I'm glad THAT'S over

Okay, not really - it wasn't THAT bad!

I had to go in to work for half a day on Christmas Eve, but that was fine because I had to stop and pick up a last minute gift for Chebbar's uncle.  That evening, we had planned to eat pizza and watch a movie, but our zip.ca rental was not playable; instead, we drove around looking at Christmas lights until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. 

Christmas morning, we got up and opened our stockings and gifts from each other before heading out to Dad's.  (I had decided that confronting him about his bullshit was a lost cause.  The man has been doing this - and has been confronted for it - his whole life: he's not going to stop all of a sudden because I tell him it's unacceptable, especially when I've already tried (and failed) in the past.)  It felt a little awkward walking into the detritus of the gifts of eight other people (in retrospect, this was a nice gesture because it would have been far more awkward to have the fact that we weren't... shopped for as extensively as in the past made painfully obvious in front of a crowd).  We ate brunch, visited for awhile, and headed off to Chebbar's grandmother's within an hour.

We had a great visit at Nana's.  Theo was highly amusing, as he was hopped up on sugar and over the moon for his new R/C helicopter.  Jake was both entranced and frightened of said helicopter after it got just a little too close for comfort: he'd track it with eyes wide as saucers, saying "Whoa!" like Joey Lawrence repeatedly.  It was hilarious.  After turkey dinner with all the trimmings, we bid them adieu and headed back to town for Round Three.

We stopped at home briefly before heading up to Mom & Brad's for "everything dinner" (we have a huge spread of appetizers, crackers, cheeses, meats, chips, veggies, etc. on Christmas Eve: when Nick was four, he coined it the "everything dinner" because he couldn't say h'ors doeuvre).  We ate, played Apples to Apples (awe.some. game) with Taylor and Dan, and dragged our sorry butts home around 10pm.

Round Three, Part Two began at 9am on Boxing Day ("Christmas Day" for those of you playing along at home).  We were all spoiled rotten.  After brunch was consumed, we headed home again to shower and just relax a bit before Turkey Dinner Redux.  We played Apples to Apples again, had a drink or two, and headed home late-ish again. 

We had planned on going grocery shopping on Sunday, but needless to say, we were exhausted, so after a walk by the river and a trip to the walk-in clinic for Chebbar, we vegged for the rest of the day.  I love Christmas, but I'm always secretly a little glad when it's over. 

How was your Christmas?  Did you get that prized wish-list item, or did you brave the crowds for sales?

When trust is the hardest part

Trust is a frightfully tenuous concept.  Some people trust freely, blindly, and with no reservation - they will trust until given reason not to.  For others, trust is more difficult and something to be earned.  Perhaps the hardest aspect of trust occurs once it is breached: how do you regain someone's trust? how do you let go and trust again?

I have been burned in the past by people who claimed to love me, both small blips and egregious indiscretions.  Obviously, that has left me slow to trust and, at times, just waiting to be let down.  I try to be the person who trusts easily, but it's hard not to be suspicious and cynical if you're waiting for people to fuck up.

Lately, I've had... whispers of doubt regarding MYSELF.  I am relentless in my self-doubt and second-guessing; I have the ability to turn a sound decision into a quivering mass of confusion and uncertainty in mere seconds.  Trusting myself is one of the thing I struggle with the most.  Am I good enough?  Smart enough? Experienced enough?  Do I really have the ability to make an important decision?  Am I capable of handling a potentially life-altering situation?

More times than I care to count, I just wish I was 10 again and someone else was responsible for making my decisions, that someone else would guide me and tell me what was right and what was wrong.  That being said, the majority of the decisions I've made in my life have been sound ones: I have very, very few regrets.  Perhaps what I need to do is focus on the good choices I've made, TRUST myself, and trust that everything will work out as it should.  Oh, and stop borrowing trouble/over-thinking.

The Tech/Gamer/Nerd? Edition

I've posted about lots of stuff I'd like, but I'm going to share the love a bit and give you a few ideas for the computer/gamer person in your life.

First and foremost, EVERY.ONE. who owns a laptop/notebook/netbook neeeeeds one of these (like, should be a mandatory purchase):

Targus Laptop Chill Mat

This little baby plugs into your laptop via USB and keeps both your laptop AND your lap cool - no more contact burns!  As well, the lovely little rubber "feet" you see in the corners prevent your laptop from sliding around.  I was extremely resistant to the notion that I needed one of these, but Chebbar insisted (he was tired of seeing me try to balance my laptop on a stack of magazines in my lap).  It took some getting used to, and it can actually be a tad drafty on the lap in the winter, but I love it and have recommended it numerous times (and will continue to do so).  Future Shop's regular price is $45.99, but we got mine on sale for $29.99.

Xbox 360 Wireless Headset

Chebbar has a wired headset that works... well, when it feels like it: it's temperamental, kind of like yours truly.  Because he has an aversion to all things wired, he's been eying this puppy for a while.  I hope he does pick up a new one soon, because I don't think I've ever laughed as hard as I did the day I listened to him mess with some guy online about going to play the Barbie game instead.

Logitech Laser Gaming Mouse

This has, like, extra buttons.  Or something.  Fancy-pants "gaming" lasers.  Oh!  And weights.  Because wimpy, underdeveloped mice will never do.  LOL  (Seriously, though: major droolage over this from my resident PC-gamer - the only negative he could see was that it's wired.)

Energizer Car/Home Battery Charger

Rechargeable batteries I can charge IN MY CAR?!?  Dude!  I'd probably lose batteries under the seats and stuff, but this seems like a great idea.  We go through AA batteries like they're going out of style.

Good Enough

I had an fantastically introspective emo melt down last night.  Things seemed fine: we had dinner, I wrapped Chebbar's gifts, and then we hung out in the office until I crawled into bed with my book (due to my ongoing issues [enter heavy eye-rolling here], I'm still sleeping in the office during the week, so Chebbar will continue doing his thing on the computer until I'm done reading, then he'll cuddle with me for a bit before retiring to the bedroom himself).  While my mind was engaged with reading, I was good.  It wasn't until I had dropped the book and lay waiting for Chebbar to turn off the computer that my mind started to wander...

(The majority of this was spoken aloud to poor Chebbar.)
I can't believe Dad still hasn't replied to my email.
What if he doesn't answer?
What if he does?
Do I even want to go at this point?
I hate Christmas.
No, I just hate Christmas right now.
I feel awful for forcing you to celebrate Christmas when this isn't your favourite time of year.
Next year, we're not having Christmas.

I wish I could just wake up and it was January 2nd.

Are you happy?
Would you really tell me if you weren't?

Yeah, I'm mostly happy.

But I wish I was better.

I wish I wasn't such a mess.

I wish I wasn't so neurotic.

I wish...

I think too much.

I worry too much.

I'm too suspicious.

I'm too jealous.

I can't let shit GO.

But I hate not being in control.

Things are easier when I'm controlling everything.

Things aren't as scary when I know what's going to happen.

But I can't control everything and I hate that so. much.

I'm a mess and I'm crazy and I'm sorry you have to deal with me.

Don't look at my eyebrows: they embarrass me.

There was more; I was all over the map last night.  The weirdest part?  No tears.  Well, a few may have leaked out of the corners of my eyes, but no full-fledged crying that would be the norm for me - I was just that... numb?  I wore myself out enough that I slept like a log.

To be fair, there is every likelihood that my switching back to my old BCPs has a hand in all of this.  It's possible that the time of year/change of seasons (yesterday was the shortest "day" of the year, after all) has a hand in all of this.  It's possible that the potential family drama has a hand in all of this.

After dancing around the subject via facebook messages with my siblings, I finally bit the bullet, put on my big girl pants, and sent an email to my dad asking if we were invited for Christmas.  I haven't heard from him since I emailed him the week after my birthday on an unrelated matter, to which he replied by apologizing for failing to acknowledge said birthday because of some serious family shit that we were ALL going through (seriously: my brother faced going to jail on my birthday, yet even he managed to send me a text message AND call to wish me a happy birthday - we were ALL a mess over that).  I sent Dad an ecard for his birthday in October, and never heard anything.  How fucking awkward is it to have email your father to find out if you're being included in Christmas?

My mom knows that I haven't heard from him since he didn't acknowledge my birthday.  She knows that I'm all confused and conflicted about Christmas.  I sent her an email this morning regarding unrelated stuff, but mentioned that I had sucked it up and emailed him, that he hadn't bothered to respond, and that it was making me feel like shit.  How does she respond?  BY COMPLETELY IGNORING THAT PARAGRAPH.  Seriously.  Thanks for the support, Mom!

An hour or so after Mom's email, Dad replied.  In his typical fashion, he started out with excuses (STILL talking about being stressed over the possibility of Nick going to jail EIGHT MONTHS after the fact) and closed with flipping it around so that it's somehow my fault (he actually had the audacity to play the wounded party by claiming to not know what role The Donor is playing in my life and if there's room for him - I... I just... there are NO WORDS).  He even delved deep into the manipulative mire to pull out a "there will always be a special place in my heart for you..."  Now, is it just me, or does that not sound like the type of bullshit parting line you give when trying to soften the blow of a break up?

And now I don't know.  I'm not left with the overwhelming feeling of being wanted there, but now that I've addressed the elephant in the room, if I choose not to go, it's going to cause drama.  He will play the wounded party (no, I'm serious: I'd bet my home that this is how it would play out) and I'll be the bad guy.

So, on top of all the emo-vomit bullshit last night, I'm feeling unheard and unsupported by my mother, and unloved and unwanted by my father.  See why I just want it to be January now?

HYC: Week 15

It seems I'm slipping back into old/bad habits.  There's SO much going on right now (above and beyond the typical holiday rush): I feel like I'm struggling to just keep my head above water - the last thing I want to do is worry about food and snacks and food journaling and how much exercise I got today.  I'm tired.  I'm cranky.  My shoulder is acting up again, so I'm sore.  I have so much to do, and so little desire to get it done.

So, I'm doing my usual delaying starting over until a new week/month/year (in this case).  I know it's a cop out; I know it's counter-productive; I know it's disordered thinking, to a degree.  That being said, I'm starting over January 3, 2010.  Don't get me wrong: I have no intention of going buck wild and eating myself out of my clothing and into the new year.  However, I need to take some time to get my head back on straight, to re-prioritize, and to recharge.  I'll be taking the week after Christmas to just unwind.  I need a break.

The better-late-than-never Christmas gift

Chebbar had been laid off a month before our first Christmas together.  I had a hard time balancing my desire to go crazy buying him stuff with my need to respect his feelings about gifts he couldn't reciprocate.  My "compromise" was to spend half of what I had originally budgeted before his lay-off.  I couldn't help hoping he'd surprise me with SOMETHING.

Needless to say, my enjoyment and excitement from watching him open his gifts was over-shadowed by the lack  of... anything for me.  Don't get me wrong: I swear it wasn't that I'm a greedy present-grubber.  It was simply a poorly-formed romantic notion compliments of too many Hallmark movies on Life Time.  I hate to admit it, but I was disappointed.  However, I understood WHY he didn't have anything for me, and that was that.

As our first Valentine's Day crept steadily closer, we discussed gifts and budgets.    I was very happy with what I had purchased for him, and was very excited to see what he purchased me - this would be the first official gift he had given me.  We went for dinner at our favourite restaurant that evening; the next day, he moved in with me.

Five days past Valentine's Day, after my gifts to him had been opened with nary a word about his gift to me, I ended up calling my mom in tears on my way home from work.  She sympathized somewhat, but gave me a patented Mom Reality Check, assuring me not to give up hope.  (To this day, I don't know if she knew or what, although I highly doubt my anti-social family-averse boyfriend was calling my mom nine months into our relationship... )

Sure enough, I came home to a tiny mauve bag from the jewellery store the next day.  My hands shook as I fumbled with the grey ribbon that tied the box closed; inside, I found a beautiful diamond eternity pendant like the ones I had shown him before Christmas.  I was speechless, both from anticipation and from guilt.  He apologized for it being late, and when I chastised him for spending so much, told me that it was a combination Christmas/Valentine's gift.

It was the first piece of jewellery that hadn't come from my parents.  I wear it pretty much every day.  He's given me diamond earrings since then, but my necklace will likely always be my favourite gift from Chebbar.

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This is another writing exercise via the {W}rite of Passage Ning network.  Join us!

Christmas came early

So, my very first post on my other blog showcased a print from Angela Vandenbogaard's Etsy site.

The next day, the sneaky lovely Cat from Mommygeekology sent me a direct message on Twitter asking for my address for "Christmas cards."  Me, being the gullible naive person I am, went about my business, COMPLETELY oblivious.

I think it was late last week she tweeted at me, giving me a heads-up that there was something coming in the mail for me - that she couldn't resist when she saw it, but that it was coming directly, so it wouldn't have her address on it.  Little bugger, I thought.

Wednesday she asked if I had received anything in the mail: not yet.  That night, there was a parcel pick-up slip in the mailbox (meaning it didn't fit).  Oooh, BIG BUGGER!  Then yesterday, there was a picture mailer in the mailbox.  Strange...

Imagine my surprise when I opened it to find this:

She bought my favourite print!  *wibbles*

Cat, I don't know how I'll ever thank you, but be warned: I has tricks.  They're up my sleeves.  mua ha haaaa!  Thank you so very much for your friendship and kindness.  You truly made my WEEK (and you know I was having a shitty one, so it would have taken a lot to make up for it).  I love you bucketfuls.

Now, I just have to make it to the post office to see what the heck else is here for me!  O_O

Oh, my aching pride!

The topic this week is embarrassing moments.  Now, I know I've had many, but I seem to have conveniently blocked them from my memory.  And since I've already told you about my two so-mortifying-I-can't-forget-them memories, I'm having a tough time, so I'm digging deep.

I was in university and juggling a full course load with a "full" (read: 28 hours a week) time job.  I don't know if I was in a hurry to get to my car so I could bomb 20 minutes east down the highway to get home so I could go to work, or what.  I was wearing these really stupidly DANGEROUS for someone who falls off FLIP FLOPS cute platform, open-backed (but closed-toe) shoes, so as I clip-clopped quickly down the hall, I had to scrunch my toes in said shoes to keep them on my feet.  For some reason, I had books in my arms as well as in the backpack I was (smartly) wearing on both shoulders.

I was completely preoccupied as I started down the first set of stairs (which were in sort of a V-shape, I guess - the second set angled to face the common area off the landing).  I made it two steps down the second flight before all of a sudden I was on my ass, books everywhere.  Of COURSE there were people sitting below (who laughed, obviously).  I could feel the reddening of my cheeks as heat infused my face.

That wasn't even the worst part, though.

No, dear readers, the WORST part was when the (cute) guy who had been making his way up the stairs as I tripped my way down HANDED ME MY DAMNED SHOE.  Gah!

*dies*  *again*

Dammit, @temptingmama!

I love her to pieces, but I swear @temptingmama will be the death of me my bank account.  This morning, the lovely @karensugarpants posted a picture of her birthday gift from @temptingmama: it was a gorgeous bag from  Janine King Designs.  Just look at these gorgeous bags!

Asian cherry blossom DSLR camera & lens case

Sparrows DSLR camera & lens case

Floating petals magazine tote

Onyx wristlet

Seriously: her camera bags make me want to go out and buy a super fancy-pants camera just so I'd have an excuse to buy one (because, let's face it: my little point-and-shoot digicam would look SILLY in one).

Chibi Jeebs & the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I'm having a day.  I'm in a mood.  I want to go back to bed, pull the covers over my head, and stay that way until AT LEAST... later.

Yesterday was good, then gut-wrenchingly awful, then okay, but awkward I guess?   I slept okay last night, but obviously woke up on the wrong side of the bed.  It was one of those mornings where nothing (feels like it) goes right.  Last night, Chebbar had told me he wasn't setting his alarm this morning because he hadn't slept well and wanted to try to catch up on his sleep.

As I was getting ready, he stirred a little, changing positions every once in awhile.  Fifteen minutes before I would be leaving, he rolled over and turned off his CPAP machine, signalling that he was awake.  I continued about my business, waiting.  Waiting.  Waiting.  Nope, nothing.

I grudgingly stalked over to give him a perfunctory kiss goodbye, not waiting long enough to give him the opportunity to respond.  I may have also closed the bedroom door a little harder than necessary.  *ahem*  I was angry as I gathered my lunch and jacket: he was awake FIFTEEN MINUTES ago, but couldn't even be bothered to roll over and say good morning?!?  Never MIND walking me down to the car.  Nice.

Driving into work, my mood changed from one of anger to one of melancholy, mostly because I realized how ridiculous I was being.  He probably just dozed off again.  The likelihood that it was an intentional snub?  Slim to none.  But that's how I took it; if the shit that happened yesterday hadn't happened, chances are I wouldn't have taken this as a perceived slight.  (However, chances are that if this mood were present even if the events of yesterday had not taken place, I might have still been upset by this, or by something (anything) else.)  That being said, I vacillated very quickly to self-flagellation and just felt sad.

I've spent the morning flip flopping between pissy and weepy at an alarmingly fast speed.  I hate this.  I just want today to be over, because SURELY tomorrow has to be better.  Right?

Babe, I'm sorry I'm being a psycho hose beast, even if you're not actively experiencing it.

HYC: Week 14

Last week was pretty good until Friday, when I fell completely off track.  Well, pretty much just for Friday, but still.  I started having pains again Wednesday night similar to those last month that were diagnosed as an ovarian cyst.  By Friday, my period had started.  FIVE days early.  That wigged me out a little because this is the third month on this new pill, so in theory it should be effectively in my system and not causing my period to be wonky.  I hadn't been particularly stressed about anything, so that wasn't a logical explanation, either.

I'm supposed to see the doctor near the end of January for my annual check up, but I didn't want to wait that long in case it was a cyst (although, after the appearance of my period and the normalcy with which it played out (aside from being so early), and the fact that I've had no other symptoms to speak of, I don't think it was a(nother) cyst at all).  I called to make an appointment, but can't get in until the end of December because she's on holidays until the 29th.  I did, however, make the "executive" decision to go back on my old birth control pill (I still have a pack at home from when I switched to the new pill): while the new pill has been great at controlling the PMDD, there have been a number of other less-desirable side effects, including the concern that it's not working "properly" and that I'm still ovulating (holy false sense of security, Batman!).  I know this may mean looking at a) yet another BCP switch, b) a different form of birth control, and/or c) anti-anxiety medication, but I just don't feel this is the right pill for me.

So, partially because I was worried and partially because I was feeling sorry for myself, everything went out the window: I didn't log my food that day (and haven't continued, either); I didn't eat my snacks like I had been all week (I felt ill, so food in general wasn't appealing, never mind eating when I felt sick/didn't feel hungry); and I ate the "emergency" Tootsie Rolls as comfort.  The only thing I didn't completely screw up was the walk after work.  However, my intentions to do double workouts didn't pan out, either.  That being said, we DID walk five days last week.  As well, I just downloaded the Lose It! app for my iTouch, so that gives me yet another (fun) tool to attempt to log my food.  We'll see how that goes, though: I haven't had a chance to play with it yet to see if I can log without counting calories (or just how much emphasis is placed on counting calories).

LUNCH TIME!

The shrilling bell signals the arrival of lunch.  23 third graders scramble from their desks as one and rush to line up along the back of the classroom, breathless with anticipation.  They wait every single month for this day.

It's Hot Lunch Day.

This month: hot dogs.  Some kids order more than one; some only order the donut; others don't order anything.  However, she is one of the lucky few allowed to purchase the whole kit and kaboodle.  While she is too young to understand, this is a by-product of a grandmother who is trying to make up for an absent mother, as well as a desire to buy her affection.

She jiggles from foot to foot, anxiously waiting as her teacher goes through the class list and places a check mark next to each item ordered: one hot dog, one chocolate milk, and one donut.

She rushes back to her desk, eyes on her coveted lunch, as she balances everything carefully in her tiny hands.  The hot dog is plain: nothing on the bun.  She has never given much thought to the fact that the school expects the students to go without condiments, but she really doesn't care; she doesn't get hot dogs at home, so even a dry one is a treat.  She wolfs it down quickly in order to move on to the donut, savouring each bite.

The chocolate milk is what she is waiting for, though.  Oh, how she loves the smooth, chocolaty, delicious milk!  Her best friend one desk over looks at her, and with the silent signal of their eyes, they both commence blowing into their milk through their straws with wild abandon, giggling as it bubbles through the cardboard spout.

She loves Hot Lunch Day.

*     *     *

This was the second {W}rite of Passage challenge.  Join us!

Momiji!

Have you seen Momiji dolls before?  From momiji-dolls.com,

"Momiji Dolls are described by their manufacturer as "collectable friendship dolls". They may be tiny but they're big on style and they're pretty good at keeping even the most sensational of secrets. At the base inside every Momiji there's a teeny card to write a teeny message. Pass it on. Spread the love. Momiji are girls with personalities, each one comes in its own little ribbon tied bag and its own collectors card. Momiji dolls make a wonderful gifts for many occasions."

Now, instead of starting a collection slowly and acquiring a lovely story to go along with each new doll like a sane person, I went bat-shit insane and bought twelve at once.

Yes, twelve:

But aren't they adorable?!?

For the most part, I'm content with my twelve (I have two little display shelves that hold them all perfectly).  However, every once in awhile, I'll start Googling looking for new ones.  The majority of the websites I've found are UK-based, and unfortunately I'm too cheap for the shipping costs.  (I actually found mine at two gift stores in Victoria via posts on a message board: I was so desperate to get them that I placed my orders over the phone, entrusting my credit card number to some faceless voice at the end of the line.)  I've recently found a retailer quite close to home that sells online and I'm trying SO. HARD. not to order since a) Christmas is right around the corner and b) we should be saving money so Chebbar can go get all edumacated and stuff.

Here's a little taste of my "I want it!" list:

 Blushes

Bubbles

 Funny Girl

Little Star

Party Girl

Poppet

With prices starting at $12, how could you NOT buy one of each?

Painful realizations

For someone who claims to have little imagination, I sure do an amazing job of over-thinking things to death and making fantastical leaps in awfulizing.

It seems that my cyst is back (or, coincidentally, I have another one on the same side).  I am not happy with this, obviously.  I did some Googling, asked some questions on Twitter, and suspect it might be the new birth control pills, which REALLY blows because they seem to be doing the trick with the PMDD (however, they do seem to have some, erm, "sexual" side effects, and not in a good way).  Theoretically speaking, if the pills were working as they're supposed to - ceasing ovulation - I shouldn't be getting cysts: birth control pills are sometimes used to prevent/stop cysts from forming.  The other side of that coin is, um, I'M OVULATING.  Hello, false sense of security via non-working birth control pills!  *faints*

AAAAANYHOW.

Yesterday, my thinking went something like this...  Great.  More cyst pain.  Guess I'd better see Doc again.  Wait - I'm supposed to go for my annual exam in January; maybe I'll just wait.  No, wait - that's SIX WEEKS AWAY.  I'm not going to a) be uncomfortable longer than necessary and b) risk going through this another month.  Guess that means she's going to want to do an ultrasound.  Wonder how long THAT will take.  Oh, god.  What if they have to operate to remove the cyst?  I can't miss work!  Oh, shit.  What if they end up having to take the whole ovary like [Chebbar's buddy's young 20-something girlfriend]?!?  OMF.  WHAT IF THEY HAVE TO DO A HYSTERECTOMY???  Whoa.  What if Doc tells me that if I want kids, I'd better do it now?  We can't do it now.  Hell, I don't think either one of us wants to do it now.  Huh. Guess that would be an answer of sorts.

And with one ridiculously hypochondriacized (is so a word: shut it) tangent, I came to a shocking realization: I'll be okay if my choice to have kids is taken away from me.  If I'm given the choice of having a child now, while our future is so uncertain and Chebbar is going back to school and things are going to be oh-so-tight for the next few years, and not having one at all, I'm okay with not having one at all.  That's HUGE.

At first, the thought of the choice being taken away from me rankled; however, it was very quickly followed by something that involved a small measure of shame for me: relief.  How EASY would it make things to have a simple, go-to explanation as to why we don't have kids?  "I can't."  I still feel guilty that I don't know; that I'm potentially "depriving" parents of grandchildren; that I'm inherently selfish for hesitating before turning every. single. aspect. of our entire life upside down.  But I strongly believe everything happens for a reason and everything works out the way it's meant to.

So paranoid ramblings aside, I'll probably end up having to change birth control pills and still be left all conflicted and unsure and ambivalent.  In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy knowing that I'll be okay with whatever the outcome is.

All I want for Christmas is one of these puppies

Tassimo

Come to Mama, preciousssss.

Chebbar laughs at me because I don't drink coffee (which I don't).  BUT!  There is so. much. more. you can do with this little baby.  Hot beverages!  Cold beverages!  Desserts!  They have a whole page devoted to recipes.  Yes, drink recipes.  Is that not awesome?  Peppermint hot chocolate?  Yes, please!  White chocolate cappuccino?  Don't mind if I do!  Candy bar hot chocolate?  OM NOM NOM

There are scads of discs (and apparently more in the States that haven't arrived in Canada (yet?)), so you're not even stuck with one brand of coffee.  Wouldn't it be great to be able to make your frou-frou Starbucks drink at home in your jammies?

Sadly, I will not be getting a Tassimo for Christmas because I didn't put it on my list.  Even at the low, low price of $129 (I've seen them as low as $99 at WalMart, FYI), it just seems a little... indulgent right now.  Plus?  After the arrival of my other preciousssss (my sexy Kitchen Aid stand mixer), there is absolutely no spare counter space in the kitchen. So until the mixer novelty wears off and I'm ready to relegate it to a closet (*snort*), there will be no Tassimo until we move.

Unless we get rid of the microwave...

This is not a sponsored post, nor, sadly, is it a giveaway.  However, you can follow @TassimoCanada on Twitter: sometimes they tweet giveaways. 

My feet must taste GREAT

It's the only explanation I can come up with for why I put 'em in my  mouth so. damned. much.

The morning show hosts on the local radio station were talking about their favourite Christmas gift (or memories of same) today.  Without thinking, I crowed "my Pound Puppy!"

(My Pound Puppy was my most coveted gift when I was 8: I was breathless with anticipation Christmas morning, but my Grandmonster decided to torture tease me a bit by a) leaving it to be opened last and b) wrapping it in a long, thin, weed eater box, which threw me RIGHT off.  I was so disappointed when that was the last box to open, and then so joyously happy, I thought my 8-year old head was going to explode.  I slept with that thing for YEARS (like, until I was 19 or 20).  Unfortunately, the big, black garbage bag I was using to store all my stuffed animals in my parents' basement was accidentally thrown out who knows how long ago.  Cocoa is the only one I truly miss.)

Poor Chebbar went, "uh, so why the hell have I bothered buying you diamonds?"

Oh, shit.  *face palm*

Me: Those are my SECOND favourite gift, honey!
Him, rolling his eyes while snorting:  Yeah.  Thanks.
Me: [tries desperately to explain the Pound Puppy thing]
Him: [not buying it]
Me: Besides, my favourite gift from you is my necklace.
Him, raising his eyebrow: Why?
Me: Because it was the first real gift you gave me, and it was my first piece of jewellery from anyone other than my parents, and it was a total surprise. [remind me to tell you about that sometime - are you guys keeping notes on what I'm supposed to tell you about?!?]
Him: Riiiiight.

*sigh*  Tell me about your favourite (Christmas) gift and/or the last time you put your foot in your mouth.  PLEASE.

HYC: Week 13

Well, it's a good thing I added the monthly weigh-in to my Google calendar or I'd have NO clue, considering I seem to have missed one somewhere.  I should have weighed in yesterday, but I forgot.  As of today, I'm down another 1.1 lb.  I haven't measured, so not sure if I'm down anything inch-wise.

The bigger victory, though, is the realization that I haven't felt the overwhelming self-loathing about myself/my body in months.  I'm not sure if it's just a coincidence, the rededication to healthier living, or the shift in hormones (whether my own or via the birth control pills), but the timing seems to line up.  Either way, it's a change I welcome with open arms.  I feel... almost detached, but in a good way - there isn't so much emotion tied to talking/thinking about my body.  Don't get me wrong: I didn't miraculously wake up one morning completely happy with the status quo, but I'm okay with where I am for now.

Last week's plan of continuing my exercising while Chebbar made dinner didn't work (in fact, I missed one entirely in order to visit the chiropractor again for my back).  However, I'm doing GREAT so far this week!  lol  Chebbar's also doing really well: he's only missed one of his planned morning walks.

Logging all my food is also going well.  I'm being completely honest with myself, and including things like the cheese I picked off the bun while I made my lunch after dinner, and the potato chip that didn't make it into the baggy.  I haven't really noticed anything major yet (end of this week/beginning of next may be a different story once Aunt Flo arrives); the only "side effect" is that, because I know I'm going to be accountable, I haven't been eating after dinner.

Pink is my fav-or-ite colour...

Okay, not really, but that damned song always burrows its way into my brain when I think of pink.  ANYHOW.  I woke up to another demand request from @temptingmama to add this to her Christmas list:

From Making it Lovely

It's a little too pink for me (never mind Chebbar: I can't even sell him on a white Christmas tree - pink would NEVER. FLY. unless it was straight off our balcony), but I love how whimsical and different it is (I'm totally that jerk who likes anything simply because it's "different").

This pretty pink tree put me in particularly pink mood, so I went perusing for more.

How about pink gold? "Pink gold!" you exclaim.  YES.  Pink gold...

Set of 3 tri-colour gold stackable rings from Apples of Gold

I love eternity bands.  I love stackable rings.  And I'm really starting to love pink gold (however, the yellow gold is only acceptable in this type of combination).

Or hawt hot pink pumps?

"Terra" pumps by Promiscuous 

Don't we ALL need a super hot pair of slutty heels?  Mind you, mine would have to be worn strictly in sitting situations, because I would surely break my ankle trying to walk around in these.  No, seriously: I fall off flip flops, people.  *sigh*

Of course that means we need a pink purse to match our shoes (shut up about them not having to match: this isn't What Not to Wear).

Forever Rock satchel from Handbag Heaven

And just because it's freaking AWESOME, this:

The Ex Voodoo Knife Block from Perpetual Kid

Pink, it's my favourite crayon...

{W}rite of Passage: Official Launch - Character

The first official {W}rite of Passage challenge is to take a person and fictionalize a story about him or her.  I'm crap at fiction, so I'm elaborating on some of the details I know of this person.



He unwraps the cigar as he hurries down the stairs, dumping the garbage on her desk with little conscious thought.  "If Mary calls, tell her I had a meeting at the bank," he barks.  She sighs before reminding him that she doesn't like lying for him.  "Just tell her.  My cell phone's on."  He clenches the cigar between his teeth as he zips up his jacket on being struck in the face the wind as he opens the door.  "Cold out here!" he shouts as he leaves.

He climbs into his truck, carefully smoothing his hair in the rear view mirror before turning the key in the ignition.  As the radio starts blaring, his pulse picks up; he can already feel the adrenaline begin to course through his veins before he's even left the parking lot.

He has a problem, but he doesn't see it - can't see it.  He's powerless to stop; doesn't want to, really.  It gives him too much of a high, the excitement.  The uncertainty; the risk; the feeling of surety that this is it - this is going to be the lucky hand that lands his big break.

As he reaches the casino, his brow unfurls and his perpetual scowl breaks as a smile stretches across his face.  He walks in to the maze of slot machines, quickly making his way to the tables in the center of the room.  He is accosted from all sides by flashing lights and pinging machines and screaming sirens, but he's deaf to it all: his vision tunnels as he makes his way towards the one thing that consumes him.

Back at the office half an hour later, the phone rings.  She sees the number on the caller ID, closes her eyes, and sighs heavily.  "Hi Jennifer.  Is Ed there?" Mary asks cheerfully.  "No, he's not.  He just left for the bank a few minutes ago.  Maybe try him on his cell phone?"  She knows Mary won't reach him on his cell phone: he always leaves it in the truck when he goes into the casino.  After all, the noise is pretty unmistakable.

Of tutus and tiaras

Last night a tweet from @mommywantsvodka started a conversation with @f_i_d_g_e_t, @temerityjane, and a few others I'm sure, about her need for a tutu; this prompted me to go straight to Etsy and search for adult tutus (or fourfours, according to @mom2nji - go read about fourfours, please: it's funny (and sadly appropriate, although I *might* need a tenten... )).

The first one I saw was this beauty:

Purple & black tattered trashed ragged adult tutu

(Is it just me, or she smokin' hot?)

On the same page was this one:

Adult belle tutu skirt

After serious deliberation, I decided that I would need one like the long tutu.  But in pink.  With CRYSTALS.  Cuz I'm predictable like that.

Aunt Becky then had the GENIUS idea to add tiaras to our ensembles in order to make the drudgery of housework more amenable.  Maybe this one?

Danielle x vintage tiara

Yeaaaaah, might clash with the crystals on my tutu a little too flashy for my tastes.  This one?

Natalia Swarovski crystal silver wedding tiara

Hmm...  That's a little better.  Ooh!  Or what about THIS one?

Goth tiara - a stitch in time of neo Victorian splendor

Then I could STAB stuff while I clean!  YEAH!  Heh.

All I know is that I don't want a fairy wand: that shit will just get in the WAY.

You have my heart so don't hurt me

This week's Girl Talk Thursday topic is heart break.  I've been fortunate enough to only have my heart knocked around seriously a couple of times.  There was the time in the early days when Chebbar and I "were on a break" (with less disastrous results than Ross and Rachel, thank Ceiling Cat): because this is the first time I think I've truly been in love, his breaking up with me damn-near did me in (remind to write about that sometime - totally not trying to be vague).  However, I think I'll talk about my first heart break.

I met Jeff at work at Retail Hell when I was 19.  He was a year younger than me, a skateboarder, and a partier.  He was shy and quiet, but popular (particularly with the ladies).  He had gone to a different school, so we didn't have any friends in common.  I was instantly drawn to him; the attraction seemed mutual.  Unfortunately, at the time I met him, he had a girlfriend, and as I mentioned yesterday, cheating (from either side) just doesn't fly with  me.  So we flirted innocently and I suffered in silence.

Our "relationship" grew to a point that likely was inappropriate: he would call me after he got home from a party, just to let someone know he got home okay; we would talk into the wee hours of the morning about all manner of things, including *ahem* personal things that likely shouldn't be discussed when one of you has a significant other; he would call me to complain when his girlfriend was pissing him off.  We grew extremely close.

And then one day he was single.

Except I wasn't.  And then one day I was single.  Except he wasn't.  Lather, rinse, repeat for FAR longer than it should have.  All the while, our inappropriate "relationship" continued, generally without the knowledge of our significant others (which, at the time, seemed relatively innocent; it wasn't until years later that I learned about emotional cheating).

One New Year's Eve, we were BOTH miraculously single at the same time; we flirted with each other openly and shamelessly all night.  As the clock struck midnight, his brother (who, up until this point, I assumed didn't like me) pushed us together and we shared our first (and last) kiss.  I floated home that night.

I was jarred back to reality the next day when he first played dumb about the whole thing, and then claimed to be "too drunk" to remember.  Ouch.

Our weird, dysfunctional "relationship" continued for four years.  During that time, he hooked up with a complete bitch that literally no one liked because she was such a pill.  He'd call me up to complain about her incessantly, turning a deaf ear to my queries about why he'd stay with her.  Eventually, they broke up.  I thought this was my chance!

Wrong.

He started dating some other chick.  For eight months.  Before getting back together with Harpy Bitch.  In an act of sheer brilliance, I decided to date his best friend in an attempt to make him SEE what an awesome girlfriend I was.

Yeah.  Didn't work.

Instead, Harpy Bitch thought I was her new BFF! and Jeff, his buddy, and I entered into a pact to keep our (Jeff and I) "relationship" a secret from Harpy Bitch (seriously, bitch was so crazy that she used to threaten not only the girl Jeff dated while THEY WEREN'T TOGETHER, but also ALLLLL the girls he dated BEFORE HE EVEN MET HER!).  It was awkward and awful and his best friend was a douche bag with a screw loose, so he didn't last long.

Because I was still something of a bar star (*snort*), I had planned a big party for my 22nd birthday.  Being the magnanimous person that I am (*double-snort*), I invited Jeff AND Harpy Bitch.  Two days before the big day, Jeff showed up at my house.  I was sitting outside spraying a pair of new running shoes with protectant (god, I'm lame *sigh*); I was SO glad to see him.  Well, until he opened his mouth.

Haltingly, he told me that he didn't think that Harpy Bitch would be able to make it; needless to say, I wasn't too disappointed.  He then went on to say something about how the loud music "wouldn't be good" for her.  Puzzled, I asked him what he meant.  He answered by patting his stomach.  To this day, I'm not sure if I honestly didn't make the connection, or if I was in denial.  I remember cocking my head to the right and sarcastically asking "because she doesn't feel good?"  He corrected me, telling me that she was pregnant.  And that he thought he was going to ask her to marry him.

I was livid and sick and beside myself all at once.  I actually picked up one of my runners and hucked it at his head (lucky for him, I throw like a REALLY BAD girl).  He stood there, ashen, apologizing over and over until I screamed at him to leave.

I was inconsolable.  I went out that Saturday a woman on a mission.  It was the closest I ever came to picking up a one-night stand (instead, I met a guy - Ian - that I ended up "dating" for five months and sleeping with once: I call him the longest one-night stand in history - remind me to tell you THAT story, too).

Jeff tried to call a couple of times; I wouldn't talk to him.  Because I knew how deep my feelings ran, how strong our bond was, and how he'd continue the status quo even though he was going to be a married family man, I knew that the only way to recover was to cut him out of my life completely.  So I did.

It fucking hurt.  Every time I'd hear that song or smell that cologne or find his fucking jacket in the trunk of my damned car, it was like someone simultaneously sucked the air out my lungs, punched me in the stomach, and ripped my heart from my chest.  (Cliché, non?)  But I soldiered on, distracting myself with weekends at the bar and heavy make-out sessions with Ian.

I was muddling along just fine until June 20th.  His birthday.  My phone rang, but there was no number on the caller ID; I didn't think anything of it because back then cell numbers never registered, and I was expecting a call from Ian.  Of course, I sounded suitably happy to hear from Ian when I answered.  The connection was bad, so it cut in and out a few times before I could hear his voice properly.  It took me about three seconds to realize that it was Jeff.  Not Ian.  Before I could even think about it, I heard myself say "Oh.  It's YOU." in the most disgusted voice I've ever heard come out of my mouth.  He stammered, said a shaky yeah, then lost the signal.

I was HOPING he wouldn't call back.  He did.  He told me he missed me.  He told me he was miserable.  He said all kinds of things, to which I would woodenly reply with "uh-huh."  When he realized he wasn't getting anywhere, he asked if I would take his new pager number - a new number because Harpy Bitch had figured out the password to both his old pager and his voice mail: she didn't know about this one.  I felt SO dirty.

I wrote it down, not promising anything.  When I got off the phone, I sat staring at his number for a full five minutes.  Eventually I realized that if I didn't get rid of his number, calling him was inevitable; calling him would inevitably lead to being sucked back in; and being sucked back in would lead to both getting my hopes up again and having them smashed to smithereens again.  So, I tore it up into tiny pieces and flushed them down the toilet so I wouldn't be tempted to try to tape them together in a fit of weakness.  (I have this weird thing with phone numbers and generally can remember them after seeing/dialing them a couple of times: I have NO idea how I failed to log that one into the memory bank after staring at it for so long, but this is one of the very few instances in my life where I'm GLAD I failed.)

I didn't hear from him again after that.  Harpy Bitch came through my check out at Retail Hell while glowingly pregnant (he had long since quit: we only worked together for about a year) and insisted I give her a call! so we could get together! (yeah, NO); I'd see them in the mall from time to time, but I always made sure to be "looking" in the opposite direction; I heard about him from mutual friends: they got married; had a son; had another son; her rampant slut ways returned and she cheated on him; they divorced; he was rumoured to be selling drugs.

All that being said, it took me FIVE YEARS to fully, completely, once-and-for-all get over him.  Gah, how embarrassing!  And pathetic.  But unrequited loves are so easy to put on a pedestal: you have no clue what his quirks are, his bad habits, what an asshole he is if he gets up too early, etc.  I honestly thought I was over him before that, but I had a dream one night not long after moving into the apartment in which we "talked" and I simply told him goodbye and walked away from him.  I woke up the next morning feeling like a new person with an enormous weight lifted from her shoulders - for once, I actually felt DONE with the whole thing.

Cheaters never prosper

Unless you're blessed enough to live under a rock, you've probably heard about the latest scandal to rock the sports/gossip world.  When I heard it confirmed on the radio during my commute this morning, my face wrinkled liked I had just been on the sour end of a lemon - I felt so disappointed.  I then asked myself what the deal was, since it's not like this situation affects me personally.  However, society seems to become attached to celebrities and feel like we know the golf pro/drummer/movie star because their personal lives are far from private.

Cheating is a highly contentious issue for me.  The subject damn near makes me physically ill.  I know there are tons of people out there who insist that humans weren't meant to be monogamous; however, I can say without a shadow of a doubt that I would NEVER cheat on my partner.  I've been cheated on and I know how awful it feels - I can't imagine willingly inflicting that kind of pain on someone I profess to love.  And as much as I hate to admit it, until Chebbar came along my imagined reaction to being cheated on again was black and white: cheat on me and you're dead to me.  Unfortunately, I didn't love anyone enough before Chebbar to even be able to contemplate the yeah-buts and what-ifs (honestly, at this point in time, I'd have to leave it at "it would depend on a whole lot of factors").  

That being said, I honestly cannot wrap my head around how a celebrity feels he or she can get away with cheating on a spouse.  You're FAMOUS.  Your picture is plastered all over website, magazines, bus shelters, and the TV.  How on earth do you think that the bartender/concierge/fan standing on the corner as you cruise to a stop with someone who is obviously not your spouse isn't going to notice you?  Is your head so swelled that you think these people are going to keep your dirty little secret?  And I'm sorry, but turning your "apology" into an opportunity to lash out at the media is childish and just looks like you're having a temper tantrum over being busted.  If you kept it in your pants, you wouldn't be in this mess.

And for the record, in my not-so-humble opinion, it's not just the married celebrities who need to keep their pants on away from home.  If you're in ANY sort of committed relationship - even if it's just moving past casual dating to dating exclusively - you OWE it to your significant other to be faithful.  If you don't think you're capable of that, remain a serial dater and do your own damned laundry.

Baby, it's cold outside!

@temptingmama may end up being my best motivation:

Thank god she's so bossy encouraging, hey?   hehehe  ;)

A couple of weeks ago, I tweeted asking if anyone had sources for me because Chebbar wanted a "toque with a baseball hat brim" (aka a visor beanie).  (For those of you who are wondering what the ever loving hell I'm talking about, click to get edu-ma-cated: toque.)  I struck out on Twitter, but I did see a plea from @purplelara for an "ear flap maple leaf toque with a pom pom on top."  Oy.  I Googled exactly those words put my Google-Fu to work, and found this:

Norko Team Canada Chullo Winter Hat

Apparently, the Google Gods were smiling on me, because it was the toque she wanted to purchase for her boyfriend for his birthday (until the bugger went and bought one himself, but that's a whole 'nother story... ) (oh, and in her defence, he ASKED for it: she's not unnaturally cruel in her desire to buy him a girl's hat; however, after buying it himself, he might DESERVE girls' clothes).  The unfortunate side effect?  Now *I* want this toque.  And I'm not a toque person!  I have long, fine, curly hair!  Knit hats + winter static + my hair = don't even go there.  But as something of a nod to the Vancouver 2010 Olympics, how could I pass it up?

Today, @biddymcbidson posted a link to scarf that I'm gonna say matches the soon-to-be-mine toque:

Lightweight Jersey Scarf

What?  The colours are the same: isn't that enough?  GOSH.  It's not like I'm a fashion plate or anything.

As well, @andsosheblogs posted a link to her Etsy-edition holiday gift guide.  One of the pictures caught my eye, so being the link-happy girl that I am, I clicked through to Meg Leigh Designs on Etsy.  Oh, the shiny!  She has lots of gorgeous pieces, but I'm drawn to this particular one:

Birds and Twigs Necklace

My last item for today is probably more of a stocking stuffer item because it's so affordable ($6! and five colours to choose from!).  Finn posted this on Miss Britt's Buy-Her; the moment I saw it, I was so excited, I actually emailed the link to Chebbar, then DEMANDED he read this bloody email (for once).

Book Bungee Bookmark

It's a bookmark with a bungee cord, so it will never fall out of your book!  Isn't that GENIUS?!?  This is the sole reason that I'm a dirty, dirty dog-earer.  *hangs head in shame*  I haven't even looked to see what their shipping is (or if they even ship to Canada), so I have no idea if my hopes will be dashed come Christmas morning or not.  *crosses fingers*

Rampant consumerism and my need for MOAR

I have a dilemma.  Between online Christmas shopping, lovely blogs, and being a link-click-happy whore, I see all this awesome stuff all over the place that I HAVE TO HAVE.  However, I have neither independent wealth, nor a size two body.  So!  In order to console myself somewhat for those two short comings, I'm going to post pictures (and links, obvs) of all the preciousssss I come across either on my own or via my lovely (but enabling) friends.  That being said, if you come across something you think I just have to add to my virtual wish list, hit my inbox, yo.

*          *          *

Twitter is both a wondrous thing and a rat bastard.  Well, for me, anyhow.  For example: today, @temptingmama posted a link to Angela Vandenbogaard's artwork on Etsy.   I really like her Cherry Blossoms print because, well, I love cherry blossoms.  However, the colours in "Forever and Always" caught my eye because I love the combination of pink and brown.

"Forever and Always"

It was the description that did me in, though:

"Once a tree is planted beside another, they are there together forever and for always. It's like people, once they choose who they really want: they stick beside them forever and for always."

 Love it!  If I get some cash for Christmas, this may very well be my very first For Me purchase from Etsy.  (To date, everything else has been a gift.  Or my reusable produce bags, but those are for the ENVIRONMENT, not me.)

At this point, @alotofnothing busted in with a suggestion to check out her friend Cindy Thornton's Etsy shop.  Okay, seriously?  Go check out either of those links: her work is GORGEOUS.  She has a couple of beautiful poppy prints on the home page of her website, but since I kind of have an Etsy theme happening here, I'm going to link to her favourite from her shop:

"Country Lights Silence"

Hmm...  I'd bet money Chebbar isn't anywhere NEAR finished his Christmas shopping.  Maybe I can sneak these two onto my Christmas list.  hehehe