Since I rarely have the kind of vacation where I get to do whatever I damn want, this week was a bit of a mystery to me. I knew I wanted to read and knit, but I clearly needed something extra to fill my time. Something other than drinking and doing laundry. In that order.
Thankfully Heather suggested we visit the Nordik baths in Chelsea, since we had been planning to have a Christmas date for several weeks and had yet to arrange a time and place. Originally our date was going to involve us making pickles and drinking champagne, but I'm a sucker for the steam room, so Chelsea it was.
It was everything it promised to be. Besides the steam room and the hot pools (is it possible to marry a steam room? because I would), I got to catch up with one of my dearest friends whilst surrounded by nearly-naked folks. We like that sort of thing. It was sexy times.
There has been a lot of this 'catching up' as of late: Shawna and I had a great time visiting Dean and Ruth of Rasputin's fame the other day. Dean got us both started as songwriters and we both waitressed at the cafe after (during? I can't remember. wait. during. definitely during.) high school. We chatted for hours and Dean suggested a few times that my first band Alicide should reunite now that the original members are all in Ottawa again. I've been humming those tunes ever since (although some of my old lyrics make me cringe... what the shit was I thinking?)
I also got to meet up with some old school friends for a beer and it was endlessly entertaining. I chatted a bit with the High School Boyfriend, who, luckily for me, is a totally nice dude. I send him Christmas cards about not eating turkeys and he's down with it, which is funny since he's the Argentinian steak-loving variety of man. Anyways, Fun Times. Especially when we got talking about home renovation. Yeah, party animals, the lot of us.
Tomorrow will be a long day by vacation standards but I plan to squeeze in at least one nap. Because it's my vacation and I'll do whatever the hell I want. Also, I love to nap.
Here is a picture of Morty's booty, because it's a particularly awesome ass.
Sorry for the blog silence over the past few days... I've been in Peterborough for the annual family reunion!
I know I've often made fun of Peterborough, calling it Peter-boring and Peter-blaaaaah among other inspired names. This year I had fun though, and I got to bunk with my sister in her neat old apartment. Morty came too, and behaved super well other than leaving a small turd in my sister's front hall. That's my Morty: always willing to bestow fragrant gifts to anyone who needs a little something.
My sis would like me to go gig there this winter, which I'll have to look into, since the Value Village in Peterborough seems to be at least ten times better than the Value Village(s) in Ottawa. I'm not kidding when I say thrift shopping is my motivating factor for planning a trip back.
So I have the week off. I still can't quite wrap my head around it. I have big plans to read my new Christmas books, and a trip to the Nordik may also be in the cards. I don't want to do too much else, minus some visiting and some quality time at Raw Sugar.
Wait.... Is New Years this week? Dang.
I'll have to add getting shitfaced drunk to my vacation 'to do' list.
I'd like to start off by saying that my Christmas Experience has since gotten better, and I have been gifted and fed and snuggled to my heart's content.
But yesterday? Yesterday was bad news.
I shall list out my adventures so as not to write a novel.
1. I stepped out of the shower, wandered naked into the hall, and noticed that Morty was having a poo explosion by the door. I screeched and threw on my BH's clothes (they were closer), and ran Morty outside where he had more exploding poo. I put him in the bath and washed him off. Poor tyke.
2. I went into work and left early! This was good.
3. Decided to take our borrowed car to run some errands before I went to pick up my BH from work. I put Morty in the car, left the passenger door unlocked, turned on the car to warm up, and went about clearing the snow off the windshield. I hummed myself a little tune. “It’s Christmas Eve!” I thought to myself, cheerfully. “Happy times!”
Meanwhile, Morty, who was excited to be in the car, rested his head on the window, accidentally locking the car door with his giant chin. I am left outside with no spare key.
So to recap: Morty is locked in a borrowed car, the car is running, and I’m hyperventilating on the outside.
I called the in-laws to see if they have a spare. They do, and they start the trek to my house from Carp. I spend half an hour freezing my ass off while the car runs and Morty chews up the seat belt.
Several people wander by me and I have to explain my situation. They try not to laugh too hard. I am annoyed. Morty is now howling. I find myself praying that he does not have exploding poo in the car.
My in-laws arrive and we unlock the car! This is good.
4. The in-laws leave. “Thank goodness THAT disaster is over!” I think to myself. I hop in the car, accelerate, and notice I am stuck. I do all the clever things one does to become un-stuck, to no avail. Nobody is around to help push me out. I will never leave this blasted parking lot. I feel sorry for myself. I am now very cold and very hungry and Morty has eaten the seat belt. It’s Christmas fucking eve.
Jo walks around the corner! I squeal with delight! She pushes me out with her very strong arms.
5. I pick up my BH and my day slowly gets better. My nerves remain shot, however, and it takes me all evening to calm down again.
(EDIT: Because I was too stressed out to think about it at the time, I left out the part of the day where Morty pulled free on his morning walk and ran into the open door of the only crackhouse on my street. But that did happen. On this very same shitty Christmas eve. Luckily he ran back out right when the tenant was insisting that I come inside to get the puppy myself.)
But as I said, things are good now. Christmas was just lovely and there was some good gifting happening at my parent's house. I am the new proud owner of a lime green French oven! I also got some honeycomb, a David Sedaris book, a t-shirt with Big Bunny on it, and a fabulous red kettle.
My BH is with his folks, so I am snuggling Morty and trying to motivate myself to clean the apartment. It is a royal disaster and it needs some TLC. Perhaps using my fancy new French oven will motivate me to clean? Unlikely.
Regardless, I want to wish you all a very Merry Christmas and I hope none of you lock your puppies in the car this holiday season. It sucks!
Things are winding down at work and I'm getting ready to have my first real vacation since we went to India.
That seems like a long time ago, now. I guess it was a long time ago, by vacation standards.
I've never really had the money to pick a place I liked and then plan a visit around it. India was perfect for us because we wanted to visit my BH's family, but we knew it would be more of an adventure than a vacation. Most of my trips happened that way: someone gets married, or moves somewhere exotic, or there's a school trip, etc.... It justifies the big trek out.
But man, it would be so cool to go somewhere without any obligations. A blank slate.
I do hope that once my BH is done school, taking a trip will be in the cards. I've always wanted to go to Trinidad. And New York. And New Orleans. And southern France. I'd like to go back to Amsterdam, too.
This particular Christmas vacation, I have a full week and a half off. Amazing. My only plans are to spend a day in Peterborough visiting family. That's it. The rest will be spent at home, baking, knitting, cleaning and reading. To be honest, although it sounds cheesy, I really just want to spend time with my BH and Morty. They are both so darn cute, and I could easily spend my entire vacation smooching them.
I'll be doing some visiting with friends too, since so many lovely people are in town. A beer here, a dinner there... As long as I can go cuddle with my boys at the end of the night.
So, our December budget is shot. It's not surprising, not at all, but I sure wish I had been able to save up for Christmas spending ahead of time. I guess that's the risk in starting a serious household budget in October - you're only leaving yourself two months to save for the most expensive month of the year. I had put aside $200 to start us off for gifts, but I spent that on bills.
Anyways. We'll be starting fresh in January, and I'll be putting a special emphasis on getting rid of my now-ballooning credit card balance. I've started booking winter gigs, after a period of self-imposed inactivity on my part, so any CD sales and door money will go onto my debt.
As of tomorrow afternoon, I'm on vacation. That won't stop me from posting though, so if you happen to be catching up on your blogs over the break, I'll be here with updates on my boys and the occasional puppy ass picture.
4 am yesterday morning, I smelled it. The distinct and unmistakable smell of poo.
I sat up in bed, trying to determine if I was imagining things.
"Babe?" I said, poking my BH in the shoulder. "I smell poo."
"Mmmraaaagh..." he responded.
"No really, it smells like poo in here."
"Poo. Mrrraaaagh...." he said, clearly still asleep.
I began to doubt my nose, and plus I was tired. My head hit the pillow. I was out like a light.
7 am, I woke with a start. Now the stench was stronger. There was no mistaking it - there was poo somewhere in the apartment.
By some miracle, Morty was sleeping in his crate that night, even though he usually sleeps with us on weekends. I ran to his crate in the front room. I flicked on the light.
My poor little dude. Let's just say that Morty ate something disagreeable, and reacted by having explosive poo all over his crate. It had leaked out onto the floor, pooling by the piano. He looked miserable.
"Jesus," I said. "BABE! THERE IS EXPLOSIVE POO EVERYWHERE. I NEED YOUR HELP."
I threw on a few coats over my pajamas and took Morty outside while my BH put on his heavy duty rubber gloves. When I came back in, poor Morty was plonked down in the bath and I washed the little dude off.
We were scrubbing the floor for at least an hour before we were satisfied it was all gone. Morty sat in the bedroom and looked depressed.
Having such a rough start to the morning was unfortunately a sign of things to come. The rest of the day was awful.
My BH was in a foul mood, most likely because he spent a couple hours elbow-deep in crap when he should have been sleeping. To stay out of his hair, I did everything I could to fill my time. Shoveling my walkway. And my neighbour's walkway. And my other neighbour's walkway. And the sidewalk. And then our parking spot, back porch and steps.
I managed to pull a groin muscle in the process. My socks were full of snow. Things could only get better.
Then I did laundry. Swept. Dishes. Took Morty out a few times. Went to Raw Sugar. Rented Mama Mia.
Amazingly, the day ended well. My little sister is in town for the holidays, and she came by with my parents to visit.
They all love Morty. No really, they LOVE Morty. Sometimes they call to ask how he's doing and don't bother to check in with me. We all spent a long time cooing over him, even though he was still feeling a bit under the weather.
I also noticed something. Don't you think my dad and Morty look kinda... Well... Similar?
To prepare for last week's visiting newborn, I did some cleaning around the apartment.* Namely, the one spot that seems to always be messy: my music collection.
I have a lot of CDs. I'm one of those weird few who really loves CDs and prefers them to all other formats, including vinyl (although I do love me some vinyl...). MP3s don't cut it for me, and I use them only out of convenience on my Creative Zen. I don't stream music from my laptop either, for many reasons that are too long-winded to go into here. Cassettes, well, other than sentimental attachment, I don't use them for *actual* listening anymore. But CDs? I love them. I still buy them regularly and will probably keep it up until they stop being made.
For a while now, I thought I had about 500 CDs. Not that I could remember the last time I counted, but that seemed like a good number. As I went through my collection, filing, dusting and categorizing, I wondered if perhaps I had counted wrong. There seemed to be a lot more than I remembered.
I also began noticing that we had a lot of doubles, since we hadn't gone through our music when my BH and I moved in together. We just amalgamated our stash. Needless to say, we both liked a lot of the same music (minus the extensive amount of Pearl Jam I found myself sorting through....). I grabbed a big basket and started chucking in the albums that were either doubles, or that we weren't going to listen to anymore. There were about 50 by the time I was done.
Plus an additional 650 or so CDs we were keeping.
"Christ," I thought. "No wonder it's been so messy. I've been avoiding sorting and alphabetizing 700 CDs."
But now it is done, and I find myself patting my shelves of music lovingly, instead of glaring at them when I walk past. It's a relaxing feeling.
Guess who's done his final exams? My BH! I am So. Freaking. Psyched. I realize he's not out of the woods yet, but it brings us one step closer to the eventual end of his degree, and into the wonderful world of two incomes. It's going to be sexy!
Tonight is also a special night. We decided that instead of giving gifts to our little posse of friends, we would all meet up for a big dinner somewhere and enjoy each other's company. Tonight is the big event - food, booze, and the hilarity that comes with a large group of drunken pals. EXCITING.
I'm also getting excited about all my old friends who are coming into town. Maybe that's the best part of the holidays... Catching up, laughing, and getting mildly boozed.
And then drunkenly cuddling Morty until he gets flatulent.
*I realize the newborn doesn't give two shits about what the apartment looks like, but it was as good an excuse as any.
This is Christmas wrap-up week, where I need to finish any leftover seasonal chores before it's too late.
Today is a busy one: sending Christmas cards, picking up my last two gifts, and getting some ingredients for making toffee with my BH's little brother.
Guess what else is sneaking up on me? Hannukah! Yup, we celebrate both Christmas and Hannukah* in our household. This year, we have the added bonus of having a Jewish English bulldog in the family (his name is Mordichai, after all), so it's only fitting that he learn the Hannukah prayers. Hopefully he won't get too close to the menorah, like my cat did the year she set her tail on fire (true story, unfortch, but she was fine).
I'd like to make a Hannukah meal this year as well. I'm thinking matso ball soup, kishkah, apple cider challah**, and hopefully a new dish of some sort. My BH likes Jewish food even more than I do, so I know it will be appreciated. I swear he was a Jew in a former life.
Also, my Muppet's Christmas Carol soundtrack arrived in the mail yesterday, which I only ordered because the X-Box we use for DVDs doesn't read the actual movie. This is the next best thing.
Hope you're all enjoying the season in whatever way you choose!
*I know... There are five hundred million spellings for this holiday. This is the one I've always used, and I'm cool with it.
**Spell check hates me today.
We started giving Morty baths when he was a teeny puppy because we figured it would get him used to the process early on. We didn't want a giant bulldog who hates water trying to weasel his way out of a washing down the road, especially considering how often Morty manages to stroll through his own poo. Can you imagine a big, wet, panicky bulldog who is covered in feces trying to charge out of the bathroom? Yeah. Not what we wanted.
Generally, early bathing was a great idea. He now loves baths. He hops right in when I point to the tub, and he sits in the water quite happily until I'm all done washing him off.
But things have started getting out of hand. See, Morty has fallen in love with the bath. Big time.
I first noticed it this past month when I took my morning showers. If Morty was up, he'd sneak into the bathroom and paw at the shower curtain, whimpering because he couldn't come in. He does this without fail every morning, and he occasionally is bold enough to plant his front paws in the actual tub. I have to tell him "no!" and push him out of the room.
Last week, my BH was in the tub while I was out for the evening. Morty came into the bathroom (the door doesn't close very well, and he knows how to nudge it open) and pawed at the water. My BH patted him on the head and kept reading his book. Morty took that as a positive sign and jumped into the bath, nearly scaring the bejeezus out of my BH and coming dangerously close to genital-crushing territory. Bath time was over, and my BH was stuck drying off our crazy dog.
Yesterday evening, all I wanted was a bath. I was chilly and tired, and the thought of slipping into a warm tub was tempting. I turned on the water and went to the kitchen to tidy up.
Guess who was sitting in my nice bath when I got back? Yes, Morty had hopped in, putting his muddy paws in my precious warm water, effectively ruining my chances of having a relaxing soak. I let the water out of the bath and waited for him to hop out, but instead he stretched out and prepared to take a nap. I eventually wrestled him out with promises of peanut butter treats.
The good news in all of this? Morty smells like roses nearly all the time.
The bad news? Well, you just try having a 50 pound bullie do a flying leap onto your downstairs. That is some scary shit.
I had a freaking great weekend.
Friday night: Debauchery with Andi, setting up her tree, drinking, slept on futon with my BH and Morty. Big tasty breakfast next day that involved fresh croissants.
Saturday: Bought new boots after driving in shitty weather with a rickety car. Bailed on evening plans so that I would not crash and die. Did laundry. Ogled new boots.
Sunday: HUNG OUT WITH A NEWBORN BABY! Oh man oh man, was she ever cute. Morty didn't understand why she was screaming and barked to compete. Spent the rest of the visit in the bedroom. Oh man oh man, that was a cute baby. Later, went to Raw Sugar and bought a broom at Hartman's. Finished evening with a romantic Harry Potter date on the couch. Well, romantic until my BH fell asleep, so for about 20 minutes. I tried to get Morty to cuddle with me, but I guess he doesn't like Harry Potter.... He refused to come out of his crate. I WILL WATCH HARRY POTTER ALONE, SUCKERS. Harry loves me.
Perhaps the above doesn't seem that exciting to the untrained eye, but I call it a pretty excellent weekend in my books. I've just been feeling so dang GOOD lately. Probably something to do with getting proper sleep and finally breaking out my fantastic fleece sheets. Cosy. Warm. Fleecy.
On a completely unrelated note, I seem to have lost the ability to fry an egg. I don't know how one loses such a skill, but I'm telling you - it's gone. I'll have to stick to scrambling until it comes back to me.
Last night was my staff Christmas party. It was way, way more fun than I expected.
At my previous job, the Christmas parties were awkward and stiff, and everyone sat around checking their Blackberries. The tickets were expensive and the food sucked. People couldn't wait to leave.
After last night, however, I now believe you can judge the character of a workplace by their Christmas parties. The food was good, the alcohol was better, and the entertainment portion of the evening was ACTUALLY ENTERTAINING. Yes, I was coerced into singing a duet with my boss, and yes, it ended up being a U2 song. Still, we had a good time and I got to play a kazoo solo. I can't even make this stuff up.
Other than feeling a little rough around the edges this morning, I am quite happy I didn't cop out like last year.*
This evening: watching Muppet's Christmas Carol, getting drunk, eating salad, crashing at a friend's. YES.
*In my defence, I missed last year's Christmas party completely by accident. I went to get my hair cut after work, and because I was at a fancy spa, they gave me glasses of white wine all through the dying/washing/cutting process. Two hours later, I was drunk as hell and wandering around downtown, trying to figure out how to get myself to the party venue. I eventually cut my losses and went home.
We occasionally let Morty sleep in our bed. He is crate trained, and doesn't mind staying there at night, but really? Sometimes it's fun having him snuggle my feet while I sleep.
Except for last night. Instead of resuming his usual place at my feet, Morty CLUNG to my face all night. He didn't just sleep on my pillow, he rested his chin on my forehead, kicked me in the eye, and snored into my ear. He would rearrange occasionally so that his bum was pressed against my cheek. Bad things come out of that bum.
I slept terribly.
At any rate, I'm a zombie today and will try to make it through without any mishaps. Part of what will carry me forward is the knowledge that I am attending a bulldog party tonight. I CAN'T WAIT.
In other news: the tree is decorated and the presents are wrapped. I can barely believe it. I figured wrapping the gifts would prohibit my BH from finding his presents while tidying the house. Morty was scared shitless of the wrapping paper and cowered in the hallway as I worked. Milan and Emily stopped by before I had a chance to clean up the carnage of gift wrap, so they had to sit on the floor while I put everything away. Yes, I am a great hostess. In my defence, working at a specialty paper store for three years makes gift wrapping a serious job. You need the right ribbon, the right tape, the right weight of paper, the right gift cards.... Heather, you've got my back on this one, right?
I digress. Basically, when I wrap gifts, things get messy. Thankfully, they brought wine, and I soon forgot about gift wrapping and Christmas all together.
Seems to me I had something intelligent to say here, but my brain is broken.
I'm torn about the possibility of an OC Transpo strike.
I admit that when it comes to striking, I usually assume that the employer is being unreasonable and that the workers are getting screwed. While I see a bit of that in the case of OC Transpo, I mostly find their demands, well, insane. Especially considering the cost of bus fare, and how it keeps going up and up.
So, yeah, torn. Particularly when I think about the long walk into work I'll be making tomorrow. Made longer by construction and detours. And possible freezing rain. At the same time, my bus rides have been sucking anyways, so maybe this will be a fun adventure!*
Next week is my last full week of work before I get my holiday on. I am SO relieved. I could probably spend an entire week alternating between the kitchen and snuggling Morty and that would be just fine with me. Morty has been so cuddly since it got colder... He actually lays his head right over my neck when I am napping and practically purrs while he sleeps. While that makes it hard to breathe, it's also really fracking cute. I'll take cute over breathing comfortably for now.
Hiding my BH's Christmas presents is getting increasingly difficult. This is partly due to the layout of the apartment, but also due to the fact that he usually picks up the mail every day. This includes any mysterious packages that come to the house. Bearing company names. And basic product descriptions. BOOOOO.
Regardless. I will just have to deal, because I'm the one who decided to order everything online. I also have one last gift to grab, and it's from a local shop so there is no danger of package spoilers.
My final thought for the day: It's been a while since I bought myself a bottle of Bailey's, so I decided to indulge last week. Did you know that it's not meant to be consumed by the mugful? Who knew...
I guess I never told you about how we enjoyed our Day At The Spa. Probably because, hello, it's a DAY AT THE SPA and there's very little that can be unpleasant in a day like that.
Sure enough, we both floated out of there. My skin is glowing and my BH smells like peaches (as evidenced by Morty trying to eat his feet whenever possible). And the massages were professional with no S&M involved. It will be a very long time before we can afford to do that again, but it was well worth saving up our gift certificates. Okay, I didn't so much "save up" as I did "lose" my gift certificate, but I found it right on time. DON'T JUDGE.
I'm nearing the end of Christmas shopping, which is great because I have yet to go into an actual store. I'm surprisingly good with Christmas crowds and I am usually patient in lines. But the music? I can't stomach the music. It's usually the worst Christmas shit imaginable and I would much rather be home with my own wee collection of tasteful Christmas tunes. I'm that girl who is cool as a cucumber until someone throws on Mariah Carey wearing a Santa hat and suddenly I start looking for blunt objects.
For the locals: Did you happen to notice the temperature? It's killing me, this cold. I do not pretend to enjoy these winters, but I will say that I am grateful that my rent includes the cost of heat. Even poor Morty has changed his mind about the snow - when the temperature started to plummet, he cut his own walk short and dragged me back home.
Still, while the weather outside is frightful (bwahaha, I am such a cheeseball), I am happy to report that we already have our Christmas tree set up. It's a real tree, and I'm not sure if we'll do it again this way, because it stresses me out a bit knowing that my BH doesn't like having a live (soon to be dead) tree in the house. I think I'll have to invest in a hot pink fake tree and just use fresh wreathes instead. But anyways, the tree is up and it's delightful. The smell alone makes me happy. Morty is scared of it, which shocks no one.
In other news, I am attending a bulldog party this week, featuring bulldogs of all shapes and sizes (mostly of the round and squat variety, though). It's going to be epic.
The bad news is that I did NOT wake up an hour early this morning, even though I set my alarm to go off twice and had the volume turned way up.
The good news is that my morning bus ride was just fine, and I got to work at my regular time despite sleeping in.
The moral of the story is: I really want some apple pie.
A muscle under my right eye has been twitching for the past two or three weeks. I didn't want to mention it because my mouth trauma had hijacked the site. And frankly, even though I may look like a twitchy serial killer, I am too burnt out to go find out why my eye continues to spasm. Perhaps I am twitchy because I am burnt out. Or perhaps I am a serial killer.
More likely to be the burnt out thing.
Do you know what I like? I like it when someone accidentally says "The House has been pierogied" as though our Parliament was just turned into a giant doughy potato dumpling. It sounds so much more delicious than the reality. And the reality just makes me twitchy.
It seems like all the local bloggers are going to Not Your Grandma's Craft Sale. I love craft sales, and I love Ladyfest Ottawa, but I cannot go. This is because I WILL BE AT THE SPA WITH MY BH. Oops, sorry. Didn't mean to yell. I'm just a little bit excited.
My BH's Top Secret Christmas Gift came in the mail last night and I am so incredibly pleased with it. We also get our tree tonight! Jesus, I am the worst Jew ever. I've got Christmas cheer coming out my ass.
Have fun at the craft sale everyone. Hopefully my BH and I will have nice relaxing massages that have nothing to do with Indian S&M parlours.
For those of you following the madness in the House of Commons, I will say this much.
When I saw Mr. Dion speaking last night in a badly-taped segment, sitting directly in front of a book whose spine read "hot air" (did you notice? it was there) I knew the coalition was toast. So as exciting as this past week has been, I can't say that I am very surprised by the Governor General's decision to prorogue the House.
Now we wait and see what happens.
In non-political news:
I have been getting airplay in France, which I didn't really believe until my site traffic started to spike. Yay France! You are delightful!
My BH and I bought these dark chocolate caramel things that are rolled in crunchy salt. You know what sucks? Trying to balance your cravings with the knowledge that you are fighting off an infection in your wisdom tooth. And then dealing with the guilt of choosing the chocolate. Booo.
During that same shopping trip, we set aside a chunk of our budget to buy things for a local women's shelter. Following recommendations from friends, we picked up $35 in shampoo, conditioner, soaps, toothbrushes, cake mix, and yummy granola bars. I can't remember the last time I had that much fun shopping. I think I'll make this a regular thing, even though I'm not exactly rolling in money.
Remember when I said I wasn't going to sing at the staff Christmas party? HAH. When I told my manager, he expressed dismay that he wouldn't be able to join me on stage in a duo. To which I jokingly responded, "Well, if you're singing with me, I'll do it." To which he seriously responded, "Great! Let's pick a song."
Allow me to react within the confines of this blog: NOOOOOOOO!!! I THOUGHT I WAS FREEEEE!!!
Instead I am searching for a suitable duet to sing with my boss. Something telephone or work-themed. I've gotten some good suggestions, but the floor is open to anyone who has an idea. Please keep in mind that I may be slightly intoxicated at this event, so nothing that involves complicated chord progressions would be appreciated.
A lot of buses were detoured this morning, and will be every morning for a long time. I guess that's what happens when an important bridge is found to be structurally unsound. Although I'm a pretty patient person, the thought of waking up an hour earlier to make my way to work makes me want to cry.
That's about all my brain can offer today...
So my dentist says: "Let's get rid of this infection and if it keeps coming back, I'll just remove your remaining three wisdom teeth." Then he smiled pleasantly, like he figured that would be a fun time for everyone involved.
I'm thinking I'll get rid of the infection, thanks. I love my dentist, but I don't want him yanking out three teeth because one of them is giving me trouble. The logic? She does not work.
Morty is on a pooping kick! How lovely! He refused to poo last night before bed, and by this morning he couldn't stand it any more and left a little gift next to my BH's night stand. It was an unpleasant surprise. And Morty looked soooo depressed.
Let's just say that he will be making mandatory pre-bed poos from now on. Aah, life with a puppy.
Yesterday morning I had zero things bought for Christmas. Now I have my BH, my mom, and my sister taken care of. That's not bad. Next up: in-laws, my BH's brother and sister, my Bubbi and my dad. I can manage this. I totally can.
Besides finishing up the gifts, I have a long list of things to do before the big day hits.
- Make dumplings! I know this isn't Christmas related, but I keep meaning to get it done so I'm not tempted to buy lunch.
- Get rip-roaring drunk. (It's just part of my holiday celebrations, okay?)
- Make mulled wine and Mexican egg nog.
- Assemble mincemeat and let it ferment. Consume it. Do it all again.
- Put up the tree! My BH surprised me by hooking us up with a real tree for Christmas. Considering that he's not a fan of real Christmas trees, I am super thrilled and appreciative. Now I just need to find the decorations...
- Watch both Harper's and Dion's statements on TV tonight and laugh and laugh and laugh.
- Go to my office Christmas party and avoid getting dragged on stage to sing. It happens to me every year and I am DONE people. I don't like to be the centre of attention at office functions - I prefer to hide under my desk.
- Buy winter boots and a winter coat. I technically already have both, but they didn't perform well last winter and I got tired of having wet ankles.
Whew. That's a lot of stuff. Best get started with the mulled wine thing.
Dudes, I am embarrassed to admit this, but I'm going to go ahead and say it.
The day my mouth thingy cleared up, my wisdom tooth on the other side of my mouth started coming in. And it's tearing up the gum. And it's.... Infected.
I'm going to see the dentist tomorrow. Not happy. Not happy at all. The Gods are conspiring to make sure I can't sample my own Christmas baking and that I have to gargle salt water eleventy times a day. LAME.
Jo was sweet enough to invite Morty and I over for some clementine consumption last night. Morty walked in her front door, checked Shy Dog's food dish for goodies, and crapped in her hallway. Awkward! He hasn't crapped in someone's house for months and months! But he looked so sad after that I knew he just misjudged the power of his own little bowels. Aw, poor guy.
My BH joined the party after I cleaned up the poo and we all had a grand time. Especially Morty who clearly thinks Shy Dog is foxy. If you catch my drift.
Since I hope to one day chew with both sides of my mouth again, I am planning out some Christmas cooking. So far I'm going to make mincemeat (without the meat, obvs), pie of all kinds, roasted garlic on everything (except the mincemeat, obvs) and braised cabbage. It's exciting! I love food!
Here's hoping the dentist doesn't yank out my tooth. That would seriously impede my holiday weight gain plans.
1. My mouth is better! Apparently it was a pretty normal mouth sore that got crazy infected, hence the pain and problems swallowing. My doctor said it would be gone within a few days and sure enough, it's gone. YAY! I was expecting something much worse than that.*
2. All this coalition talk is boggling my mind. I think I like it. Even if this whole plan faceplants, it's fun to see history happen. Nobody knows what the shit is going to happen, and that's oddly entertaining to me.
3. I cut off all my hair and dyed half my head brown, half my head platinum. Took me three minutes to do it up this morning. Most excellent.
4. Christmas is coming really, really fast. I was putting off present-buying until the next paycheque, but I think that would put me in dangerous territory. I'll have to get on that. Like, today.
5. My laptop is back from the dead. The virus had destroyed part of the registry, so it was wiped and Windows was re-installed. Startup time yesterday was 20 seconds, versus 30 minutes last week. God, I missed my laptop.
My weekend was supposed to be productive and exciting and instead I fell asleep on the couch. FOR HOURS AND HOURS. Nothing got done. This includes packing a proper lunch today, so I am going to be eating two giant carrots and four boiled beets.
*BY THE WAY. When rinsing with salt, I figured I would go big or go home. As in, I put in so much salt that the water nearly turned to paste. Upon hearing this, my doctor said, "Ummm, you only need a half a teaspoon per cup, not a quarter cup per cup. All that salt may have actually irritated it further." Whoops. Live and learn.