i made myself nine pieces of clothing last year. and a kilt for someone else!

so, sewing.

i like it. a lot.  i pretty much want to spend all day, every day just reading sewing blogs, buying fabric and making things.

last year was pretty good, sewing-wise.  as you can see above, i made four dresses, two shirts and three bottoms!  i conquered french seams on pockets.  i am still in search of the perfect leggings pattern.  i need to practice knit neck bindings so that i can make ALL the Lindens, because i love making them and wearing them.

my sewing goals this year are:

  • to NOT BUY ANY MORE FABRIC, DAMMIT (until it’s time for me to make the Winslow culottes, because i don’t have the right stuff for them)
  • try at least two new things that scare me (i.e. fitting woven garments, making actual pants, inserting zippers, etc.)
  • maybe try to blog about my makes, as it’ll give me reasons to use this space more often and make me pay a little more attention to the process
  • sew more often. now that i have a space i don’t have to pack up at the end of every night, i can start doing a little bit at a time and keep a steady progression of project.

yeah, sewing.  it’s cool.

let’s talk about sewing!


i wasn’t looking forward to going back to work today, so i put myself to bed at a reasonable hour and, despite the rainy traffic noise i managed to fall asleep and get myself into some pretty immersive dreams.

then i heard the yowling.

it woke me up enough to realize that it was a mournful cat sound and i sleepily called out “Rose! it’s okay. come to bed!” thinking it was her meyowling out the window at some emo raindrops as she’s wont to do.

what seemed like a couple of hours later, the yowling got louder and more regular and i realized neither kitten was hogging my bedspace, so i got up to see what the problem was. both cats were hovering around the door to my aparment with HUGE eyes and inconsolable twitching. i tried to cuddle them into submission but they were having none of it. i hunted for poop/puke piles and checked food/water. nothing was amiss. finally, i shut them in the bathroom to avoid bolting, put on my robe and opened the door to the hall.

imagine my sleepy surprise to find the above pictured tuxedo cat hissing at me after midnight. it was the one doing the yowling and disturbing my kittens through the gap below my door. it wouldn’t have anything to with me besides growling at my existence and when i walked both downstairs and up to see if any apartment doors were ajar, he (or so i assume) was always half a hall away and scowling like Cleo.

i went back inside my apartment and texted my super asking if the new people upstairs had a black and white cat, stuffed a towel under the door to block out any stressful sounds/smells in hopes my kittens would calm the fuck down and then i proceeded to spend the next hour stressed out about this damn hallway cat.

where did he come from? is he a resident of my building? did he sneak in an outside door and get stuck? if he did live there, why didn’t his people miss him? why hasn’t anyone else heard the mournful meyowling and investigated? why didn’t i get my kittens rabies shots so i could take him in for the night? where the fuck were his people? why hasn’t my super answered my midnight text message? am i ever going to get back to sleep?

i somehow managed to fall asleep and stay so until my alarm started faking daylight just after four a.m. i hadn’t heard any more yowling, so i hoped that someone had realized the situation and brought him back inside. i was wrong. he yowled again. oh, fuck.

i decided to ignore the issue until after my shower as my kittens weren’t as anxious and upset as they’d been earlier (i guess the towel trick worked – yay). so, after i’d cleaned up and the girls had been fed, i peeked out the door again to see the situation. i hadn’t heard anything more and couldn’t see him at first, but i the sound of my deadbolt unlocking brought him up the stairs to see what was going on. i spotted his ears peeking up over the top step and heard his morning hissing.

by now he’d been in the halls for at least seven hours without amenities, so i put out a tiny bit of dry food and a small cup of water for him and he eagerly and, dare i say it, happily came prancing over to check it out. i thought maybe he’d realized i wasn’t an enemy until he growled the entire time he was chewing. ungrateful jerk!

i went back inside to get back to my morning routine to prepare to go return to the daily slog and happened to hear another apartment door open, close and then an exterior door do the same. hoping this was Tuxie’s owner getting up early, i peeked into the hall. no, cat was still there, but the early leaving neighbour had picked up the dish of food and put it up on a ledge where the hallway cat couldn’t get it. WTF?!

why would this person take the food away from the cat? WHY? if it wans’t their cat, why would they bother? if it was their cat, why didn’t they just put him back in their apartment? grr, fuck! i was (and still am, obviously) fucking confused by this behaviour. so, being the sucker i am, i put on shoes (because, by this point, hallway cat was guarding the hall with hissing and threats of violence and i didn’t want to get blooded by a strange feline before six a.m.) to go return the food to the floor so he could return to breakfast. which he happily, and hungrily, did.

i wish i had a happy ending to this tale as he was lounging on those stairs when i left for work at 7 a.m. i’m going to call the super on my lunch break to see if he knows who the cat belongs to and, if he doesn’t, hope that he’s just not been let loose into the wild.

this kind of thing guts me entirely. i wish i’d had the balls to go knocking on doors at one a.m. i wish i’d been able to take him in to feel less scared. i wish his people weren’t such heartless fuckers to not give a shit about where he’d been all night.

since you arrived from my friend Jodi Chromey, you’ve been my constant companion for the last eight years, six months and 18 days. you’ve travelled with me through four countries, in cars, on boats, in planes and on buses. you’ve written letters, cheques, daily drivel and secret notes.

today, as i was screwing in a new ink cartridge, you finally collapsed. your beautiful red barrel cracked. i couldn’t believe my eyes. i denied the reality before me as you tore yourself apart trying to get one. last. cartridge. inside you for me to use.

i’ve ordered your replacement, but know that you’ll never truly be replaced. thank you for all the words, dearest Lamy. you will never be forgotten.

a perfect day

i am so tired of everyone complaining about the weather.
i don’t know what it is about Vancouverites and their extremely short memories when it comes to sunshine. we can have two weeks of beautiful, warm, bright days, but as soon as there’s a solid bank of clouds overhead or a sprinkle or two, out comes the whining, moping and general shitheadedness.
hey, it’s not the end of the world! it’s water. in the sky or falling from it. you know, H2O? aqua? the stuff of life?
and, really, who the fuck cares if it’s shitty from 8-5 M-F? most of us can’t be out enjoying any “good” weather then anyway, what with our cube-lives requiring us to hide under fluorescent lights and breathing recycled air for five-sevenths of our days.
yesterday morning was dark and dreary; but, it was also hot and muggy — ew. then the clouds broke and it got gorgeous just in time for you all to leave your office-cells! how is that possibly something to complain about?
today, it’s raining; but, the sky is pretty bright and, c’mon! the sound of ALL THE RAIN EVER falling? such a fantastic sound to wake up to (after i forgot to set my alarm and Rose stuffed her furry face into mine to ensure i wasn’t late for all that fluorescent recycled air)! i wanted to be able to lay in bed longer just to listen to it.
would you rather have 36°C with a 45°C humidex like they’re getting in the rest of the continent? are you insane? that’s just stupid and untenable. i’ll take 25°C and partial-clouds any day of the week, thanks.

because @strombo touched mine!
Kimli took me to see George Stroumboulopoulos at the CBC today. he is shorter than he looks on tv, but nicer, funnier and oh-so-chatty. thanks to Kim & Ed being in line way early and Ed’s excellent seat-snagging we were DEAD CENTRE for the taping.
afterwards, we loitered longly in the meet’n’greet so i could do two things: get a photo taken with Canada’s Boyfriend and not make a fool of myself asking for either: him to talk to my mom on the phone (she’s in love with him) or make a new voicemail message for me. guess which i asked for? sorry, mom!
anyway, i’m super headachy from all the clapping and lack of proper snacks, so this post is short and hyper. but, yeah, i met George and he’s really nice.
that bastard.
and here’s a photo of me being adorable while George records the above message, taken by the talented and happily handy John Biehler:

Post show meet & greet with George

(p.s. hey, rss people. there is audio content in this post you must click through to the site to hear. click! go on!)

i’m going to make a confession. sometimes, when i think about my kittens, i start to cry.
yup, i’m a nutbar. i just can’t help it! i waited SO LONG to have cats and now i have two amazingly adorable, awesome, playful, pretty, crazy and hilarious cats… i get a little overwhelmed with just how much awesome they’ve brought into my life. it’s astounding to me how much i love them after only knowing them for a few weeks. i look forward to going home from wherever i am because i know they’re there waiting for me. yes, i may walk into shredded toilet paper or broken window blinds, but i don’t care. they’re my fantasti-cats!

Rose's sexy boudoir pose

they follow me around and mew and purr and want to help me with everything — especially eating my yogurt. they run around like little horses and wrassle on the bed and greet me with snuggles in the morning dark. they love everything about the bathroom and paper balls… oh, the paper balls. even when they’re shitheads or distracting me from what i’m trying to do, they’re perfect. i count myself very lucky to have found them and have them pick me to be their new handmaid. two kittens is not what i set out to find, but now that they’re with me, i couldn’t imagine making any other choice.

Amy's distinction

oops. well, i guess i haven’t been all that diligent about posting this month. but, i will say i think i did pretty well for someone who hasn’t been in the habit since, oh, last NaBloPoMo. 22 out of 30 days? not bad, indeed. go me!
sorry about all the cats. but, just like when people start spawning, all i have to talk about these days are my infuriatingly adorable purr babies. you know, like how they managed to destroy two framed photographs last night while i was down in the laundry room for no more than seven minutes. sigh.

as i was talking to my mom last night, i mentioned to her that i’ve been reading a lot lately about the minimalist movement, i just didn’t realize that adopting kittens would force me into the lifestyle with the removal of all my stuff from my walls, shelves and floors in the name of kitten-proofing. or, as i said to Christopher, i just can’t have anything nice now that i have cats. oh well, at least i have the cats. they’re pretty nice. most of the time.
i’ve been reminded lately of how hard it is to have friends who live very far away. i’d almost forgotten what it felt like after i started to have friends who actually lived in the same area code as me. it’s a strange sensation. on one hand, it’s so amazingly awesome to have a connection with someone fantastic who really gets you; on the other, it’s such a heart-breaker to not be able to spend real time with them because of epic geographical impedance. and to think, for a good seven years or so, those were the only kinds of relationships i had. how sad for me. it both makes me very glad of my awesome local friendships and disappointed for all the things which get missed because my other friends aren’t nearby. everybody needs to move to Vancouver. we’ll get a giant old house and live commune style! but with more frequent showers and no fucking patchouli.
tomorrow night is the finale for ANTM cycle Boring and there will be people playing with my cats to enjoy it with. this weekend, Kingsley goes in for his second service and i will be exercising my bumper-to-bumper warranty and getting yet another set of new windshield wipers because the ones they put on in July are shitty streaky and gross. seriously! they only last four months?! blah. stupid cheap wipers! a least they’ll be free. oh, and Sunday is Got Craft? day! i’m almost considering lining up at 7am just to get in on the swag bag magic. anybody want to come line up with me?
oh, yeah, i think i’m skipping Christmas this year. i can’t decorate because of cats and i shouldn’t bake because of the size of my ass. my work party was last Friday, so i boycotted and trying to organize a department lunch is full of frustration. if the weather co-operates, i’ll be going to Parksville to spent a couple of days with my mom, leaving my cats alone to destroy anything left out in my apartment. if the weather is prohibitive, i think Kimli has said she’s going to kidnap me, which might be the most festive option available to me.

content? right! content!
look! bath cat!

bath cat

sorry, t’was wayyy too busy playing with cats. there will be more words tomorrow.

after six years, i’m finally ready to bring a cat into my apartment. the super’s been asked, the screens have been installed and the bathroom is ready for it’s kitty-friendly addition. the only thing missing is the cat.
there sure are a lot of cats out there waiting for new homes.
i’ve been to three of the seven SPCAs in the lower mainland over the last week. every time, i leave wanting to take all the cats home with me. with the exception of the Richmond SPCA, the cats live in sad 2’x2’x2′ metal cages. some reach out their paws through the bars to beg you to grab your attention. others hide in their boxes or bury themselves under blankets, too scared or depressed to interact.
it’s been a heartbreaking process.
yesterday, Christopher and i went back out to Surrey and Richmond for second visits with three potentials we met on the weekend. unfortunately, one showed a nasty side (and drew blood) and another was far too much of a scaredy-cat needing a lot more time and work than i have to give, so they’re off the list. the third wasn’t quite as lively and affectionate as our first visit and has proven without a doubt she’s not a cuddle cat, which is definitely a characteristic i’m looking for.
but, they say that when one door closes, another opens, and i met two fantastic tabbies i kind of fell in love with.
this is mitsy, a one-year-old female:


and this is stax, a five-month-old male:


mitsy took everything i threw at her. picking her up, scratching her butt, holding her like a baby. she even let me rub her belly without an attack! and, more adorably, she was up on her hind feet trying to catch the hummingbirds playing on the tv in the Surrey cat room. SO CUTE! her coat is silky smooth with very little white in with the brown tabby.
stax is a little younger than i was looking for, but he’s a riot. he would lie down on the floor and stretch alllll the way out, easily doubling his length, and loving a tummy scritch.. for a while. once he was over it, he let me know with a couple of back claws. he’s got such an expressive face and pretty yellow-green eyes.
so, i’m back to square one. i have two and a half cats i really like to choose from.
this process is kind of killing me. i think it’s because i utterly fell in love with the first cat i saw: buddy. he was a beautiful grey tabby at the North Van Bosley’s pet store. unfortunately for me, he was already spoken for when we met. ugh.
i joked with Chris that maybe i shouldn’t get a cat at all, just keep going to visit them at the shelters. but, we both agreed that’s not the same thing at all. i think he should get stax and i’ll get mitsy and we can all live happily ever after. see? that wasn’t hard at all!

so, my 37th year was… eventful. among other things i:
i had surgery (and woke up), but ended up nearly dying a week later. luckily, i’m smart or something and had a good idea what was happening and had the wherewithal to advocate for myself while being rolled around the medical system. unfortunately, i learned a little too much about fear and anxiety. i also learned that i am so unbearably lucky to have the family and friends that i do.
i also gave up on trying to be debt-free for my 41st birthday and bought a much-needed new, and warrantied, car.
i met someone i’ve wanted to for many years when my friend Paige came to visit in May.
i’ve gone to a lot of parties and have, shockingly, started not hating the idea of them!
i started going to boot-camp and got my ass KICKED twice-weekly for three months. the scariest thing? i loved it and can’t wait to get back to it! Christopher isn’t sure how he feels about my shrinking ass, though. ;)
i believe it’s no longer possible for me to pretend that i’m young. 38 is way too close to 40 for comfort.
so… 38. what do you have in store for me? whatever you do, please be gentle with me. i may seem to be all tough, but i’m still a little tender from the whooping i got last year.

warfarin flower

six months ago (minus three days), a blood clot which formed in the back of my left leg after my knee surgery broke off, zoomed up my leg, through my heart and got stuck in my lung. it went from being a DVT to a PE in a millisecond. and it almost killed me.
for the last six months (minus three days), i’ve been taking a daily dose of rat poison to thin my blood enough so that i wouldn’t form another clot and to buy my body time to “deal with” the clot that now resided in my lung, like a ticking time bomb.
every week for the last six months (minus three days), i’ve had to go to the lab and get poked with needles (sometimes multiple times) to draw my blood to ensure that i was taking enough rat poison to keep the clot(s) at bay.
every minute of every day for the last six months (minus three days), i’ve worried about that clot in my lung. the doctor in the hospital said one of three things could happen to it:
1) it could just go away;
2) it could get scarified and permanently attached inside my lung; or,
3) it could, in some cases, get bigger.
he also said they wouldn’t do any follow-up CT scan or testing to find out what it did after my six months of anti-coagulant treatment. take the pills and then stop taking the pills and you’ll be fine, he said. so, i lived with the fear that it was just growing and getting more and more ominous because that’s what i do. i worry and practice hypochondria.
today, i got the news.
my lovely and wonderful hematologist told me that the radioactive fog i breathed in and radioactive solution i got shot up with two weeks ago showed that my lungs are completely clear. my clot is gone! my lungs are absolutely normal and i am not going to die at some random moment because i exerted myself too much and dislodged my unwanted lung tenant! i can eat broccoli and take vitamins with abandon! i can have beer! i can go jump on a treadmill and not fear heavy breathing!
i started to cry as i walked to the car. i knew i’d been depressed and anxious the last six months (minus three days) and that i was under some extreme stress, but this news, those three little words, have lifted a giant weight from my shoulders. as i told my dad, there aren’t enough exclamation points in the world to express just how happy this makes me.
and i’m so happy i could almost float. =)

i'm flipping out!

so, i got my hair cut.
i’m not sure why, but ever since chopping off 14 inches of hair to donate to Locks of Love, every time i go in for a cut, i leave the salon with shorter and shorter hair. at this rate, i’ll be sporting a Demi Moore circa GI Jane buzz cut in less than 18 months.
what’s neat about this cut (and probably the last, but i was clueless) is that i now have a flippy-do option (as pictured) in addition to the regular, everyday scrunchy-do i normally sport. now, if there’s a big occasion or i’m just feeling a little sassy, i can break out the big-barreled curling iron and make my hair defy gravity! it’s very exciting. i’m a fairly low-maintenance kind of female, so anything involving implements of beauty torture both intimidate and thill me.
in other news, i just can’t wait for 2009 to be over. there’s been so much yucky all over the place, 2010 has GOT to be an improvement. right? besides all the health drama and money drama, there have been deaths and heartbreak and work issues and just a general sense of “fuck, this sucks” pervading most of the lives of people i know and love this last year. too many hospitals, too many bills, too many angsty conversations which go nowhere and only end in tears. in addition, all the awesome Christmas things i look forward to every year at the office just aren’t happening because of tensions i cannot speak of. it’s made me want to just skip this month entirely!
alas, there is no skipping. so, i’m hunkering down and trying to make the best of it. there have been parties and brunch (my two new favourite things) and home improvements and iphone debating to keep my mind off all the badness. i seem to have inherited an ice cream maker to replace the inherited waffle iron, so maybe i’ll just drown my winter sorrows in homemade creamy goodness. or, maybe i should finish Christopher’s scarf already.
p.s. remind me to tell you about how awesome it is to have finally found a bra which fits. my boobs look awesome now.

all a big set-up

after a very slow and worrisome start, i ended day one with many small sales and one HUGEMONGOUS one. seriously, i didn’t think that one lady was going to buy SIX magnet sets and TWO pendants and THREE more magnets! that was almost a hundred-dollar sale! holy crap!
there was fairly steady traffic all day, which was good. my table-partner, and co-worker Sandy, got the first sale, but until near the end, i got most of the rest. Nelson came to visit while Jana was at a baby shower semi-nearby. a couple co-workers came to visit, as well. and, we made friends with most every other vendor who kept us company in the basement room of the Urban Academy. right next to us was actually one of the teachers, which explains why so very many people coming by knew her name.
interestingly, people seem to really like looking at my photo cards, but aren’t so very interested in buying them. nor is there much interest in the pendants or rings. magnet sets are selling well and, after a slow start, so are magnet monograms and singles.
i supported my fellow crafters by buying a cat-shaped spoon rest and a cat-eared/devil-horned sparkly toque (it’s pretty fucking fantastic, actually). i’m sure i’ll spend more of my profits there tomorrow. especially on those extra-chewy homemade chocolate chip cookies. yum.
now, i’m home after finally getting to go out for sushi with Christopher after we closed up shop for the day. i’ve counted my money and now, i think i’m going to lie down on the floor for a while and unkink my back.
i’m such a party animal.
p.s. if you’re not doing anything tomorrow, the craft fair is open for one more day! come see me from 10-5! i like visitors!

an army of birthday wishes

well, i’m all packed up for the big craft fair this weekend!
everything is in a big paper box or a lululemon tote bag (sorry, colene). at least i hope everything is. my worst fear is to get halfway through the day on saturday and realize that i’ve forgotten something vital.
anyway, set up is friday night and i have a serious question about craft show set up etiquette. is set up night just for putting up of racks and laying blankets on tables? or, does one set up all one’s stock as well? so you can just show up the next day and get to selling? i guess my partner and i will find out once we get there, but it all just seem so damn confusing!
oh, unless something miraculous happens, the fancy business cards i ordered won’t be ready in time for the show. fuck. instead, i whipped up something dodgy in Word and printed them on those fuzzy-edged laser printer cards — which is EXACTLY what i wanted to avoid in the first place. boo, hiss. although, how excellent is it that i’ll have 250 business cards and nowhere to use them!
anyway, yeah. i’m stressed out and quite frightened to be on the other side of the table at a craft fair. i’ve been a frequent visitor, but never a vendor. i don’t quite know if i’m up for it. that’s why i think y’all should come by to cheer me up!
Christmas Magic at the Manor
November 21 & 22, 2009 10 am to 5 pm
Urban Academy
101 Third Street, New Westminster, BC

hip to be square

this has been the weirdest 24 hours.
not the finding yet another co-worker who lives in North Van (which means yet another potential car-pooler). not the spending four hours sandwiched into the backseat of a Mazda to go buy underpants with Brigette, Miranda, Shan and Kimli (our superawesome chauffeur). not the finding comfortable bras which fit without accessories. not the eating the world’s second biggest burrito (the biggest being the one from Chipotle i ate while in Minnesota). not the going to bed at almost two in the morning on a Tuesday night. not the long, luxurious day at home in various states of undress playing with crafts and drinking hot, caffeinated beverages. not the crazy weather happening outside my window, complete with hail and monsoon-like rain storms. not the scalding shower i took just because i was chilly. not the phone call from my doctor’s office with my INR results. not the weird, yet fabulous, nap i had late in the afternoon.
just all of that mixed up together in the last day has made me feel… weird. it’s been inexplicably relaxing yet exciting. the adventure of crossing the border with the girls was just what i needed and i hope to do it with them again soon — just in a slightly bigger vehicle if at all possible. ;)
i’m glad that i’ve got new awesome american underpants and i’m glad i got a day to get some crafting done. i wish i’d managed to do the errands i had on my list, but there’s no reason they can’t be delayed a day or two. hell, i wish i’d cleaned my apartment and gotten more craftwork accomplished.
maybe that’s why the last day has felt so weird. i didn’t spend it worrying about getting all sorts of various shit accomplished. i just did what i was doing and let the rest go. once i got into Kimli’s car yesterday, i relinquished my ingrained need to Get Things Done. it was all up to her to get us to Bellingham and back; i was just along for the ride. i don’t often get to experience that now that i’m a grown-up with responsibilities and chores and bills and and and…
i could use that feeling a little more often.

not a lot else to do

so, i’ve had a fairly busy three weeks.
i had knee surgery, a night at the Villa Casino hotel, a gall bladder attack of such excruciating pain i was drenched in sweat and visited by the paramedics, a sudden pain in my left leg which woke me up at 2am which turned out to be a blood clot that suddenly decided that my left leg wasn’t the cool place to hang out and rushed straight for my lungs which precipitated my first ambulance ride and a six-day hospital stay. then, just as i’m getting used to the idea that i’ll be taking rat poison for the next six months to keep my blood all thin and non-clotty, i get a cold.
really? did all that actually happen to me in the last three weeks? it certainly did and, you know what? i may still be a little gimpy and be weak as a new-born baby, but i survived it.
through all of it, my parents and Christopher have been so devoted and amazing. even when their own life threw wrenches in the works, they’ve been so awesome to me.
Christopher stayed with me in the ER for almost 24 hours, standing or trying desperately to sleep in the most uncomfortable chair ever made, not leaving my side for a second. my dad was on call to shop or visit or drive me or someone somewhere if it was needed and sitting with me, loving me in his solid, quiet way. my mom rushed over on the first available ferry from the island to swoop into the hospital and ask all the questions i didn’t know needed asking and to tend me once i got home, holding me tight when the tears finally broke through.
it’s also been a very scary three weeks.
i was afraid of the surgery, but that all went well. i was scared when i was suddenly doubled over in pain and sweating from head to toe. i was terrified i was going to die when my heart suddenly started bouncing around in my chest and i felt like i wouldn’t ever get another breath. i was scared when the doctor confirmed that i had a very large clot somewhere in my lungs and he wouldn’t tell us where, exactly, it was. even now, when i’m feeling better and i know my medication is working, i am petrified every time i exert myself that i’m going to have to call the ambulance again.
i’ve been afraid, every night, that i won’t wake up the next morning.
i keep thinking that nearly dying should somehow have made me want to do, to live, more. instead, it’s made me want to do nothing. to hide in my apartment, where it’s safe, where i’m alone and i don’t have do anything which will jeopardize my health.
it was a beautiful, sunny & windy day yesterday — the kind of blustery day i love — so i got dressed and went for a walk. i didn’t get a quarter of the way around the block before i got scared and had to come home. it was physically exhausting and the further i got from my apartment, the more frightened i might not make it back i became. i don’t know what part of that is that i’m still weak from surgery and Pulmonary Embolism or the cold i’m fighting off and which is the fear i’ve been living with for the past twenty-some-odd days.
there’s not much to like about being scared all the the damn time. about freaking out every time you breathe a little fast or feel any kind of twinge, flinch or gurgle inside your body. hell, i even have to be scared about eating too much broccoli, green beans or garlic while i’m taking this medication!
fear sucks.
but, i guess it’s better to be alive and scared than not.

the best place to be

what do you do when you can’t tweet? that’s right, you figure out a way to blog instead. heh.
the last month has gone by in a complete blur. honestly, i’m not actually sure what i did with myself for the last 30 days. there were a few more birthday celebratory things. i saw a movie or three. my tomato plants started churning out cherries. saw my dad a lot — which is a nice change. ate dinner with famous politicians while wearing a dress. went to see The Decemberists rock out at The Vogue. went to the hospital. had to get my car towed. went swimming. discovered the awesomeness which is homemade pesto. got tranquilizers which i’m afraid to take. oh, yeah, and i nearly died from a ridiculous record-breaking heat wave.
huh, i guess i wasn’t as boring as i thought. that’s nice. i was hoping my first month being 37 wouldn’t be too disappointing.
my upcoming knee surgery is consuming my thoughts these days. from worrying about going under to trying to figure out how much money i’ll need to save to ensure i have enough to pay my bills with my reduced income while i’m off to trying to develop a training plan which will cover all eventualities my temp might encounter. it’s only three weeks away and it’s stressing me out to no end (hence procuring tranquilizers).
i keeping wanting to see people but their fun and exciting lives either intimidate or thwart me from making plans. if it didn’t mean dusting, i’d totally invite y’all over to hang out and watch MST3K movies with me. preferably sans pants.

Birthday BBQ!

now that, THAT, was how you’re supposed to celebrate your birthday! awesome people, awesome food, awesome weather. seriously, the day couldn’t have gone any better!
thanks to everyone who made it out to help me eat meat and cake and bowl and drink beers.
for the rest of you, you SO owe me dinner. ;)


thirty-seven years ago, at 9:03 am, i was born. just two blocks from where i now sit. by all accounts it was an ordinary, albeit sweltering, Monday morning, except for what was happening on the third floor of Lions Gate Hospital to that poor couple whose lives would be irrevocably altered by my tiny, squirming emergence.
my thirty-sixth year was mostly unexciting. i didn’t go any further than vancouver island. i didn’t become rich or famous. i didn’t get fit or skinny. i didn’t appear on any Most Wanted lists (for good or ill).
i did, finally, wrassle my financial life into submission and have been pummeling it monthly to keep it in line. it’s hard to be a single person, living alone, owing the bank money. but, with persistence and a little luck, by my birthday after next, i should be able to declare myself debt-free! now THAT will be a natal anniversary to celebrate!
thirty-six was the year i withdrew. partly because of the aforementioned debt-slaying, partly because i’m starting to feel my decades a bit more keenly and there aren’t many places left i’m more comfortable with than my own abode. plus, i’ve discovered that the more people you know, the more difficult it is to see them all on a consistent basis. i hope to change that this year, but… we all know what the road to hell is paved with. after thirty-seven years, i don’t think i’m going to suddenly turn into a social butterfly. i need far too much sleep for that.
i’ve been to see medical professionals more in the last twelve months than i have in the twelve years previously. my GP, a trip to St. Paul’s Hospital for an MRI, a few trips out to Richmond to see my surgeon. in two short months’ time, i’ll be recovering from my left knee arthroscopy. i’m both excited and terrified about that. i like the idea of being able to walk without fear, but i’m terrified i won’t wake up from anesthesia. good thing i have two months to yet worry about it get over that, huh?
this year i made things and *gasp* people bought them. it’s still a little boggling to me, but if i want to keep it up, i really need to develop my self-marketing skills. blushing and digging my toe into the carpet when someone expresses interest in my product isn’t the most successful selling solution, i’d imagine.
today, i’m going to make baked beans because tomorrow, there will be celebrating.
happy birthday to me!