Its a Jelly Bean World

Spare time.
What is spare about spare time?
I don't seem to have any leftover - sitting on a shelf somewhere like the chili that grew fur in my fridge last week: it was leftover from the leftover leftover's leftovers and over and over and over again. I threw it away.
But time is more immediately wasted.
At the end of the day if I haven't slept enough or spent enough time doing something or too much time doing something else, then its just gone.
Its like every day they give you 8,963 jelly beans and you can eat them all whenever you want for what ever reason. But, at the end of the day, all of the jelly beans must be gone.
The trick is to not eat them all at once so they make you sick.
Don't eat all green ones or you have a heart attack.
All pink ones will make you lonely.
All white ones will make you mean.
And the purple ones? Don't even ask!
But, who decides what the perfect balance of beans is?
Who decides, this guy gets more blue and you get more yellow and NO ORANGE for anyone!???
What if you aren't hungry and day after day after day, you just eat too many brown ones and sleep too much and can't eat all the lime ones?
What if you finish the jelly beans at the middle of the day?
Can you get more?
Nope.
Not even if you steal them or beg them or borrow them.
You can't trade them - they are only for you.
You can tell people which ones you think they should eat - but they don't belong to you so its ultimately THEIR decision.
From the second we're born we have jelly beans.
Some days I've been worried that I've dropped mine all on the floor. Some are dirty and I don't eat them and some are just lost. I live in constant fear of overindulgence and waste. But spare? None of mine are spare.

Reaffirmation

About a year ago - pretty close anyway - Rick said I had to tell the doctor about the morphing mass of crap on my leg. It was a freckle that turned colour, got scaley and bumpy. Yes. It needed to go. As a matter of fact, I wrote myself a note that day. It said "remember left leg". And I did - I remembered to tell the doctor - yay me!
At first I said - it's probably just psoriasis - right? But the doctor said - "hm". We better take a sample, he said. Next month - let's see if it grows.
I waited a month - watching and waiting for any infantessimally small growth on this dime sized spot on my leg. Was it bigger? Had it changed? Really though, I couldn't tell.
I dutifully returned in exactly one month to the doctor's office. He measured it all again - and it had almost doubled in size. I guess I really couldn't tell. He took a biopsy and sent it away and I left with a hole in my leg that hurt like a bitch about the size of a pencil.
I waited the 2 weeks and started calling for results. Nothing is back. Wait something is back... I'm going to have to have the doctor call you. That is never good.
It was something called ExtraMammary Paget's disease. I was shunted from the family doctor over to the Dermatology clinic. They apparently (and you'll find out why apparently is the right word later...) know more about this kind of thing.
Extramammary Paget's is a form of skin cancer. A secondary cancer really. It is caused by a base cancer somewhere else in the body and manifests itself somewhere else. It needed to be removed - and soon.
But beyond removing the skin cancer, we needed to find out what other cancer was causing it. Did I have undiagnosed breast cancer, lung, brain, bone, colon, bowel, gyne....where was the evil cancer bastard hiding?
I remember going home - telling my husband and just sobbing for a day. A full 24 hour day. It took me about a week to start to tell people. Its hard to explain to people that you have skin cancer - which lets face it, is really nothing - and beyond that you have another cancer that no one knows what it is and how to find it.
EMP is rare they kept telling me. Only about 200 people a year are diagnosed with it. Of those people about 10% - or 20 people in the world (or as I like to say - in the known universe) have no underlying cancer. My hope was to bank on being one in 20. I defy the odds a lot - surely I could be that rare!
I had the excision in May. They cut out a chunk of my leg that was 4 inches by 3 inches and one inch deep. I left a divot in my upper left thigh and a scar like a catterpiller.
When the dermatologist called me back with the results - he confirmed that indeed it was EMP and the testing should begin for all the underlying possibilities. In June and July I had: a bone scan, a abdominal CT scan, MRI, Gyne Ultrasound, a mammogram, colposcopy (you don't want to know but they put a camera up your lady parts and use a knife - un hm!), a chest xray, a thyroid ultrasound, blood tests and my personal fave, a colonoscopy.
The stress of the tests was overwhelming! Everything - every last one came back negative. There was relief after I received the results of every test. Thankful that it wasn't the "cancer of the day". But dread as well as my possibilities dwindled. All I have left is....... and the vain hope that its just independant.
In July I was told that the underlying cancer must be dormant - meaning not manifesting itself YET. YET being the operative word. For the last six months everytime I've had a headache it had the potential to be brain cancer and every diarreah signaled bowel cancer. I had an overwhelming sense of foreboding that I cannot describe to you.
The entire time that this went on I learned a lot about myself.
I am a consumate faker. I pretended that I was fine 90% of the time when in reality the thought of leaving motherless children filled me with abject terror. I was overwhelmed by anything and everything but my ability to fake that I was fine was astounding, even to me.
I have amazing friends. From my best friends who made me feel more loved than I ever had before to strangers on line who through this time became friends - everyone and I mean everyone - was amazing. The love and support people show someone who is in crisis is just astounding. Its a pity we don't do that for each other all the time.
I can change my own life. I met a boy and this boy helped me to see that the power of my own free will over the things that I think and the things that I say and what I eat and what I do and who I have in my life - that power is all mine. And I exercised that power in a bunch of places. I changed my attitude, I changed my direction and I believe I changed my own life.
That being said, I returned to the hospital last week to follow up with the Dermatological Oncologist - skin cancer doctor to you and me. This "expert" on EMP had been out of the country until just this month.
She took one look at me and said - who told you this was Paget's disease?
The doctors.
When? Why? Who? Based on what?
I explained the long involved gruelling tests I went through. I told her about the biopsy and the excision and how BOTH had come back from the pathologist saying EMP. I told her of the doctors and technicians I had seen. All the year of searching.
And her response? I think they are wrong.
She pulled up the pathology - checked it herself again - and sure enough they were wrong. Apparently, EMP and another cancer, a squamous cell carcinoma called Bowen's disease are exactly the same except for 2 things. And the other pathologist just made a mistake.
A mistake.
They just made a mistake.
For one full year of my life I went through the absolute hell of thinking that I had a disease that had the potential to kill me. I believed that somewhere inside me lurked an illness that had killed my father in 6 months and now, for some unknown reason was coming after me.
But they made a mistake.
How is the Bowen's treated? - I managed to stammer out....through removal of the lesion. And since the margins were clear on my excision, it was removed - totally and completely.
The cancer is gone.
I am done with it.
I don't have an underlying cancer.
There is no primary source.
Its all gone.
All of this information in a 2 minute conversation. I had spent a year thinking I was dying and now I am totally fine in a manner of minutes.
So yes. I am eternally grateful for the incompetance of other people. Hurray for the doctor making mistakes.
Hurray for EVERYONE being wrong.
Someone suggested to me that it was the power of positive thinking that CHANGED that diagnosis. A bit of good karma induced revisionist history. Do I believe that is possible? Hell yes.
Do I think that the changes I made in my head and my life have made SUCH a difference that the gods decided that I deserved a second chance? I hope so.
I am grateful every day to be here. To do what I do and love the people I love and know the things I know.
Why has it taken me a week to say anything?
Because its hard to adjust.
One person suggested to me that I got off on the whole "I'm sick - I'm dying" vibe. And I have to tell you - that is totally not it at all. There is nothing glamourous about being someone that people pity. There is really no WORSE feeling, to tell you the truth.
I feel like I spent a whole year CHURNING through every emotional rollercoaster. I put on that brave face - and now I have to take it off. That's a big adjustment.
But I'm ready now.
I no longer have cancer.
Its gone - cut out. I am in the middle of my life. I've changed my attitude, my diet and my outlook. I thank you all for being so amazingly wonderfully supportive.
I promise not to eat steak - eventhough I changed BECAUSE of the cancer. I promise not to take things like my health for granted - eventhough that is SO easy to do. I promise to use sunscreen. I promise to keep telling those that I love and value how very much they mean to me.

Unconscious Aging

I know I'm getting old. Not in a "good GOD look at all my wrinkles" kind of way but in an approaching Alzheimer's kind of way. Not in a good way.
Every day as I drive in to the office, I take the same route. Faster some days and slower on other but on average 20 minutes door to door. 5 minutes on the city streets and 15 on Canada's largest highway. Highway of Heroes if you will....but, don't get me started on THAT!
My issue is not like most people who work in Toronto, at least I don't think it is.
My issue is this:
I get on the highway and merge out of a lane which is ending, to the left, one lane. I stay in that lane until Morningside, where I merge one lane to the right. I stay in that lane until the exit for Markham Road appears where I again, merge one lane to the right, follow the off ramp and turn left from the right hand lane on to Markham Road and proceed to the office.
Occasionally - like yesterday - I have no memory of giant CHUNKS of this drive. As I pulled off the highway on to the off ramp my head said....wait....did I pass Pickering? Did I? I must have, otherwise how would I have gotten here? I don't know! Surely I must have?!?!
Is that how people get in to accident? Seriously. Do they sit in their cars - staring blankly at the tail lights in front of them (because its so fucking early when I drive in to work that its still dark out!) and they are so hypnotized by the music on their car stereo and the headlights and the sheer boredom of the repetition of the same fucking drive over and over day after day change lanes here change lanes there signal check merge.....Is that why?
Are there even that many accidents on the highway? Because frankly, I just don't see them.
If I am going to be late for work because of an accident I want to SEE the actual accident. I want chunks of debris on the side of the road. I want cars and police and wreckage and BODIES. I want to see dead and injured along the roadway as I pass. That I can reconcile with myself.
If I don't see these things, my assumption at 7:30am is that some ass-hat hit the brakes at 7am 20km ahead and that is why every subsequent driver is doing the same thing some half hour later. And that makes me crazy.
But crazy isn't old.
Old is not remembering your drive in of a morning.
Old is getting to work and not being able to remember if you brushed your teeth. I mean, of course you brushed your teeth. As usual. As always. Right between moisturizing and makeup. But DID you? Did you really remember today? Hm.
There are a million other examples.
Where did that onion go? I was sure I had an onion left for the spaghetti sauce or ....did I use it in something else? Maybe I did? Or did I move them? Where? Where did they move to?
Where did my gift card go for Montana's?
What about the CD I got for Christmas?
My black pants?
I know. I know. I have 20 pairs of black pants. But THOSE particular black pants.
And since I have been a list maker since the day I was born, writing stuff down isn't much help. Why? Because you have to remember to put it on the list in the first place!
But I'll tell you all about THAT later. If I remember, that is!

Getting the Cheese Monkey off my Back

I have a monkey on my slightly slimmer vegetarian back. Monkey thy name is cheese.
(NOTE: I know the picture is of a RAT with cheese on its back - but come on - its SPARKLY CHEESE!) I've said a dozen times in the past to my vegan friend - lets call him "Vegan Guy" - A life without cheese is a life I'm not willing to live. But, you know, I kind of think I may be changing my mind.
I am very much about visualization.
I like to imagine how things will go in my minds eye and then I can imagine where they will end up. You know, its how prepare myself mentally.
I read this book - Wally Lamb's "She's come undone" and in it the heroine (if she could be called that) loses a bunch of weight. She explained that her weight loss method was to imagine all of her food with mould and decay on it. It grossed her out so badly that she wasn't able to eat and lost weight. Ta da. Good idea - right?
So - I've been using that to help me as well. I seriously haven't had a hard time adjusting to this meatless life because when I even remotely crave meat, I visualize the animal. Carved up bleeding head off animal. UGH
Now, let me tell you, I didn't start this change in lifestyle because I cared about baby chickens and saving the poor trapped veal calf - living in a tiny white hut chained to its home - fed only milk. Nope - I could have given a royal rats rump. This change was all about me. Screw the animals.
Or.
Well okay well maybe I do care. A bit. And picturing the animal really really has helped.
On New Years day I roasted a turkey - something I've done a million times in my life. This one though - this one gagged me.
I touched its slimy skin.
I pulled out some stray feathers.
I washed it and dried it.
I pulled out a bag of its guts.
I touched the bones in its disembodied neck.
And I cooked it.
And I carved it.
And I didn't eat it.
And my kids didn't eat it.
My husband ate it. All of it. In one week, my husband ate an ENTIRE turkey (except for whatever Doug ate). And today while he munched down the final serving of my famous turkey ala king, I pictured a turkey in my head and felt really quite ill.
It was that bit of throw up in the back of my mouth that tipped the scale. I think I'm ready to be done with cheese. Its made from milk. Milk from a cow usually. Cow milk is food for baby cows. Not for me. Baby cows. UGH.
I've been cruising vegetarian chat rooms for weeks now. Reading. Exploring. Trying to find out how to shake the cheese monkey on my back.
Some people say that if you crave stuff its because your body needs it. You should give in to the craving because your body needs the calcium. Calcium. If my body needs calcium why am I not craving spinach or salmon with the bones in it?
Some people say that if you crave stuff you just have to ride it out. Suck it up buttercup.
Others suggest substituting soy or rice versions. But I don't want fake cheese just like I don't want fake meat.
But the advice I like best is one that I've followed for lots of other things. If you can give up something for 3 weeks - just 3 weeks then you can give it up forever. It takes 3 weeks to form a new habit (and apparently only 6 days to break one).
I'm still in the contemplation phase folks so don't get too excited. But really. I can do this. As I go to bite into that wonderful wedge of Gouda I will try mooing to myself......just a quiet baby cow moo. "why are you taking my mommy's milk lady? moo"
OH - and btw - the kids requested - yes REQUESTED the brown rice pasta with homemade veggie sauce and soy meatless meatballs - and tomorrow - that is their lunch. Yay!
I'm getting there.

The things you can learn from Concrete Blonde

I've got to try not to live so much of life alone - that's what the people in Concrete Blond tell me anyway.
I do like George Strombolopolis as well. Not only is he smexy - smart and sexy, he is also able to talk competently and intelligently about all kinds of stuff. Just off the cuff. I wish I could do that.
For someone who talks a lot - like me - its a horrible burden to have the inability to speak coherently off the cuff.
Oh now don't get crazy - I can speak. Oh yes and I'm hysterically funny and witty and intelligent in the right circumstances. But if I am trying to express myself - you totally want me to write it down.
Sure - I still fuck up some days.
Like today.
Okay. Almost every day.
But I'm much better in writing than I am in person.
I think this more and more often as more of my friendships go electronic.
This started at my last job. In an effort to talk about the boss and her pet monkey behind her back we set up MSN in our offices. That meant that I was literally MSNing the girl in the office 4 feet from me.
I started that super short short hand at JobsNow too. It taught me what ttyl and brb and ROTFLMAO was.
I added friends to MSN - and more and more. Cool. I can talk to 4 people at the same time. Convenient, fun and time effective.
Then I started on myspace. Met some folks. Started a blog. People started to read it. Then I took some of those friendships off of myspace.
I'm talking less. I'm writing more.
Which, don't get me wrong - I totally LOVE.
Oh no here comes Facebook! I'm on - my friends are all on - you all know how I feel about facebook!
I have a blog - and here you are reading it - and not calling me on the phone.
I have a blog on the side so that I can write about stuff I don't want to share with you.
I still MSN insanely.
I still email people who sit 5 feet from me.
Sometimes I call. But its rare.
Earlier today my husband said - why don't you just call him. And I said - I don't call him. He's not a calling friend. No not ever. Is that weird?
For a lot of people yes.
But I'm living a lot more quietly now.
It gives me time to choose my words more carefully.
To give that thoughtful consideration like George does.
I hope I sound as intelligent and humane in person as I do in writing. I know I sound the same. Same inflection and pattern of speech.
But is it weird not to live your life out loud?

Things get better everyday you stay alive
then I'm amazed
every day
that the sun decides to rise
every minute, every hour, is another
chance to change
life is beautiful & terrible & strange.
Take me home - Concrete blond

Beware the Ides of January

There is a line in a Barenaked Ladies Song that goes like this:

You're like a baby
I'm like a cat
When we are happy
We both get fat...

And I fear sometimes that's how I get with this blog.
When I'm happy and content - not much comes out.

So all that has happened lately is that my general need to rid my life of pop and all its nasty chemicals lasted about 12 hours.
I, my people, have a giant cola chemical monkey on my back.
I suppose it could be worse - it could be crystal meth.

If you think of anything to make me angry, leave me a comment and we can discuss it in greater detail. Until then, I shall sit all fat-like and purr.

The Best Room in the House

All day I have been thinking and thinking about my 2008 New Years Resolutions. Even when I didn't have a blog, I still made resolutions. For the most part, I try to stick to my resolutions - check back through the year to see how I'm doing - that kind of thing. But really, for those of you who know me well, you know that I rarely if ever stick to anything. Resolutions are just my way of making myself feel bad about stuff later in the year. So, tits to the wind - guilt away!

1. I will not quit this stupid job until I get another one - and I will not stay in this job cause I kind of hate it.
Sounds simple right? But sometimes I stay in jobs just to prove that I can do it. I prove to myself that no matter how bad it is, I can suffer through it - I will win...But I can't win if it sucks. I'll try not to get fired and I'll try to find something better.
2. I will do the dishes.
Everyday. Whether I want to or not.
Or maybe I should change that to "I will not leave a sink full of putrid dirty dishes when I go to bed". Because at least then I give the illusion that other people could maybe do dishes too.
Now, some of you are thinking - "ugh rutting pig leaving dirty dishes!" and others (and you know who you are) are thinking "I only do dishes when every last available dish including granny's silver is dirty - what's the big deal?". I want to walk that fine middle line with pride.
3. I will move.
Somewhere. Not anywhere. But 2008 is my year to move.
4. I will win the war with chemical addictions.
Not Ecstasy or crystal meth or anything fun.
My next chemical purge is pop.
I can win - its mind over matter. I need to be less chemical-y. Just let carbonation go......
Seriously though - I've done it before - I can do it again.
5. I will stick to this vegetarian thing.
I may try at some point to reduce or eliminate cheese - but lets cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?
Its been 2 months.
I've rarely if ever done anything for 2 whole months.
And save for a few HUMONGOUS cravings in times of stress for burgers and bloody red pieces of lamb its been temptation free.
Say, if you gave up chocolate - you could be wooed to chocolate quite easily by smell or endorphins. But meat? Not really appealing in the same way.
I can't say its been easy because frankly I have had spotty support. The people who support me - support me a lot and the people who don't are asses about it. Ah well.
6. My body will not betray me.
I won't let it.
2007 sucked (see below) and 2006 wasn't exactly a banner year either.
But 2008? I am in charge now. So there.
7. I will yell less.
Yes. I am a yeller. I have made a conscious effort to stop. I will continue to try to curb this impulse to scream "are you mental?" at my kids. I will also stop yelling these things:
- who peed on the seat?
- shut that f-ing (and I do actually say eff-ing) thing off!
- hurry up!
- who forgot to flush?
- stop hitting your brother!
Bad energy - bad mojo - bad everything.
8. I will write more.
I like it. I really do.
I've been working on stuff and stuff and stuff.
Experimenting with moods and emotions and voices.
I found my voice in 2007 - I hope others find it in 2008.

That's all I've got this year. I'm hoping 2008 is relatively uneventful....
Happy calm new year to all.

Six and a half things I learned about myself in 2007

Alright my friends, I am not quite at the point of self actualization that I am able to put together my top 10 of anything. Or even my top 5 of anything. I can't even actualize the world around me really.
But, I have discovered some things about myself and I'm compiling a list for you.

6 1/2 Things I Learned About Myself In 2007

1. I need to be super vigilant in this age of digital photography and on line photo posting about how I pose for photos and who I let take them.
2007 was not a banner picture year for me. Lets examine the evidence shall we....

My advice is do NOT let well meaning people who are shorter than you are (whether they are 7 years old or not) take your photo.
Don't let ANYONE take close ups.
Repeat to yourself, "even Madonna has adult acne" and don't let it beat you down.
Keep your frigging eye(s) open.
And most importantly, get rid of, or at least camouflage, those hideous superfluous chins. Perhaps a jaunty turtleneck?
2007 - year of the bad photo op.

2. Just because you make a plan doesn't mean it will be easy to follow.
I love what Anderson Cooper said in his book last year...I forget the name....with regard to New Orleans hoping that the levies would hold in case of a Hurricane....
"Hope is not a plan".
He is totally absolutely right. Hope is not a plan. Even plans are aren't easy to follow and just because you HOPE shit will or will not happen- that doesn't mean ANYONE is out there listening to what is going on in your heart.
I hoped I wouldn't lose my job. I hoped that I wouldn't lose my friends and a place that I believed in. I hoped that the government would see sense and keep the place up and running.
But nothing I hoped for with regard to my job happened.
There was a feeling that I got when one of my clients found a job.
Even a stupid $8 an hour Tim Horton's job.
There was a bigger feeling when I helped my one eyed carny get a drug plan - and medication.
It was pride. I was proud of what I did. And just because I hoped that I could continue to be proud of what I did, that didn't mean it was going to happen.
I have a plan now. Its not as good a plan as my hope - but maybe if I keep hoping, it will get better.

3. Food and I are not Friends.
At the start of 2007 the Doctor told me I was 100 pounds fatter than Tyra Banks is when she is at her fattest. I was 100 pounds over weight.

At first I didn't believe him.
Then I did the math.
And he was right.
Alot - 100 = still alot.
Good God in heaven how did that happen?
I mean, I wasn't at my fattest but, I was giving my fattest a run for her money. She was running slowly and out of breath but she was running nonetheless!
So I was determined that I would lose 10 pounds a month. Just 10. No problem. I could be done in one year. 10. That's it. I can take a good crap some days and lose 5 - so how hard could 10 be?
And for the first few months it wasn't hard at all. I lost 20 pounds in 2 months. Yay me.
Then I got sick - and stressed - and lazy - and stressed - and lost my job - and unemployed - and stressed - and lazy......and finally here we have ourselves arrived in December. I have gone back to the 100+ point 3 times this year. There was one point where NOTHING fit me. NOTHING. Even my fat pants turned in to just regular pants! That was a bad day to be me!
But I end December 22 pounds less than I started January.
I HOPE - and again - hope is not a plan - have I taught you people nothing? - that I can change.
For 7 weeks I have been meat/chicken/fish free. I dropped eggs a few weeks ago - milk and yogurt and ice cream. I have had serious thoughts about cheese - but I'm not quite willing to let that go quite yet.
In January we will begin to examine our relationship with carbonation.
I'm trying to think about what I eat. I'm not on a diet, but I bought a belt for my new fatter fatpants the other day.
Sure, Tyra Banks will always look better than I do. But she hasn't had the pleasure of deep fried cheese stuffed olives now, has she?

4. Its not easy to make friends.
Sure, you've all read my previous blogs (you have haven't you?) about my year of the olive branch and how through the blind insistence of one friend I managed to find a tonne of great new friends but dammit - its hard.
I'm old. And some of my friendships seriously go back forever. I've had one friend for 33 years. Another two for 26 years. One for 23 years - and a bunch for 22.
That is amazing and I am truly truly lucky. I don't let people go once I find good ones.
But, having said that - I don't let people go once I find them even when the friendships are not so good anymore. Lets put that insight on the back burner for "resolutions 08".
This year was about busting out.
Making friends in new ways.
Using technology.
Changing my style.
Changing how I act in groups - how I assimilate and amalgamate who I am into a bunch of people. So no, not easy.
But good. Very very good and consider this my full two thumbs up recommendation for a 2008 resolution for yourself.

5. Cancer sucks ass.
Now, this could be where I give you the song and dance about how to never take your good health for granted. Live each day to the fullest. Be kind to others. Blah blah.
But, I won't - because you all know that.
It is the not knowing - the indecision - the imprecision - the unknown that is scary as fuck.
And that is what this year has been about.
My cancer is dormant.
Not gone.
Dormant. Sleeping.
And although my calm exterior may seem like all is good, inside my little head is a person running around screaming at the top of her lungs - "HOLYSHITHOLYSHITHOLYSHIT" on a constant loop.
I see another dermatological oncologist in January. I start the tests all over in January. And cancer, continues to suck ass.

6. I'm not a Mary. I'm a Rhoda.
I act like a Mary a lot.

But I'm not happy doing that.
In my best relationships - my favourites and the ones that I am most at ease, comfortable and happiest with myself in - I am the Rhoda.
I want to stand behind you.
I love to be the quirky, fun, brightly coloured one.
The paisley scarf-dress to your velvet pantsuit.
The perfectly coiffed and well liked Marys freak me out.
The fact that to someone - anyone - I may appear as a Mary is wildly disturbing. Almost upsetting to me.
If you need to ask why - then you don't know me very well at all.

6 1/2. I'm better than I think I am.
I've given this a half point because its something that I'm not so sure about at any given moment of any given day.
In my job, my marriage, with my kids, when I cook, when I eat, when I write, when I read, when I drive - I'm not as bad as I think I am.
I am way too hard on myself.
I judge myself ALL the time about everything.
I should stop that.
But I'm half sure that I'm half way there.

And that, my friends, is the truth.

Siiiiiiilent Night - Hooooooly Night

Today is Christmas. Yes it is. It comes every year whether you are ready or not. It brings with it an abundance of gift cards and too much food. Usually there is a family fight or two - just for good measure. This year at my house (and my Mother in Law's house) - no fights. All was calm. All was bright.
But, the day, for me at least, was not without controversy. In fact, I think I had a couple of major epiphanies. Silent ones that I kept to myself - but major nonetheless.
Our dinner conversation - and after dinner conversation this year centred on multicultural Canada and the celebration of religious holidays.
Now you see, the more I work with people who are new to Canada, it is my firm belief that Christmas as we know it is shyly disappearing all around us. The more we accept that Christianity is not the ONLY religion in this country, the less acceptable it is going to be that every last place in the universe save the Hasty Market is closed for 24 full hours.
Our whole retail system in the country is set up to encourage Christmas shopping by everyone far and wide whatever your religion and bargains bargains bargains know no secular prejudice.
To me this started with the shift to "happy holidays" and the disappearance of the Christmas tree. I don't disagree with respecting other cultures. Why should my religion dictate if you can buy KFC on a Tuesday. Okay - well, you shouldn't ever buy KFC but it was the first place that came to mind.
My husband thinks I'm insane. He said that it is a slippery slope and if we follow my point of view soon the insurance company will be insisting that he service insurance needs 24/7/365.
My Mother In Law (henceforth known as MIL) said that this country was formed on Christian beliefs and if you want to be here you better tow the line. Um - hello - did you not immigrate here lady? Um yeah. That's what I thought.
I pointed out that we are not a country of majority rule but one that accepts the faith of many. But in her mind it is he who yells loudest and the Christians have a mighty bellow.
My brother in law said nothing. That's his thing.
But - I walked away from the conversation (metaphorically of course) - MIL and husband continued to agree with each other for HOURS!
The epiphany in this gem - stubborn people don't listen. Not one bit. Don't even try.
Before that though - there was dinner itself!
I've been a vegetarian for what - a heartbeat - 2 months of my 41 1/2 years....barely anytime at all. Definitely not long enough to have established my vegetarian "rules".
Basically, I am fuelled by the righteous indignation of other vegetarians. I haven't established my "horror" points. Until, that is, tonight. Tonight, I, the only vegetarian in the house, was forced against her will to carve not only the turkey but the ham as well. UGH.
I know that I'm good at shit like that. I'm a fat girl who watches the food network. I can carve a turkey like a professional chef. But, just because you're good at something doesn't mean you have to do it.
I tried protesting. And again, this entered me into the great - "why are you a vegetarian anyway" debate.
I just am, I said. I just am.
Why is that never enough?
My husband says - "I am the one who suggested we eat less meat" "I am the one who said we should cut down on beef" "I don't understand why you think this is important NOW - all of the sudden" "I think its silly to have so many rules"
My MIL says "Are you doing this to lose weight - because it won't do you any favours" No. "But you still eat butter right?" No. "But eggs - right?" No. "Well you love ham - why not just try the ham?" No thanks.
And then both chime in on a lecture on MODERATION.
Why can't you just eat meat in moderation? Why can't you just try to cut back? If you just had a little of everything......?
I JUST DON'T EAT MEAT ANYMORE - THAT MEANS CHICKEN AND TURKEY AND HAM TOO AND NO I DON'T EAT EGGS AND I CAN'T THINK OF THE LAST TIME I HAD MILK AND OH MY GOD I DON'T EVEN WANT TO EAT CHEESE NOW - I JUST DON'T. NO I DON'T. PLEASE STOP TALKING TO ME ABOUT IT.
The Epiphany in this you ask?
My food. My business.
I will go to your house and eat what I want from what you serve. If there is nothing I can eat - I will eat nothing. End of.
This is not up for debate.
This is just how it is.
So what have we learned here today people on day that Santa throws Jesus a birthday party? We learned that people are who they are - can't change it - don't even try. That's the best way to keep that silent night silent and that holy night full of holes.
HO HO HO

Ho Ho Holy Crap

I am a good gift giver. Yep. Thoughtful and generous I always strive to get JUST the right thing.
Well, I try anyway. Lets see....
This year, I gave the mother in law slippers and gloves and a cookbook. Thoughtful? Sure it is because usually she complains that we all spend too much - this year - I obviously didn't! The slippers are the ugly ones she favours - and the gloves are old lady servicable isotoners - just the way god intended. As for the cook book? Well, if I didn't give her something to complain about she'd be disappointed - wouldn't she?
I gave the sitter a gift certificate for the only restaurant in town that doesn't make her "violently ill" or that she hasn't gotten food poisoning from. It was hard to find one but I, being a generous and thoughtful gift giver, did just that!
Other friends I will give their gifts in person. I will go to their house and I will let them belittle my house (they used to live next door). Then I will appropriately oooh and ahhhh when they show me all their new things. I will marvel at their giant tv. I will even say, just to be extra nice, "I wish I had one of those".
I will ignore the fact that their 17 year old is so stoned he can't speak properly. I will pretend that I've forgotten that their 14 year old daughter tried to commit suicide last month. And I'll even bring a pie.
The gift I give to them is that of feeling superior. It seems to make them REALLY happy. So, thoughtful and generous gift giver that I am - I will give that feeling to them freely and without asking for anything in return.
I don't normally give Christmas gifts to my friends. There are some exceptions but really - I just don't. I'm also bad with birthdays.
I tend to give gifts whenever I find them. Again - that's the thoughtful part.
So, having said that, if you are one of my friends and are waiting for me to give you a gift card from HMV - its unfortunate but you may be waiting for a terribly long time. Sorry.
To counteract this - I apparently am a very difficult person to buy for. Which I find just horrifying.
My Mother first told me this when I was a CHILD. What kid likes to be handed a wad of cash and told that they don't receive gifts well? Its disturbing.
My husband can't buy gifts - so he always asks me what I want. This has robbed me of my will to want stuff. I have learned just to be happy with what I get. Even the year that I ended up with slippers and a crock pot didn't suck that bad. Okay well it did. It really did.
Gifts are funny though - aren't they? - I think its all about the balance of power. The giver begs for approval - "oh I've tried so very hard to please you" and the getter gives or removes approval at will. Power struggles.
What does Shakespeare say?

for there is nothing either good or
bad, but thinking makes it so

Maybe I should just stop thinking so hard.
Generous and thoughtful my ass.

Crossing Over

As Christmas celebrations begin in earnest, I find myself sitting in the next room from my 9 year old son. He has sent himself to his room for what amounts to no reason at all and is reading and listening to music. Alone. Without the tv on. Or a video game attached to him.
This would not be remarkable in and of itself except that it is the very first time ever that this has happened.
I'm proud of him really!
Yay for having the wherewithal to entertain yourself when those around you have failed to entertain you.
Yay for not just sitting in front of the tv mindlessly which is what the rest of the family is doing.
Yay for being yourself.
Yay for escaping something that is bugging you and using music as your escape hatch.
But, this being Christmas time, I am reminded of holidays past and on how many occasions I escaped to the sanctity of my room.
Ah.
My room.
When I was a kid we had a house on the street where my cousins also lived. Which was good because our house was always full of family - but bad because our house was always full of someone.
I had a cool bedroom. TWO closets! But TINY. I wanted more space. So, I asked my younger brother with the bigger room that had NO closet to switch with me. Amazingly (and to this day I don't know why) he agreed. So, we switched rooms.
It was an older house and my new room had floral wallpaper - ugh - so I asked my parents to paint it before I moved in - which they did. Eventually.
This was in the summer before I started grade 10.
But it took them from the summer through to February to do it! Granted, there was about a dozen layers of ugly wallpaper and the walls were in rough shape - but I was homeless for months...or was I?
As a teenager I had the ultimate escape room. I had the family trailer - parked in the drive way of our house - that was my room for almost 6 months!
It was so cool - almost like having my own apartment. But without food or running water or a toilet.

In the winter I had a space heater on a timer and my dad would only allow me in my "room" when the heater was on (after 9) and it was cold as hell. But it was cool.
Now, if I'd had cool friends with booze and pot who wanted to come over and sneak in and have sex, I would have some kick ass stories to tell you wouldn't I? But I didn't.
I never had one - no not one - friend over to my bachelorette pad.
I never snuck anything illicit in or out of the trailer.
It didn't have a phone.
Or cable.
I had my 12" black and white tv with a metal coat hanger as an antennae and my turntable. They sat on the fold down kitchen table at the front.
I used to play Duran Duran's Rio over and over and over those six months. Sure, I know all the words to all of the songs now, but for the life of me, I can't think of why I liked it. I prefer to think at this point that it was peer pressure!
I liked Rio because a boy gave it to me. And I liked the boy. Boys give me a lot of my music in my life.
The only one that I truly compromised my principles for was the boy that was totally into Springsteen. God love him (and I was all kinds of fucked up over him) he was not very attractive, not particularly nice, not terribly bright, drove an awful car and had hideous taste in music. I don't even think he liked ME which is usually enough to sway me. But, I'm getting off track here...
So, there I am, in my 6 month trailer secondment. Sleeping cold. And I loved it. Because, like Ben, I could hide away. I could turn on music and escape into my head. I could read and be a million miles away. I didn't hate my life like a normal teenager - but, I needed to know that there were other lives out there for me. In my room is where I figured that out.
Sometimes you just need to be quiet to hear what you're telling yourself.
Good for him for figuring that out.

Really Now

Stop making ambiguous comments.
They are getting on my nerves.
Why won't you just come right out and say what the fuck you mean?
If you aren't careful - I'm just going to ask you what the hell it is that you mean.
Are you surprised by my boldness?
You can't deny that you're wasting my time.
I think that your inability to articulate what you really think is a sure sign that you aren't worth my patience or the time that I'm spending with you.
I need to move on - away from YOU and sooner rather than later.
Gr.
Of course I'm angry with you.
How can you even think that I wouldn't be?
You are the most self obsessed ego maniacal pain in the ass I have ever met.
You must be living right up the crack of your own ass not to notice what's going on with me.
Me.
Yes me.
When was the last time you paid attention to anyone but you?
Its about your fun. Your unhappiness. Your joy. Your family. Your friends. Your life. Your cock. Your tits. Your ass. Your problems.
You must stop thinking that everything is about you.
You probably think that THIS is about you - don't you?
My blog. My story. Not that you even give a flaming fuck enough to even read it.