All washed up

Leave it to me to take a perfectly innocent event and turn it into something horrible...

Trying to be productive I decided to do a few loads of laundry on Friday. When I went to transfer it into the dryer the next day I realized I'd made a terrible mistake. I should have been more careful,and concern myself with the detail of checking pockets diligently - but I didn't. Darrel's mobile phone took a full cycle dunk with the rest of the clothes. At least I noticed before it went in the dryer, which was somehow comforting looking unmarred and intact.

OH NO! That's all I could bloody think. It's new and he splurged on all the bells and whistles and I RUINED IT.

So I basically felt like shit the rest of the day, guilty as hell for this mishap and all the others I'd gotten myself into. Indeed, I saw myself as the plague. Maybe my Dad and so many others were right - I never seemed to do anything right. How could I deny such evidence? Such costly and foolish mistakes. All mine.

Add the fact that the his visiting Mother noticed a new condensation problem with the toilet in the bathroom where the walls are laminated to match the floor, and where the shower unit managed to warp and pull away from the wall. Remember, this is the house he would have never opted for if it weren't for me. That same house whose furnace keeps crapping out, wiring needs completely redoing, with disappointingly shoddy wood floors and awful burgundy/purple painted walls.

At least today, when the Cell seemed completely dry I summoned the nerve to turn it on. Thank God my prayers were answered! It appears to be in working order, so far as I can tell. Phew, I did let out a minor exhale! One less casualty by fault of my own. Sweet miracle it is - I am so grateful for it.

Behind closed doors

OK...
Call me crazy but I'm dreading company today. It really isn't the visitor in particular, but my just wanting to be alone. Maybe immerse myself in art. I'm too tense.

People send me into a panic. Gosh, I know it's unavoidable. I feel overwhelmed and the option to escape becomes all that matters. I'm not always like this though, and on those occasions - thank goodness for that. Once I'm at where I need to be, with whomever I should be - I'm usually fine. Why some days I feel more cornered than others is a mystery.

All I know is that this morning my heart feels like its in my throat and I physically want to back away like a scared animal... It's just plain daffy.

Total Recall

Who knew my mom was right all along?

The pet food recall only reinforces her belief. As a little girl her dogs ate real food scraps, a healthy variety of home made meals from the farm. Those were healthy dogs.

With a little bit of nutrition know-how she continued out of necessity, creating a diet for dogs with special needs. It all started when she adopted a puppy with allergies. The tradition carried on as she nursed a rescued stray with electrolyte imbalances. Caring for some problematic Pekingese of a fussy nature only furthered her reasoning.

She's been feeding the dogs home cooked meals, avoiding store bought prepared canned pet food for ages. Every dog since has lived happily and healthy. I'm a firm believer in organic options.

Personally, I've done my research and really read the labels. My pooches get the royal treatment enjoying garden veggies, chicken, barley, and fruits like blueberries in their favorite dry food. Amelie's food sensitivity led us through dozens of varieties of 'vet approved' products. The latest poison scare makes me glad I went with a more natural approach.

Some recipes to try...

Real Food for Dogs: 50 Vet-Approved Recipes to Please the Canine Gastronome

Phone calls and bowling balls

What a morning!
So much for my getting any sleep...

It all started with Amelie chaffing at the bit to go outside. Once I was up I had a hard time getting back to bed. Just as I relented and had barely dozed off... Speckles decided, by the sounds of it - to play 10 pin down the hallway! Like a bowling ball rolling - the floor rumbled like inside an alley during some 'early' morning tournament. Between each of my sleepy groans of protest - she continued to play. Then the other dog began licking whatever exposed limbs I had, as I tugged at the comforter for cover. Even my lazy handed attempts at a belly rub wouldn't satisfy her enough to let me be. Finally, when the phone rang with the usual 'wrong number' (an equally annoying occurrance lately) I gave in to my fate. Despite my hazy protest I was begrudgingly AWAKE.

I never did find the source of Speckles game (which I thought surely was some dredged-up massive bone giving her chase). So, to everyone that meets the misfortune of my contact today... forgive me for being cranky, though the reason why is no mystery. I'm just bloody tired, that's all.

PS: After trying an assortment of browsers I was finally able to make this post.
Heads up! I'll be moving to Wordpress shortly...Go figure.

Isn't she lovely?

Having just been sent some digital pictures from Amelie's last visit to 'sugar-free grandma's', I thought I'd post one to share with you.

I Long to Be...

I had those god-awful bad dreams again. I woke up so upset with myself at 6AM and didn't want to go back to sleep. I was made to feel like nothing at all, without love and powerless, thinking I'd rather be dead than feel all this again. I hate them so much. The never-ending nagging headache I've got tops it all off.

I've restarted my super list. My end-all, beat-all ultimate list of lists. I've distanced myself from my nightmare some what, so I'm pushing forward as the day wears on. When I can't concentrate or participate I need a plan to follow. Create order where I feel there is none. I guess it helps to know I'm up to something. Each check mark reminds me I accomplished a bit for the day. Each deed creates a purpose so that I might belong.

Elation and exaspiration

Creative turmoil. Having the ability without the means. The process to bring my art into fruition meets many roadblocks. Even lacking a simple table proves an obstacle. Also age feels a burden these days. If I were younger I'd have grown up in a world with better access to the tools and steps required to meet my potential. All I know is how being so naive and anxious drowned countless opportunity. I admit it all sounds a bit whiney, and it is.

Have you ever had a huge desire to learn, everything? The manic plight of being pulled into many directions, a-buzz with ideas and a laughably inexistent focus to achieve a single one? All I really need is a plan. A path to follow. But pouring myself into a dream starts that drowning feeling. Pretty soon I'm gasping for air, stranded on a desolate beach somewhere, very singular and feeling dire. Elation and exasperation. But my art is not brooding or sober to the plight of mankind. It isn't heavy so the angst this routine provides doesn't fuel my artistic fire. It's silly and playful and meant to be buoyant. Drat that sinking gravity when it pulls me under.

Heck, I'm being melodramatic and I know it. That's my nature.

Life rushes by. How do you get a handle on it?

About Valentine's Day

What's your take on love?
Matthew Good... I couldn't have said it better myself.

Back track

Today I couldn't help but reminisce about the time I was working at the bathbomb store. Just seeing a picture of any of the specialty soaps we carried brings it all back.

I guess a nose never forgets. I can still imagine every scent of the products we carried. I must have trained my nose well. Admittedly, I miss the shop terribly. My knowledge of the product and abilities truly meshed working there. Leaving the politics of the job behind, I truly loved it. Such sensory delight!

Of course I loved the job I transferred from to go there. Same company, different merchandise. The variety of such, was divine. It was the one job I felt 'cool' working at. The first one that my co-workers were truly nice to me. I can't think of any other jobs I enjoyed more.
But things change, and we move on.

Life has it's graces.
Looking back, what I was and who I am differ greatly. My devilish brain antagonizes but hasn't killed me. I've been fortunate, though unfamiliar. I'm blessed with the support of my mate and my family, who understand my manic nature. I'm afforded the time to create my art, and cope with my souls instabilities.

The past had it's moments, but today is promising...
At least the way I see it.

Agony

Maybe it's a melt-down from the holiday frenzy but I'm totally trashed (in the mental sense anyway). Everything makes me sad, in that ironic heart gouging sort of way. Whoever is holding the hole-punch and turning my hope to confetti, mission accomplished...

You've certainly spoiled my fun.