October 26, 2011
Happy Anniversary to my mum and dad! Married 48 years!
That alone is enough to celebrate.
Being with the same person for 48 years.
Celebrating the quality of that relationship is something all together different.
Sunday was my last official day of rest and ever since then I have been playing a frenzied game of catch up in an attempt to complete the tasks I was supposed to complete before I was rendered immobile by the bug-that-Stephen-got.
Monday was re-reading a short monograph I'd assigned to my intro crim class. . .a book about how homeless street youth disengage from street life.
Interesting, hard to read, taking me back to times when we were struggling harder than we do now to make ends meet.
However, because Monday is a non-teaching day, I was able to work from home.
I like working from home.
I work. Absolutely. If I didn't, I'd march myself into my office.
At the same time, I am able to accomplish some of the tasks that elude me when my days are spent chained to my desk or performing for my students.
Like making broth for soup.
From the chickens I was able to roast because I was actually home to put them in the oven to give them the time they need to roast.
As opposed to my attempts at flash roasting.
Further, being home allowed me the time to fill the bird feeders.
When I was actually thinking that they needed to be filled.
Instead of thinking it while in the middle of a class or meeting, and hoping that I'll remember it when I get home.
Which I never do.
Our two bird feeders have proven to not only provide entertainment for the cats, which one would expect, but for the dogs and myself as well.
Whodathunkit.
After filling them Monday morning, I was treated to the birds enjoying the abundance of seed and such available to them at their perusal.
The very bossy blue jay who just assumed that the feeders were there for him and him alone.
And didn't find it inappropriate to move from one to the other with immunity.
While watching this blue jay and being able to capture him or her on film. . .
. . .something I never thought I'd be doing if you want to know the truth. . . .
was wonderful and relaxing, the squirrels proved to be more than entertaining.
For me and in particular for Frankie.
As soon as those birdfeeders were full, the squirrels were all over the front yard.
One managed to knock the tall, thin birdfeeder off the street, spilling some of the contents of the feeder on the ground.
Seed sprinkled liberally on the ground is nothing if not an enticement to the neighbourhood squirrels
Squirrels with cajones the size of basketballs and who have figured out that a barking, whining, frantic Frankie behind a window is a Frankie not to be concerned with.
Even ignored.
Which does not sit well with our Frankie.
Who fancies himself king of all he surveys.
But how can you not marvel at the creativity and ingenuity of the squirrel in search of sustenance?
After sleeping all weekend, reading, photographing and roasting Monday, Tuesday was all work, all the time.
Beginning at 4.00 am.
Me at the kitchen table, steaming cup of coffee beside me, and a stack of research question assignments from my intro qualitative research methods class.
And Jasper.
Who assumed that my early morning presence at the kitchen table was to love and adore him without prejudice.
Impeding the marking process in a manner I hadn't anticipated.
But he is just so damned cute!
Nonetheless, it was challenging trying to correct grammar and spelling while maneuvering around a rolling cat, enticing and inviting you just love him, pet him, kiss his little nose, rub his ears and listen to him purr in such deep, melodious tones you thought you were being serenaded by Barry White.
Serenading aside, the grammar and spelling in these papers, along with the failure of people to follow simple directions was disheartening.
I just don't understand how people can make it to university without a rudimentary understanding of basic grammar principles such as how to use commas, the purpose of a semi-colon and how come you shouldn't end sentences with prepositions.
Not to mention the differences among there, their, and they're; your and you're, it's and its.
I can't imagine submitting a paper with run on sentences, incomplete sentences, all indicative of a failure to proofread.
Simply reading the paper before you hand it in.
Imagine.
So I spent the class explaining to them how come knowing how to write is important.
That it isn't just what you're saying, but HOW you say it that's equally as important.
Presentation.
Of course, I'm no expert.
A quick read through of my blog would hightlight more than one mistake.
But making mistakes and knowing how come their a mistake and making a mistake and not being able to identify it are two very different things.
Part of the problem?
Trash television that emulates the illiterate.
Title Lyric: The Mississippi Squirrel Revival by Ray Stevens
October 23, 2o11
The last two mornings with Frankie have been nothing short of horrific.
With the presence of the birdfeeders and the introduction of Cat TV also comes the Cirque du Soliel: Squirrel Version.
A variety of arrogant and acrobatic squirrels arabesque and plie and jete all over the birdfeeders in a quest for winter sustenance.
Driving Stephen and Frankie mad for completely different reasons.
Crafty squirrels torment and torture Frankie knowing that he cannot get them, no matter how long and loud he barks.
How often he stands at the window crying.
How many times we ask him to please stop.
Until, that is, it is time for him to go outside for his morning ablutions.
So hyped up on squirrel hate he is almost unmanageable.
Hence I've resorted to taking them out one at a time.
And checking for the squirrels before I even think it's okay to take Frankie beyond the confines of the house.
But these squirrels should be commended for their audacity.
Meaning I'll get pictures soon.
As in right after I refill the bird feeders.
Sick.
I am sick.
Although evidence suggesting that the pathogen infesting Stephen had made its pilgrimage to my previously healthy corpus, as early as Friday, I chose to ignore them.
Because that is what I do best.
Ignore things that attempt to impose any level of slowing down to my life.
However yesterday it was apparent that I had lost the I-will-ignore-you-battle.
Sitting at my computer at work, after dropping Keith off for his double shift at the theater, looking for an obscure reading for Stephen, I was forced to conclude that I was sick and there was little I could do about it.
Such knowledge has done nothing to put me into a more pleasant state of mind.
Nonetheless, I found Stephen's document.
Returned home.
Only to be reminded that I had promised a movie with Em, who had a rare and almost unprecedented Saturday off.
Paranormal Activity 3.
Em and I have made it a point to see all of these films, which are indeed scary without being gory.
I've concluded that these films are working backwards and eventually there will be a Paranormal Activity 15 and all the pieces will fall into place.
Either way, it was a 90 minute reprieve from the knowledge that I am sick and neither end of me is safe.
I am so not looking forward to the next couple of days.
Although if there is a moment, no matter how short, where I am feeling able, I will be out for a walk this afternoon.
The remainder of the say was spent in bed or in my spot in the living room watching movies.
Bridesmaids with Stephen.
Some people felt bad that he was forced to watch this film with me.
They should know he laughed out loud and was entertained thoroughly.
Thus the purpose of the film was successful.
And then because it's almost Halloween and therefore AMCs annual FearFest, Em and I watched the 1995 Village of the Damned.
A terrible film.
Amusing.
Christopher Reeve's last film before his horrible accident.
A slim, trim and always smoking a foreign cigarette Kirstie Alley.
Filled with cold meds, I was unable to stay awake until the end of the film.
Meaning I was a little surprised when I woke up this morning in my bed, Stephen snoring beside me, Frankie cramping my legs with his insistence upon laying as close to me on the bed as humanly possible, wondering how I managed to get into bed in the first place.
Not the first time I wondered such a thing in my lifetime.
Albeit certainly many, many, many moons since I wondered such a thing.
And that this morning, for the first time this season, the weather network had their 24 hour snowfall report up.
For Thursday and Friday.
Not much.
Enough to panic those people without snowtires.
Like us.
Finally, let me just end with saying that I am really enjoying Ted Danson on CSI.
Title Lyric: Wakin' Up in Vegas by Katy Perry
October 22, 2011
I despise waste.
To the point where Stephen and I have often had words about things he discards that I would have kept.
Yesterday afternoon, I walk into our departmental meeting and the table bears two heavily laden trays.
One with fresh fruit, the other with fresh veggies.
Ordered by a department-that-shall-not-be-named because I am usually in enough trouble thankyouverymuch and I don't need anymore.
Whatever function they'd been ordered and paid for was done and over and no one claimed them.
The catering guy didn't know what to do, because if no one claimed them they would be going into garbage.
Imagine.
All that fresh, yummy, completely edible food tossed in the garbage because someone was too indifferent to do anything about it.
Luckily, a member of our department intervened and we munched on veggies and fruit throughout our meeting.
And guess what happened next. . .
That's right.
I piled everything onto one tray, because those trays are heavy without anything on them and brought it all home.
Meaning right now I have a lovely fruit salad in my refrigerator and a bag of already cut veggies for munching on throughout the day.
Nonetheless, I am still fuming at the idea that it would have all been thrown out.
Because yesterday was Friday, Em had no school for a teacher something day and was actually already at work, and Keith was hibernating in his room for the evening, I found myself home early.
As in at 4.00 pm.
Very different from my usual somewhere between 6.00 and 7.00 pm arrival time.
Meaning that by 6.00, I was ready, willing and desperately needed a walk with Frankie and Tikka.
Stephen has the flu, and feeling housebound by the time the early evening rolled around, I thought he would also benefit from some fresh air.
Because Stephen is a cranky sick person and a walk could only assist in alleviating the crankiness.
As soon as we arrived, parked and exited the vehicle, we noticed on our right two sections of the vast fields laden with potatoes.
We were walking in the fields of a potato research center.
Making the presence of potatoes not so mysterious.
Of course, Stephen thought we should harvest a couple.
Alas, we had no pockets or bags.
And I could see either dog willingly carting a load.
Any load.
Tikka's lucky she can still cart herself around.
Always prepared, Stephen brought along his head light in the event that we were still wandering when the sun set.
We were.
So bringing along the light was, indeed, a good idea.
Plus he just looks so cute.
While we were walking, musing, sometimes talking and mostly enjoying just being outside
a fellow walker's dog, who clearly possess a dog with just as much energy as Frankie, who ran through a field disrupting the pleasant restings of a flock of Canadian geese resting for a moment on their journey to warmer climes.
And as the geese flew overhead, squawking in anger, I captured the following pictures:
Standing there, geese flying overhead. . .
That was magical.
Title Lyric: Here Come the Geese by The Barenaked Ladies
October 21, 2011
Yesterday was one of those days where I couldn't figure out if it was a good day or a bad day.
POURING rain when I take the dogs out at 6.00 am.
Resulting in a most reluctant-to-even-consider-doing-her-business Tikka.
And an OHMYGAWDMUMIT'SRAININGLET'SPLAY Frankie.
But most importantly, a very, very soaked Mummy when she was finally able to corral everyone and get back inside the warmth of the house.
Finally arriving at work, I get to my office and realize I don't have my office keys.
Luckily, Keith arrived ahead of me, with his key in tow, and was able to open the door.
Yeah me!
Nonetheless, I was still without the keys necessary to open the computer consoles needed for my powerpoints.
So where the hell were my keys.
I looked everywhere.
All the usual places.
Every bag I carry with me, every pocket in those bags, every nook and cranny in those bags, in my office.
And then I called Stephen.
No, he replied. I don't have your keys.
Fine.
The last option was to check the classroom where I was last teaching the day before in hopes that I left them there in the rush and fury that were the hoards of students who wanted to speak with me about their upcoming papers.
Actually, Keith did it for me.
And no keys, but he suggested I still go to the classroom to check for them myself.
All this time, I was trying to get together a powerpoint for my class at 10.00 am, trying to concentrate while inside I was in turmoil about the location of my keys.
Standing at the elevator, I was anxiously waiting, wondering what. the. hell. I was going to do without my keys and how much of a kerfuffle it was going to be to get them all replaced, when the elevator door opens and there stands a very wet, dripping Stephen.
Holding my keys.
Imagine.
The ensuing tension resulted in me concluding it was a stressful day.
Now there were little things along the way to alleviate that stress.
More specifically, dogs.
In two of my classes, I was treated to the presence of four legged, fur bearing creatures who were more than willing to soak up my stress.
Elmer and Oscar.
Two miniature dachshunds.
Now this is not a picture of the actual Elmer and Oscar.
But I will get one.
Yes I will.
In advanced qual, I met Charlie.
And after advanced qual, there was Maddy.
An eight year old rottie-boxer mix.
For whom I could find no picture.
But trust me when I say that she was absolutely adorable.
I was holding on to my sanity through the help of these always-lookin'-for-love critters.
And then, the ultimate stress breaker came my way.
Causing me to burst into tears in the McDonald's parking lot when I picked up Em and she showed me the ultimate stress breaker.
Yesterday was grad photo day.
Here's the proof.
Ha! I made a pun.
Things must be looking up.
I simply can't grasp that my baby is graduating from high school.
And so beautiful.
Whatever I did that was so deserving of such a lovely child, I am so very happy I did it.
Not only have Em and dogs created such stress relieving environments, the kitties have been providing much needed relief.
A couple of mornings ago, Wednesday I think, when I was up and working at 5.30 in the morning, frantically trying to make a deadline, Jasper hopping and jumping around like grease on a griddle.
Pookie rescued me, assuming the role of knight in shining armour.
Corralling the jittery Jasper, rendering him legless.
Jasper has been the source of all sorts of entertainment this week.
The bird feeders were put up.
Filled with seed.
Essentially turning on loud and clear Cat TV.
The next morning the two tempting bird feeders were too much for Jasper to ignore.
Sitting atop of the green chair, he sat and watched those feeders with the intensity of my father watching hockey night in Canada when I was a kid.
I don't know who chirped more.
Jasper or the birds.
Either way, they provide all the stress relief I need.
Good thing.
Because this weekend, I have 53 exams to mark, 20 research question assignments, and 18 indepth interviews.
I may end up petting those cats bald by Tuesday morning.
Title Lyric: No Stress by Laurent Wolf
October 18, 2011
OMG!
I should have realized when things were going well, I was keeping up with everything, meeting deadlines and meetings and getting a full night's sleep that things were just too good to be true.
And I was right.
Post-Thanksgiving chaos and turmoil has arrived bearing its full fledged plumage.
This morning I awoke at the usual 5.30 am to get Em out of bed and opened my eyes again at. . . .
8.00 am.
The time when I am usually, breakfasted, dressed, lunch made, blog completed, dogs out for their morning ablutions. . . .
And I am just crawling out of bed.
I drove Em to school in her car because there was no way I was jumping from the passenger side to the driver's side wearing my zebra stripped pj bottoms, my too big red sleep shirt and my slippers.
One day there will be an accident when I am wandering around in such apparel.
The law of averages will make it so.
From that moment, the day has been nothing more than me rushing to catch up.
Because at 5.30 I was supposed to stay and up and finish marking the interviews for my advanced qualitative class.
Instead, as has been the pattern, I was marking them in every spare second I had.
I haven't looked at email since Friday.
And frankly, I'm afraid to.
Yesterday was given over to much needed sleep, making a beef stew big enough to last for at least three meals and marking in every spare second the day provided.
I even ignored the house phone and my cell phone in an effort to take a much needed time out.
Because I have a shit load of stuff to do before Friday.
Funding applications and revised course proposals due tomorrow.
Assignments marked, only to be replaced with a brand new pile.
And another pile tomorrow.
And another pile Thursday.
Marking will be the themed event for this coming weekend.
As it was this weekend, except for one notable exception.
Work deadlines, assignments begging to be marked, children with issues. . .all of that is temporarily tossed to the wayside to take my mum out Sunday afternoon.
The Big Potato for our weekly veggies.
And then coffee at the mall.
I was somewhat reluctant to take Mum out given her present physical state.
She fell last Tuesday after she'd had her disorientating medications and managed to bang herself up good.
As she said on Sunday, "I was taught that if you're going to do something, do it well."
And she did.
And this was after three days.
What was the most upsetting for me during our time out were the number of people who would look at Mum and then look at me in shock and horror.
Typically I don't really care what people think of me.
But to even think that for a minute I would ever, in this or any other lifetime hit my mother??????????
Well that just brings out the less convivial side of my personality.
As some people found out.
Other than having to set a few people straight, we had a lovely afternoon together.
And you can see why I burst into tears in the nursing home dining room when I went for dinner Saturday evening.
No one wants to see their mother injured.
And I made her promise me that she'd ask for help when going to the bathroom post-meds.
Saturday evening finally arrives, I am home in my jammies, papers in front of me to mark whilst I sit in my favourite chair, curtains concealing me from the outside world when my cell phone rings.
Mistakenly, I answered it.
To an hysterical Meredyth on the other end, exhausted from only a few hours sleep the entire weekend, getting ready for her 11.30 pm shift at the bar, and whose toilet had overflowed.
Which proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back.
Causing the exhaustion-caused hysterics.
I did what any mother would do.
Grabbed Stephen, the plunger and a clean towel because she used all her towels to sop up the toilet water resting on her floor, and she was in need of a clean one.
And off we went to fix the toilet, clean the floor and provide a listening ear to her hysterics.
By the time we left, she was fine.
When she arrived for dinner last night, she was fine.
But for her hysterics the Saturday before, she was given a time out.
Yes.
Meredyth crawled into Frankie's crate, to see if she could.
And she thought I wasn't going to take a picture.
Or three.
Poor Frankie.
He didn't know what to do.
So he whined.
His default dealing-with-strange-and-stressful-things tactic.
The kids have adopted this stance, too.
I may need more crates.
Stephen and I have come up with our own dealing with stress tactic.
We've decided to not be held hostage by the earlier and earlier darkness.
A couple of weeks ago we purchased a light attached to an elasticized band that wraps around Stephen's head in order to provide enough light to keep me from falling over or wild critters from attacking us.
Meaning we now head to the experimental farm after dark for a nightly sojourn with the dogs.
We've come to realize, however, that I need my own head light.
Stephen walks faster than I do.
And he has a tendency to sweep the light behind us, leaving me stranded in the dark with no idea where to put my foot next.
So I'll be getting my own head light and looking like a tool be damned.
That light facilitating the after dark walks may be the only thing holding my ever crumbling sanity faintly together.
Title Lyric: Bruises by Chairlift
