Thursday, October 30, 2008

Dear Techno Boy

The next time you hear yourself saying "It's just not that tricky.", perhaps you should stop a moment and consider your audience.

I am happy to report that I have changed the ink cartridges in the printer, and it did not take me any more than half an hour, and most of that time was spent figuring out where in the printer the ink went. I considered laying the ink cartridge beside the printer, muttering an incantation and taking the dog for a walk, just in case THAT would work. Also if you google "where do you put the ink", Google is most unhelpful, directing you to error messages only people like ...well, you, TechnoBoy, ..could understand. Apparently there is no-one else on earth who needs to know where to open the printer so that the ink cartridges are in view.

Also, based on what's on my hands, I am not sure why the cartridges needing changing in the first place.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Guest post by The Dog

How To Make Your Owner Crazy

1. refuse to eat for days

2. beg at the table when your food dish is full

3. empty your food dish when no-one is looking

4. wait until evening

5. wait until your owner is flinging bits of paper around and reading blogs. (your owner may refer to this as "writing")

6. Start to whine.

7. Refuse to go out when the offer is made.

8. Wait until your owner sits down again.

9. Whine some more.

10. Roll over to have your belly scratched when your owner stands up to see what you want.

11 thru 60. Repeat 9 and 10.

61. Gaze hopefully at your food dish.

62. Gaze pointedly at the fridge once your dish is full. (If you leave out this step, you will not get the beef gravy. Do NOT cave to the "no gravy" attempts.)

63. Lick the gravy off one piece of your food, and follow your owner upstairs.

64. Whine.

65 thru 700. Whine.

701. Follow your owner downstairs as she carries her laptop and her bits of paper and her external mouse to the kitchen table.

702. Sniff at the gravy. (It is just PUSHING IT to whine if the gravy is cold. You have the gravy - eat already.)

703. Belch.

704. Beg to go outside.

705. Bark your head off until the neighbour's porch light goes on.

706. Bounce happily inside and run upstairs to your bed, where you should have been all this time.

707. Wag your tail in delight when your owner relocates yet again.

708. Sweet dreams.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Go away, I'm writing

No seriously, I am, it's just that I was lying on the floor a minute ago looking for the original scribbled draft of a poem that Im sure was much better before I started messing with it, and the dog woke up and rolled over so I could rub her belly and I had one of those moments when you know that this moment, whatever came before or comes after, this particular moment, steeped in words and warm puppy - this moment is perfect.

ETA: must clarify re lying on floor. No, the floor of my "office" (a section of our bedroom) is not littered with a drift of rough drafts. There's a bookcase holding a great collection of half-filled journals. The journal I was sure it was in (I was wrong) was on the bottom shelf.

Drugs are bad for you

So last night, I tossed a handfull of pills (estrogen, progesterone, vitamin, fish oil, glucosamine) into my mouth and swallowed. Most of them.

One of them got stuck in my trachea, which I managed to dislodge after coughing up half a lung. (very messy putting that back. I don't suggest you try it) Still couldn't find the durn thing, though, but I had this irresistable urge to blow my nose. Which didn't go away, no matter how many times I did just that. I finally inhaled through my nose and the offending pill plopped into the back of my throat.

I spit it out. (I knew where it had been) Imagine my surprise when I saw that it was NOT the teeny tiny progesterone pill that I keep losing - it was the estrogen. The big round estrogen that looks for all the world like a plump white pea.

Just say NO, kids.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Clearly, I need help

A little while ago, I dreamt that my purse was stolen.

My first reaction?

"Hey, I get to buy a new purse! AND a new wallet!"

Man it was disappointing to wake up that morning.

Thursday, October 09, 2008


A moth just landed on my window. In broad daylight. Why is it trying to get into my house? I thought they were supposed to be seeking light?

We could be pals, though. We're both confused.

A day in the life ...

8 am: She actually WANTS to take the bus today - woo hoo!

8:25 am: There goes that idea.

8:26 am: Is that his retainer on the kitchen table?

9:15: Shoot, I forgot to buy coffee while I was out. There's no milk anyway.

10:00 am: Phone rings. Apparently we missed A's contact lens follow-up appointment (contacts are for sports only). Kinda makes a person wish she'd mentionned she had one.

10:30 am: I need to call the piano teacher and tell her we won't make it today. I am scared of her.

10:31 am: I love answering machines, and I love piano teachers with answering machines even MORE.

11:00 am: Bath.

11:30 am: Phone rings, interrupting bath nap.

11:45 am: Doorbell. I consider quickly painting chicken pox on my face so whoever it is won't think I'm still not dressed at this time of day, but the truth is, I am still not dressed. I fling on my (tidy, clean, quite nice looking) housecoat. It's birthday presents for my children. I love it that there are other people in the world who send things out in batches.

There's more, but you're all jealous enough already. Besides, B and his buddy will be home in less than half an hour and I have to hide the bottles* in the recycling bin and lay some clothes out on the bed so I can get dressed** the second I hear them at the door.

*Diet Coke - what did you think?
** I know, I know, TMI. Some day I'll get a book published and someone will interview me and ask "so do you really write naked?" and I will have to think up a witty answer. That's it. Today is absolutely the last reference I will make on this blog about what I am or am not wearing. Except - man, I hate clothes

Saturday, October 04, 2008

I had no idea

Right around this time of day, 2:40 in the afternoon, thirteen years ago to the date, I was obsessively watching the clock and wondering if it could possibly be moving backwards. Z had phoned me a few hours before, saying she was right ready for the epidural now, thank you very much, but the nurses were saying she wasn't in enough pain yet. She was re-thinking her "I don't need to know about labour breathing, I'm getting the freezing" approach with the public health nurse.

The next phone call wouldn't come until midnight that night, and it wouldn't be from an exhausted Z, but from her labour coach, who would tell us "It's a girl!! And she has small hands and big feet and lots of curly hair!"

And sure enough, 13 years later, she has feet larger than mine, and lots of curly hair, and this morning we had breakfast together, and I had the privilege of painting the nails on those slender delicate hands. The Christmas letter I wrote when she was a few months old contained the line "She is light and strong and vibrant, and I just look at her and think 'exceeding abundantly beyond all that you ask or think.' "

And I still do.

Happy birthday, bright-eyed beauty.

Friday, October 03, 2008

Friday Five

1. Something I'm Learning: You can't "walk off" sciatica.

2. Something I'm Learning SLOWLY: It's okay to not be okay.

3. Something I'm sure there is a solution to that doesn't involve babbling your head off at every stranger who happens past : there is a huge adjustment for an extrovert who decides to stay home full time when there are no babies to babble at.

4. What we're having for supper: Pork chunks and raw potatoes. I'm such a domestic goddess.

5. Seriously, how hard IS it to buy pork chops? Why do I keep failing at it, and come home with large chunks of pork several inches thick instead? Can I not read? Can I not judge the thickness of the raw meat for myself?*

*actually I tried that, but then I poked a hole in the shrink wrap and felt obligated to buy the large chunks of pork anyway. I'm sure people who cook (ie mostly everyone but me) would know what to do with this. I'm sure my family will eat it and not complain because I'm a bit fragile these days (see Point #3), given to weeping over the smallest things.

Now that you all feel better about whatever YOU cooked for supper - bye.