfway down I hit an unseen ice ramp someone had built. I was airborne for a while until I came crashing down on my ass, knocking the wind out of me. I stayed down in the snow for what seemed like an hour. All I could do was exhale. Breathing in hurt like hell. Everyone thought I was goofing around and I became the designated target. Luckily nobody hit the mark. After quite some time, I managed to pull myself on all fours and stayed in that position for a while. Somehow, I can't explain it, I managed to stand and walk, ever so slowly, to my friend's car where I was put in the back seat. Did I mention it was a 2 door? Bastards. They dropped me off at home, give or take a few houses, and I navigated the icy sidewalk and steps up to the house. Once inside I climbed up the stairs to my bedroom and stayed in bed for a couple of days. A few days later when I finally decided to go to see my doctor, he sent me for X-rays and when I saw him for the follow-up, he told me I had a broken back and that if I saw him the night it happened he would have put me in a body cast. He was amazed that I was walking. Who knew?

6. I can't explain it, but I get VERY emotional when I read "The Road Not Taken". Perhaps it's because I long to find my own grassy path in need of wear. Perhaps it's because in some ways I have taken that path. Maybe it's the thought that I need to make decisions in life and I'm afraid to because I don't know if I'm taking the right path. Oy....moving on...

7. I have a bit of OCD regarding numbers and patterns. I like when things are divisible by 3. Anytime I read something - a book cover, a menu, a roadsign, whatever, I count the letters in groups of three to see if it works out. For example, my blog name: Fre akM agn etD ave. Whew! Yes! It worked out. Not sure what would happen if it didn't. Acutally, I do. I would add the spaces between the words, and if that still doesn't work, I'd add a space before the first word and after the last word, and if need be, the spaces above and below each word. Ya, I'm nuts. But not totally nuts. It's not like I think my whole family will die if things aren't divisible by three...it's just nice when it works out. Alright, maybe I am totally nuts.

8. I'm a recovering Catholic. I went to a Catholic school from K-8, was an altarboy and was the recipient of every type of guilt known to man. After confirmation (their last chance to hook you) in grade 8, I pretty much cut my ties to that church. I'm hard-pressed to think of anyone I went to school with there that gets any kind of "warm fuzzy" when they think back to those days. I think my biggest gripe with that church (and there are many) is the hypocrisy of many of the members. I saw some of the members doing pretty "un-Catholic" things, and showing up at church and acting like they are wonderful people. Bah! Who needs it? I remember one day I was discussing religion with a Baptist cousin of mine. I remember her saying "You preach your way, we'll preach God's." Bitch. I guess I really have a problem with organized religion in general. I'm spiritual, I have a higher power, and I'm good with that.

Well, my therapist has just informed me that our time is up, so I must be off now. To add some mystery, I'm going to list my eight people in white text.

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Ummm...ya...white text. That's it.

Lions And Cheetahs And Deer, Oh My!

2007-07-17T12:48:00.000-05:00

There is nothing worse than a summer cold. I can handle it in the winter because I know there are thousands out there suffering right along with me. Not so in the summer.

How did I get this cold? Well, I'm pretty sure I got it from Zoe who was sent home with a fever from that petrie dish called a day-care last Monday. Weezie had to leave work to pick her up and drop her off at home with her mother, and I came by that morning to help with the kids. Of course, Zoe was running around like a lunatic all day while I was there. Clearly she was unaware that she was home ill.

Fast forward to Friday. Damnit! I'm sick. Since I'm working solo pretty much every day, I had to go in.

Ditto Saturday.

That night I assisted The Squeeze in finishing up the plumbing in the ensuite. No leaks, baby! Gotta like that.

I called Weezie to discuss plans for Sunday. The Squeeze and I had been planning for the past few weeks to take the girls for the day to African Lion Safari. It turns out Typhoid Zoe hit everyone in the house. Brynn had a cold, Weezie had a cold that turned into tonsilitis, and Weezie's mother was sick too. So far, the only one not infected was The Squeeze. Knock wood. As this was the only free Sunday we had for some time, and the weather was perfect we decided to go anyway. One stop for some Tylenol cold medication and we were on our way. After the girl at the gate cleaned out my wallet, we parked, sunscreened the girls and boarded the bus to tour the grounds and see the animals.

I held Brynn while The Squeeze had Zoe in the seat behind me. Zoe seemed interested in the animals for a brief time, but clearly was more interested in the sandals being worn by the young woman behind her. She's got a bit of a shoe fetish, that one. She's got the attention span of a two year old. Most likely because she is a two year old. Zoe grew restless sitting on Poppy's lap and kept wanting to walk around the bus, but since the driver stated to remain seated at all times (not to mention the fact that she can barely stay upright on level ground), he had to pretty much restrain her. Brynn got a bit antsy too, but it was lunchtime afterall, luckily I brought the bag with her bottle. It just kills me how we're in a big wildlife reserve with all sorts of exotic animals roaming around us, and the kids are more fascinated with the screwheads holding the seats together. It's that whole "buy them a great gift and watch them play with the box" thing.

In all honesty, it did take a long time to get through the place because of all of the cars ahead of us that stopped forfuckingever to look at each and every animal. When we finally got off we made a beeline for the Ark, unloaded the blanket and cooler and had a picnic under a tree. All was well until Zoe threw a piece of cheese away and we were attacked by seagulls.

After rolling up the picnic we got the girls in the double stroller and walked through the other areas of the park. We looked at exotic birds, elephants, and even went into the petting zoo. What was Zoe most impressed with? Your common everyday rabbit. We could have gone to PetSmart for free!

Perhaps the girls were a bit too young to really appreciate the park, but it was also The Squeeze's first time there, so it wasn't a total bust. The girls were really quite well behaved the whole time. There was one poor woman there with her three or four year old son and he was having a non-stop meltdown. Just throwing a screaming fit and he would. not. stop. I really felt sorry for her. I felt more sorry for the elephants that had to hear this little brat screaming outside of their pen. I like to think that if I were in her situation, I would just pack the kids up and go home. We'll see what happens when the time comes.

Pretty much all of Monday was spent in bed except for my excursion to a Vietnamese restaurant for some soup and pad thai to go. The small soup fills a serving bowl and it was under five bucks. I could have ordered an extra large soup for under nine bucks, but I don't think I could have carried it. By the time I finished my lunch I was sweating like a sumo wrestler in a fur coat. That's what I was looking for. I need to sweat this stuff out of my system.

Apparently it didn't work. I'm here at work today and still stuffed up and coughing. I'll keep popping the meds and hoping for the best.

On the weight loss front....come on! What's wrong with you people? I'm sick! Leave me alone! I haven't had the energy to get on the treadmill since Friday! I'm not going to do a ticker update until I've licked this cold and been back on the treadmill for a couple of days. Hopefully this time next week.

My Hero

2007-07-11T10:05:00.000-05:00

The other night The Squeeze and I were in bed getting ready to doze off for the night. In the soft glow of the tv's light I saw something moving on the far side of The Squeeze's pillow. "Eww...there's a spider on your pillow", I said. I was immediately steam-rollered as The Squeeze maneouvred to distance himself from the offending spider. Did I mention that he's an exterminator?

I craned my bedside lamp over so he could see it clearly and just as I was telling him I'd grab a tissue for him, he crushed it with his hand. That ALWAYS grosses me out.

"Huh, so I guess when people talk about spider bites they aren't kidding."
"No, it really happens."
"He should have waited until we were asleep."

I guess the moral of the story is the early bird gets the worm, but the early spider gets the hand.

I'm A Character

2007-07-10T15:37:00.000-05:00

This is what I would look like if I were a Simpson.

Make your own here .

Update

2007-07-10T10:11:00.000-05:00

More Reno Hell

2007-07-10T09:32:00.001-05:00

I've mentioned the never-ending renovations, and make no mistake, they continue still. Joe the handyman has been trying his hand at getting the copper supply lines installed and things haven't been going very well. Honestly, it's all a blur but suffice to say that during the past week I have noticed no more progress than one hole drilled, a cap and a shut-off valve installed. Each of these items required a note on each occasion telling us to keep the watermain shut off because there is a leak.

Now, Joe doesn't charge us a hell of a lot per hour, but what he was paid for the week to make this dismal progress, we could have hired a damned good plumber who would have had everything done in one day. Without leaks.

When The Squeeze discovered a puddle in the basement on Saturday, he came to the realization that plumbing just wasn't Joe's bag. I guess we really knew that a few days earlier, but this was just the tipping point.

Since Weezie was taking the girls to a mass baby shower on Sunday, we decided to take matters into our own hands and use the day to fix the plumbing. We ripped out everything Joe had soldered and discovered why everything leaked. You see, when soldering copper pipe, one needs to clean the fittings to remove oxidization with sandpaper or a pipecleaning tool. Clearly, this was not done. The valve he installed literally pulled off of the copper pipe by hand. Not good.

At the end of the day we installed two new shut-off valves, re-routed a lot of copper for the new ensuite configuration and got things to a point where Joe doesn't need to worry about touching another copper pipe. It's a win-win situation. When The Squeeze pointed out to Joe where he went wrong on Monday morning, he felt pretty bad about the work he had done.

But there's an upside! When he had finished his work on Monday, he had torn down the old stud wall and installed the framework for the pocket door. He's going to have the door installed and drywall up on the bedroom side today. He'll be working on the shower light, vent fan and main light fixture rough-in if time permits. I tell ya, when he's doing something he's comfortable with, he runs with it.

Maybe we can finally get our primary inspection done at the end of the week!

Putting It Out There

2007-07-04T09:28:00.000-05:00

In my obsession with getting healthier, I have been scanning a number of weight-loss websites and saw something that I thought was pretty cool. It's a weight-loss ticker. It exists to show a person's start, current and goal weight and BMI. People make it public so others can see their progress and encourage or shame them into sticking with it. I'm not much into the shame thing, but encouragement always helps. Maybe there's something to the shame thing. Nobody likes to look bad to their peers, so it makes one want to keep at it.

So here you have it. Me in a nutshell. I have laid it all out. Although most people can't believe it or they're being kind, I started out at 375 (yikes) and have selected a goal weight of 225. Why? Why not? I haven't weighed 225 since I was seven. It seemed like a nice even number (even though 225 is an odd number). Maybe it's just that losing a buck and a half has a nice ring to it. Maybe it's that for my height (6' 1"), 225 gets me out of the "obese" category and brings me down to "overweight". Either way, I'm 40% on my way to my goal.

I'll be sure to post updates occasionally. Maybe once a week, every other week...once a month? What do you think?

The Long Weekend

2007-07-03T12:07:00.000-05:00

This weekend all of Canada celebrated a day we all know and love that is known as my daughter's first birthday. Oh ya, and Canada Day. This year July 1 fell on a Sunday, so in keeping with government employees everything shuts up tighter than a frog's butt on Monday. In my never-ending endeavour to one-up government workers, I closed my store on Saturday so I got a long weekend too. Brynn's birthday is actually July 4th, but the weekend works much better than a Wednesday to have a party.

Friday night after work I hit to grocery store for a few items I needed so I could make potato salad and a carrot cake for Brynn's birthday party. Yep, boiling, chopping, mixing, baking... that's how I spent my Friday night. SUCH a party animal.

Saturday morning after my walk, I met up with some old friends I haven't seen in many months and then I was off to pick up a couple of last minute gifts for the birthday girl. Got home, iced the cake and headed out to spend the evening with a couple that The Squeeze and I are quite close to. We had a great dinner at their home, played bocce (or if you prefer, bocci), and had a nice bonfire in their back yard. They live out in the country, so the sky above was lit up with stars and it just made me look forward to going up north in August more than I already did.

I got up the next morning, took my walk, wrapped presents, decorated the cake, and The Squeeze and I met up with FWIG for brunch. It was a fun time as always, and surprisingly the place wasn't packed. It normally is, but perhaps with it being a long weekend, people were away. Or it could just be the fact that we got there shortly after they unlocked the door. The church crowd wouldn't be around for at least another hour. I almost felt ripped off because I got full much sooner than I normally would. I should have brought some Tupperware! I totally lost out on the French toast and waffels, not to mention dessert. Oh well, small sacrifices.

After wrapping up brunch and picking up the food and presents at the house, we hopped in the Ark and headed for Weezie's cottage outside of Hooterville for Brynn's party. We made it there about an hour or so before the party was set to start, so we were put to work blowing up balloons and hanging up banners, setting up chairs, etc.

The weather wasn't too bad, but the wind was a bit much at times. Thank God for sweaters and blankets. So much for the idea of setting up a little pool for the kiddies. The kids managed to stay entertained by either running around like lunatics, playing "stick the nose on Elmo", and "let's scare the hell out of everyone by getting too close to the cliff". The Squeeze told me that when he was a toddler his mother put a harness on him and clipped him to the clothes line in the back yard. I think she was on to something.

I wasn't sure how Brynn would handle all of the people there, especially since she didn't sleep on the drive there, but she was amazing. She was all smiles and laughter, and the few times she did fuss, I would just hold her hands while she practiced her walking. I must say, it is SUCH a cool feeling when she is with someone else and starts to fuss, and I walk over to her. She reaches her arms up to me, I pick her up, and she's fine. I love, love, love that! It's that bond that just tugs at my heart.

After The Squeeze finished cooking up the burgers and hotdogs and everyone finished eating, it was time to bring out the cake and have Brynn smash her hand into it and get the first taste. Weezie made a great cake. She made a Winnie the Pooh character cake and it looked awesome.

Even though we let people know it was a party to celebrate her first year of life and that we were NOT looking for presents, many people chose to ignore that request. OK, ya, so did I. So what? Thankfully she got a lot of clothes instead of toys because Weezie's house looks like a Toys R Us. OK, I got her a couple of toys, but I couldn't resist. The coolest thing I got her was this pair of shoes. Apparently they really encourage kids to walk because kids like the squeak they hear every time they step. Weezie said that when she put them on her the next day to try them out, Brynn would take a step and look behind her to see what was squeaking. She said it was hilarious.

We got the cottage cleaned up and un-decorated and closed up in record time after everyone left. Weezie's SUV could hardly handle all of the stuff she had to pack back up, including two kids and her mother. We got my Ark packed up as well, and even took three full garbage bags with us rather than leave them behind to be ripped apart by animals before they got picked up. As I walked toward the Ark with the garbage, I yelled back to Weezie before driving off, "Thanks for the loot bags!" I crack me up.

After arriving back at home, The Squeeze, FWIG and I relaxed for a bit and decided to go to one of the local Canada Day fireworks celebrations. Since FWIG knows someone who has a business near where the fireworks were taking place, we had no problem getting parking. Getting out and clear of the area where they took place was another story. It took longer to get out of the gridlock than the whole fireworks display lasted.

The holiday Monday was fairly laid back. The Squeeze joined me on a short walk, and we toured a garden that we wanted to see which was open to the public that day. We visited the kids in the afternoon, and came home for dinner and relaxed for a bit.

I was surprised this morning again when I stepped on the scale. I was sure that after this weekend of brunch, burgers and birthday cake that I may have gone the other way, but as of this morning, I am down 60 pounds in total. WooHoo! Thirteen more to go and I lose the word "morbidly". Then I will be "severely" obese. Ahh...music to my ears. Thirty seven after that and I'll merely be obese. I'm keeping my beefy fingers crossed.

Cheapskate

2007-06-29T13:11:00.000-05:00

I had a woman come into my store to ask if I could cut her a piece of non-glare glass to fit her frame. Sure, no problem. We do it all the time. She then produced an old, beat-up, chipped oval frame. Ugh!

Normally, cutting glass is no big deal - if it has straight edges. We just put it on the cutter, score it, snap it, and we're done. Oval frames, on the other hand, are a bit more difficult. I have to cut it to it's widest points, and then need to mark, score and snap away the excess by hand to give it the oval shape we're looking for. More often than not, we wind up destroying the piece of glass and need to start over with another piece.

When I told her that the price would be $12.00, you'd think I just slapped her grandchild across the face.

"You're kidding! $12.00 for a piece of glass?"
"For a hand-cut, oval piece of non-glare glass, yes."
"Well. I think I'm going to check elsewhere."

I'm not sure what she was expecting to pay, but I'm kinda hoping that someone else tells her they can do it for $11.00. I'm sure it will be worth her time and gas driving around to save a buck. I certainly won't miss spending more in raw materials than I'll get back.

The Haircut

2007-06-27T13:34:00.000-05:00

I'm what one might call "follically challenged". As it would just be a rip-off for me to pay a hairstylist to cut my Friar Tuck 'do, I do it myself with my handy dandy clippers. I've had a set of hair clippers for ages. I used to cut the hair of my more adventurous friends when requested back in the day. At one point last year, The Squeeze asked me to cut his hair and he was very pleased with the results. I have been doing it for him ever since. We just set up a stool in the bathroom and I clip and snip away. Short on the back & sides, a bit longer on the top. Think of a mullet in reverse with less of a party up front. OK, maybe that's a bad comparison.

I used the clippers, set to 5/8" length for the back and sides and grabbed the comb and scissors to take care of the top. I got about halfway through when for some reason I pulled a total spaz and lost my grip on the comb. It fell from my hand, I clumsily tried to grab it, missed, it bounced off The Squeeze's chest, hit his leg and... TWO POINTS!!!

Yes boys and girls.

Right

Into

The

Toilet

"So that's it for that comb, eh?", The Squeeze calmly asked.
As the water in the bowl was clean, nothing "mellowing", I decided it could be kept.
The Squeeze scooped it out (thank God it floated) and gave it a good wash with plenty of soap and scalding hot water, and I carried on with the haircut.

Truth be told, I probably would have tossed it out, but it fits into the little moulded spot in the kit and another comb just wouldn't fit. I'd have to throw out the whole kit and buy a new one.

From now on, when hair is being cut in the bathroom, the toilet lid will be closed.

I think I'm going home to bleach that comb after work.

The Pump: Part 2

2007-06-27T12:51:00.001-05:00

The weekend following our Father's Day water pump experience, The Squeeze and I returned to the cottage to replace the overflow valve. It also happened to be my mother's birthday, so we brought along flowers and a cake I made. I even decorated it with roses much like the cake I lost the photos of recently, so this time I managed to get photos and put them on the computer. I'll post the pictures when I'm home.

Replacing the valve was fairly painless and we all headed in to visit my folks after that. My mother, expecting a fair amount of company to arrive had baked three, yes, three cakes. Her famous strawberry flan, a walnut cake and a cheesecake. My addition was just a bit much, but we had to try them all...in very thin slices. When it was finally time to leave, only 1/4 of my cake was eaten and my mother insisted we take it with us because she already had so much. Even though we didn't want it at home either, we agreed.

When we arrived at home I found the top layer had slid off of the bottom layer thanks to the lemon filling acting as a lubricant of sorts, and the icing, roses and all, was smooshed onto the sides of my cake carrier. Luckily it didn't affect the taste. Yes, that's right, The Squeeze and I have been eating the cake, damnit!

My mother called Monday to thank me again for the flowers and cake, and she told me that another of my brothers and his wife came by later for a visit. She had told them about this cake and how nice it looked and how good it tasted. My sister-in-law said, "well I have to try a piece of that, it sounds so good!" I knew I should have just left it there and ran.

As requested, I e-mailed a picture of the cake to my sister-in-law and told her she's have to imagine the taste of moist lemon cake with lemon filling since my mother banished the cake from her home.

I was dreading looking at the scale this morning, but I was pleasantly surprised. I'm down a total of 55 lbs. now. It's coming off a bit slower now, but I'm still working away at it. I've upped my distance to about 4km every morning and I do that in about 40-45 minutes. I think in a week or so I'll add some more forms of exercise to the routine. Maybe some situps to firm up the belly a bit. We'll see how that goes.

Father's Day

2007-06-27T12:23:00.000-05:00

As I was making plans to visit my folks for Father's Day, the thought hit me that I, myself, would be celebrating the day from the viewpoint of a father for the first time. It kind of freaked me out.

The plan for the day was to pick up Brynn and Zoe and take them to visit, but Weezie had mentioned that the pump out at her cottage needed to be replaced. The Squeeze and I decided to meet her and the kids at the cottage, swap her pump and then visit my folks. How long could that possibly take? An hour? Two, tops?

About seven hours and a lot of frustration later, the pump was in but wouldn't hold a prime. On top of that, we somehow managed to break something somewhere causing water to spray all over me and requiring a return visit the following weekend to replace an overflow valve. But time was ticking, the kids' bedtime was fast approaching, and quite frankly we were exhausted. Weezie took the girls home to bed, The Squeeze and I went to visit my parents for a brief time before heading home to flop.

It wasn't exactly what I was expecting my first Father's Day to be, but I did get to spend it with the kids. I guess that's what it's all about.

The Renovation That Wouldn't End

2007-06-27T12:01:00.000-05:00

A few days after I wrote the last post I went in to City Hall with the revised plans now that we've scrapped the bidet and moved things around. The girl I spoke to told me that I might just want to check with our inspector to see if the revisions will require the building department to rubber stamp the new drawings or not. You see, if the building department has to revise the issued permit, there is a $300 fee. Exfuckingcuse me? $300? The initial permit was around $180. A second look will cost that much? Ridiculous. I think it's a bit of a scam to have people apply for a permit prior to any work, then when you start to tear down walls and pull up floors and discover that the structure below requires you to make changes, they stick you with another bill. It would be cheaper to have them throw out the original plan and apply as if it's a new permit application. But I'm sure that isn't allowed. Bastards.

I drove back home, called the inspector and left a voicemail message for him asking for his opinion on the situation. Needless to say, Eldin...er...Joe had to put the work on hold until we got word from the inspector so he....well, I'm not really sure what he did instead. I finally heard from the inspector that night and he said it shouldn't be an issue since we're not changing the structural work of the room.

This meant that work was backed up, so I informed the inspector that we'd better reschedule our inspection for that Wednesday to another time. He was free Friday, so we went with that. By the time Thursday rolled around, Joe realized that he wouldn't be ready for Friday either, so I had to call the inspector again and just put him on hold. I told him I'd call him when we were ready. I can just imagine what that guy's calendar looks like if everyone out there has to reschedule.

On the upside, the walls are going up and we had our bathroom guy in to measure for our cultured marble shower base, so that's moving along now. However, when I got home last night, the only progress I noticed in the ongoing project was that a hole was cut through a joist to allow the shower drain to pass through. I'm not sure, but I think he used a spoon to bore that hole. Here I was expecting to see all the copper lines installed, but no such luck. Maybe by the end of this week. Although, we've got him on loan to Weezie right now for the day to fix a door and do some painting at her cottage in preparation for Brynn's 1st birthday party this Sunday. I'm hoping he gets that done today. If not, the copper in our bathroom will have to wait until next week.

Kill me.

Toilet Paper It Is

2007-06-16T09:34:00.000-05:00

Renovations.

ARGH!

For the past number of weeks we've had a friend of The Squeeze's in to do some renovations to the house. The ensuite and powder room are gutted, leaving us with one bathroom that we are able to use. Not a problem really, that's what most people have and it seems to work for us. Where the frustration comes in is all of the planning, selecting and revising that needs to be done to make these things happen.

The walls of the main floor, stairway and hall have all been painted and it looks SO much better than they did when we moved in. The rest of the projects are a bit slow, but whatchagonnado? Remember Murphy Brown? Remember how she had Eldin the painter who was working on her house for the duration of the series? That feels like us. Joe just might wind up on the permanent payroll here. If Brynn and Zoe lived with us, he could be their nanny...er...manny?

The ensuite project began with me taking some measurements before we (and by 'we' I mean 'he') knocked down the wall between the old ensuite and walk-in closet. I roughed up some sketches and things looked good. Toilet, bidet, vanity and big-ass shower. I figured out electrical, lighting, plumbing and venting locations. Somehow along the line we decided we should probably do things legally and get a building permit for the remodel. I called the Building Department at city hall and found out what I needed. We filled out the application and submitted existing and proposed layouts. We waited the 10 business days for approval and got it no problem.

The Squeeze and I stopped in at a bath showroom and looked at some options. "Cultured marble is the way to go. No groutlines," the lady said. Hmm...good idea. I hate the stains you get in the groutlines. So we called them back to set up an appointment. We arrived for the appointment at the designated time to find their doors locked. Due to a major power outage during a big storm that blew through that afternoon, they had locked up and gone home. The Squeeze managed to get in the following day while I was at work and get some pricing. YIKES! The shower alone would cost us about $6,000! Since it's not a standard size we're dealing with it has to be custom, and like I said, I really hate those stained groutlines. We've decided to go with the custom cultured marble base and we'll tile the walls. That should cut a few grand off of that tab.

On Thursday, The Squeeze stopped in at Homo Depot to order the toilet and bidet. He called me to inform me that the bidet is about $1,100.....and that's without the taps. Taps are another $700 or so. That's crawling up on $2,000 for a butt sink. We made the decision right then and there to get rid of the bidet idea. Like The Squeeze said in front of Eldin...er...Joe, "for five bucks I can buy a length of hose". God help me. TMI!

So what did that mean? Back to the drawing board. Now I'm yanking the toilet and bidet from their location and replacing it with a large vanity, and replacing the vanity with the toilet. The shower remains in its place. The beauty of this new plan is that the doorway doesn't have to be moved now. However, we have decided to go with a pocket door instead of a regular swing-in door. Much better use of space, and quite frankly, it's just us...we rarely close the door. Hell, we're usually in there at the same time anyway. Of course, lighting and plumbing needs to change. I called the Building Department to see what we need to do now that we're changing things. I have to submit new sketches and hopefully they can approve the changes immediately. Let's hope, because we've booked an inspection for Wednesday morning. Joe will have about a day and a half to get all the framing and plumbing rough-in done. No pressure.

But wait....there's more. After deciding on where to put the toilet now, I discovered where the floor joists are. Guess what? A joist falls right at the 12" mark from the wall. Right where the toilet drain has to go. We could frame a bumpout wall behind it, pushing the toilet forward 4", but that leaves only about a 28" space between the front of the toilet to get to the shower. A bit tight. So I've decided to turn the toilet 90 degrees. That will give us another 10" to the path to the shower. This should all work out.

More will be revealed, I'm sure.

In His Pants

2007-06-08T16:03:00.000-05:00

After taking my morning walk today I came home, had my shower and started getting dressed for work. Just for a lark, I figured I'd try on a pair of pants another size smaller than the ones I've been wearing for the past few weeks. I grabbed the jeans from The Squeeze's dresser, checked the label for the size, and as I stepped into them I figured they'd get stuck halfway up my legs, but they kept on going. OK, they made it this far, but I bet it will be a while before I can button and zip them up. With no effort, I did them up. What the hell!? I am shocked. That's three pant sizes (or six inches) in the past few months as a result of eating better and moderate exercise. When did I last fit into these pants? No idea. Probably a few years anyway.

The Squeeze called me at work today and I gave him the news. He was thrilled for me. He is SO supportive. A real benefit of this is that I have a pile of jeans in this size. I won't have to do laundry for two weeks! Gotta like that.

The Incredible Shrinking Magnet

2007-06-05T17:30:00.000-05:00

The walking and better eating regimen that I've been doing the past couple of months really seem to be working for me. Every few days I hop on the scale and I'm liking the results. To date I've dropped about 45 pounds and I'm just loving the fact that the next smaller pant size is just around the corner.

I was at the chiropractor's office yesterday and he asked how the battle was going. He asked me how much I had lost so I told him. He then asked what my goal was. I just said "my goal is to lose the word 'morbidly'". I thought he was going to piss his pants. Yep, about another 25 pounds and I'll merely be clinically obese! WooHoo! Seventy-five more after that and I'll be overweight! Roughly 40 more beyond that and I'll be normal weight.

Ya. No pressure. Quite frankly, I'd be thrilled to get away from that 'obese' term. 'Overweight' I can live with. I've lived with the other long enough.

I'd love to lose those 25 pounds (or more) within two months because The Squeeze and I are going to be hopping on a couple of planes for a bit of a vacation, and it would be great to not have to grease up to get in the seats. I'm really hoping we get seated beside Nicole Richie or something a bit beefier...like a broom so we can spread out a bit.

But I know it's one day at a time. That was NOT a crack at Valerie Bertinelli's widened and now slimming backside. I know there will be a plateau where I'll be pissed and ready to give up. I'll just have to up the exercise at that time. Exercise and moderation of what I eat. The best part is that I'm not really denying myself little treats from time to time so I don't feel deprived.

If I feel like a cookie, I'll have one. Not half a dozen. One. If I have a craving for chicken wings when we go out, I'll split a small order. I won't eat two pounds of them. If I want dessert, I'll have a popsicle or one scoop of gelato.

I go for my up-tempo walk right when I get up, have my shower and eat a bowl of shredded wheat with 1% milk (when the grocery store doesn't run out!) for breakfast. While at work I have my salad with grilled chicken and raspberry vinaigrette dressing. Maybe a banana or a handful of almonds, walnuts & raisins if I feel like it. Dinner is normally something like a lean steak or butterfly pork chop with brown rice and veggies. Maybe a lean burger and salad. Whatever is on the list.

I'm hoping that posting my progress on here will help me stay on track.

Keep me honest people! Make me accountable!