Scattered Thoughts

Sometimes I sit back and wonder what people think of me.  I don't do this often and when I do, I usually come to the same conclusion:  I am awesome and logically everyone should think that I am awesome too.

I have idiosyncrasies.  Mr. Awesome refers to these as my "quirks" (sounds like "perks" but better because it starts with a "Q", I like "Q" words, you don't see them in every sentence).  They are weird things, like needing to have the right weight to a coffee cup, and not being able to sleep properly, and compulsive list making, and drinking sparkly fruit soda from wine glasses, and getting overly excited about my "nerdy science things".  Though I am told sometimes that my "quirks" get a little out of hand at times, they are for the most part adorable. 

Today I read an article about bionic bacteria (bacteria capable of producing proteins using unnatural amino acids) = awesome.  OK, my biotech geek may have slipped out just a little bit there.  To contrast the biotech geek; I also read an article about the how to cook perfect scallops, a useful skill if one ever finds out Chef Ramsey is coming to sup.  Yes I used the term "sup", I like it, and I decided that it is not used enough, so I used it (I also used it in a recent Facebook status).  I think my use of strange/outdated words falls into that "quirk" category.

This picture always makes me smile and it's fall time now:

I'm pretty sure that my puppies are much, much smarter than they let on.  One day we came home and one of the three was watching out the window.  "Awwww how cute, Ninja missed us", followed by barking when he heard us unlocking the front door.  Open the door - the other two were pulling the garbage apart and all three scramble to hide (because maybe the humans won't figure out who ripped the garbage apart)...  We are now almost positive that Ninja did not miss us and he was actually acting as the lookout while the other two rooted through the garbage for something good.


I like crayons and rainbows.  Rainbow flavored crayons are the best ----  Um ya, see the weird shit that comes out when my mind just wanders.  Rainbow flavored crayons?  WTF?


My coffee cup is empty and I'm hungry.

Appreciating the small things.

I tried and tried to come up with a brilliant, "I love you" post for our anniversary yesterday and I just couldn't top the one I wrote last year.  And even though it's been another full year and we've faced some of our most severe obstacles, we are still the same as we always have been.  I love Dustin, he is my world and he loves me, I am his everything, etc, etc, etc.  Mush, mush, mush.  It's pretty self explanatory.

We have a baby and she's grown up tremendously.  It's been amazing to watch her learn everything there is to know about just being alive and she's shown me how to appreciate it more than I could have ever imagined.  I've had a hard time over the last year with coming to terms with not being in control of everything that happens in my life.  I used to feel that I was in control of everything, including the death of a very close friend, yes I blamed myself, horrible, I know, but it's the truth and it was very, very hard on me, especially when I came to the realization that it wasn't my fault.

Despite all the odds, and all the precautions, and against what should have happened, I ended up as less than 0.1% and it almost killed me.  After having control of myself ripped out of my hands, I've learned that I can't predict everything.  I can't prepare for anything, and I am definitely not responsible for all the things that happen in my life.  I don't talk about what happened, and I don't talk about my feelings, there's no reason to.  Life carries on as usual.  Dustin stood by my side, like I knew he would, we hoped for the best, and we smiled in spite of everything and everything worked itself out.

I don't like to look at things in the perspective of "oh my god, I almost died", and I definitely know Dustin tries not to think "my wife just about died", but it happened and it changed us both.  Despite everything I have a whole new outlook on life and it's a good one.  I am still here for a reason and I am trying as hard as I can to be the best me that I can be.  I no longer blame myself for things out of my control, and I am grateful every morning when I wake up, alive.  I breathe deep when it rains, and I soak in the sun when it's hot.  I try every day to smile for no reason.  I am definitely not the same person I was a year ago.  I'm happier, more relaxed, and even though I found humor in the small things before, now they really make my day.

Thank-you Dustin for standing beside me in sickness and in health.  Thank-you for not pushing me when I don't want to be pushed.  Thank-you for not letting me see you crack under the worst imaginable pressure.  And thank-you most for letting me deal with things in my own strange ways.  You are my rock and I love you more than all the cake in the world.

Running Rant

What kind of people strike up a conversation with the girl jogging by with her iPod at full blast?  My neighbors, that's who.  Come on people, there is a time for idle chit chat and that time is not when I'm sweating like a pig and in the middle of my 3rd lap.  The friendly "Hello" wave when I ran past you the first time was OK, annoying the second time, but stopping me in the middle of the road on my third pass to ask how my day is?  WTF is wrong with you?  Can't you see I'm busy?  Sorry, but I'm not running past your house because I'm lonely and want you to stop me to chit chat, I'm running to keep my heart rate up.

The comments are a whole other story.  I've been jogging around my block several days a week for over a year and yet the same people feel the need to use the same comments each and every time they see me.  "Oh look at you running again".  Excellent observation Einstein.  It wouldn't be quite so bad if it was just one comment, but there needs to be a comment for each lap (and I usually do between 6 and 10 laps in a given day).  "Another lap, look at you go", "Wow, how many is that now?", "Aren't you getting tired?"... 

I think my annoyances with my neighbors have enforced my already strong love for running in the rain.  Not only do I just enjoy the rain, but I also really enjoy that no one stands outside in their front yard when it's raining.  No one stops to chit chat in the rain.  AND I can always pretend to be one of "those people", the ones that think the rain is going to melt them, so they cover up and run away as fast as they can, and I can do so without feeling like I'm being rude to the people interrupting my attempt at health consciousness.

Ode to My Favorite Sweater

My favorite sweater is probably the ugliest sweater I own, but I love it to pieces anyways.  I bought it when I was 15 at some store in a mall and for 15 years it's been my favorite sweater.  It's not the one that I look the best in, and it's not the one that I reserve for date night.  It's the one that I lay on the couch in, the one that I grab when I'm chilly at home, the one that I won't ever get rid of no matter how holey or threadbear it becomes.  It's my favorite sweater, we've been through too much together to throw it away.

We've snuggled in with a good book, we've warmed each other up, we've gone through good times and bad.  My favorite sweater has shared countless adventures with me; travelling though books and movies and imagination.  We've dreamed together, we've met reality together.  My favorite sweater was there when I got my heart broken (each and everytime), it was there when my pets died, and it was even there when my friend passed away.  It is always there to give a hug.  It's kept me warm when it was cold, and it's kept me dry when it rained.

My favorite sweater is itchy, and it's scratchy, and it's a really ugly shade of brown, but it's still my favorite. It's got two big pockets that I love to shove my hands into, because you can never go wrong with big, warm and cozy pockets. My favorite sweater has a zipper that has never, ever gotten stuck and arms that are just the right length, long enough to cover your whole arm to just where your first knuckle ends.  My favorite sweater is long and it keeps my bum warm, I hate having a cold bum.

My favorite sweater and I have danced in the living room together and we've sung the wrong words.  We've been happy and sad and right pissed off.  We've felt confused, neglected, letdown and damn right miserable.  We've turned things around, we've looked at the bright side, we've weighed options together.   We've started, we've worked, we've acheived, and we've failed.  We've always had each other  My favorite sweater is a part of me.

My favorite sweater has never said anything mean to me.  It's never been rude to me.  It's never made me feel sad or worthless or that it doesn't care.  My favorite sweater is always supportive, and always positive, and always pushing me in the right direction.  I don't care that my favorite sweater is ugly, it fits me perfectly. 

The Furry Family that Lives with Us

We have 3 puppies that live with us.  Well they aren't really puppies, they are all fully grown dogs, but they are little so I like to think of them as puppies.  And when I say they live with us, I mean I don't feel that I "own" them, we live together in a happy house.  Dust and I work, and they live the sweet life (yes, I do get jealous sometimes). 

We bought Ninja from a pet store when he was almost 3 months old.  I didn't really want a puppy, but Dustin was in LOVE with this one.  On a random day, Dust just stopped in the pet store (because I like to see all the baby animals) and right away the girl at the counter said "Hi, yes he's still here".  Part of me just went "Oh no".  The last little puppy of a litter was sitting by himself in a pen.  Dustin went over and picked him up, held him out to me and just said "Can I please come home with you guys?"  After a rather brief discussion with the girl working the counter and my husband, who desperately wanted this puppy, I found out that he had been in the store almost every day for two weeks visiting this specific puppy.  How on earth was I supposed to say no?  So, Ninjitsu Magoo (aka Monster) officially became a Hyatt.  

Ninjitsu Magoo

We both work full time and I have always been a firm believer in puppies should have friends too, so after living with us for 2 months Ninjitsu needed a girlfriend.  Well, it wasn't really that thought out of a decision.  What actually happened was: We went to the pet store to buy bird treats and dog toys and there was a rolly, polly little girl puppy and I immediately fell in love with her.  Mimzicola Muffet (aka The Phat) came home with us about an hour later. 

Mimzicola Muffet

Ninja and Mimzy fell in love and had 6 babies.  5 boys and 1 girl.  The girl was the last one born and was actually a bit of a surprise in the morning.  I went to bed and there were 5 black little boys snuggling their mommy, and when I woke up in the morning there was an extra puppy and it was white.  Dustin was convinced that we needed to keep the one white girl puppy and after a rather hard time getting rid of all of the boys, she was the only one left.  Panda Bear had her collar and name tag randomly brought home by Dustin one day after work and eventually when people asked if we were getting rid of her the answer changed from "Yes, do you know someone who wants her?" to "Nope".

Panda Bear

So there you have it.  Our puppy family was complete.  Mom, Dad, and Baby Girl.  Ironically it's exactly how our human family worked out too.  Mom, Dad and Baby Girl.

Excursion Imagination

I started going for early morning/nightly walks/runs in my neighborhood over a year ago, in a successful attempt to lose my post-pregnancy weight.  I quickly found that I found it quite enjoyable to walk my dog or push my baby in her stroller, listen to my iPod and let my mind wander.  My excursions started as small walks, as I was extremely out of shape (6 months of bedrest will do that to a person), but I eventually made it to the point where I could run instead of walk (very proud of myself).  It was a long trek but I made it, blah, blah, blah.  No one wants to hear another weight loss story, and I don't like to remember how miserable I was.

I live in a "modular home park" and I say "modular home" because the people in my neighborhood do not live in your average double-wide trailers.  They live in these huge and elaborate double-wide trailers with basements and balconies and attics and double-car garages, etc (you get my point, they are mansion trailers).  I think ours is the smallest house on the block, but it's a nice neighborhood to live in and we actually know each and every one of our 30 neighbors.  The walk around my block is actually quite a work out if you want it to be.  It's short enough that you can run it and it's got enough hill to make a walk a little more than a stroll.

Anyway...

Recently, I've found a new marvelous source of enjoyment on my daily excursions: I make up stories about my neighbors.  Strange elaborate stories.  Remember I said I know all of them.  I know what they look like, I know where lots of them work, I know who belong to which house and I know which ones are Canuck fans, but it ends there.  The rest of the details that I like to make up as I walk past their houses and I don't care if it makes me sound crazy.  I like to pretend.  There are lots of days where I'll thow in an extra lap around the block because I wasn't quite finished with the imaginary story going on with number 12.

Most of my neighbors are "old" people, though there are a few younger people mixed in as well.  The neighbors that I talk to on a regular basis have quite interesting stories and I wonder what else they may have done and the ones that I don't talk to regularly are the ones that my brain picks on the most.  I'm pretty sure of several crazies and I know there's a few recreational drug users and I know one of the widows is getting married this summer, but the made up stuff is so much more interesting.  Like the man who only eats cabbage and that's why he smells the way he does.  Or the couple that attends every church function but sacrifices a lamb to the Devil every full moon.  Or the girl that I am pretty sure is some sort of non-human entity with supernatural powers. 

So, now that I've said this, I'm starting to wonder what my neighbors think of me... 

Rick Mercer and Snowdays

So I was watching the Rick Mercer report on TV a little while ago and I had this epiphany that I thought I should share.  Lately I've noticed that people in general are seemingly  more crabby than usual.  Even the normally overly cheerful people are looking as though they have a few rough edges.  I've noticed that more people are trying their hardest just to get through another monotonous day at work/home/wherever, And it wasn't until Mr. Mercer gave his rant on snowdays that I had a clue why. 

Before my very eyes people have been falling victim to the Winter Blues.  That's right.  People around me hate this time of year and instead of taking it in stride or thinking the best or even trying to use this time of year as a recharge session, they decide to use the fluffy snow and the cold air as an excuse to sit around and mope about everything in their lives that they aren't happy about. 

We live in Canada.  This means that every year for at least two months it is cold, snowy, windy, icy, and just plain shitty outside.  So why not use this time to do those things that are so often put aside.  Catch up on some TV, read a good book, use crayons to make elaborate To Do lists, do something that makes you smile.  Find something to humor yourself with.  Or find something constructive to do.  But please, for the love of "God", please stop whining about it.  Waaaa it snowed...  Darn it, I guess I don't have to go mow the lawn and pull weeds, and pick up the dog shit out in the yard.  I am free to play a video game, go sledding, have a bubble bath, and wonder what the gnomes on the windowsill are thinking.  SMILE dammit!

Anyways, I digress.  This is my favorite time of year.  I like the cold, I like the snow, I even like shoveling the snow.  Tobogganing is fun, snowboarding is fun, watching my puppies play in the snow is fun.  That nice white blanket hides everyone's lawns that are always brown and overgrown by by about August, and I don't have to look at flowerbeds that are overtaken by dandelions.  I know my yard a whole lot less work to maintain in the middle of January than it is in July, I am assuming that this is the case for everyone elses yard as well.

There is no need for that greasy layer of sunscreen and the extra layer of pit-stick because you don't want to burn to death and it's so hot outside that you start sweating before your body even meets the air.  There are days when I can't even go barefoot outside because it burns my feet!  No lie.  I fail to see the logic surrounding how that can possibly make people happy?!!?  How is that better than watching the snowfall and drinking hot chocolate?