It looks like my mom and the man I've called "dad" since I was in grade school might be splitting up.
I'm feeling... upset. And shocked. Sad, confused, and numb. And about a dozen other things all at once.
The first question my friends have all asked me was: did I see it coming?
No, I did not see it coming. It's the last thing I was expecting. It seems to have happened out of the clear blue sky.
The funny thing is, years went by, when I was a kid, when I expected them to split up at any moment. Hoped they would, even, just to get it over with and have some peace in the house. But now? After they finally survived all the years of endless conflict and they're in the home stretch leading to their elder years? Why suddenly throw it all away? Things had finally calmed down and the affection in the house seemed to outweigh the irritation.
So far I've only heard my mom's side of the story. I don't want to start making judgements about the situation until I've heard my step-dad's side too.
In the meantime, as it slowly sinks in, I'm feeling pretty stressed out. I won't even know for sure what's going to happen for at least another week, it seems. They have not finalized their decision, yet. So we hang in limbo, not knowing.
I've been having nightmares. Last night King Kong was coming to get me. The night before that, Angry Walrus Dad from American Chopper was yelling at me.
I know I'm having a strong reaction because food is starting to be a problem. Eating is still OK (I have to be pretty far gone before that's an issue), but I'm already finding that my brain freezes up in the kitchen when I'm supposed to be doing something as simple as preparing steamed broccoli. It's very inconvenient.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Virtual Money
Firstly, a note to all of you who were smitten by Spoon Guy. He has relatives available for adoption! They are officially called Tater Pots. If you simply must have one, click here.
Alright. On to today's topic.
Today I am musing about banks. I try not to think too hard about what it really means to keep my money in a bank, because it makes me nervous. I don't like that all I have to show for my life's savings is some numbers on slips of paper. If it wasn't completely inconvenient, I would convert all my savings into gold and keep it stuffed in my mattress.
The first time I encountered the fallibility of banks was when I was 12. I had an account with a trust company that had been slowly filling up with birthday cheques from relatives. I was well on my way to saving for university, when the trust company went bankrupt. The trust company was not covered by the Canadian Government's deposit insurance plan. Luckily some other company came in and bought all their assets, so I didn't lose my dough, but... I lost some of my trust in financial institutions.
The second time I ran into trouble with a bank involved a GIC. A banking representative had sold me the investment. I had sat in her office, explaining to her that I might need the money back again for a down payment on a house, but I wasn't sure how soon. She told me that this wasn't a problem - if necessary I could get my money out without a penalty.
Around 1.5 years later, I wanted my down payment money before the investment matured. I went back to the bank. I spoke the very same banking representative who had sold me the GIC. When I said that I was ready to withdraw the funds, she frowned and told me off. She was all "Well, you signed the contract, and you should have read the small print. No, you can't have the money unless you're willing to pay $X [insert giant penalty fee here]. Too bad, so sad."
Of course I didn't let that be the end of it. I stood my ground and fought her until she got her manager, who let me have my money and apologized profusely. But still. It shouldn't have come to that. I was shocked that she would have first sat there and lied to my face about the contract, and then gotten all pissy with me when I wanted my money. Unbelievable!
At least that bank has branches, so I can show up in person and yell if I need to. I am even more nervous about my account with ING, the branchless bank. They have that high-interest savings account that I can't resist, but I always feel like I'm sending my money into an unstable wormhole to another dimension. It could collapse at any time and then I'd be truly S.O.L. I've never had any trouble with ING... yet.
Excuse me now, I'm going to go pull some twenties out of my wallet and rub them until I feel better.
Alright. On to today's topic.
Today I am musing about banks. I try not to think too hard about what it really means to keep my money in a bank, because it makes me nervous. I don't like that all I have to show for my life's savings is some numbers on slips of paper. If it wasn't completely inconvenient, I would convert all my savings into gold and keep it stuffed in my mattress.
The first time I encountered the fallibility of banks was when I was 12. I had an account with a trust company that had been slowly filling up with birthday cheques from relatives. I was well on my way to saving for university, when the trust company went bankrupt. The trust company was not covered by the Canadian Government's deposit insurance plan. Luckily some other company came in and bought all their assets, so I didn't lose my dough, but... I lost some of my trust in financial institutions.
The second time I ran into trouble with a bank involved a GIC. A banking representative had sold me the investment. I had sat in her office, explaining to her that I might need the money back again for a down payment on a house, but I wasn't sure how soon. She told me that this wasn't a problem - if necessary I could get my money out without a penalty.
Around 1.5 years later, I wanted my down payment money before the investment matured. I went back to the bank. I spoke the very same banking representative who had sold me the GIC. When I said that I was ready to withdraw the funds, she frowned and told me off. She was all "Well, you signed the contract, and you should have read the small print. No, you can't have the money unless you're willing to pay $X [insert giant penalty fee here]. Too bad, so sad."
Of course I didn't let that be the end of it. I stood my ground and fought her until she got her manager, who let me have my money and apologized profusely. But still. It shouldn't have come to that. I was shocked that she would have first sat there and lied to my face about the contract, and then gotten all pissy with me when I wanted my money. Unbelievable!
At least that bank has branches, so I can show up in person and yell if I need to. I am even more nervous about my account with ING, the branchless bank. They have that high-interest savings account that I can't resist, but I always feel like I'm sending my money into an unstable wormhole to another dimension. It could collapse at any time and then I'd be truly S.O.L. I've never had any trouble with ING... yet.
Excuse me now, I'm going to go pull some twenties out of my wallet and rub them until I feel better.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
A Few of my Favourite Things
When the dogs bite,
When the bees sting,
When I'm feeeeeeling baaaaaad,
I simply remember my favourite things,
and then I don't feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel
so saaaaaaaaaad!
Spoon Guy is always in a good mood.
My plants. The Azalea is blooming!
My grandmother knitted this afghan that perfectly matches my living room. It's super-cozy.
The Neurofuzzy rice cooker sings Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star when you start the cook cycle. When the rice is ready, it plays some other song, which I like to call the Triumphant Rice-Is-Ready Anthem. Even if it didn't sing to me, how could I fail to love an appliance called "Neurofuzzy"?
Raggedy Ann was handmade for me when I was born, and was my constant companion throughout my childhood. She's wearing a dress that I used to wear. She's threadbare, half her hair has fallen out, she's yellowed, and she had a double foot replacement when I was in grade school, but she's still my favourite of favourites.
When the bees sting,
When I'm feeeeeeling baaaaaad,
I simply remember my favourite things,
and then I don't feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel
so saaaaaaaaaad!
Spoon Guy is always in a good mood.
My plants. The Azalea is blooming!
My grandmother knitted this afghan that perfectly matches my living room. It's super-cozy.
The Neurofuzzy rice cooker sings Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star when you start the cook cycle. When the rice is ready, it plays some other song, which I like to call the Triumphant Rice-Is-Ready Anthem. Even if it didn't sing to me, how could I fail to love an appliance called "Neurofuzzy"?
Raggedy Ann was handmade for me when I was born, and was my constant companion throughout my childhood. She's wearing a dress that I used to wear. She's threadbare, half her hair has fallen out, she's yellowed, and she had a double foot replacement when I was in grade school, but she's still my favourite of favourites.
Friday, January 4, 2008
'Fessing Up
I'm learning some stuff about myself through this blog. For example, I was never previously aware of how obsessed I am with weird food and bizarre diets. So far I’ve only posted a few times on the subject, but you should see the notebook where I brainstorm blog ideas. It contains scrawlings like “The Meatball Story”, “The Tomato Story”, and “The Durian”. I’ll try to space them out. I don’t want this blog to turn into a Food Gross-Out Marathon.
My obsession probably resulted from my four years working in the health food industry. I may mock the Health Foodies, but deep down inside, I am one.
I take supplements almost every day. I used to be crazy with the supplements. I took fistfuls of pills with every meal. But some of those pills are a) tough to digest and b) pretty darn pricey. Once I stopped being able to steal them from the stockroom - I mean purchase them legitimately from my employer using my staff discount – I went through my stash and streamlined it.
I do feel that the supplements I take keep me healthy and youthful. I hardly ever catch cold or flu. (See how I just jinxed myself? Watch me get sick next week.) And as recently as this past summer, people have assumed that I’m in my early 20’s. I am 35.
So if you’re interested, this is what I take every day:
Greens Plus: This is one of those green “superfoods” chock full of powdered wheatgrass, algae, cleansing herbs, bee pollen, and tons more. Most of these products come in a powdered form which you mix with water or juice and drink in the morning. They taste like dried, pulverized lawnmower clippings. I pay a little more to get capsules, so taste isn’t an issue. I also take a third of the recommended dose which is quite sufficient, unless you prefer to poop twelve times a day.
Fish Body Oil: I drink a spoonful of the stuff every morning after my oatmeal. It’s not as bad as it sounds. Honest!
Multivitamin: I take one that comes in a capsule. Capsules are easier to digest than tablets, and always preferable. Apparently there are many vitamins with pretty, candy-coloured shellac coatings that are almost impossible to digest. I have heard tales of septic systems backing up due to filters clogged with almost-whole vitamin tablets. Considering how much the suckers cost, I want to make sure I’m actually absorbing them!
Vitamin D (I only take this one during the gloom of winter.): Excellent for bones, skin, and keeping Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) under control. The latest recommendation is 1,000 i.u. per day. I *heart* Vitamin D.
The minerals: Zinc for the immune system, Calcium with Magnesium so I don’t get a humpback in my elder years, and Iron, because of that girl thang.
What are you taking, if anything?
My obsession probably resulted from my four years working in the health food industry. I may mock the Health Foodies, but deep down inside, I am one.
I take supplements almost every day. I used to be crazy with the supplements. I took fistfuls of pills with every meal. But some of those pills are a) tough to digest and b) pretty darn pricey. Once I stopped being able to steal them from the stockroom - I mean purchase them legitimately from my employer using my staff discount – I went through my stash and streamlined it.
I do feel that the supplements I take keep me healthy and youthful. I hardly ever catch cold or flu. (See how I just jinxed myself? Watch me get sick next week.) And as recently as this past summer, people have assumed that I’m in my early 20’s. I am 35.
So if you’re interested, this is what I take every day:
Greens Plus: This is one of those green “superfoods” chock full of powdered wheatgrass, algae, cleansing herbs, bee pollen, and tons more. Most of these products come in a powdered form which you mix with water or juice and drink in the morning. They taste like dried, pulverized lawnmower clippings. I pay a little more to get capsules, so taste isn’t an issue. I also take a third of the recommended dose which is quite sufficient, unless you prefer to poop twelve times a day.
Fish Body Oil: I drink a spoonful of the stuff every morning after my oatmeal. It’s not as bad as it sounds. Honest!
Multivitamin: I take one that comes in a capsule. Capsules are easier to digest than tablets, and always preferable. Apparently there are many vitamins with pretty, candy-coloured shellac coatings that are almost impossible to digest. I have heard tales of septic systems backing up due to filters clogged with almost-whole vitamin tablets. Considering how much the suckers cost, I want to make sure I’m actually absorbing them!
Vitamin D (I only take this one during the gloom of winter.): Excellent for bones, skin, and keeping Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) under control. The latest recommendation is 1,000 i.u. per day. I *heart* Vitamin D.
The minerals: Zinc for the immune system, Calcium with Magnesium so I don’t get a humpback in my elder years, and Iron, because of that girl thang.
What are you taking, if anything?
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Lunchtime
One of my colleagues was in the kitchen when I went in to use the microwave. Packed by his loving wife, his entire lunch consisted of sliced, leftover sweet potatoes. A lot of them. And was he happy with this? Oh my, yes! For he is a Health Foodie.
I worked in the Health Food retail business for four years, so I can tell you with authority: Hardcore Health Foodies get totally obsessed with their dietary choices. Back in the day, I used to work with a guy who was a nutritional consultant and personal trainer. He had very, very odd eating habits.
He used to run into the store at the beginning of his shift with oven mitts on, carrying a hot, cast-iron frying pan that he had brought from his apartment a few blocks away. Inside the frying pan was his lunch: a pound of unseasoned brown lentils. No butter. No salt. No nuthin'.
I like lentils and all, but I don't think I could swallow that many in one sitting, dry and sauceless as they were.
Other lunches I saw him "enjoy" included 2 pounds of boiled potatoes, and (on a different day) a pound of plain baked meat. His serving sizes were always measured in pounds, and his meals never contained more than a single ingredient. He claimed that this was better for his digestion.
Could I argue? I never saw a man with such clear skin, I'll tell you that much.
I only knew him to get sick once. He dosed himself with strong ginger tea in which he had steeped several cloves of garlic, and loaded with a huge amount of cayenne pepper. Mmmm, delish! Amazingly, this is a popular natural remedy. I have never tried it myself because cayenne tends to burn holes in my digestive tract.
Relative to the average diet, I'd say I'm pretty health-conscious. But not obsessive. I'll eat potato chips - just not every day. As they say, A little bit of what you love does you good.
I worked in the Health Food retail business for four years, so I can tell you with authority: Hardcore Health Foodies get totally obsessed with their dietary choices. Back in the day, I used to work with a guy who was a nutritional consultant and personal trainer. He had very, very odd eating habits.
He used to run into the store at the beginning of his shift with oven mitts on, carrying a hot, cast-iron frying pan that he had brought from his apartment a few blocks away. Inside the frying pan was his lunch: a pound of unseasoned brown lentils. No butter. No salt. No nuthin'.
I like lentils and all, but I don't think I could swallow that many in one sitting, dry and sauceless as they were.
Other lunches I saw him "enjoy" included 2 pounds of boiled potatoes, and (on a different day) a pound of plain baked meat. His serving sizes were always measured in pounds, and his meals never contained more than a single ingredient. He claimed that this was better for his digestion.
Could I argue? I never saw a man with such clear skin, I'll tell you that much.
I only knew him to get sick once. He dosed himself with strong ginger tea in which he had steeped several cloves of garlic, and loaded with a huge amount of cayenne pepper. Mmmm, delish! Amazingly, this is a popular natural remedy. I have never tried it myself because cayenne tends to burn holes in my digestive tract.
Relative to the average diet, I'd say I'm pretty health-conscious. But not obsessive. I'll eat potato chips - just not every day. As they say, A little bit of what you love does you good.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Bringing the Lurv
Hear ye, hear ye! For anyone who might not be reading every last comment on my New Year's Resolution post , I am announcing the addition of a new blogroll to my sidebar. Anyone who reads this blog and who is also participating in Blog 365 should let me know, and I'll add you to the list. Come on, you wafflers, you can do it!
And the rest of you who aren't participating, well, now you can read until your eyeballs fall out.
Honestly, I'm loving this whole blogging business. I love writing. I love reading your comments. In two short months, I have become a total blogwhore.
I have to share this. You'll think I'm a nerd, but what the hey. I wake up at 6:30 in the morning, and the first thing I do is go online to check for comments. Really! And if I got even one, I start to purr, right there in front of the computer.
Thank you, for helping me to become a morning person.
In other news, I have a few more tidbits to share about New Year's Eve.
Best quote of the night:
"Don't give my your fancy granite tabletops! I just want to mash my face into your pho! "
Best hoodie:
Apparently, the latest trend is hoodies that zip aaaaallll the way up, like this. They actually cover the wearer's face. The dude who uttered the quote above was the proud owner of such a hoodie - except that his did not have any eye-holes. He demonstrated the proper use of the hood, which is to zip it all the way up and then head butt everyone around you in a blind frenzy.
Least successful attempt to start a rumour:
Ollie crept around whispering "sexy jealous" at what he judged to be a subliminal volume. Result: zero rumours started.
Worst plan:
One of the few girls present revealed to me that she was planning to drink until she barfed. Uh, gee, that sounds like FUN! Seriously, I would rather have my teeth drilled without freezing than upchuck. It's just so goshdarn unpleasant. These things sometimes happen by accident, but I can't get my head around someone actually intending it.
And the rest of you who aren't participating, well, now you can read until your eyeballs fall out.
Honestly, I'm loving this whole blogging business. I love writing. I love reading your comments. In two short months, I have become a total blogwhore.
I have to share this. You'll think I'm a nerd, but what the hey. I wake up at 6:30 in the morning, and the first thing I do is go online to check for comments. Really! And if I got even one, I start to purr, right there in front of the computer.
Thank you, for helping me to become a morning person.
In other news, I have a few more tidbits to share about New Year's Eve.
Best quote of the night:
"Don't give my your fancy granite tabletops! I just want to mash my face into your pho! "
Best hoodie:
Apparently, the latest trend is hoodies that zip aaaaallll the way up, like this. They actually cover the wearer's face. The dude who uttered the quote above was the proud owner of such a hoodie - except that his did not have any eye-holes. He demonstrated the proper use of the hood, which is to zip it all the way up and then head butt everyone around you in a blind frenzy.
Least successful attempt to start a rumour:
Ollie crept around whispering "sexy jealous" at what he judged to be a subliminal volume. Result: zero rumours started.
Worst plan:
One of the few girls present revealed to me that she was planning to drink until she barfed. Uh, gee, that sounds like FUN! Seriously, I would rather have my teeth drilled without freezing than upchuck. It's just so goshdarn unpleasant. These things sometimes happen by accident, but I can't get my head around someone actually intending it.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
35 plus 25 = not much in common
It was a New Year's miracle. By 8:30 pm last night I was feeling surprisingly good, and so I got myself dressed up and went out with Ken.
We showed up at his little brother's place shortly after 9. Now, Ken is a few years younger than me; his brother is a few years younger than him; and his brother hangs out with guys who are even younger still. So I walked into a room full of guys in their mid-twenties, intently playing Guitar Hero II, drinking beer, and smoking up. I thought "This is going to be a long night".
How did we end up there? It's not like we have no friends our own age. But the social hub of our peer group is a couple who is currently coping with a teething 6-month-old, and without their invitation to draw us together, people all made different plans.
I was introduced to the group thusly: "Everyone, this is Spark. Spark, this is everyone." Which was perfect, because I really wasn't into memorizing their names. There was an indeterminate number of these 20-something guys in the apartment, and they all looked alike: skinny white guys wearing hoodies and and oversized jeans. That was the basic model. They came with a few options: glasses/no glasses, goatee/no goatee, and toque/no toque. It was all the more confusing because they kept getting up and switching seats in order to take turns at Guitar Hero.
I got bored. I don't drink. The way my body processes alcohol is that it skips the warm, fuzzy buzz and goes straight to feeling poisoned. But there were a lot of joints making the rounds. I've only smoked weed twice before in my life (I know- I'm such a goodie-two shoes) but I was so bored that I started smoking just to pass the time. By shortly after midnight, every other person present had a spliff in their hand, and the air was thick with smoke. I didn't smoke furiously, just took a few puffs here and there, but between that and all the second-hand toke, I was feeling pretty mellow by the time we excused ourselves.
And today? I am still totally sedated. My mind is working, but my body feels like it's moving through syrup instead of air. Stupid weed hangover! This is why I don't smoke more often. It always messes me up for a full 24 hours. And it's really not worth it.
We showed up at his little brother's place shortly after 9. Now, Ken is a few years younger than me; his brother is a few years younger than him; and his brother hangs out with guys who are even younger still. So I walked into a room full of guys in their mid-twenties, intently playing Guitar Hero II, drinking beer, and smoking up. I thought "This is going to be a long night".
How did we end up there? It's not like we have no friends our own age. But the social hub of our peer group is a couple who is currently coping with a teething 6-month-old, and without their invitation to draw us together, people all made different plans.
I was introduced to the group thusly: "Everyone, this is Spark. Spark, this is everyone." Which was perfect, because I really wasn't into memorizing their names. There was an indeterminate number of these 20-something guys in the apartment, and they all looked alike: skinny white guys wearing hoodies and and oversized jeans. That was the basic model. They came with a few options: glasses/no glasses, goatee/no goatee, and toque/no toque. It was all the more confusing because they kept getting up and switching seats in order to take turns at Guitar Hero.
I got bored. I don't drink. The way my body processes alcohol is that it skips the warm, fuzzy buzz and goes straight to feeling poisoned. But there were a lot of joints making the rounds. I've only smoked weed twice before in my life (I know- I'm such a goodie-two shoes) but I was so bored that I started smoking just to pass the time. By shortly after midnight, every other person present had a spliff in their hand, and the air was thick with smoke. I didn't smoke furiously, just took a few puffs here and there, but between that and all the second-hand toke, I was feeling pretty mellow by the time we excused ourselves.
And today? I am still totally sedated. My mind is working, but my body feels like it's moving through syrup instead of air. Stupid weed hangover! This is why I don't smoke more often. It always messes me up for a full 24 hours. And it's really not worth it.
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