Today Is The Big Day!

As many of you already know, I'm welcoming a new addition to my family.  No, I'm not pregnant--I'm getting a dog.  Today.

He's a French bulldog and his name is Jacques.

French bulldogs are great for apartment-dwellers like me--they don't need a lot of space or exercise and they generally don't bark very much.  They are small dogs--adults weigh around 20lbs--but they think they're large dogs so they don't have the tendency to yap a lot like small dogs often do.  I've been over to my breeder's house several times and I haven't heard the mother bark at all and the puppies very rarely.  They do make the snorting and snuffling sounds typical of bulldog breeds due to their smooshed-in faces.

In case you're wondering what French bulldogs look like, they're much smaller than English or American bulldogs and their ears stand up instead of folding over.  When mine's full-grown, he'll look much like this guy, but right now he looks like this:

Now, I know what you're thinking--"Hey Kendall, don't you already have a cat?  What's he gonna think of this?"  Yes, I am a little worried about how Jax will react to Jacques, but I'm hoping if I don't make a big deal about it, keep myself calm and let them take their time, eventually they'll at least tolerate one another.  I'm ensuring that the bedroom remains Jax's domain, giving him a place where he can get away from the puppy and where we can spend time together just the two of us.  Jacques will only be allowed in the bedroom at night and only in his crate.  I've also purchased a couple of baby-gates that I plan on using in various configurations to keep the two of them separated when I'm not around to supervise.

It's going to be a lot of work and I probably won't get much sleep over the next several days, but it's something I've been thinking about for quite a while now and I'm well prepared for what's to come.  I know many of you will think I'm completely mad for doing this and maybe I am.  Look at it this way:  it will make good blog-fodder!

The Shower Saga Continues

I managed to get my semi-clean self to work yesterday without completely buggering up my back.  Leaning over my kitchen sink for 5 minutes sure as hell didn't help, but it didn't seem to make it that much worse.  Once I got to work I called the management company and left a voice message which I hoped adequately conveyed my displeasure at the sequence of events.  In response to Mindy's comment, I also was the most upset about the door not being locked and I certainly tried to make that clear in my message.  A woman named Heather eventually called me back and left me a message in which she apologized (somewhat unconvincingly) and blamed the mess on my super who was supposed to inform me and didn't blah blah blah.  She also came up with some lame story about the plumber thinking the door was locked by simply closing it which, when you had to use a key to unlock a deadbolt, really doesn't make any sense.  She assured me the tiler was coming today and then my shower would be useable.  I called Heather back and (surprise, surprise) left her a message thanking her for the update but that I didn't buy the plumber's excuse for not locking my door and it had better not freaking happen again.

When I got home (and unlocked my door) I noticed right away that there were dusty footprints on my floor that weren't there when I left and that the curtains covering the slider to my balcony were open when I knew for certain I had closed them to keep the heat out.  Hmm.  As I made my way to the bathroom I noticed yet more white stuff on the floor, now not just dust but larger chunks of what I assumed was dried grout.  Now I'm a terrible housekeeper, but that's no excuse to track shit through my place!  Only I get to track shit through my place!  Regardless, I just wanted this whole debacle to be over, but when I peered around the doorway it became apparent that it wasn't in fact over because, while the tiling was indeed done, I still didn't have a faucet and spout thus rendering my shower useless.

So I did the best I could this morning with yet another sponge bath and back-breaking hair washing session, but I can't help but feel self-conscious about the possibility that I might smell less than, well.... fresh.  It looks like Heather is getting another phone call from me, and if the shower isn't in perfect working order by the time I get home tonight, one of you is getting a phone call.  I promise I won't sing and I'll even bring my own towel.

Our Lady of Halibut

There's an awesome fish 'n chips place a short drive from my home where they practically know my name, probably because it's my go-to place for dinner on those nights when I don't feel like cooking.  I personally think they serve the best fish 'n chips in my city--both fish AND chips are made of awesome!  And the tartar sauce has nothing to be ashamed of either.

But here's the weird thing--I think the fries might be magic.  Every single time I open the box and look at the contents I think to myself, "Hey, they kinda skimped on the fries."  But somewhere between the box and my plate a miracle happens--the fries seem to double in number (I don't know how they do it, therefore it's a miracle).  The fries that seemed inadequate in the box are now so plentiful they are falling off the edge of my plate.  The only thing that would impress me more would be if the grease-stains on the bottom of the box were in the image of the Virgin Mary.

I think it's my destiny to figure out the secret behind these amazing, self-replicating fries.  It's becoming pretty clear that this is going to require a lot of eating of fish and chips research.

Where I'm At

I'm not really sure what I'm feeling about my Mom's death yet. I feel like I'm taking it extremely well--maybe too well in fact. I didn't really know what to expect--I've never lost a parent before--but I had assumed I would feel more...devastated? Bereft? Instead I'm sorta numb...no, not really numb...more like separated from life. Separated from people in a way I've never felt before, like I'm looking in from the outside. I go out with people because I need to, I go to work because I need to, I get up everyday and put one foot in front of the other and live my life because I need to, but I constantly feel this sense of being in a bubble...floating along, untouched and untouchable.

I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop--for the inevitable crashing down and crashing in of reality. I have this constant little knot of anxiety in my stomach, like something scary is going to happen but I don't know when or how it's going to manifest.

I know intellectually she's gone--I have accepted that. I'm just not sure I've accepted it emotionally yet.

I don't know if I can.

Seriously Losing My Shit

Do you realize Christmas is less than a week away!?

HOLY CRAP!!!

How did this happen? I stopped paying attention for one second and BAM! WTF?

I do this every year--I wait until the last minute (and by "wait" I mean I procrastinate) to do my shopping and then freak out when I realize how much shopping I have to do in far too little time. And then I come to the realization that if I go to the mall I'll probably kill somebody. Because I hate the mall. With a passion like that of a million hot, burning suns.

So I try to come up with creative places to shop that don't involve me getting all stabby on the five teenage girls walking abreast while texting down the mall corridor or the person carrying too many bags filled with sharp, hard objects who suddenly and without warning changes direction right in front of me and takes me out at the kneecaps. You can assume that since you don't hear any stories of a woman going on a bloody, murderous rampage the weekend before Christmas that I am usually successful.

I'm a lucky person--opportunities just seem to present themselves to me on a silver platter on a pretty reliable basis. Just when a need becomes urgent, the solution is dropped into my lap (figuratively, not literally...usually). Anyway, yesterday there was a flyer posted in the elevator of my building advising that a few of the residents will be holding a sale of their knitted and crocheted creations today and these creations are rumored to include kids sweaters, mitts, scarves and toques. Hmmmm, kid's sweaters you say? Toques? There just happen to be two adorable nieces on my Christmas list who could probably use a couple of sweaters and toques since they're covered in about a meter of snow right now (literally, not figuratively--well, their house is covered).

So once again disaster is averted and I'll come through the holidays unscathed and without a criminal record. Peace on Earth.

And I mean that!

I Need Another Hobby Like I Need Another Hole in My Head

I now have access to a digital SLR camera (courtesy of my late father-in-law) which has enabled me to fulfill a long-standing desire to learn how to take a decent picture. I've signed up for a photography course starting in January and to commemorate I have started a new photoblog. Feel free to check on my progress at http://kendall-worthathousandwords.blogspot.com.

What Was I Thinking?

Yesterday was my first day back at work, but it didn't really count because I spent almost the whole day sorting through the 1391 emails I received over the last 3 months. It sounds like a lot but I actually expected there to be a lot more. About 75% got deleted immediately ("Does anyone have any Tums?") and the rest gradually got filed away into their respective folders. The whole exercise was very satisfying and didn't require a whole lot of concentration which was a good thing because I was frequently interrupted by well-wishers and the curious wanting to know how I was and how my mom was, etc.

Today was another story. The morning saw me communicating frequently via both email and phone with our help desk trying to get my systems in order. Of course I had forgotten all my passwords but on top of that my access to some systems had been revoked due to the length of time I had been away. This meant sending an email to my manager asking her to provide authorization, yadda yadda yadda. Lots of bureaucratic red tape. I was scheduled to actually go on the phones and start doing my job at 12:30--I got access to the last outstanding system at 12:45. Phew!

Then came the calls--how could I have forgotten how to do my job in only 3 months? How do women coming back from maternity leave do it? That's a whole year, for crying out loud! I don't think I told anybody the wrong thing, but to be honest I'm not entirely sure. By the time 4:30 rolled around I was more than ready to get the hell out of there. And I probably only took about 20 calls!

So here I sit, glass of wine in hand, trying not to worry too much about how stressful the rest of the week will surely be. Whose brilliant idea was this again? Oh yeah, mine.

Decision

I've decided to go back to work. It was not an easy decision, and I'm still not sure it's the right decision, but it's the one I've made. One week from this coming Monday I'll be sitting at my desk answering the thousands of emails I've received over the course of the last three months.

There were many reasons behind this decision: My Honey and I are hemorrhaging money right now and I feel it's my responsibility to stop leaching and resume contributing; I think it'll be good for me to get some structure back in my life; my Mom really thinks I should go back.

The last one might surprise you, but it's typical of my Mom--she feels guilty that she's keeping me from "getting on with my life" and earning an income. She hung on a lot longer than any of us expected and I think she has a little guilt about that, too. My Mom doesn't like to be a 'burden' and sometimes feels like we resent the fact she's still alive and hasn't died quickly enough. Of course this is completely insane and I'd like to blame the morphine for her skewed view of reality, but sadly she's always been this way.

To be honest I have no desire whatsoever to go back to work. I've so valued these last few months spent with my Mom and the rest of my family--it saddens and worries me to leave that cradle of comfort and strength. I'll try and come up to visit as many weekends as possible and hopefully that will be enough for all of us. I also hope that I'll be able to focus on my job and give my employer the quality of work they expect and deserve. They've been so understanding through this whole thing, I really want to do a good job for them and not be distracted by things outside of my control. It's going to be hard--I think about my Mom all the time.

Only time will tell if I've done the right thing.

Drained

I can't think too much about what my life has been over the last couple of weeks, and will continue to be for the next several, because it tires me out. I no longer think--I just "do". So much has to be done, so many commitments to people have to be kept, so much I need to do for my own self and yet, so little time. Why does it all have to come at once? Any one of these things on their own would be stressful and trying enough--why do we have to deal with them all at the same time?

It's at times like this, I suppose, that you test and learn the limits of your own endurance. We are infinitely capable; or at least far more capable than we give ourselves credit for. If I had known what was coming, I don't think I would have been able to deal with it as well. I believe that if I had known, I would have decided I wasn't strong enough to handle it and wouldn't have even tried. By having it sprung on me with no time to assess my ability to make it all happen, I've had to just jump in and do it--no time to ask myself if I'm up to the challenge.

I don't want to give you the impression I'm doing this all on my own. I have had all the resources I need to rise to these challenges. I'm so grateful to my employer for allowing me to extend my leave of absence. I'm grateful to my friends who have been such a support. I'm grateful for my Mom who has encouraged me to be with My Honey in spite of her own illness and needs.

I am especially grateful for My Honey. He has still managed to provide me with support in his own time of need. When he asks me, "How are you doing?" I know he really means it. How can this man who just lost his father still have the emotional energy to care so much about my well-being? I can only hope I will have the same concern and compassion for him when I'm consumed with grief over my Mom's death. He's incredible and continues to amaze me every day.

Me? Dust? You're Funny!

I'm hosting my book club tomorrow night and frankly the anxiety is killing me. I'm the epitome of an extravert--I need to be around people on a fairly regular basis or I will lose my shit--but having people over is beyond stressful. I always feel like people will judge me (and find me wanting) for the state of my apartment.

Now I'm going to be very upfront here--I am not a "Domestic Goddess." I hate housework. Some people find vacuuming, mopping, dusting, ironing, etc., to be relaxing or even (gasp!) enjoyable. These people are crazy. Reading a book is relaxing. Having a beer on a sunny patio in July is enjoyable. Housework resembles neither of these things--housework is a necesary evil.

I have made an effort over the last couple of days to make my apartment "acceptable". This has involved removing copious quantities of cat hair from furniture, putting clean towels in the bathroom, washing dishes, dismantling my "monument to procrastination" (also know as my pile-o-recycling) and finding new homes for all the crap I've allowed to collect in various piles throughout my abode. But despite all this, I know in my heart it's in vain because no amount of last minute cleaning is going to disguise the fact that I just don't give a shit. Really. And I feel bad about that.

I feel bad because I know that many people (perhaps even most people) do give a shit. They keep a clean house that's organized and smells fresh and is all the things mine isn't. And they will walk into my house and be appalled. They'll try hard not to show it--they'll sit stiffly on my funiture, trying not to come into too much contact with the fabric, and they'll pretend they don't see the cat hair in their drinking glass when I serve them their Pina Coladas, and when they go to the bathroom they'll hover over the toilet seat while trying not to look at the less-than-white grout between my tiles. I know this as surely as I know my own shortcomings as a homemaker. And yet, I want to say to these people (and myself)--get over it. Life is too short for getting down on your hands and knees to scrub grout with a toothbrush. Go out and seize the day. Spend time with your family. Read that book you've been too busy to pick up. Go treat yourself to a nice meal at the new restaurant downtown. Leave that plate on the counter to wash another day--it'll still be there.

But maybe you won't be.

Excuses, Excuses

I've been having some anxiety lately and it seems to have developed into a mild depression. Nothing to worry about folks, I'm not suicidal (thus the "mild" part) but it has reduced my enthusiasm for blogging and twitting as well as socializing in the "real" world. Depression's funny that way--it makes you want to shut off from the world which only deepens the depression. Sneaky bastard.

What am I anxious about you ask? In descending order:

Mom's not doing so well. She got through all her radiation but it took a lot more out of her than she anticipated and so I'm worried about her. I'm suffering a bit of a money crunch lately what with the car costing me a fair amount last month and with booking the flight to Cali and with a wedding invite in June and and and. Money (or should I say a lack thereof) has always stressed me out. I'm worried about this stupid Swine Flu shit--not because I'm afraid I'm going to get it but because I'm worried it might cut-short (or stop altogether) my upcoming trip to see My Honey and I really need this trip. Lastly, I applied for and was interviewed for a trainer position at work to fill a year-long mat leave. I really want it, so I'm allowing myself to get all freaked out over it and that's just not cool.

Basically, all this shit happening all at once is just bringing me down and I know it'll pass but until then I'm gonna be off the radar for a little while and I just don't want y'all to worry about me . Hopefully cool stuff will happen in Cali this weekend and I'll make an nice shiny, happy post about it so y'all can envy me. ;)

I'm Really Psyched About Singing Tomorrow Night!

And by "psyched" I mean "scared shitless!"

I really hope I don't embarrass myself horribly in front of all my strangely loyal friends who are coming out to witness the spectacle. Even if I'm really bad, can you please lie to me and tell me I was great anyway? A little self-delusion never killed anyone and it's not like it's Canadian Idol or anything.

I'm thrilled My Honey came all this way just to see me sing, but it adds a bit of pressure, you know? Like I need to be good so I don't embarrass him! I don't want him to be all like, "I spent the equivalent of the gross national product of Nigeria to come see you sing and you sucked!" But he would never say that. Frankly, I don't even think he would think it, but these are the thoughts that run through my head.

But then my enormous ego kicks in and I realize that no matter how sucky I am, y'all will lie to me and tell me I'm great 'cause that's what I'd do for you. You think ;)

I Told You I Don't Have a Green Thumb

My "blog flower" is looking a little rough so I guess I should be a good little blogger and post.

I'm feeling quite a bit better today, but I'm still living with chest congestion and a barking cough. I'm glad I'm not singing tonight--it would be less than my best effort for sure--but I am planning on going out to cheer on my co-worker Krystal who's competing tonight. I'm not sure exactly what she's singing but it's sure to be something country. I'm trying to convince Guy to come along with me, but apparently he's finally given into rampant consumerism and he's having cable and high-speed internet installed in his abode today. He thinks the lure of all that access to pop culture might be too much for him to overcome. I'll try plying him with the promise of beer at my expense, but it might not be enough.

I've learned that I have to sing 2 songs, not just one, so my choice of second song has had me thinking this week. I've settled on "Shadows in the Moonlight" by my beloved Anne Murray. I'm hoping some Canadian content will sway the judging in my favour--whatever helps--but mostly I picked it because Anne and I have the same range (low and limited) and it's one of her more up-tempo songs which should play to the crowd well. Whatever. I don't even know anymore, I just want to get it over with. This is too much pressure!

Apparently We Aren't Done

I'm at work but I've had to go off the phones 'cause my voice decided the day was over. I'm hoping I can woo it back with hot lemon tea and Halls so I can get back on but we'll just have to see...at least this is giving me an opportunity to call all the people back I was supposed to call last week but couldn't 'cause I was comatose on my couch.

I'm getting very depressed--I haven't been this sick for this long pretty much ever. Even chocolate didn't make me feel better. I'm definitely not out of the woods yet--my fever has decided to return and I'm getting these weird tingly feelings (kinda like when you get a "someone-walked-over-my-grave" shiver) in my butt and outer thighs. Very strange and probably completely unrelated to my current situation but off-putting nonetheless.

Is it wrong that I'm fantasizing about putting on a flannel nightgown and crawling into bed?

There's a Song in my Heart

I've settled on the song I will sing in the "Flannagan's Idol" karaoke fiasco I mean competition: "Fever" made famous by the incomparable Peggy Lee. Since I can't really sing but I exude sexiness (work with me people) I figure this is a sure bet--the same repetitive 6 notes sung with a slight growl and a low cut shirt. I can't lose!

Credit for this selection goes to Mindy and my Mom--Mom suggested it way back when I first told her about being chosen and then Mindy suggested it last night when we went out to Flannagan's to check out the song lists. Lucky for me (and you, my adoring public) it's on the list!

It's perfect--everyone's heard it but I doubt anyone would think to sing it, so there won't be the risk of comparing my mangled version to someone else's masterful version. Well, except for the original. But other than that, no comparisons!

I tell ya, I got this thing in the bag!

THIS IS IT!! FINAL SAVE THE DATE!

Okay guys, my 15 minutes of fame will take place on Saturday, February 7th. I have to be there to register by 8pm but I don't think the "fun" starts until 9. These are semi-finals which means if by some miracle I get chosen to proceed to the finals I'll be hounding you for your continued support on an additional date yet to be determined, but don't hold your breath or anything.

So I guess this means I have to pick a song--I have no idea what to sing. Here are some of the suggestions (the ones I can remember):

The Rose (Bette Midler)
Just Like Jesse James (Cher)
Snowbird (Anne Murray)

Feel free to weigh in, vote or make alternate suggestions. I really have no clue...so...help a girl out...?

More Karaoke News--New Save the Date

Apparently there are 3 dates over which the semi-finals will take place--January 31st, February 7th and February 21st--and I get to pick which date I will sing. So the good news is I don't have to sing on the 31st which means (hopefully) my entire posse will be able to come stroke my ego I mean cheer me on! Isn't that great? I can help Katie celebrate her birthday and she can in turn prove how much she loves me by listening to me caterwaul. It's "win/win." Really.

So I still don't know which February date I will be semi-finaling, but as soon as I do I'll let you know. Does anyone have any requests?

Save the Date! **Corrected and Updated**

I got word that the karaoke semi-finals (aka: my big moment in the spotlight) are set to start on Saturday January 31st at Flanagan's Pub (formerly known as Kopper's).

Many of you have offered your support, so here's your chance! I won't hate you if you don't come to cheer me on, however I will likely bring it up at every opportunity, so stay away at your peril!

Ha ha! Just kidding!

Actually no, I'm serious--you'll never live it down--so come out and suffer I mean enjoy hearing me shoot for "Flanagan's Idol!"

**UPDATE**

It has been brought to my attention that a good chunk of my fan base will be unable to attend as it is Katie's birthday that night and she adamantly refuses to celebrate by making it all about me. Go figure. So that leaves the rest of you who don't know Katie (and will therefore not be standing me up to attend her birthday festivities) to take up the slack.

P.S. Sorry Katie, I can't turn down my (probably only) shot at stardom. I promise I'll get you a totally awesome birthday gift from Cali to make up for not being with you on your special day.

P.P.S Thanks Mindy for pointing out that I'm still in denial about what month we're in.

I Fell Into a Burning Ring of Fire

Guy "regifted" the gastrointestinal virus he got for Christmas to me and Katie so I've spent the last 3 days either prone on my couch, sleeping in bed or in the bathroom evacuating from either/both end(s).

Happy freaking New Year.

On the plus side, I've lost 12 pounds--on the minus side, it was apparently all muscle because I'm as weak as a kitten and have the stamina of a 90 year old with emphysema. At least the pure liquid shooting from my bowels has stopped, but the ominous gurgling sounds emanating from my abdomen and the intermittent violent nausea are still hanging around. I decided to err on the side of caution and called in sick today, although I'm starting to get cabin fever. I might have to man-up and go to the grocery store just to maintain my sanity. I anticipate I'll come home completely exhausted and will have to recover with a 4 hour nap.

How the hell am I gonna survive 8 hours of work tomorrow?

I Think I'm Developing Super Powers

I just had the most productive weekend of my life. Saturday I went to the gym, went grocery shopping, baked 8 dozen Gingersnaps, made half my Christmas cards and went for beer at my favourite hang-out with Guy and Hymenia. Sunday I went back to the grocery store, went to Michaels for more card supplies, made the rest of my cards, made a giant pot of lentil chili for Sunday night dinner, talked to My Honey on the phone, did two loads of laundry and then spent the evening at Guy's eating the aforementioned chili.

I blame it all on Gonzo.