Actual Recent Conversation

This is why I love my friend Pablo so much.

While talking on the phone about death, just now.

Me: "I want to be cremated. But I totally don't want to be scattered in the ocean because I am a little scared of the ocean and all the fish and stuff. I don't want to be scattered in the forest either because I don't like bugs and the cold and all that outdoorsy stuff. Maybe I should be scattered in Holt Renfrew...Nah! I can't afford to shop there. I think the place I'd be most comfortable resting eternally is in a couch. So I have to find somebody who will scatter my ashes in their nice comfy couch. Or their mattress. Something cozy."

Pablo: "What about me? What should I do with my remains?"

Me: "Hey! I thought we agreed that I was supposed to throw myself on your casket at your funeral. Wearing a fabulous dress."

Pablo: "Yes, but then are you going to just leave me there to rot?"

Me: "No! What do you want me to do next?"

Pablo: "No wait! I know the perfect place to scatter your ashes. How about a cat cemetery?"

Me: "Perfect! That would be seriously purrrrfect!"

Pablo: "No wait, I totally know what I am going to do with you after you die. I'm going to have you taxidermied! I'll have you sitting on my couch with a cup of tea in a motorized hand. And your head will turn too. And when I have guests they will whisper to me that you are very quiet and I will say, 'Yes, she is.'"

Me: "Put a hinge on my head and store your spare change and keys there. Better yet, put a slit in my neck as a kleenex dispenser for when you are sad or have a cold."

Pablo: "How about I cryogenically freeze your head and then attach it to a garden nymph statue so you can play in the garden and weed it too."

Me: "NO WAIT! Attach my head to a Roomba and I'll vacuum your place for you. Maybe I'll do that with my mom. She likes to clean."

Pablo: "You're sick!"

Me: "NOW I'm sick?"

We finally decided that he will get me made into a diamond and I will have his body mummified and make a pyramid for him in Egypt to be worshipped for eternity.

A Cornucopia of Feline Delight

A Cute Photo To Reduce Your Ire

Ok, I am sorry I haven't posted. Very very VERY sorry. But after I spill my brain onto this blog about what has happened over the last month you may regret your recent inquiries into my, Yoshi's and Dexter's well being.

We all all good.

Now that I got that out of the way I'll get into a little more detail.

I've been heinously busy. Partly because I am a terrible procrastinator, partly because I am a good citizen and partly because I need to pay the bills. Against all promises I made to myself, my graphic designer, my family and my friends I once again left the creation of the 2009 Iconic Women By Yoshi Calendar to the last minute. What can I say? I work better under pressure. Just not this much pressure. So it is almost done and will be sent to the printer by next week. I'll be opening up Urbanbeast.ca for pre-sales next week as well so you can order the very first copies right away for immediate delivery.

With the addition of Dexter into the mix photographing Yoshi has been a little more difficult. It involves taking Dexter over to my parent's house so Yoshi won't have a grand mal hissy. While more time consuming it has worked out even better as Yoshi loves the one-on-one time and is posing better than ever.

She is so totally and completely hilarious and adorable and I could nom nom nom her to death.

Now about Dexter. He is the cutest, most loving, friendly, happy-go-lucky kitten ON THE PLANET. Without out a doubt everybody who meets him is charmed and smitten instantly. Saying that he is also horribly bad, intentionally annoying, a less than enthusiastic listener, completely lacking in boundaries and manners, clearly not very bright, a terrible farter, and alarmingly destructive.

Yoshi totally hates him.

Her initial curiosity and interest in Dexter was replaced with loathing when he grew bigger and started jumping on her when she was sleeping, looking the other way, eating, trying to poop and minding her own business in general.*

*See above mention of lack of manners and boundaries.

So my day is filled with hissing, growling, spitting, and heartfelt smack-downs. Entirely and totally on Yoshi's part because Dexter just thinks it is all fun and more fun. Did I mention he really is not very bright?

I can say with certainty that I understand why my parents used to get so frustrated when my brother and I bickered because I now experience daily (333333333 TBGE3333333333334 -Dexter intruding on this post) the equivalent of a little boy persistently picking on his older sister. Yoshi has a look that clearly conveys, "MOoooooOOOM! He's looking at me again!"

I am exhausted. I've also taken to yelling, "Simmer DOWN! You guys!"

The futility.

Despite Yoshi's hatred she is actually really happy in general. She is resigned to Dexter's presence and, I think, not as bored as she was. Kind of like the curmudgeonly old lady yelling at the neighbourhood children to get of her lawn. Bitter but fully occupied. I expect that once Dexter grows up and loses his kitteny assholiness they will just sleep the day away in each other's company like boring old cats do.

Random Dexter von Cheddar Stats:
3 1/2 months old
5lbs 11 oz
Meows a lot
Slightly cross-eyed
Eats anything
Drools when purring

Nicknames:

• The Ched
• Ched Head
• Sir Stink-a-lot
• D von C
• NoooooDEXTERNOOOOOO!
• Duuuuude-don't wreck my shit.
• Little One
• Grandmaster Dork

As for me I've suddenly become a little more employed. I've started working a few nights per week as the Theatre Liaison of the 110 person capacity theatre that is located in my apartment building. It works out great since if I feel a little panicky or overwhelmed I can excuse myself for 5 minutes chill-out time in my own apartment with my own kitties. I just make sure that whoever is renting the facilities are treating them with respect and are out of there on time. Sweet little gig, actually.

I'm also now part of my building's Resident Council (sorta like a co-op but different) and have taken a very pro-active approach to dealing with various issues with residents and the building itself. This is totally a volunteer situation and waaaay more work that I anticipated. But good work because being pro-active and solving problems makes me a happier camper overall. I'm also on a committee that is organising and participating in a 3 day Christmas Gala fundraiser for our building (to help subsidize rents) involving an art market and cabaret-style entertainment. I am ALSO treasurer for that which is something I've never done before and am a little nervous about. I continue to be an on-call emergency person in my building one week out of every month as well as work a couple hours per week for my dad.

Yikes, right? Busy but that scattered kind of busy.

So until the calendar is finished and all the surrounding press and products (cards and magnets) are completed I am not going to be posting as much as I'd like. Because my Theatre Liaison position is nights and weekends I am trying to borrow an old laptop so on my down time (when the productions are actually going on) I can maybe write a post or two but, in general, expect me to be scarce until the New Year.

Thanks for checking in and being so patient.

And now here are more Dexter photos and video than you can watch in one sitting.

My Own Personal Sistine Chapel

The Snoozen Housen Usurper Laughs Maniacally At His Sneakiness

'Tocks

Faceplant au Cheddar

Savouring The Deeeeelicious Full Footed Bouquet

Taken Just Now

Crush Your Cat's Head Friday-You Can Lead A Cat To A Kitten But You Can't Make Her Like Him. Who Am I Kidding, You Can't Lead A Cat Anywhere.AC

Here is the kitteh update you’ve all been asking for.

How is Yoshi doing? Well…not great but not terribly awful either. She stopped eating all together a couple days ago and still occasionally (meaning pretty much every day) yaks bile which, I’ve discovered, leaves a lovely green stain on my carpet. Who said having cats was not like having kids? My berber disagrees.

So I started getting desperate and bought all sorts of yummy things Yoshi might successfully ingest with no luck. I vacillated wildly between guilt and exasperation. It was not pretty around here.

I tried to push the limits a little by keeping the cats separated all of the time except in the evenings when I allowed them to be in the same room with each other-supervised for fair play and safety. And the thing is that Yoshi, while not happy, was fairly calm and resigned to Dexter flinging his noodley kitten body all over the living room. She didn’t even blink when he chased a toy under her chair or ran close to her head. One night, when I was playing with Dexter and some toys she jumped down from her perch and crouched about two feet away to watch us, her eyes never leaving the kitten or the feather wand.

I thought I was seeing a very faint glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. Not so much because Dexter started really wanting to be with Yoshi and to approach her and play with her and if he so much as looked in her direction that is when the hissing, spitting, and growling frothed up in full vitriolic volume. Only on Yoshi’s part as Dexter is probably the most laid back kitten I’ve ever met. Nothing fazes him at all.

So as I watched Yoshi losing weight and some days getting worse instead of better I started thinking that maybe this whole kitten idea was just not meant to be and that Yoshi simply couldn’t handle a new addition. I resigned myself to returning the kitten after the long weekend and feeling very incredibly horrible about it.

Then I saw this.

And I got MAD! People introduce new cats and dogs into their house all the time with little or no problems. I saw all those cats living together in harmony and I decided I wasn’t going to let a 9lb cat with a bad attitude run my household.

But I wanted a medical assurance that pushing her further wasn’t going to jeopardize her health. So off to the vet we went today and this is what she said:

-I do not have to get rid of the kitten!

-Yoshi is an exceptionally high-strung cat.

-It is possible if a cat has not eaten for a very long time for their whole digestive system to shut-down permanently and they can die.

-Yoshi is not even close to this stage.

-Yoshi has lost almost a pound this week but she is not underweight by any stretch.

-When a cat is stressed and vomits a lot their digestive tract gets all irritated and they lose their appetite. This is probably what is going on with Yoshi.

-They took blood and urine to rule out any other issues that might be complicating things.

-Being a jerk is not an official feline medical condition.

-I have to give her an antacid pill every night.

-I have to give her a syringe of laxative twice a day.

-I have to pry her stubborn Siamese lips open and force feed her a foul smelling cat mush every couple hours. Literally poke it down her gullet. Although she makes terrible noises and spits most of it out doing this will get her tummy working again and her appetite shall return. However, she will hate my ass for some time to come.

-This unanticipated and expensive vet visit means I will not be getting a new pair of winter boots next week.

The main thing I came away from the vet with is that while Yoshi is very high strung she only is so when it suits her. She did something similar to this several years ago when I went on holiday. I returned and that night she started vomiting uncontrollably and then started barfing blood. A visit to the emergency vet and almost $2000 later it was decided that she was stressed about my absence. And we all know what happened when I brought Lulu home. Yet every time I’ve moved into a new apartment she’s adapted just fine to her new surroundings. No hiding under the bed or anything. She was fine when I was going through treatment and in the hospital a lot. She acts totally freaked when the dogs come to visit or friends and family are over but the minute they leave she is all perky and cute like she didn’t just hiss and try to bite them. So there is definitely a component of my energy that is affecting her as well so I’ve got to get rid of all the guilt and fear and concentrate on visualizing exactly what I want to see happen in my house.

MY house.

Fight the feline power!

First co-mingling of death ray kitties- lasers on standby. Yoshi rasps, "Dexter, I am not your mother" *gaspgasp*

Second meeting-Yoshi is more relaxed. Dexter is trying to eat the kitty crate/cat jail/feline transport unit.

Third meeting. Dexter bogarts the kitteh drinking fountain. Yoshi is not amused. Barfs on my bed later to prove that bad manners go both ways.

One Of Those 'Life' Posts Filled With Questions That Have No Answers And Lots Of ' Marks

Do you ever find yourself in the same difficult and perplexing situations over and over again? You start to wonder if the universe is trying to teach you something or it is some heinous personal defect since the only constant element in all these situations is you.

Or in this case, me.

My particular situation is that am finding it increasingly difficult to be in the company of people.

I have a couple things going against me. First of all I have terrible social anxiety complicated by some pretty weird phobias. Any social situation is pretty agonizing on most levels. Secondly I am very sensitive to the emotions of others and so called ‘vibes’. Just very aware of the undercurrents of most interactions. Some therapists think this is why I have such bad anxiety. It is like I am lacking some sort of protective life filter.

That is another consideration as well. I’ve had a lot of therapy. A LOT. Some really bad but mostly good. I’ve learned a great deal about myself and the various limits and problems I deal with daily and as a result I am also able to recognize various psychological ‘issues’ (pronounced ithews) in others.

Let me give you an example. I have some family members who bicker a lot at family gatherings. You know, insults with smiling faces. They would also talk poorly about other family members behind their backs. When I first started seeing these people socially I would become seriously depressed for a day or two afterwards. On a couple occasions I was even teary. It got to the point where I would decline invitations to be social with them. With a couple therapy sessions I came to realize that bickering is the way some families show affection. Certainly not how I am comfortable with showing affection but each to their own, right? And I also learned that I could very subtly and politely show that I was not accepting of the negative talk about other family members. It totally worked and I am now able to be social with these people again.

The fact is that I was not raised to be assertive at all. I was raised to be ‘good’ and we all know that being ‘good’ often means being a doormat. For years I have not stood up for myself when being treated poorly and have swallowed all the emotions that go along with that. No wonder I have depression and anxiety, right? It is only in the last few years that I have stood up for myself and become pretty open about how I am feeling and, especially, how I want to be treated. As when anybody learns a new skill it is not always performed perfectly but overall I am happy with these changes. I’ve learned that not only am I a pretty quirky outspoken person with people I know and trust but in fact a leader in many respects opposed to the follower I always thought I was.

But here is the thing; I still am not sure how to deal with people who hold back from me. I’ve had a few friends/family members/acquaintances who I could sense were annoyed, displeased, or outright angry with me and for whatever reason couldn’t tell me so. I trust my gut that I am right about this and can probably guess what I had said or done to make them feel this way. Usually it is that I have an opinion that differs from theirs or have done something that they disagree with. And fair enough. I am happy to say that I am ok with all this and am totally happy to be disagreed with. I can safely be sure that I’ve not done or said anything out of malice or anger. Or it might simply be a misunderstanding. But they won’t tell me. They just start treating me differently. Sometimes it is just a feeling and sometimes it is outright passive aggressive behavior. In any case I just don’t know how to talk to somebody who cannot tell me what is wrong. And I hate being afraid to be myself and have my opinions and own ideas when I think they clearly are uncomfortable with that.

A few years back I had a very good friend who I met at work. We totally hit it off and became very close very quickly. We had a blast hanging out and were very similar in many ways. I totally trusted her and really felt like she had my back. After a couple years she seemed to be having some problems at work. I tried very hard to be supportive but found it very hard to know how to do that. So I just tried to listen and agree with her feelings. A few months went by and her behavior towards me started to change. I’d ask her if everything was ok and she’d say it was just work. But I knew it wasn’t. Unfortunately she decided to bring up everything that had been bothering her about me while we were on vacation together. Stuff that had happened over a year or two in the past and unto itself not a big deal but over time it had festered within her until it became so overwhelming she damned near lost her freaking mind. Her behavior scared me and after she brought up personal stuff I’d trusted her with and thought she accepted me for (mostly about the limits of my anxiety disorder) and then threw it in my face I knew I couldn’t save the friendship and I’ve never spoken to her since.

I hate that it got so out of hand. I really missed her but ironically not as much as I thought I would as I didn’t realize until I was out of the friendship how much I had to tippy-toe around her ‘stuff’. It was somewhat a relief in many ways to have her out of my life.

So what do you do when you just wish your friends/family/aquaintances would come out and say what they are feeling? How do you deal when you feel like you can’t be straight with them or else they will disengage or ‘punish’ you in some way?

Is this a common situation with friends and acquaintances or am I just some crazy lady? Is being up-front, honest with how I am feeling, and willing to talk about how we can agree to disagree maybe not a good thing?

Being with people is hard.

Well On My Way To Crotchetyoldwomanville

I live in an apartment building that has retail spaces on the ground floor. Right below my balcony is a little cafe that has outdoor seating. Most sunny days this guy sits outside for a couple hours and chats with friends while enjoying a beverage. He is disabled and he parks his scooter-thingie on the grass and ties his dog up to it. His dog is this seriously cute Miniature Pinscher. Well, cute until he starts barking. And barking. AAAAANNND barking. Yip! Yip! Yip!

The damned dog barks pretty much constantly the whole time this guy is at the cafe. Honestly, I'm not sure what bugs me the most, the incessant yapping or the fact that the guy just sits there about 10 feet away and does nothing about it.

Here's the thing. I could go downstairs and ask the guy to deal with his dog. Or I could phone the cafe and complain. Better yet, why don't I just shut my windows, buck up, and get on with my life?

All very good options. Yet, I am not compelled to use any of them.

Instead, it is ALL I CAN DO not to drop a water balloon on that dog. I have a perfect vantage point and I know I would very easily soak the thing. Probably get the scooter splashed pretty good as well. Despite acknowledging that all the dog lovers in the area would burn me at the hydrant I cannot stop aching to feel that squishy orb of water and latex leave my hand knowing that it would stop the barking, give a clear message to the dog owner and not actually harm anybody.

Somebody stop me! Or better yet, anybody want to join me?

A Long Post As Life Is Never Concise

Well, I’ve been leaving cryptic Twitter messages over the last few days as I’ve been going through a minor (and often not so minor) emotional rollercoaster. Here’s what has been going on.

In a nutshell I tried to adopt a kitten. And in another nutshell (I hope you’re not allergic) it got weird. The end result was that somebody else adopted this kitten and I am very sad about it.

I’ve wanted another kitten for years and for one reason or another I’ve not acted on that urge. Not for lack of obsessive internet searching on Petfinder and all the local animal rescue shelters, mind you. First of all, when Yoshi was young, I knew I was going to be moving and while it is easy enough to find accommodation that accepts a cat it can be a bit harder to find a landlord ok with two cats. When I did find cat friendly living space it was so small and entirely without doors so I just couldn’t see how I would successfully introduce a new cat into the situation. Well, I lived there for almost 8 years. Then I got cancer and dealt with the possibility that I might not be around to successfully see Yoshi to the end of her life like I expected to which was, seriously, my greatest worry throughout my treatment. Then I got better and, as many of you remember, I moved to my new apartment and attempted the Great Dog Adoption Experiment with very poor results. So I put the whole thing on hold. Yet, in the meantime I still obsessively lurked on adoption sites…

Fueled by stories of people successfully adding a new cat to their home, an enlightening dog sitting long weekend where Yoshi showed me that she could possibly handle a new addition to the family (anything would be better than 2 freakin’ dogs, right?) and the fact that I simply fell in love with this little tiny face I saw on the screen motivated me into applying to adopt a little boy kitty I saw on a cat fostering blog.

There are many MANY more pros and cons to adding a new ruler to this dynasty but that is a post (or twelve) for another day.

Now I am going to be kinda vague here as this particular blog with the cats is very popular and the content of my post is really only about my side of the situation. I can assure you all that the foster people are exceptionally great to their furry little wards and do a wonderful job. In fact that is partially why I really wanted to adopt one of their foster kitties as I knew they were loved and well taken care of in their first kitty days. These people are good people to the kitties.

So I saw this little kitten and fell in love with his eyes. He reminded me so much of Yoshi when she was tiny. All kittens are super cute but, honestly, for me, only a few tweak that aching in my tummy. I call it my ‘caternal’ instinct. I was smitten with this kitten.

The site said that if one lived in the area and was interested in adopting a kitten featured on the blog to email them. I did that knowing that I didn’t really live in the area (I lived about 3 hours drive away across the border) but hoping that my suitability and willingness to drive down for however many interviews, security checks and cavity searches were necessary to complete the deal might allow for flexibility on their end. Alas I got a reply saying that, indeed, they did not adopt out of the area. I accepted that and returned to my busy week walking dogs and doing fiddly tax reports for my business.

A couple days later things settled down, the pooches went home and I started thinking about this particular limitation and how when I was inquiring about adopting dogs as well as researching what was necessary to foster kittens myself that the typical rescue shelter mandate was finding good homes for pets and if the applicant met the criteria and was willing to deal with distance and travel issues it was not at all a problem to adopt across large distances and to neighbouring countries. Also I remembered reading on the Cat Fostering Blog that they have flown kittens to other states so…WTF?

Out of curiosity I checked out the website of the rescue organization these folks fostered from and couldn’t find such a rule. Now feeling a little odd about this discrepancy I called the shelter and asked if they adopted to folks in my situation/location and they said they did.

Now I got more than a little weirded out. I was very puzzled. Why would these people, on the basis of a couple sentences I emailed to them asking about a kitten, decide to go against shelter policy and deny me the opportunity to submit an application based on a non-existent rule?

You see the whole spirit of fostering is that you take care of an animal who might need extra care, medical attention, socializing etc. that a busy rescue shelter might be too busy/over capacity to provide in hopes that the animal could be eventually adopted opposed to euthanized. You do not own the animals you foster nor do you normally have much say or the final word on who adopts the animal you are fostering. That is the responsibility of the shelter that has its own adoption screening process. The adoption fee is paid to the shelter only. That is not to say that a foster caregiver doesn’t fall in love with their foster pets and want only the best for them and even encourage potential adopters to fill out applications but the final decision is from the shelter. So if they are not happy with the type of homes the shelter is finding for the animals then they shouldn’t foster from that shelter. Alternately if fostering doesn’t give them the control they desire over who with and where their foster pets end up then they should start their own small in-home animal rescue situation and then pick and choose where the pets go based on their own criteria.

So I emailed the foster blog folks again explaining that I had inquired to their shelter and was told there were no reasons why I couldn’t apply to adopt this particular cat. I asked why their policies differed from the place they fostered from. The reply I got made me furious. Suddenly the reason changed. Basically it was stated that for them it wasn’t the distance that was the issue after all but the border crossing that might cause delays/detention and since they cared deeply for their kittens they didn’t want to potentially subject one to that.

::Mrtl Style Tangent:: I’ve researched bringing a pet cat over the border and it is seriously no problem. Any cat over 3 months of age simply needs a current rabies vaccination (And proof thereof. IE: the receipt) and that is it! Younger kittens don’t need anything. Canada doesn’t quarantine pet animals at all. I wouldn’t even have to get out of my car crossing the border. Soooo not any kind of potential negative situation. If there was any risk that the cat would be taken away from me at the border for ANY reason I would never ever think of risking that. Jeeeez. ::End of Mrtl Style Tangent::

It was then said in their email that, differing policy aside, they thought they had possibly found a home for the cat anyway and they were sorry they couldn’t help me. Yes, a home for a cat I wanted to apply to adopt SEVERAL DAYS prior.

So in short I was told I couldn’t apply to adopt a kitten due to a rule that didn’t exist by people who normally have little to no final say over who gets to adopt said kitten or make rules in the first place and then was told upon further questioning that it wasn’t actually the first stated rule that was keeping me from applying to adopt the kitten but now a fear of ‘potential’ issues that are, in fact, total non-issues (easily discovered by anyone with internet access and Google) (and really only the concern of the shelter anyway) that imply a lack of care and concern by me for the kitten. This situation caused me to miss my legitimate and time sensitive opportunity to apply to adopt.

Um…OK! Not so short, huh?

I know I might not have been accepted to adopt this kitten by the humane society but I should have been offered the opportunity to apply.

I was terribly upset, angry and insulted. And sad, really sad. Hence the emotional rollercoaster mentioned above.

So I called the shelter again and explained everything that had gone on wondering if somehow I had missed something or if there was some sort of unique arrangement with these foster people that gave them special authority. The regular fostering co-ordinator was not in but the woman I talked to encouraged me to call the acting co-ordinator today and report what had happened.

I just got off the phone with her and she apologized which was very kind and much appreciated. While I won’t get into any details of our conversation I can say I feel much better about the situation and I felt very heard and understood by her.

And if you love happy endings then I’ll give you one. There apparently is a leeetle eeeensy teensy kitten that is similar to the one that got away. He/she is too young to be adopted yet but I get first dibs when that time comes. I’m just waiting to receive the call to drive down and take a look.

So YAY!

And whew! I need a nap.

Why I Love My Neighbours -Tuesday's Edition

Scene: Me and a well dressed older man in my apartment elevator. I've got my mail in my hand and he is holding a large platter of deli sandwiches.

Him: I'm the sandwich guy.
Me: Yes, I can see that.
Him: They are for a meeting. It's my turn to bring sandwiches.
Me: Well, they look very good. *being polite*
Him: Well, they are NOT for you. *being totally serious*

Another lady enters the elevator.

Her: Mmmmmm...whenever I see food I feel hungry. Those look delicious.
Him: *hostile look*

FINALLY! *

So I’ve been a little sick the last few days. It started out like strep throat which, of course, hit me during our Canadian long weekend. By the time my doc’s office was open again the lurgy had morphed into a cold where antibiotics were useless. It was a weird and wonderful sniffle where I’d suddenly cough until I gagged and I’d sweat until drenched. My voice warbled, my tummy grumbled and I was very out of sorts. One of those kinds of viruses that make you feel like ass but don’t quite knock you on it. Being upright felt terrible but lying in bed was worse; really boring.

While I missed a much needed haircut and a consultation for laser hair removal (what a sexy theme) I did manage to go an ‘Emergency Preparedness’ seminar at my local community centre. I was asked to attend as I am on-call for a week every month or so for emergency situations in my apartment building. We don’t have an on-site manager after business hours so some tenants, including me, were hired to be available if the shit hits the fan. Figuratively. If any real shit hits any actual fan and causes a big mess then that is the tenant’s problem and isn’t considered a real emergency and, therefore, not my responsibility. However, if the fecal collision causes fire, flood or injury then I’m the one who calls the authorities and lets them into the building.

So what I thought was an informal chat about general emergency situations turned out to be an emotional plea from a uniformed fireman to get it into our thick heads that an earthquake, THE BIG ONE, was imminent and we should all GET PREPARED!

Now if you live on the West Coast you have heard your whole life that there is going to be a HUGE earthquake; sometime between the next minute and 600 years. This sort of time-frame doesn’t really light a Boy Scout fire under my butt to ‘Be Prepared’ with any kind of urgency.

Well sisters and brothers, after 4 hours in gory detail of what to expect when (not IF, dammit, but whennnnnnn…) The Big One hits I have been converted. I am now a card carrying fear monger. I’ve been spreading the anxiety to others and, to practice what I preach, spending the last few days compiling my emergency kit and making list of what I need to know to survive in the urban wilderness sans water, food and a toilet.

In the past, when thinking about what I would do in event of an actual earthquake I have to admit to assuming that, yeah, there will be a jiggle or two and I could just wander down to the local community centre, my nearest emergency resource location, and get water, food and medical assistance as I needed. Even seeing all the terrible news footage of the big California quake in the 90’s and what happened after Katrina I still managed to blame that on crappy building codes and stupid government policy. I rationalized that the Canadian government actually took care of its citizens and that we (the grand yet ambiguous we) had our shit together and would be taken care of.

Oh ho! Soooooo not the case. Denial was my bedmate but now I sleep alone. Afraid and alone. All sorts of acronyms were thrown at me but the one that sticks in my mind the most is YOYO. That, my friends, translates to You’re On Your Own. I learned that it will be at least 72 hours, if not several days, before anybody can expect any kind of assistance from authorities and aide workers. OMG! That means unless you provide the basics for yourself you are SOL. And if that is the case nobody will be there to hear your whining so STFU. Also BYOB. I packed water but vodka would work too.

So many interesting points were brought up, yet the one foremost in my mind was the suggestion to pack garbage bags into your emergency kit as it is likely your toilets will no longer work and you basically have to poop somewhere. Fabulous. The Bag of Shame.

* Um, actually this post is about a week old and I still have to catch you all up on even more recent news. Also my Bloglines isn't working right so I have to catch up on all your blogs as well. Bear with me. I'll be around, I promise.

The Scoop, The Poop, The Skinny

*big sigh*

You have no idea how many times I've said to myself that I HAVE to update my blog and then get totally distracted and, well, don't.

So sorry.

Here is what is happening with me lately.

I am EXTREMELY busy.

Specifically I have, with very little notice, committed to participating in a craft fair. In theory this is a great thing. In practice it means I've been up to 2-2:30 am every night madly sewing stuff to sell. I've got lavender owls (Nighty Night Owls), little zippered pouches, fabric magnets and fabric grocery bags.

I seriously lost my mind and bought a total shit load of incredibly beautiful designer fabric (like several hundred dollars worth [I am a total fabric whore at the best of times but I went overboard with this]) planning to make billions of these bags. Well, it takes about 2 hours for each bag so I am totally running out of time before I am running out of fabric. I know I can sell stuff at the Christmas craft fairs but I really want to do well this weekend so I don't feel bad for buying so much.

You know, that evil mix of guilt and high expectations and stress? I call it 'Oh My God What Have I Done!?!' - That would be me.

Did I mention that somehow I got roped into the committee that is arranging this craft fair (actually they are calling it a Art Market but it takes everything I've got not to call it a Fart Market to their faces) (you know-because it rhymes) (and because I am a 10 year old boy deep inside) so I've got that on my mind as well.

And Oh YES! I've started a little job while not time consuming is also very much on my mind. And then all the work I am doing for UrbanBeast.ca is taking up some serious time.

So the poor blog is really being ignored. So is Yoshi who punished me by pooping on my bathmat the other day. The first time she has ever done anything like that in her 10 years on this planet. The same 10 years that nearly ended when I saw the poop. But it did work as I very quickly stopped ignoring her. Very loudly too.

Anyway, so that is my life right now. Please forgive my lack of updates.

Also anybody want to buy a fabric grocery bag or 6?

Spooky

So I like to think I am a very enlightened, tolerant and open minded sort of gal. I have my own little quirky life filled with my own little quirky likes and dislikes and as such maintain a motto of, “Whatever melts your butter.” While I may not agree with or even remotely understand others and what they do in their lives I also don’t like to harsh on anyone’s mellow by being all judgmental and shit. Everybody has to do their own thing, right?

So along with being enlightened, tolerant and open minded I am also mentally about as mature as a teenaged boy. A very poorly brought up, over imaginative, and under stimulated adolescent male. Combine that with an uncontrollable reflex to joke about inappropriate things and I am exactly the wrong person to take to a funeral, bris, beat poet reading, truck and tractor pull, flaky art opening, or interpretive dance performance. While everybody is deadly serious, enraptured, entertained or sad I am cracking my own shit up and hoping to cause others to snicker at entirely the wrong moments with well timed snide remarks. In a caring and accepting way, of course.

I’ve been told this is a defense mechanism to avoid feeling and displaying strong emotions. I call it a cagey survival instinct. I mean, seriously? Have you seen the phlegm fly from a beat poet’s mouth or the strange and alarming bulges flaunted by unitard wearing dancers? I simply have no other recourse. It is either immaturity or complete brain strangulation.

Fortunately I am in good company. My best friend Pablo has made me promise, at his funeral, to throw myself weeping and screaming onto his casket wearing a fabulous red couture gown. Seriously, this is his wish. In the event that he outlives me I’ve asked him to discreetly pour my cremains into the shoes left outside the private dining booths at the local sushi restaurant.

Here is the thing. Next week there is to be a First Nations cleansing ritual performed on my apartment building. We have all been invited to attend. I’ve told you about the fire that broke out (was set?) in the suite above me. Since then we’ve had numerous false alarms and just a couple weeks ago another fire in a suite caused by a malfunctioning clothing dryer. There have been a few deaths of tenants (lots of elderly folks here) and issues with theft. Then throw in some wild water pipe bursts and rampant appliance failure for fun and you’ve got a decent picture of the last 18 months since the apartment building opened. Basically this place is like living in Yuppy Bagdad. I guess there has been speculation that the spirits might be pissed.

Can you see where I am going here? Intellectually I totally respect all religions and belief systems and actually quite identify with the idea of nature worship. The First Nations people were just that, Canada’s first nation. The actual land where I live was very likely the site of or very near an ancient village. Just around the corner is an honest to goddess Indian burial ground/tourist attraction thingy.

***MRTL Style Tangent-you have no idea the true implications of this post for epic personal irony and blistering schadenfreude. For YEARS my friend Pablo and I have joked whenever things go bad in our lives that we must be living on an ancient Indian burial ground. In laughing hysterics, we yell this conclusion to each other after we’ve ranted about the latest fucked up shit we’ve had fall on our respective heads. This concept is loosely based on the whole Poltergeist premise that weird things happen when your subdivision is built upon a defunct gravesite where the developers were too cheap to move the actual bodies. Our theory is that it is clearly only a matter of time before our TVs will swallow us whole and only after serious convincing will we be grudgingly ejected from our closets covered in Jell-O goo. Now factor in that it appears not only do I possibly live on a real motherfucking ancient first nation’s site but that I apparently need to kiss some spiritual ass. It truly doesn’t get any better than this, folks. A cosmic full-circle moment only achieved by the truly cursed. ***End of MRTL Style Tangent.

So this is what I am facing. I want to be supportive of my fellow tenants and help facilitate a positive and happy living situation for everyone. I am also very curious about what this ritual entails. Supposedly if I attend I will receive a personal cleansing package for my suite compliments of White Standing Buffalo, our Ghostbuster. With my health track record I could use all the help I can get. I do like the idea of a ‘house blessing’ and ‘spiritual housekeeping’ of sorts. But…

I truly do not know how I can possibly get through something like this, dignity intact and without offending pretty much everybody. You know the harder you try to contain the giggle the bigger and more uncontrollable the giggle gets? Please don’t make me have to hold anybody’s hands or drum or sing or oh-sweet-lord dance…

Dude. I’d better go clean my closet for when it vomits me out.

Crush Your Cat's Head Friday-Fur Child Jamboree*

Discovered a new game today...

Playing Airplane!

Checking out the horizons. Totally relaxed.

The soles of my feet are still tingling from all the purring.

God, I love my cat. Who needs kids?

* It has been brought to my attention that what I mean to type is Gymboree. As noted above I do not have kids so these errors are practically mandatory.

The Written Equivalent to Nyquil

So I’ve been thinking a lot about what I could write about for my first official non-Yoshi related post for 2008. I was hoping to come up with a story from the holidays or some new personal conclusion for the New Year but I’ve got nothing. Well, nothing very interesting anyway. Things have been rather scattered lately and so have my thoughts. Not a bad thing but not great for a decent blog post. In point form here is what is new with me:

-I had a good Christmas with my family and there was lots of great food and company yet I emerged from the season feeling somewhat empty. This is nobody’s fault but my own. Despite my best intentions I got caught up in the petty stresses of the holiday worrying about shopping and The Perfect Gift and if this was enough for that person and that was too much for this person. You know what I mean. So I’ve decided that Christmas 2008 will be different. I don’t know what that will mean and what will change but I really want to regain some sort of joy and happiness in the whole process. There are no kids in my family so I cannot enjoy Christmas through their eyes. I am not religious so a church type holiday celebration won’t work. We’ll see. Maybe a trip. Maybe some volunteering. Maybe boycotting the whole thing. I don’t know yet…

-I went out of my comfort zone and attended a New Years Day dinner at my brother’s grandmother-in law’s house. Did you get that? Anyway, right at the beginning of dinner I had a raging panic attack, nearly gagged up my food and couldn’t eat for the rest of the night while doing everything in my power not to run screaming from the building. Fabulous.

-The Yoshi Calendar did very well! Thanks to everybody who bought one and/or pimped it to their friends and family. I sold out my small printing run of 250 and have blank note cards in the works featuring photos from the calendar. I’ll let you know when they are available. More stuff is in the works too. Hopefully T-shirts and some new photos featuring The Furface Herself.

-So yeah, about the above mentioned note cards. Just when I think I’ve got everything figured out and on a good time-line the little things always ferk me up. The packaging I ordered for the cards got lost by UPS and was delayed for over two weeks. The parcel showed up in shreds. The contents were alright but it really bugged me since they charge an exorbitant brokering fee to bring things over the border on top of hefty shipping costs. I’m thinking of getting a post box in Blaine, Washington and bringing things through customs myself. That would mean about a 1.5 to 2 hour round trip drive. Not sure if it would be worth it. No wonder everything in Canada is so damned expensive.

-AAAAAAND you’d think getting a common sized envelope in a colour other than white with some recycled content would be easy. Well, not so much. Once again I am struggling to find envelope suppliers in Canada (I’ve given up on something local) to meet my very basic needs. Of course the few I can find are in Ontario which means at least a week for shipping. I live in a big city! Why is this so complicated?

-It won’t stop raining out and on top of that it is also very cold.

-I got these awesome bed sheets for Christmas.

-I wish I knew Photoshop and how to do a web site and such. I have a great graphic designer friend helping me and I LOVE what she has done but I WANNA DO IT TOO! Collaborate! I love that stuff. I plan on taking a Photoshop course this year so I don't feel so ignorant.

-My dad’s hip is healing up well and he just started physio yesterday. They had him put some weight on his leg for the first time. This is good as the man is getting stir crazy not being able to get out and about.

-I got so brutally constipated over the holidays I had to go to the doctor. It is supposed to be the season for giving but my bowels were acting very selfishly.

Well, Yoshi is snoring on the chair behind me and it is almost midnight. Snooze time for me. This post probably put you to sleep as well. Good night!

Fabulous Yoshi Stuff - AKA-Pimpin' My Cat

Hey everybody! Time is running out on the Yoshi Calendars. Canada Post's suggested deadline to get items to you by Christmas is December 10th. Do you need a fun office gift? Short on stocking stuffers? How about a hostess gift when you do your Holiday Party rounds?

AND! Introducing Yoshi Christmas Cards

Right of Passage

I was not so fondly recollecting all my past wounds and woes a while ago and suddenly came to a startling realization; I am half cursed. Not wholly, completely or utterly cursed but only demi cursed. Specifically on my right side. If something is going to go wrong with me it disproportionately happens to the right side of my body.

For instance:

-Back in my college grocery gal days I pulled my right lower back and sprained my right wrist. I also got carpal tunnel syndrome in my right wrist after a couple years. Most of this can be explained as I am right handed so that side of my body would suffer the most wear and tear.

-Same when I got attacked by the huge dog. It ripped a chunk out of my right forearm and right foot. Also logical as you’d think that is what arm and leg I’d use to protect myself first therefore being first in the line of fire. But the dog also bit my left arm and didn’t break the skin.

-Once I fell and sprained my right foot. I’ve never sprained my left foot or wrist or anything on my left side at all.

-Then about 9 years ago I noticed a lump forming under the right side of my jaw which was diagnosed as an AVM. Had that surgically removed with no problems and didn’t think much of it.

-Then I was diagnosed with breast cancer. You guessed it. RIGHT BOOB!

-Recently I wrote about how I got the eyelid herp on…MY RIGHT EYE!

-Just a couple weeks ago I had to get a bone scan due to right foot pain which turns out to be arthritis. I am a little young for it but since it is on my right side I am not shocked at all.

-I nearly forgot to mention that when I get migraine headaches it is always on the right side of my head. Always.

-Then last week I got a staph infection on my thumb. Wait for it…MY RIGHT THUMB. And from that pain and stiffness has been creeping into my other fingers. Serves me right for hanging out at so many hospitals and clinics.

What the frick is this all about? Do I need to sprinkle salt on my right side? Or Holy Water, perhaps? Do I get a half price deal for a shaman to bless my right side? Do I have to do something about the left hemisphere of my brain to benefit my right bits?

Anybody got a theory?

An Update and a Physical Anomaly

My dad came home today from the hospital and is carefully lurching around on his own with his giant crutches. I’m not sure if I’ve ever mentioned this but my dad is 6’5” and my mom is 5’3”. His crutches are literally almost as tall as she is.

Anyway, I got to hand over his briefcase and cell phone and he resumed his role as boss man of his business. Instead of his executive chair he is ruling the roost from the couch. I have taken a secondary role as his legs for the next month or so until he can get around on his own again.

Thanks so much for all your kind comments.

So while I cannot say I am stress free I am not at def-con 5 at this time.

In other news:

Presently I am going through an invisible stage in my life. Periodically I seriously wonder if people cannot see me because my days revolve around dodging vehicles and pedestrians who fling themselves in front of my car. I obsessively check to see if my headlights are burnt out because I just cannot believe how often I get cut off and swerved into. People fly out from dark alleys and from between cars while I slam on my brakes stopping only millimeters from their bodies. Trying to get service is next to impossible as sales clerks and wait staff walk by me like I don’t exist. People don’t return my calls or email. I could probably walk around naked and not get a second look. During these odd times I endeavor to go about my life as safely and self sufficiently as possible until my personal molecules coagulate back into a visible entity and I can get around again as a fully visible member of society.

Anybody else ever have this problem?

Craptastic

Quite the day yesterday. Here is what happened.

1. Photographed the Yoshi calendar on Tuesday. Wasn’t happy with a lot of the first shots so I stayed up all night worrying and got up uber early yesterday and re-shot the whole thing again. Yoshi was not amused but did just fine and was a little furry trooper.
2. So while busy returning the camera gear and putting together all the appropriate images for my graphic designer friend I get a phone call… My dad is in the hospital emergency room. He fell while changing a light-bulb.
3. I run to the hospital and there he is all sad on a gurney. He has broken his hip. Fuck. I hang out there for a few hours.
4. Start making all the appropriate calls. My mom is on Vancouver Island on a mini holiday helping a friend and I can’t get in touch with her. Rally my bro and sis-in-law to “Man The Bedside” while I do some business stuff for my dad and deal with his car, his cell phone and his clients. Dad is feeling ok with just a couple Tylenol 3’s under his belt. All the nurses love him already.
5. Run to my parent’s apartment to get some stuff for him, make more calls, and email another client.
6. Go through a couple hundred photos and burn a disc to take to my graphic designer friend.
7. Return to the hospital with magazines, chocolate and books and hang out to 11 pm. Totally forget to eat all day. My thighs will thank me later.

So poor dad is going to have surgery today to replace part of his hip joint. The docs say despite his age (the nurses keep on betting each other to guess his correct age without looking at the chart. Nobody can believe he is 77. Most guess in the early 60’s range.) his bones are strong and his health is great so he’ll heal up fine and be out of the hospital early next week. He is in good spirits and pissed off and bored already. My mom should be home today in the late afternoon.

So between hospital visits, running my dad’s business and doing the Yoshi calendar I’m going to be scarce around these parts. I’ll update when I can.

A Karmic "Kick Me" Sign

I must have been real real bad in a previous life because the nasty stuff keeps coming my way.

So as you read in my last post the nasty peeper wanted to be my Facebook friend. I emailed him telling his that he was a “disgusting pervert peeping tom” and that under no circumstances would I ever want to be his friend-even through Facebook. I told him never to contact me again and I then blocked him.

It just wouldn’t have worked to accept his friendship request and then call him out that way as he could delete very easily anything I said about him.

I also don’t want to engage him in any way.

I’m working my ass off on the upcoming Yoshi Calendar and things are going slower than I hoped. I will start two months earlier next year. And to add to that time crunch starting Friday workmen will be coming into my little apartment to scrape the ceiling, patch the cracks and then re-texture. Did I mention my dining room table, set up with sewing machine and glue gun, is about 4 feet from where the work will be done? Crap! I have nowhere else to work while they are doing this so I will have to work around them somehow.

And then to add insult AND injury to this I had a wonderful little appointment with my doctor today. Thursday night my right eye felt sore and I noticed a bug bite sort of thing right near the corner of my eye. I put antibiotic ointment…

**MRTL Style Tangent-I love the word ointment. It is such a great combination of sounds. Say it to yourself a few times. Try some different accents. See what I mean? End of MTL Style Tangent**

..on it but it wasn’t getting any better. So off to the doc I went today and he took one look at it and told me what was wrong.

Eyelid herpes.

Yes, I have a cold sore on my eyelid.

Fuck.

Frantically, I told my doc that I practiced safe eye-socket sex (I put my whole head in a baggie for that) and he assured me that it is merely something I picked up from life. So every public door I opened, bank machine I used, grocery cart I pushed, second hand store I rummaged through (for props for the calendar), elevator button I touched, and piece of money I handled over the last few days flashed before my eyes and I got a little queasy. Then he told me I might have been infected years ago and only now having an outbreak.

I knew I was a germ-a-phobe for a reason, washing my hands several times a day and using that antibiotic stuff too. For NOTHING!!!! Dammit!

I have to be careful the infection doesn’t actually spread to my eyeball because that would be bad. *Big Sigh* Seriously, what did I do in a previous life to deserve this? I was probably one of those guys who didn’t wash their hands after peeing and then handled food or something. Or brought small pox to the natives.

At least it wasn't cancer.

I feel like a Petri dish. Please still be my friend.

Crush Your Cat's Head Friday-The Wrath, Oh The Wrath

So a few of you have asked me what is wrong with Yoshi due to my Yoshi Barf Watch updates on Twitter.

Lulu my Almost Dog is staying over until next Tuesday. Her momma and pappy are in Winnipeg and her sister dog Xiola is at her Grandma’s house. Lulu doesn’t like Grandma’s lab puppy so she is hanging out with me.

As usual Yoshi is pitching a fit. I will be videoing her operatic discontent for your viewing pleasure next week. If she wasn’t so miserable it would be funny.

Who am I kidding? It is funny.

When I brought Lulu home that first time Yoshi stopped eating and started puking in protest. Hence Barf Watch and Hunger Strike news.

This is how things stand now:

Yoshi ate fairly normally on Thursday, the first day Lulu arrived. By evening her Hunger Strike was in full force. However no hurling.

Today I took Lulu out of the house for 7 hours hoping Yoshi would eat and chill the fuck out. No such luck. When I got home I tempted her with tuna which she got very excited about and gobbled down. So much so that she immediately puked it up. She ate some more and that seems to be staying down. For now…

Yoshi-1
Off white carpet-0

Lulu will be here until Tuesday night. Let’s hope Yoshi can cope until then without popping a neck vein. I’ve fattened her up over the last couple weeks so she has calories to spare right now. But will it be enough…

Just now Yoshi walked within about 6 inches of Lulu and hissed and spit right in her face. Lulu ran to me for protection. I praised them both.

Don’t judge me!

This may or may not be a brand new teddy squeaky toy bought to compensate for all the hating aimed in her direction...

Uptight Dork Seeks Same

Good news! I got the Flickr/Yahoo! thing all figured out. They actually have an email form you can fill out for help and they actually answer your email. Unlike some other entity I know *coughBloggercough*. They will even answer your email again when their first emailed suggestions don’t work. So long story short they automatically flipped my Flickr account into a Yahoo! account using my Flickr identity (not my email) matched with my Flickr password. I didn’t know this and when I went to sign into Flickr it linked directly to Yahoo! log-in which is already set up with my original Yahoo! account information. So now I have two Yahoo! accounts: my original one and the one they made out of my Flickr account. Hence the issue with log-in. Now that I know about this second account I have access.

So yeaaaaay!

And what the fuck where they thinking?

So I was in the car today with my mom and we were talking about people and how often just a few wreck it for the majority. We hear this a lot from my dad who is a property manager and looks after several buildings in the downtown area. Most have on-site managers but a couple small ones don’t so he gets to deal with issues first hand. With all the crazy stuff my poor dad has to handle with tenants it is a miracle he hasn’t lost his mind. I know I’d freak out.

And the weird thing is that so many of these people don’t even think about how their so-called little lapses accumulate and add up to some serious hassle.

So after gossiping about various people we have heard about who live their lives selfishly thereby negatively affecting others I came to this conclusion,

“There are people who notice stuff and people who just don’t.”

I happen to be one of those people who notice stuff. Unfortunately I notice stuff in such minute detail it is actually a huge pain in the ass. Cleaning my apartment is often hell. I start on the big stuff and then get lost in the tiny stuff. I hate fingerprints and notice them on my desk top, cabinets, and glass. Don’t even talk to me about smears. Stains freak me out. It is not so much that I am a neat freak because I am actually not. It is just small imperfections are incredibly obvious to me.

Chips in the paintwork, spotted chrome, crooked pictures, dead leaves on plants….

I don’t know why.

For instance every time I wash my floors I wash the outside of my front door too. I polish the door knob and knocker and wipe off all the scuff marks on the base of the door from the toes of my shoe. You know those black marks from when you use your foot to push the door open if your hands are full?

But every day when I walk down the hallway of my building to get to my apartment I notice all the dirty scuffed marked and fingerprinty doors of my neighbours and wonder how they do not notice the dirt and clean their doors.

I then have to remind myself that most people just don’t notice this stuff. They are not bad or nasty. They just don’t see.

But what pisses me off is when some asshole spills half their latte down the wall of the elevator and doesn’t clean it up. Or lets their dog poop in the lobby. Or leaves dirty panties behind in the laundry room. How can you not notice that stuff?!?! Is it that they don’t notice or don’t care?

Sadly, us folks who notice stuff always appear like uptight bitchy dorks to those who don’t notice.

But even though I can get driven to distraction by these details they can also delight me in strange ways.

I recently bought some fabric to make pillows exactly because if you look reeeaaaallly close at the pattern it is filled with all sorts of weird and wacky shit. To just glance at it you would think it was some sort of childish fabric.

Oh no! No, no, no, no no….

"Hey Fluffy Bunny! I'm Timmy Raccoon. Can I play with you and your scythe?"

"OK! While I build a boat you dig a grave..um...I mean a cool hole!"

"Haha! See ya, Timbo! Hope you like swimming without a life-vest!"
"Why I LOVE swimming Fluffy Bunny! Wait for me!"

"Oh Hey! Feel like a campfire?
"Why yes, Fluffy Bunny, I do although my blue vest is knitted from nice cooling asbestos."

But Mister Bunny was bored of Timmy Raccoon and wanted to go home for a snack.

Bye bye, Timmy Raccoon.

The End.