Why am I so nervous? Please explain to me. . .

April 8, 2011


Friday!

Finally!

Now I just have to wait until 5.00 pm to feel as if I've made it through a long, exhausting week.

Birthdays, book launches, driver's ed, book clubs, appointments, last full week of the term. . .

I'm surprised I remembered how to get dressed this morning.







Em didn't have school today. . .parent teacher interview days, and it was just as well.

I needed the extra two hours sleep.

And as always, on these rare occasions, I am amazed at how easy the mornings are when you're not harping at your teenage daughter to get up.

Or the ease of the morning wake up process when you don't have to dynamite your husband out of bed.

Get up, shower, dogs out, breakfast, pack my lunch, and off I go.

Quiet.

Peaceful.

No stomping, yelling, or Em yelling from the bathroom "I KNOW I SHOULD BE IN THE CAR RIGHT NOW. GIVE ME A MINUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No Keith in the backseat giving birth to yet another litter of kittens because Em is going to make him late for his 8.30 am class.

No maniacal driving through Fredericton's version of rush hour traffic trying to get everyone where they have to be.

Whether it's on time or not is always a secondary thing.

Every morning should be like this.

But I'm smart enough to know better.






So, this afternoon is the book launch: http://w3.stu.ca/stu/news/news_view.aspx?id=147356

If I can get the original picture, I'll add it.

I'm nervous.

Despite what many people think, I actually don't intentionally seek out the limelight.

Being the center of attention.

I have no idea how this thing should proceed.

What I'm supposed to do.

Part of being nervous is embarrassment over the price of the book.

$110.00.

American.

Although given the value of the Canadian dollar, it works in our favour.

$105.00

Canadian.

More than what it should cost.

So that's part of it. 

The other part is my father.

I have no problems with Dad coming.

But he's a bit of a lose cannon.

No filter.

Must be where I get it from.

I just never know what he's going to say or to whom he will say it. 

For example, if I see him talking with the AVP or the President, I may have to make some superhero leap to intervene.

Or ask Stephen to stick by him the entire time to ensure he doesn't do anything he shouldn't do. 

Mum used to keep him on a tight leash.

But her ability to do this has decreased significantly in the last few years. 

Superhero leaps or Stephen?

I'll have to give that some thought. 

Last night was the first night this entire week when I was actually home.

We had all the kids around the table for dinner.

With warnings of keeping things calm and quiet and not the usual cacophonous calamity we experience when Mer and Keith are together. 

They decided during dinner that they were going to a movie.

An activity I encouraged.

No kids in the house, Stephen driving them and then off to do a few errands of his own, means Dawne has the house to herself.

The living room to herself.

Within minutes of their departure, I had the yoga mat on the floor, sitting on it in my version of the lotus position, eyes closed, listening intently to the lovely yoga cd Stephen bought me. 

Outside of the full body lick down from the dogs, it was lovely.

Necessary.

Definitely will be needed tonight.

Definitely.

Depending on when I manage to get home.

Title Lyric: Nervous by The Moody Blues

Let's find a way back to our crazy days. . . .

April 7, 2011


I did say this was going to be a crazy week.

More to remind myself than anything else.

And it has been.

Sometimes, I hate being right.

Not often, mind you.

But sometimes.






Stephen's birthday was a lot of fun.

In fact, I may have had more fun than he did.

His first class is after my first class, and in the same room.

I made a giant Happy Birthday message all over the white board, complete with balloons, little sayings, etc.

And then covered it with the projector screen.

We often talk while his classroom fills up with students eager to learn the intracacies of criminological theory.

So my being there wasn't out of the ordinary.

And when everyone was settled in their seats, pens poised at the ready to take in the pearls of wisdom dropping from Stephen's mouth, he looked at me as if to say, "Are you staying for class?"

At which time I hit the button to lift the projector screen and reveal the birthday note underneath.

While his class and I sang him Happy Birthday.

Most fun!

Stephen almost seemed to enjoy it.

And that was just the beginning.

I think he knew that.






His second class wasn't until 4.00 pm.

After picking Em up from school, I scooted over to the nearest grocery store and bought the last slab cake and a chocolate cupcake piled high with icing and brownie chunks.

Along with candles.

LOTS of candles.

On the cake, I had Happy 50th Birthday written on top, by a most sourfaced and unfriendly bakery lady.

I thought bakery ladies were supposed to be friendly.

Nice.

Covered in flour.

Offering you free cookies.

But not this one.

Godzilla of The Bakery Ladies she was.

And it took her FOREVER to get the cupcake in its appointed container.

We dash back to the university, park where we aren't supposed to park and walk into the bottom floor of James Dunn Hall to surprise Stephen with the cupcake.

And there was Stephen.

Not in class where he was supposed to be.

But sitting on a table outside of his classroom as his students filled out the end-of-course-evaluation forms.

Or, as I like to refer to them, "The Shit on Your Prof" forms.

Luckily, the cake was in the car and the cupcake and candles in the bag.

Although he was somewhat suspicious.

In my usual quick witted manner, I covered myself well, explaining that I was there because I knew the class was about evaluations and exam review, so he would be finished early.

Em, meanwhile, has taken off upstairs to the cafeteria under the pretense of needing to use the bathroom.

"What's in the bag?" he asks.

"PLP's", I whisper.

Personal Lady Products.

THAT always shuts down conversations, particularly with men.

When he was informed by one of his students that the evaluations were complete, he kissed me and went back to his classroom.

But before he left we arranged to meet in the cafeteria when he was finished.

And then I went to find Em and set up our next birthday surprise.

Once the candle was safely tucked into the cupcake, we walked into the back door of the classroom.

An extended wall allowed us to go in without being seen, and we could hear Stephen's voice booming in the theater like classroom.

Great acoustics.

Which accounts for why, when he paused, I yelled out, "Hey Em! Does someone in the house have a birthday???????" and scared the daylights out of him.

And the class, apparently.

We walk out from behind the wall, singing Happy Birthday, carrying the candle topped confection.

He blew out the candle, giving me his "I knew you were up to something look."

And I stayed there until he ate each morsel.

While he munched, I continued outlining to the students what material would be covered on his final exam.

Em and I then made a hasty retreat because I had to get the cake into the little fridge in the crim lab and get back to the cafeteria to meet him when he finished class.

I made it back as students were leaving the class.

But no Stephen.

Clearly, telling someone you'll meet them is no guarantee that they'll actually stay there.

Eventually he remembered, and as we were leaving, Em remarked, "There's Stephen." who gets into the car and says he forgot I was meeting him and he hoped that was the end of the birthday surprises.

He really, really should know better by now.






Home for a VERY quick supper before leaving to go back to campus for my yoga and Stephen's night class.

Yoga was so relaxing.

And hard.

New poses requiring my body to move in ways it is not yet fully equipped to manage.

But I tried.

Because that's what counts.

After yoga, Em and I went to the mall to purchase Stephen's birthday gift.

The complete Vicar of Dibley dvd collection.

And then returned to campus to put together the last birthday surprise.

Candles on cake, lots of candles on cake as a matter of fact, with Em lighting them all in the stairwell by the classroom and both of us hoping we didn't set off any fire alarms.

A visit from the fire department to put out the blazing cake would have made for a memorable birthday.

Not to mention the flack from the university.

Stephen is in his classroom, with about 17 students, back to the door, when Em and I enter with a blazing cake and the entire class bursts into yet another singing of Happy Birthday.

Good thing too.

Because Stephen was showing a dvd he hadn't had time to preview.

Late Fragments: http://latefragment.com/

Nothing from the back of the dvd, the website. . .nothing gave any indication that inside the dvd was murder and full frontal nudity.

Both of which stunned my mild mannered, small "c" conservative husband.

I don't know what upset the students more.

The dvd.

Or that Stephen was showing the dvd.

I guess it was a good thing we came in with the cake when we did.

Who knows what else is on that dvd????

I'll let you know when I finish.




Title Lyric:  Crazy Days by Adam Gregory

He's turning 50 today!



April 5, 2011

HAPPY 50TH BIRTHDAY STEPHEN JOHN

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Today my bubbly hubby is 50 years old.

A milestone birthday.

If you ask Stephen, he's just happy he made it to 50.

I'd like to know what made him think he wouldn't.

For all my gripping about the weird things he does, things I don't understand and probably never will, Stephen is a wonderful man.

He came into my life when I needed him.

And when, I am certain of it, he did not need three kids, multiple pets and housecleaning phobic girlfriend.

Our time together has been like everyone else's: some bumps along the way that we didn't handle with grace or aplomb.

But for the most part, he is simply the best man I've ever met.

Caring.

Considerate

Compassionate

Intelligent

Funny

Learning to be resilient

Handsome

I couldn't imagine my life without him.

Stephen and I have been described by some as yin and yang.

In some ways completely different.

But in the ways that matter, on the same page all the way.

He has certainly forged his own path in life.

And while he appears as if he always concedes, always bends to the will of others, there is a stubbornness about Stephen that is unshakable.

You simply cannot make him do anything he doesn't want to do.

Believe me.

I've tried.

His belief system is solid. . .and he stands by what he considers important.

He has devoted his life and his academic pursuits to understanding how to approach issues through peace and non-violence.

He is doing his doctorate in conflict resolution.

Our family is an excellent and ongoing case study.

I am the Queen of Chaos.

Yin and yang, baby, yin and yang.

So, what was happening in 1961?

Stephen John Pidwysocky was born in Montreal.

John Diefenbaker was the Canadian Prime Minister

Tommy Douglas is elected leader of the newly formed New Democratic Party

Owls in the Family by Farley Mowat is published (I loved this book!)

Fidel Castro declares Cuba is to adopt Communism and bans free elections


US Cuban Exiles and CIA mount unsuccessful attempt to overthrow Castro known as the Bay of Pigs


John F. Kennedy inaugurated as President of the United States


President John F. Kennedy advises American families to build bomb shelters

President Kennedy asks Congress for $531 million to put a man on the moon

Construction of the Berlin Wall begins.



East German Authorities close the border between east and west Berlin






 

Popular Films

•The Guns of Navarone

•The Parent Trap

•The Absent-Minded Professor

•101 Dalmatians

•Breakfast at Tiffany's

•El Cid

•The Misfits

•The Hustler

•West Side Story



Popular TV


•Wagon Train

•Bonanza

•Gunsmoke

•Perry Mason

•The Red Skelton Show

•Andy Griffith

•Candid Camera

•My Three Sons

•Alfred Hitchcock Presents

•The Twilight Zone




Most popular recorded songs of 1961 in the US:


•Wonderland by Night Bert Kaempfert
•Will You Love Me Tomorrow The Shirelles
•Calcutta Lawrence Welk
•Pony Time Chubby Checker
•Surrender Elvis Presley



A very good year from my perspective!

Happy Birthday honey! I can't wait to experience the next 50 with you!

Title Lyric: She's Turning 50 Today by Reba McEntire

I'd lose a kilo an hour . . .

April 4, 2011


It is going to be a crazy busy week.

Simply for Life, Vet appointment, Em beginning driver's ed, Stephen's interview for the Peace Studies minor today.

Tomorrow is STEPHEN'S 50TH BIRTHDAY, which because of our crazy busy schedule we won't be able to celebrate until the weekend.

And that will be very low key as Stephen is a low key kind of guy.

Too bad he is married to a not-even-aware-of-what-low-key-means kind of girl who is STRUGGLING to keep this MONUMENTAL EVENT low key.

Yoga, three hour night classes . . .these are the things that put off celebrations until the weekend.

Wednesday is more driver's ed, bookclub and an evening meeting for Stephen.

Thursday holds some hope of a reprieve.  So far, nothing out of the ordinary is on the books, not even a child working as far as I know.

Friday, my book launch.

3.30-5.00 in the BMH Rotunda at St. Thomas http://www.stu.ca/ if anyone is interested in attending to hear me talk about scholarly writing in a corporate university world.

Woo.

Hoo.

Saturday, Stephen and I are going out for dinner at the Garrison http://www.thegarrison.ca/ compliments of my brother and perhaps a movie afterwards.

A crazy, wild 50th birthday for my man.

Coupled with the realization that this is the last full week of classes for this term this is going to be one hell of a week.

I'm tired just thinking about it.






Thankfully, for the most part the weekend was fairly relaxed and quiet.

Quiet for us, that is.

Grocery shopping and a visit to the nursing home to have dinner with Mum was Saturday.

Yesterday a lovely drive to my brother's for a nice visit. . .tea and conversation galore.

Unconditional love from his wonderful and always adorable dogs.

Even a guest appearance from one of his attention abhorring cats.

A few hours I will definitely cling to this week as things spiral out of my control.

As they always do.

Emily, on the other hand, ended up working, working, working.

She worked until 3.00 am Saturday morning.

2.00 am Sunday morning.

12-5 on Sunday.

I actually went into the theater yesterday at 5.00 pm to ensure she hadn't agreed to work another double.

Good thing.

Because getting her out of bed this morning was practically impossible.

Same for Stephen.

But I'm not talking about that.

Yet.






Just got back from Simply for Life.

Another 3 pounds gone, bringing the total weight loss since the middle of October to 64 pounds.

4.5 stone if you're in the UK.

I can feel the absence of this weight albatross.

In my breathing, my walking, my ability to get in and out of chairs.

My ability to fit into some chairs.

Not driving the car by using my belly instead of my hands on the steering wheel.

Non-rolling-because-they-are-too-small panties are no more.

The staircases at home and work are no longer mortal enemies.

No more full fledged panic attacks when Stephen inadvertently put my pants in the dryer.

Causing the muffin top roll when I put them on.

I have more energy.

Less desire for sweet things.

More desire for veggies.

Not that it isn't hard work.

Because it is.

I would like nothing more than to wake up one morning at my goal weight.

Like, tomorrow morning.

But, all good things come as a result of hard work.

Sacrifice.

Walking away from the bakery section at the grocery store.

And avoiding the frozen food aisle like it has the plague.






This lifestyle change calls for one of the things I am not all that good at.

Planning ahead.

Making sure I have appropriate snacks with me at all times.

Because I never know how long something is going to take.

Or how long I may be doing something or other.

But the end result is so worth it.

Feeling a little bit better about myself each day is definitely worth walking away from my unhealthy lifestyle of days gone by.

Leaving my flag-size granny panties to the cupboard for dusting and other such cleaning related activities.

So if you see Stephen wiping down the windows with black and pink leopard-like spotted panties, you'll know why.

And moving toward the less-than-a-piece-of-Kleenex-panties.

The kind Mer wears.

And Em won't.

I don't know that I'd wear them either.

But at least I'll have the choice to.



Title Lyric: Instant Weight Loss by Sparks 

Don't ask me why I put on my glasses again. . . .

April 3, 2011


As I may have perhaps mentioned on the odd occasion, I detest grocery shopping.

For SO many different reasons.

1. The other people who insist on being there at the same time I am.

2. People who block the aisle while having a conversation with their neighbour, talking like they haven't seen them in ten years.

3. The cashier who is so slow that Stephen could stand in line while I run around with filling our cart, only to return to the line just as Stephen is ready to put the groceries on the conveyor belt.

4. That no matter how well I grocery shop one week, or how much I spend, I will always have to go back.

5. Moving the groceries from the car to the house amid the antics of the cavorting canines and worrying all the time, "which bag has the meat in it?"

6. Putting the groceries away. Sorting out what stays upstairs, what goes downstairs.

7. And this is the new one:

Having to excavate inside the refridgerator before any of the new stuff is put in there.

Annoying and potentially life threatening.

That was yesterday.






Once we arrived home from yet another food foray, and managed to get the groceries in the house without Frankie escaping or either of them eating the lunch meat. . .

. . .which has happened before. . .

and after we had some lunch because there is NO way I am tacking putting groceries away while experiencing hunger. . . .

. . .it became readily apparent to me that the time had come to engage in some excavation.

Looking for things to salvage.

And things that were no longer recognizable.

The average household wastes approximately $500.00 worth of food in one year.

I am not the average household.

That isn't to say that there wasn't some pulling out of containers from the back of the fridge and upon looking at them saying, "What the hell is this?" or, "Isn't this from before we went to Montreal?"

But I work very hard to keep the need for such statements to a minimum.

Because I detest waste.

Hence why I am loathe to throw anything away.

Including food.

Seriously, the only thing standing between me being me now, and me becoming a hoarder is Stephen.

Who keeps nothing.

But I digress. . . .

The excavation yielded a number of items that were still most usable.

Forcing me into creative mode.

What can I do with this melange of roast chicken and vegetables?

Soup!

Homemade chicken vegetable soup to be exact.

And it looks heavenly.

Consumption will occur this evening around 6.00 pm.

The other issue was with the remaining bacon that had managed to escape Stephen's midnight munch fest the other night.

Pasta e Lenticcini it is then!

Two meals prepared for this week, and perhaps even some lunches if quantities allow.

I love being  frugal!






Of course the other reason for the need to excavate was that we were becoming low on plastic containers.

Our usual chaotic mess of lids and containers was at an almost all time low.

Opening the door to the plastic container cupboard no longer resulted in the avalanche of cascading containers and lids all over the kitchen the floor.

I can't imagine a kitchen with a cupboard for plastic containers that was actually functional.

Where opening the door was akin to releasing pent up plastic.

Or being able to always find the matching lid for the container you've already filled up with some leftover or other.

To be completely honest, we have two plastic container cupboards.

One for the reusable plastic containers.

One for the Meredyth plastic containers.

The latter is because in the past we've sent her home from family dinners laden with food, only to have to physically go to her apartment at a later date to retrieve them all.

Instead of continually buying new containers, we started keeping containers that we wouldn't need again when she didn't bring them back.

Like the Styrofoam containers meat comes in.

I wash them is scalding hot water and soap, dry them and voila!

A Meredyth container.

Cored pineapple containers, take out containers. . .all grace a special cupboard just for Meredyth.

Because Meredyth is special.






Most people spend their life content with one pair of glasses.

They are studious and vigilant about keeping them on their person at all times.

Because they operate on the assumption that they will need them at some point so it's better to make sure you have them.

Other people, like me, must wear their glasses at all times.

If I don't, I can't see my hand in front of my face, drive the car, walk down the stairs, let alone try anything such as wielding knives or using ovens.

But there is a special group of people who, for reasons known only to them, must have more than one pair of glasses.

And in spite of having more than one pair of glasses, say as many as FOUR pairs of glasses, never have them when they need them, thus causing frustration and anger for those people who are with them.

In places like, oh let's say, bookstores.

Used book stores.

A veritable cornucopia of books from almost anytime about almost any topic, so that when you find yourself lucky enough to be in there, you feel as if you've found nirvana.

You settle in for a long, languid book hunt, anticipating one treasure or another.

Your husband-of-the-four-pairs-of-glasses has gone off to Cultures to purchase a recycled glass wine fob.

But you're not even thinking of him, because you are mesmerized by the leaning towers of books around you, those piled high on the floor, on shelves. . .everywhere you turn there are books, books, and more books.

You begin your search.

Content.

Happy.

And then a ripple in your pool of peace occurs when you're husband is at the front of the shop asking you to say something so he can follow the sound of your voice amid the shelves and piles and towers of books.

He finds you.

You say, "Why don't you go to the back and look for books about. . . ." because you want him to remain busy so you can stay there.

You've already planned this.

A backpack of food and water is on your person because you know you'll be there for a while.

And then, after you've uttered your directive you hear:

"I can't. I don't have my glasses. But it's okay. You look around."

But you know it isn't okay.

You know that within ten minutes of him blindly fumbling through the bookshelves, he is going to come back to you and ask:

"So, are you ready to go?"

And go you will because if you don't, there won't be a minute's peace.

Not one.

Resigned to leaving and not knowing when you'll get back, you take your ONE book to the counter, pay and walk out trailing behind him like a child who has been forced to leave a toy store.

And your only comment on the way back to the car is,

"How many pairs of glasses do you have, again?"



Title Lyric: I Like to Hide Behind my Glasses by Fishbone