Thursday, May 29, 2008
The extra-large bottle of Advil I've chewed through in the last month has not helped.
Even N, when she was over, after I admitted I needed some help with the hooch, noted that she had never seen me wince with pain. Oh, I'd talked about it, but never actually shown it.
Of course, if I had stopped doing stuff, that might have helped, but it is spring, and there is yard work to do. The house might be a dump, and there is studying and knitting to do, but I will garden, dammit!
After this past weekend, when my mommy was clucking and fawning over me (she who doesn't give sympathy to anyone) I knew it was bad. I was going "ow, ow, ow!" as I eased myself down into the passenger seat of her car. Hanging onto the roof of the car as if my one arm could ease the pain of my 180-pound, five-foot-eleven inch body slowly drifting into a seat that is only about eight inches off the ground.
I made a doctor's appointment, and explained why I was there.
I didn't even finish explaining the symptoms, and the always-kind-and-delightful Dr. W was telling me that I have sciatica.
I suspected as much. Google is my friend, after all.
I now have a killer prescription for anti-inflammatories, a referral to a physiotherapist, a recommendation for a chiropractor (a former schoolmate of my doctor's) and a strong suggestion to visit my friend the massage therapist.
Apparently, this is serious shit, and it's going to take me six weeks to get better. No matter what.
That takes me to the middle of July. Man, I am pissed at my own stupidity right now. Forty minutes, waiting for the bus, would have saved me all this. Twelve weeks of pain and torture for forty minutes. That'll show me. I could have been knitting for that forty minutes.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Other person: blah, blah, blah,
Mom: Well, I'm in the office with my daughter. She's doing some computer stuff for me.
Other person: ...
Mom: I only have one daughter, and she's home. I need to pay attention to her.
Other person: ...
Mom: Yes, I know.
Other person: ...
Mom: Yes, I know I am computer illiterate, but my daughter is helping me with that right now.
Me: ::leans over and speaks directly into the mouthpiece:: She knows just enough to be dangerous.
Mom: My daughter is doing that part for me right now. I will look later. I promise. ::hangs up::
Me: Who was that?
Mom: Your Uncle Screws-up-a-lot-but-has-good-intentions.
Me: Oh, that's nice. He's kind of creepy, eh?
Mom: Yeah, but he remembers everyone's birthday.
Me: That's nice. He's not a bad man, he's just made some seriously bad choices.
Mom: Yup. But he's paid me back every penny I loaned him.
Me: That's nice. ::thinks to herself: thank FSM I haven't borrowed money from my mother since I started earning more than she does. About ten years ago. Whew!"::
Me: :: Phone rings, I pick it up:: Hello?
Other person: Hello? Is this Aunt Misstea's Mom's place"
Me: Yes, this is her daughter, Misstea. How are you, Grandma?
Other person / Grandma: Oh, you can tell it's me? I've been trying to phone your mom, and she's never home. And I love you. It was so good to see you last week.
Me: I love you too, Grandma. It was a real treat to see you too.
Grandma: You know, your mom is never home, and I can't remember anything so I worry.
Me: Well, you know that mom is busy, and that no news is good news.
Grandma: That's true, but I still get scared. I can't remember much anymore.
Me: That's OK. I'm home this weekend for mom's birthday. We had a barbecue at Big B's campsite up at (redacted) and we had pie and well, we're busy playing with the babies, and you know how time just scoots away...
Grandma: Yes, I know... but there's a new baby coming, right?
Me: :: knowing there are two babies coming:: That's right, and we are very excited about that. Would you like to talk to Mom?
Mom and Grandma have the exact same conversation. Except it extends to dead people that I don't know.
Me: About 400.
Dad: Let me figure it out... you need to divide by 1.61 ::gets out pen and paper::
Big J: Never mind, I'll find a calculator.
Dad: 387 or so.
Mom: Misstea said "about 400!"
Big J: :: playing with the calculator on his phone:: So I got 18 miles to the gallon. Good to know.
Me: Is that kettle going to be boiling any time soon?
The pies made it to Nodnarb via public transit and Greyhound successfully.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
At Costco, the other day, I was told that I'm going to be an auntie again.
The newest baby is due six weeks after the last one.
I'm thrilled. Really chuffed. No sarcasm here. I want to shout this news from the rooftops.
But it's sort of creeping me out that my two brothers married within five weeks of each other. Then had babies, four months (to the day) apart. Now, the next set of babies are six weeks apart, according to the doctor's math.
Makes me wonder if there is something strange in the water out there.
But the absolute best, most important part is... as of this writing, my mom doesn't know. I know something before she does. Woot!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Qualifying marks are close; it could go either way. The marker is on vacation, so I can't even make a calculated gamble.
I really miss knit night. This is the third week in a row I've missed.
Sucks to be me.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
I especially loved all the "help" I got to assemble it.
Am I a super-extraordinary dork if I admit that after successful assembly, I pulled it around the yard? Several times?
P.S. The turkey burgers were fan-diddely-tastic. Gotta get me some of those.
Edited to add: I phoned my mom to tell her about the yagon, and she squealed with happiness. She also said that it would be good for me, in that I would no long carry heavy stuff.
Then I called J, and the little (well, not so little anymore, since he started outweighing me about fifteen years ago) stinker says he's doesn't remember having a yagon. But the wood sides are "stockracks." Argh. Suddenly, revenge is not so sweet. When Mini J comes to visit, I'm going to pull her in the yagon forever, if she so chooses.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
So before I returned the rental, I wandered by Supervalu, to get a few things.
I left with a bulk pack of microwave popcorn. Which sounds really stupid. The fact is, I was overwhelmed by choice and didn’t know where to begin. Would I ever use a case of tomato soup in a reasonable amount of time? I didn’t know, but suspected not.
Fast forward a few months to Christmas. Again, I had a rental, and I went grocery shopping, having figured out that carrying canned goods on my back for any length of time was not good for me (this is a lesson I have to learn repeatedly, apparently).
I spent a whopping $90. I got that case of tomato soup. And I must admit, I felt like a real grown up. Checking prices, thinking about value for money. So very exciting, especially on Boxing Day.
Now, a year and a half later, I can bulk shop with the best of them. My brother and sister-in-law were in town the other day, and we went to Costco.
Between the three of us (four, including Mini B) we filled two of those ginormous carts and spent $640. I now have enough toilet paper to last me a year. Good times.
P. S. How sad is my life that I am posting about grocery shopping?
Friday, May 16, 2008
Then our credit clerk informed me that I was in charge, and to stop being so silly.
And she was right. I was in charge of the office (mind you, not dispatch, the plants, the shop or the lab).
I guess refraining from swearing at work has really paid off. Who knew that I would be pseudo-management?
Thursday, May 15, 2008
It's been a little bit crazy, around Chez Peepee. Last Thursday, I got an email message from my sister-in-law with a link to a news story about an accidental death in my hometown, and that it wasn't my brother (her husband). I sent back a saucy reply and moved on.
The next morning, the phone rang at 7 AM.
Those kinds of phone calls are never good news.
Especially when I have a pregnant sister-in-law (the other one) and the baby's not due until October.
It was my mom.
She was calling to tell me that my brother wasn't dead. The dead guy was my classmate. A man that I saw Monday to Friday, every day, from Kindergarten to Grade 12. I hadn't seen him for about six years. When I last saw him, he and his wife were expecting their first baby. The newspaper tells me he has two children and is divorced.
My brother tells me the funeral was very well attended, and Facebook tells me that lots of my classmates are reeling with shock.
Me? I'm shocked too. And supremely pissed off at god, or fate, or karma, or the universe or whateverthefuckyouwanttocallit. NOBODY deserves to die this way. Ever.
So, yeah. I am alive. And suddenly I'm grateful for that.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Lovely woman. Sweet, kind, engaging, cheerful. Organized, methodical. All the good things a receptionist needs to be.
She was also a lapsed knitter.
Not anymore though.
Our receptionist noticed all my hand-knits, and could not fail to see me knitting in the lunch room or at my desk. She told me that what I make is beautiful, and that she used to really enjoy knitting. I smiled and thanked her for the compliments.
A while later, she came to me and said that a friend was having a baby (or a grand-baby, I can't remember) and wouldn't it be nice to knit something? I said sure! Google for patterns.
Later that day, she came to me with a pattern for booties off a website (that I hate, so I'm not linking it) that she thought was adorable. Could I help her?
Absolutely! I said. Then she suggested going to Wal-Mart to buy yarn.
Oops. I didn't handle that well. She was subjected to yarn lecture 4b, which states, briefly, that Wal-Mart yarn is crap, ack!rylic sucks and well, the product can only be the result of the materials, so use good ones, dammit!
I can only say, in my defense, that I was trying to prevent years of squeaky knitting. I've been there.
She, like any good receptionist, listened to me, and then ignored me, doing what was best for her.
The following Monday morning, she came into the office wearing a gorgeous fun-fur ack!rylic cowl that she'd knit over the weekend.
The joy on her face was something to behold, I tell you.
Then she told me that she made another cowl for her friend. And had another one on the needles... and wouldn't it be cool to knit socks?
I took my spare set of sock needles out of my bag, threw them at her and asked when we were going yarn shopping. I even offered something from my stash (I must admit, saying that hurt).
Later that evening at knit night, I was relating the part about how I couldn't give away my own damn yarn. The World's Greatest Yarn Shop Owner (TM) told me to just pick out something and give it to her, all ready (I think my story was getting tiresome).
So I did.
That was months ago.
After several knit-and-rip sessions, I am pleased to announce that, today, our receptionist completed her first sock.
It has a few errors.
But it fits.
I'm so proud that I could burst. She's all ready talking about making a pair for her daughter.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Then I got a knot in my stomach. And even though the results aren't supposed to be released until tomorrow, I checked a couple times throughout the day.
And again when I got home from work. It took forever for the page to load. That did not help.
That's a fail. 65% is the pass mark.
To admit I failed is a very big deal. I never failed at anything until I started taking these courses (well, I had failed at studying the arts, and at being married. But that's different). I'm one of those crazy high-achiever people who hardly had to do anything to be successful (that was years ago, really, I should move on). The work itself comes naturally. I chose this field because I'm good at it (supposedly).
I'm a little bit numb right now. I really thought that I had worked hard enough, planned my time sensibly and tried not to panic.
Tonight, I'm going to pet some yarn, read the new Interweave Knits (got it before it was released on newsstands, yay!) and have a glass (or several) of w(h)ine.
The good news: I can re-write. I'll check the schedule and sign up tomorrow. I will also save comparing my mark breakdown to the exam tomorrow. I've had enough disappointment for today.
Monday, May 5, 2008
I've not come anywhere close to actually learning anything.
I skim the readings, listen to the audio lectures, and then cherry-pick through all the stuff, and so far (touch wood) have, somehow (I think the marker is exceedingly generous) managed to get sufficient marks.
And even though it seems like I'm doing a lot of studying, I don't think I'm actually absorbing anything.
I haven't submitted last week's assignment (for a fee of $20, plus GST, I can submit the first three assignments up to a week late. Yes, I will be writing a cheque for $63 shortly. Just like I do every time I take a course).
I thought that I had an assignment due this Wednesday (without the grace period) and that meant that somehow, in two evenings, I had to complete 40 multiple choice questions, two computer questions and several memos/case studies. In other words, two assignments.
Never mind that I haven't done the computer illustrations actually showing me how to use the software (but I've installed it. Small victories, people).
Just for kicks, I checked my calendar. Then confirmed on the web-site. Assignment four isn't due until May 14.
Whew! I'm going to do those illustrations now. With a glass of w(h)ine in my hand.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Saturday, May 3, 2008
In ways I never imagined.
I did get a pedicure this afternoon. I made the appointment for 5:15, thinking that the yard work would be done by then, and I would be settling back with a beer (Alexander Keith's, as domestic as it gets, hbacmama), some barbecue, and looking forward to an evening of knitting.
Well, no yard work was done, no wine stuff was done, and certainly no housework was done. The intended barbecue was stuffed into the oven for an hour and the veggies were microwaved.
I spent the entire day deeply and intensely involved in some serious "suggested readings" Oi. I understand, now, why people think being an accountant is boring. It's because accountants are bad writers.
Anyway, earlier in the week, I threatened to get a massage (which is a huge deal for me. I hate the idea of sitting there, while someone else touches me, and I can't knit!).
The featured special, at the shop close to my house was a "spa pedicure" for $20. I made my appointment, saying that I only wanted a "basic, garden variety" pedicure. Well, I placed my feet in the tub, settled down with my reading and... the seat began to vibrate.
So, I thought I would roll with it. Let the seat have its way with me, so to speak.
I could hardly walk, when I got out of the chair. Four hours later, and my back and left leg hurt even more.
What I was thinking of doing, when I suggested a massage, was going to see one of my many friends whose first initial is "D" and happens to be a registered massage therapist. D always has told me to not see her when I'm in pain. I should go when I am feeling good.
I am waiting to feel good. It's not happening. Now, where's that insurance card?
But it wasn't a complete waste of time. My toenails are a shocking shade of pink now. Did you expect anything less?