Monday, August 15, 2011

But everyone here knows how to fight. . .

August 15, 2011

Vacation Countdown: 6 Days!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And the way things have been around here for the past few days, coupled with how I feel physically, emotionally, mentally right now, six days may be far too long to wait.

To say it has been a challenging and stressful weekend is like saying the Leaning Tower of Piza is a little unbalanced.

Have you ever experienced one of those days where you feel tired and worn out with being the lynch pin that seemingly holds everything together?

Where the ringing of the phone, the you-have-a-message-icon-on-Facebook makes you want to throw yourself under the covers, ears plugged, face fully immersed in a 4 liter container of chocolate ice cream, and a flashlight with you so you can eat least read while you gorge away your troubles?

I try not to get to this place often.

The ice cream alone is enough to make my head spin.

I don't like who I am or how I feel when I get into this space.

But even I have a breaking point.

A point at which there is simply too many balls in the air and trying to keep them all up there, stable requires more energy and stamina than I have at the moment.

Part of being a parent and partner is knowing that you have to share the burdens, the loads, the work of sorting things out and trying to make them as close to right as possible.

But today, I am feeling overwhelmed by the issues.

Truly overwhelmed.

And not all that charitable about helping.

It'll pass.

It always does.

But the waiting. . . . .

That's a bitch.







Not that there haven't been positive things happen in the last couple of days.

The nursing home provided a yummy and delicious pizza for dinner Saturday.

A switch from the usual beans and brown bread.

So excited was my mother about this that she called at 1.30 Saturday afternoon and left a message sharing the uplifting news.

As soon as Stephen heard pizza, he was ready to go.

But we waited until 5.00 pm when Em got off work.

Poor Em.

No pizza for her.

Too much cheese.

The pizza was actually laden with veggies and cheese.

And it really was very good.









The latest Emily cellphone crisis ended happily with the return of her IPhone 3.

It was, indeed, hiding in the car of a co-worker, jumping Em's ship at some point during the scavenger hunt.

Last evening, while reading The Help and trying to ignore the shrieking pain of my innards, the phone rang.

Stephen answered.

And shortly afterwards I hear him pounding up the stairs, yelling to Em that her phone has been found.

Em's happy dance was nothing short of phenomenal, sustaining and made me wish more than I ever that I had my camera so I could record it.

Even Goblet was mesmerized.

And getting her attention for more than 3 seconds is, indeed, a stupendous feat.







In spite of the crippling pain I was experiencing for no other reason that being female. . . .

. . .which in my opinion isn't anywhere near a good enough reason to make someone feel as if their insides are bring pulled out through their nostrils with a toothpick. . . .

I forced myself out of bed yesterday morning at 8.00 am to complete the dill pickle process.

And it was a process.

Stephen purchased $62.00 worth of cucumbers, garlic and dill at the Big Potato Saturday morning.

A lot more than he thought he'd have to spend, but at $2.49 a pound, and with enough pickles to fill 25 jars, what else did he expect?

And those weren't the most expensive cukes. . .they were $3.49 a pound.

The cucumbers soaked overnight in an ice bath, to ensure maximum crunchiness.

Sterilized the jars, added the three cloves of garlic to each jar. . .

. . .and if you're paying attention, that's 75 garlic cloves I peeled. . . .

. . .added the dill, popped in the cukes and added the brine.

And the whole entire process only took three hours.

Stephen did all of the clean up.

There was a lot.

Meaning we made pickles.







Of course it had to be one of the warmest days of the summer.

Complete with a nice, warm, breeze.

So in addition to making the pickles, I was doing laundry.

Em and Keith's.

Wanting to get it on the line as soon as possible.

Undies, socks, pants, shirts all blowing in the breeze.

Each second the wind blew taking dollars and cents from my power bill.

Saving money is more than enough incentive to get me up and moving in spite of cramps that would fell a world champion body builder, and hanging laundry.







This morning was about getting myself up, dressed and over to Simply for Life.

Another three pounds are gone, gone, gone.

How is anyone's guess, because I have retained more water than Marine World this summer.

I was fully prepared for hearing my SFL counsellor tell me I've gained.

Well, as prepared as I could be given my current state of mind.

After SFL we headed over to Killam Realty's head office.

Trying to figure how to get Mer out of her leash with the least amount of pain and agony possible.

For all of us.

At the end of our conversation with the very patient Killam employee, we have come up with a plan.

But not an easy one.

Basically, if Mer wants out of her lease, Mer has to rent the apartment, clean the apartment, and provide some sort of incentive to get someone to take over the lease.

She can move out whenever she wants.

But she still has to pay the rent.

So, I am taking care of getting the rental ad on Kijiji, but she is going to have to take responsibility to show the place.

Because once I am back at work, that's it.

Meaning all must be done before then.

The thought of which makes me want to throw myself under the covers, ears plugged, face fully immersed in a 4 liter container of chocolate ice cream, and a flashlight with me so I can eat least read while I gorge away my troubles.

Patterns.

I am seeing patterns everywhere.




Title Lyric: Ice Cream by Sarah McLachlan

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