Tuesday, March 31, 2009

As the stomach turns

Today is the last day of my contract. Various people here have agreed that it seems like a good idea to hire me. The only thing missing is that nobody's done it.

I asked if I should come in tomorrow. The answer is yes.

Guess we take it one day at a time now. I feel like George Constanza. I'll just keep coming in til they bar the doors.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

The joys of being Homer

I've been taking Cipralex now for close to a year, and this afternoon on a long sloppy walk after a big rain, I toted up all the benefits and changes I've noticed.

I'm definitely less hyped about certain things, although things that normally bother me still bother me; the difference is that I'm not seared by them.

An example: last night I screwed up Earth Hour. Got the time wrong, thought it started at 8:00 (which would make more sense; I mean really). Not a big deal, even though I rolled my eyes at myself for criticizing the Rio Can folks for not turning off their stupid bright light until 8:25. I could contrast it with how I felt a year ago on Earth Hour. The big difference? I mostly remember the intensity of it all. Having to turn off everything in the whole place that sucked up energy and making sure it all went off as quickly as possible, since I knew Hydro was recording the demand drop.

(Both years, mind you, keeping it so dark has freaked out Charlie, proving the apple doesn't fall too far from the anxiety tree.)

But I now haven't had a "problem" with working fulltime since getting up to speed on this drug, and that's good. Of course, I also think the cognitive behavioural therapy was invaluable (even tho it cost a LOT).

I do still sometimes get unglued, like I was after I found out my dad had spent a night in hospital. And I think it's fine. It wouldn't be normal to not react. And I'm not mortally petrified of shedding tears in public because I know I can explain them away if I need to (again, thanks to CBT).

Other Cipralex differences: I've become Homer S*mpson.

I'm hungry almost all the time. I eat a lot more. Of everything. I've gained weight. I sleep easily and I sleep waaaay more. I can fall asleep after waking in the night. I have a cotton mouth about 80% of the time, which means I drink a lot more water. I no longer need BeneF*bre.

I belch like a 12-year-old boy about 50 times a day. Before last year, I don't think I'd belched since I was 6 months old.

And sometimes I crave the smell of cigarette smoke For example, I dreamt last night I was walking through an old-fashioned cocktail lounge, sorta like the one in Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (the movie) and I could see these beautiful patterns of cigarette smoke rising from each table, and I practically swooned (in my sleep) over the scent of all that lovely smoke. As an aside, has anybody been to a pub lately, since they've gone smoke free? P.U.!!! Old beer smells so gross without the scent of old smoke to temper it.

I'm also less paralyzed. How to explain? Um. I think I've always been somewhat agoraphobic, to varying degrees at varying times. Now I just find it easier to get up and go, whether it's on the weekend, or in the morning before work. It's not like it's nothing. It's just easier.

I also don't have so many disaster scenarios playing in my head. I still get them, but not as often and not as horrific and I don't end up sitting in the dark in my son's room as he sleeps, weeping over an imagined tragedy. At least not as often; in fact, hardly ever.

All told, even with the cotton mouth and the extra weight? Having a brain on drugs is worth it.

Adventures with Charlie

Saturday morning broke, and Charlie and I were already in a rush. We had a birthday party to get to for 9:30 all the way across town, a potentially hour-long trip. We managed to get dressed, partially fed, pop the present into a Nemo gift bag - chosen from our stash by Charlie - make a card, and with the help of my hub, get to the subway in good time. We got to the party right on time, making us the first guests to arrive.

Unlike the gathering Charlie and I went to last weekend, which was frightening in the amount of screaming and violence, this party was lovely and mellow. The other parents there were calm and friendly and seemed interested in the welfare of the kids, the birthday boy didn't try to annihilate anyone and was in fact smiley and adorable, and the cake - a Nemo cake served on a Nemo tablecloth - was just delicious.

The two hours zipped by and Charlie and I soon found ourselves outside blinking in the glorious sunshine. He wanted to check out his lootbag, so we sat down on the grass in a nearby cemetary. Bonus: sunglasses! We wandered around the cemetary for the next half an hour, with Charlie trying to find names of kids he knew on the tombstones. Easy, since so many of them have last-name-type first names. I do sorta find playing in a cemetary a bit sad and weird, but it wasn't bothering Charlie to race between all the "goner people" (as he called them), and who wouldn't want a joyful and energetic kid running over their grave decades after they're gone?

Next, we got back on the subway. Lots of empty seats on a Saturday. Charlie asked me, "can we go wherever we want?" We weren't on any kind of a deadline. I said sure!

Two and a half hours later, we'd gone from Etobicoke to the very end of the Scarborough LRT, we'd switched lines something like five times, and we'd encountered pretty much the whole world on our various train cars. An older fellow studying a plastic-coated city map asked us for directions to an intersection (fortunately) I know well. Charlie got smiled at,, at least two people asked him how old he was. He both times responded with "I don't want to tell you". (Go kid!)

At several points when I was in the mood for noticing, we were the only whities and blonds on the whole car. At other points, we were actually the only people on the car. In the last leg of our journey, a young cool-looking dude travelling with his girlfriend gave up his seat so I could sit beside Charlie. Charlie proceeded to entertain the two of then with a no-holds-barred silent jazz vocal performance, with lots of extremely enthusiastic facial expressions that had them laughing.

We ended the trip at a coffee shop; my hub met us there, where we had lunch and then we went to the park.

Life doesn't get any better than this, folks.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Wending my way in

There are some mornings, like today, I just love wending my way in to the office.

It helped that I had a good start. Once I woke up, I noticed that my cold was better. It was sunny. I got a seat on the bus, which stopped for me between stops. I got a seat on the subway, which made it very comfortable to read my book, which I'm totally enjoying: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (Never read it before - weird, eh? But it's perfect subway reading).

I sometimes get a kick out of the whole citiness of my trip to work, stopping in at the Chinese bakery to get a perfect vanilla hazelnut coffee, watching the shops open, seeing what the fashionable are wearing.

That's all. Sometimes stuff like that just makes me happy to be wear I am.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Update

I just found out I WILL get paid for my sick day yesterday. That's better.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Food for thought

I just had the funnest dream. I'm home today, with a messy horrible achy cold-cold (in that I'm freezing cold) and I've slept til now, which is almost 1pm.

Here's what happened. As we were getting ready to go out to dinner with family we happened upon a consignment shop, in the house we were in (it was a dream, eh), which was really big and newish and rambling.

I got to try on a whole bunch of funky, pretty old jewellery, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, brooches, all different, none matching, but all so pretty and cool.

Then someone brought over a dress. I don't typically wear dresses that often (currently I do not own one other than my wedding dress), but this one was like a 60's empire-style, made up of maybe six different coloured fabrics sewn together to form a rather Mondrianesqe pattern, but with more subdued colours, like earthy mossy brown, mossy green, and pale blue (in a crinkly shinier fabric). There were an underskirt with the same Mondrian pattern and colours, but printed on the fabric.

Also, I tried on some cool blouses, which were oldies made over with velvet ribbon, old cameos, some beading. Gorgeous. And one or two of them even fit me.

It was so much fun, and makes me think it's time for a little trip to a second hand shop. Although it's funny because this isn't stuff I'd normally wear, even though it's all stuff I like and admire. My standard uniform for, let's say, work, is a red jersey knit shirt, black jacket and gray pants. Plain stuff, no patterns. This dream is maybe food for thought.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

My favourite colour

is the colour of the sky this past weekend. See what I mean?
We went up north to visit my in-laws, and we just happened to land on one of the most glorious weekends of the past decade, I wager.

The ice on the lake was frozen, with no snow on it. Both my hub and I can only remember one other winter in the last 30-odd years where this has happened. The sun was ridiculously bright and the sky was totally clear. And Friday night as we were driving up, I could see that the sky was just crammed with those billions and billions of stars we can never see down here in the Big Smoke.

There were ice fishermen out there on Saturday, so Charlie and I slid off in the afternoon to say hello to them, and Charlie got his first gander at some cold, dead fish.

Next afternoon the three of us went out again. We marvelled at how beautiful it all was. We also measured the ice: about two feet thick.

We strolled down to the little island on the point and checked out the ice caves. Pretty cool, eh?
Best thing? My father-in-law seems to be making progress recovering from his heart surgery.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Happiness is...

... working with nice people.

I wrote a little thing, which a client liked and said so in an email. All the project managers here who deal with that client were very quick to give me credit. They forwarded the client's nice email to my boss. Who then forwarded it to her boss.

Isn't that nice?


In other (totally unrelated) news: There's a thingie in the Globe about "comic studies" being taught in universities. If the wondrous Comics Curmudgeon doesn't know about this yet, he should. Hey Josh, maybe you'll get on the curriculum!

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Two more weird things...

..about me.

1. Every morning I select the item of clothing to wear that's farthest to the left of my closet because I hate having to make these kinds of decisions.

2. I have seen a ghost (but on fbook Marla noted some information that might explain it; although for me it only happened in one room in one apartment and hasn't happened since. Check it out: Sleep Paralysis and Associated Hypnagogic and Hypnopompic Experiences (http://watarts.uwaterloo.ca/~acheyne/S_P.html).


In other news: Charlie has been sitting patiently on my lap as I write, and now he wants to type a really really long word (again inspired by the longest words in the English language. Take it away, Charlie!
furigrugirguryguiuhrgurrhgiufhgiurvgngrhgirturigfuirgfryifyafrigfrguurghviijffawp
ofdadadadadaadsuuvgdfuvgsbysg fycvsxgdvyxygdvy xgdvgfhdgvyfdfhyvdggfhgggydsgfusdycghudfsnvudihtivfdyv7ugfbudgodugo9v8t9o8yt98y9
etyuireotguibfghibfmfbmvgnbchbfudjndhidgu uiuiugofuououghdoguhoduuhodghodghodghoudhbuouhgfougohugoughougbhdf ggguhoghuhoguhhougohufohfohjogfujhogjnhogmjiojgjmoifmjhiogmjiojfhoyjyhi jdrojhgodghjfojoghjfojhofdjhiofdjhiofjhojfp igjo itis hgidughosguosuhgohgosuhgsoufhgof
hgofuhgohfoguhofuhgohdfoghfohgofuhgohgoudhgfohouhofduhdohfgsohhnvfdiubiudhthnbnutuithvhgeothgnvehturiovghrteoiuhnetvghneiuvyhieortunhyvrt9ieuhgvioetrhgvierhgirhnvioehrgviotuevtviughiurhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiturigbehhhhitrbhtin5hv4itu4nhvti3uvt3uiwtvnu3tvitvnuvtu3wtvu3thiu5ynwutyutut5uutuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuthtyht9gyn9trgynte9gny9edngt8rennd8rtmud8g8htnydgv8rehgv8e4nvt8eunfh8eurv8thr8vgtehrvt8geryntv8ern8vgtye87gybrt8vtyr8vgybe8w7vtyw8rvtyw7vyr8ufvirghtiurehvuwievntwiufnbvvbdiusgiuhguibvghiurehvgiruhbtviuehigubrbuigvhbeihgvueguiehihvuhsiuhugvsihvgisehvitugsvheriutvherutvhbrieutvbrhtviurhtviruehbiuhigeuhnuvhuithnvituhvngitrehvgiuthvignuhiunrigvunhrithgnvirgtithiduhnvnutrihnviutrhiunvhgiurtnvheiugvnheirugvnehiveunrhiunrivhgriehvieuignrhueigvhervbghsiuhrviughbvibghubviuegbhreviuthuithihguivhiuhtiuvhvbhtiuhevbhguietheyivtwtywvbytireytvrebvwgivgbibgvytbvwygveiyrevbrvgeirgyvetvbrtvertivbresgvrisvgrsyvritvgrytivrytiyyruyewivybtyewugtvitbeyfvcifcygibwgcrfyv bibvbiygfiyvbigvibgviysbgtvyushgyuyygufurigrugirguryguiuhrgurrhgiufhgiurvgngrhgirturigfuirgfryifyafrigfrguurghviijffawp
ofdadadadadaadsuuvgdfuvgsbysg fycvsxgdvyxygdvy xgdvgfhdgvyfdfhyvdggfhgggydsgfusdycghudfsnvudihtivfdyv7ugfbudgodugo9v8t9o8yt98y9
etyuireotguibfghibfmfbmvgnbchbfudjndhidgu uiuiugofuououghdoguhoduuhodghodghodghoudhbuouhgfougohugoughougbhdf ggguhoghuhoguhhougohufohfohjogfujhogjnhogmjiojgjmoifmjhiogmjiojfhoyjyhi jdrojhgodghjfojoghjfojhofdjhiofdjhiofjhojfp igjo itis jvkafjhgifhgbisahgifasjgisjbvibdsgoisfgoajfgoafjoajdfojndsvojnvgosdngosdjngvosvj
ngosjngvjosjndvofsjnvobfjsnobgsdfngbosgjbnsobjvnsojfbnongodsjngodnfgosjnfgovofhgodruv gdrgvrgvnrogjoddrtjhvbordvbogdfmniobmgdombdofbjhifhgidughosguosuhgohgosuhgsoufhgof
hgofuhgohfoguhofuhgohdfoghfohgofuhgohgoudhgfohouhofduhdohfgsohhnvfdiubiudhthnbnutuithvhgeothgnvehturiovghrteoiuhnetvghneiuvyhieortunhyvrt9ieuhgvioetrhgvierhgirhnvioehrgviotuevtviughiurhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiturigbehhhhitrbhtin5hv4itu4nhvti3uvt3uiwtvnu3tvitvnuvtu3wtvu3thiu5ynwutyutut5uutuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuthtyht9gyn9trgynte9gny9edngt8rennd8rtmud8g8htnydgv8rehgv8e4nvt8eunfh8eurv8thr8vgtehrvt8geryntv8ern8vgtye87gybrt8vtyr8vgybe8w7vtyw8rvtyw7vyr8ufvirghtiurehvuwievntwiufnbvvbdiusgiuhguibvghiurehvgiruhbtviuehigubrbuigvhbeihgvueguiehihvuhsiuhugvsihvgisehvitugsvheriutvherutvhbrieutvbrhtviurhtviruehbiuhigeuhnuvhuithnvituhvngitrehvgiuthvignuhiunrigvunhrithgnvirgtithiduhnvnutrihnviutrhiunvhgiurtnvheiugvnheirugvnehiveunrhiunrivhgriehvieuignrhueigvhervbghsiuhrviughbvibghubviuegbhreviuthuithihguivhiuhtiuvhvbhtiuhevbhguietheyivtwtywvbytireytvrebvwgivgbibgvytbvwygveiyrevbrvgeirgyvetvbrtvertivbresgvrisvgrsyvritvgrytivrytiyyruyewivybtyewugtvitbeyfvcifcygibwgcrfyv bibvbiygfiyvbigvibgviysbgtvyushgyuyygufurigrugirguryguiuhrgurrhgiufhgiurvgngrhgirturigfuirgfryifyafrigfrguurghviijffawp
ofdadadadadaadsuuvgdfuvgsbysg fycvsxgdvyxygdvy xgdvgfhdgvyfdfhyvdggfhgggydsgfusdycghudfsnvudihtivfdyv7ugfbudgodugo9v8t9o8yt98y9
etyuireotguibfghibfmfbmvgnbchbfudjndhidgu uiuiugofuououghdoguhoduuhodghodghodghoudhbuouhgfougohugoughougbhdf ggguhoghuhoguhhougohufohfohjogfujhogjnhogmjiojgjmoifmjhiogmjiojfhoyjyhi jdrojhgodghjfojoghjfojhofdjhiofdjhiofjhojfp igjo itis jvkafjhgifhgbisahgifasjgisjbvibdsgoisfgoajfgoafjoajdfojndsvojnvgosdngosdjngvosvj

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Goodness

Last night, my friend Deb the Good Deed A Day blogger was on Global News at 6! 

A reporter contacted her yesterday after reading one of her recent posts of her good deeds cleaning up in her neighbourhood. The story was about local citizens helping to take care of our city by cleaning up - there's a ton of litter on the streets now that the snow's gone. They arranged to meet her in her neighbourhood park, and the three of them - Deb, the reporter, and the cameraman picked up trash - and she got on TV! As did her lovely blog.

She was chosen and featured for being who she is: a person of goodness.

You can still see the clip by first clicking here, then click on "Top Stories", then scroll down the list to "Littered Streets". Her segment starts at roughly the 59 second mark.

In other news: My dad passed his cardiopulmonary stress test. His heart is just fine.


Worry worry worry

Just called my folks, who are several thousands miles away on holiday. My dad answered the phone sounding groggy, then handed the phone to my mom. They slept in, she said. Dad spent Monday night in the hospital with chest pains.

[Sound of alarms going off in my head.]

But they don't think he had a heart attack. They're not sure but they think maybe he had an anxiety attack [WHAT???? NO!!!]. But he's going back in today to run on the treadmill and have some more tests.

She went on to tell me about the birthday gift they bought my brother, what the weather's like out there right now, and some other stuff I didn't hear because of the alarm bells going off in my head. But she's okay, he's okay they think so far, and they're so glad I'm coming out to visit for Easter.

I called my husband and, BOOM! my stress meter exploded and crashed to the ground all around my desk, fortunately with the accompaniment of his calm reasonable reassuring sympathetic tone telling me they wouldn't have released my dad from hospital if he'd had heart attack. I got off the phone and continued my meltdown here at my desk. A colleague who is also a good friend came by with some work, saw my distresses and in her calm, reassuring way, asked me a bunch of questions about my dad and I calmed down.

Now, ten minutes later, I can be relieved my dad's not had a heart attack, alarmed he's had such a serious anxiety attack, and very very glad that I have such support all around me.

But I can't have anything happen to my dad, eh. Can't.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

The paths to my door

While I wait for Man and Boy to come home from the grocery store, let's check out my blog stats. Ah, let's see. The usual faithful five readers, and -- ta-daaaah! Here come the g00g1e searches that led to weirdinedgewise this week.

Some not surprising:
- weird nun's habits
- I think of weird things when I'm high
- we liked it that way
- plymouth sundance won't pass emissions
- how to not be a weirdo

And others, also not too surprising, but god help me...
- did prep for colonoscopy middle of night a little brown

Oh dear.

Last but not least, check this out:









Someone did this. How cool is that?

Friday, March 6, 2009

My best friend from the old, old days

turns 45 today. I haven't seen her since I was six, because that's when we moved away. But she was my very first friend and even though I do remember having some rather intense arguments with her, I couldn't possibly ever forget her. I even remember that today is her birthday (I'm pretty sure, anyway).

She lived across the street and she was the youngest of nine kids, which was extremely interesting to me because at that time I only had one brother (I did get another one a year or two later). One of her sisters babysat us sometimes (she was very cool and nice), she had a brother about a year older than me, a slightly older one who also hung around (the rest I didn't really get to know) and they had a huge sandpit with a tunnel in the back yard, which I of course wasn't allowed to go in. I did though. The sand was super-fine and golden, possibly because our street wasn't too too far from a great big lake.

I tell Charlie stories about her and her family. Her life experiences, like those of my other neighbourhood friends, taught me lessons about how the world was, which was not always a nice safe place. She had a fairly prominent burn on her arm from playing with matches (that's how the story went as I remember). I also remember her house always smelling like baking, and I remember sitting on the floor of her living room with various other family members watching Petticoat Junction. And one time, we went into the kitchen and her mom was making cupcakes with smarties in the icing (OMG!).

I heard that some time after we moved, she and her family moved to Australia (could that be any more far away?).

I've never been able to track her down but I sure would like to see her again someday.

Happy Birthday, Jane!

PS: Isn't google maps great? I can even see that our old house is not only still standing (no monster-home replacement) and has a pool where the cherry tree used to be.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

That sinking feeling

Ugh. I think I've just sunk my own battleship here. I recommended someone to fill an upcoming vacancy here. Someone with more experience. See where I'm going?

Ugh. And I won't even get the employee referral bonus. Because, well, I ain't a full-time employee.

Ugh. It's hard to get the gunpowder off one's shoe.

Ugh.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Hey, cool. And then something weird.

Go to Google (just today), then open Acrobat.
The Grinch looks over the Adobe guy's shoulder!

In other news, an observation: It's so strange how when you have a family member in hospital with something major, people tell you their own hospital stories, which invariably end with the death of their family member. Which isn't a story I want to hear.

I sure hope I don't do that; in future, I will be mindful.