May 22, 2008

• Wow, it's been a long time since I've gotten around to blogging! I miss it, but I've been so freaking busy I haven't had time to write. As a result, this entry will be pretty convoluted and random.

  On May 11, we got a new cat. He is teh fluffeh. Very squirrel-like. And of course, Teffy hates him. He doesn't seem to take it personally though; he just keeps trying to play with her and she just keeps swatting him away.

  This cat came from Freecycle, after his original family developed allergies and the next family's other cat was still attacking him after four weeks in their house. He is a year and a half old, orange and white, fixed, front declawed, and has had all his shots. He's always been an indoor cat so he's perfectly happy to stay in the apartment all the time, although he does cry at the door when we leave and we can hear him all the way down the hallway. He was named by a 10-year-old girl, who hugged him and said "You seem kind of gay. Your name should be Peaches!" We have renamed him Waffles, based on a Williams Coffee Pub employee that looked like Antonio Banderas, who later voiced the ginger cat Puss In Boots in the Shrek movies. "Antonio! Serve me waffles!" Today I had the thought that we should one day get a blue cat and name him Grover. However, that will be many years away as Teffy had her teeth cleaned yesterday, and blood tests show she's healthy as a horse.

  I asked the vet to give Teffy a good combing while she was unconscious for the cleaning. They combed and combed and combed, and ended up with a hairball the size of a cantaloupe. They also trimmed her nails as short as they possibly could, because she makes such a huge fuss when they do it while she's awake. Teffy looks really good now that the lumps have been combed out of her thick coat, and she even looks smaller than before. She's still slightly groggy and more angry at us than usual, but she'll get over it sooner of later. It was worth the money, as she also had the cleaning done before developing any cavities so we didn't have to pay for any tooth extractions. Huzzah!

  On the Mom front, we gave her a custom t-shirt for Mother's Day that has pictures of her and her cats on it. Later in the day, she handed me an envelope and said the letter inside was in response to a challenge I gave her. "I gave you a challenge?" I said. The letter inside was a list of things for which she was proud of me. I had told her in the car one day several weeks before that she never said anything nice about me or to me, despite my bending over backward to help her. The letter was poorly spelled (in a charming way), had one little snide remark in it ("When you're not putting me down you're actually a very loving daughter"), and mostly listed things from my early childhood and even pre-birth. I was stunned by it, and went to her and hugged her and cried and cried and cried. She asked if we could have a fresh start, and I said I hoped so.

  So she came home with us for one night, and we took her to see Grampa, who was still in hospital in Guelph. A couple of days later, he was moved into a nursing home in Cambridge. Interestingly , he has been on the brink of death several times. The DNR has been signed and the funeral planned, and treatment stopped. Somehow he managed to cure himself of a serious blood infection without antibiotics. He surprised the nurses by escaping his bed in the middle of the night and hobbling down the hallway buck naked. They took him back to his room and put him in a chair with a tray across his lap so he couldn't get up. He keeps bugging people to give him a glass of water, but his swallowing reflex is terrible and they'll only give him thickened fluids. The doctor said he is so fragile he could choke on his own saliva, get pneumonia from the fluid entering his lungs, and die from it. Bizarre!

  Anyway, back to Mom. The day after Mother's Day we had lunch at Swiss Chalet, and she told me she had
  told the psychologist about my "challenge", and the psychologist was
  the one who told her I really needed to hear good things from her. She
  said she took many, many tries to write it, and that the night before
  she had laid in bed thinking of a whole bunch of things she forgot to
  put on the list she gave me. So she told me a bunch of the things she
  thought of, and we had a good laugh and a pleasant afternoon together. So things were all rosy, although I fully expected her to turn on me again at any moment. Also, my elation was tempered by the realisation that the letter doesn't mean much unless she shares it with all the people she has badmouthed me to. I'm going to e-mail a scan to Dorian and ask him to make it famous within the parish. It should be pretty interesting if he does it, as right now Mom isn't talking to me.

  She phoned me on Sunday at 10:15AM, and asked when I was going to pick her up from church. I had planned to be in Newmarket over the long weekend, but plans changed and I didn't go. Mom had left a message on Gilly's cell phone the day before, but we didn't get it because it was turned off. Despite the fact that she hadn't heard from us, Mom assumed we were in town. When I told her I was at home she was really angry. "Today's Dorian's twentieth anniversary of ordination service, and I have two big presents and a cheese tray to take!" She kept telling me off instead of trying to find an answer. I started to tell her to just call a cab, but she hung up on me. I looked at the phone and laughed.

  On Monday Mom called me, much calmer. She said she had balanced all her stuff on her scooter and was going to try to ride to church that way. When she got outside her building, a neighbour who goes to the same church was waiting for a taxi. She took Mom's packages and cheese tray with her, and Mom rode her scooter to church and all was well.

  So I was forgiven. Then Mom started talking about her upcoming driving test on June 16. She had been given a list of testing centres she could go to, and even though I pointed out that she could get to Woodbridge by bus, she insisted Barrie was somehow easier to get to. So she booked her test for Barrie, but then realised she had no way to get there. So it was during Monday's phone call that she asked me to make a special trip to Newmarket that day and drive her to Barrie for her test. I said no, I was the one who worked so hard to have her licence removed, and I wasn't going to have any hand in assisting her to get it back. She tried to stay cool (as cool as my mom gets) and said that it would be really great for me to go up there and see her pass the test, so I would see proof that she's fit to drive. Now, I seriously doubt she'll pass, but then she often manages to fool experts just long enough to get her way. I'm afraid she'll pull one of her tricks again and get it back, and I'll never live it down. All I can do is hope and pray that she's as crazy in front of the testers as she is in front of me. And of course, if I were to drive her to Barrie and she did pass, her reaction would surely be that she'd get in the car and drive away without me, just to "teach me a lesson". No. Fucking. Way.

  So within ten minutes of her calling me, she was all angry and hung up on me again. She hasn't phoned since, and that's fine with me. I'll just wait until she gets desperate enough to call me again, which will surely be when she wants another favour.

  Enough about my mom now! (Bet you'd never see me write that!)

  Our friend Sandra has just moved here from Hamilton, and the peasants rejoice. We get to keep her for 16 months while she's doing an internship in town. We spent much of the long weekend with her and Matt, who we'll also get to see lots now that he's coming to visit his lady. We really haven't seen either of them much in the last couple of years, so Gilly and I are excited to have them around. The next goal is to convince Cheese to move here, so the old Crew can be reunited and make lots of trouble.

  The other social news is that Gilly and I have both found men that will date us more than once each. Huzzah! Gilly met a guy online and later ran into him at Tammy and Monte's buck and doe party last month. They have since had two good dates and are planning a third. I met a guy through the singles' club I took over here in town, and we've been seeing each other a lot in the group context and have also gone on a couple of dates on our own. He's definitely interested and I've made it clear I'm interested in him, but it still feels rather high-school in that he seems kind of shy regarding dating. It's cute though, and I'm going with the flow. Perhaps he's also taking it slow because I met him during a crazy time at work and he won't really have time to date properly for a little while, but he assures me things will settle soon and we'll have more time to get to know each other. That's fine with me; I'm busier than a one-armed paper hanger these days and quite happy being so.

  I'm still diligently going to the gym, weight training two to three times each week, increasing my weight and number of sets, doing longer runs of cardio, stretching more, and doing occasional yoga classes. I've gotten quite good at lunges and managed 60 reps on each side recently, and wasn't too terribly sore afterward. Gilly and I are still bellydancing and getting better at it, and our new instructor is pretty hardcore about form so we're getting an even better workout from it than before. I still haven't lost an ounce, but I can flap my "wings" under my arms by flexing my muscles, and I've never been able to do that before. People are telling me I look great, and I'm hoping the fat-to-muscle conversion continues and eventually results in a few pounds off overall. I love being at the gym, zoning out to music on the elliptical machine, seeing my muscles bulge as I work out, and tasting the sweat as it pours from my brow, down my nose and drip onto my chest. Staff and workout buddies laugh and ask me why I don't carry a towel and wipe my face while working out, but the sweat makes me feel good in that I know I'm working hard and making real progress. I might have to give in soon and take a towel though, because lately I'm sweating so much my eyes will sting and burn from the pooled perspiration.

  I've been seeing a dietitian at Sunnybrook for a few months, and last week she said we're basically done and I'll just follow up with her one more time in August to make sure I'm sticking to my portion control strategies. I discovered that Breyer's makes these awesome no-sugar-added ice cream cups in Fudge Brownie flavour. The ice cream is rich and delicious and chunky, and each cup is only 100 calories. It's quite satisfying, especially when I eat it with a tiny baby spoon and savour each mouthful. When the weather gets hotter and my ice cream cravings increase, I'll make my own popsicles using Silhouette yogourt and fresh fruit combined in the blender. The yogourt is only 50 calories per half cup, and low glycemic load berries are getting to be cheap and plentiful now. I can make cherry, blueberry, blackberry, strawberry, raspberry, and any combination thereof. I suspect Gilly will be pleased with this idea as well! If I get chocolate and coffee flavoured whey powders, I can even make those popsicle flavours. I could add a litle almond extract to either of those, or a drop of Mexican vanilla in the coffee kind. Or Mexican chocolate popsicles using cinnamon, vanilla, and a pinch of chili powder! Mmmmmm!!! I'm looking forward to this experiment!

  Come to think of it, perhaps I should make a batch of Mexican chocolate popsicles for Rovers Only Moot in July, as it's a Mexican theme and I live near the camp. I'll have to make a batch before then and see if it's as good as I imagine it will be. Now my brain is ticking... I could use sifted cocoa powder or decaf coffee crystals instead of buying expensive flavoured whey powders. I'M A FRIGGING GENIUS!!!

  Yesterday I saw the endocrinologist, and got a promising treatment to try to clear up my face. As usual, my acne treatment is no longer working well after six months on it, and the dermatologist says he can't do anything more other than giving me Accutane. This, of course, is out of the question due to my fragile psychiatric state. Even though I've been doing very well the last couple of months, I'm starting to approach panic attacks again and have been taking Lorazepam again to try to settle my nerves as breathing techniques just aren't cutting it. I was worried about going to Austin's wedding earlier this month, but a fun first date with Bishop the night before made me feel great and I wasn't so bothered by it. The only time I got really upset was when Emma danced with her father at the reception, and I sobbed from the realisation that I would never dance with my dad. I turned around and Gilly was crying too. (I did manage to catch the bouquet though!) I think maybe the return of the anxiety is related to the upcoming anniversary of my dad's death, and all the memories surrounding it. There's also my fear of my mom getting her driver's licence back, which will only be relieved if/when she fails the test and finally has to accept that she really can't drive. I'm hoping that she might even stop blaming me for it, although I think that's a pipe dream. She'll probably say that I got to the testers first and told them to fail her. her conspiracy theories have no limits. She'll certainly claim that her driving skills are just rusty after a year without practice, and she'll blame me for that. So yeah, I'm anxious.

  Anyway, back to the endocrinologist. She gave me a prescription for a drug that blocks male hormones and thus reduces acne breakouts. It's cheap and known to be very effective, and it's covered by my ODSP drug plan. Yay! It's also not supposed to conflict with my other medications, and it has the double-whammy of lowering blood pressure. Mine is slightly elevated again, but nothing like it used to be.

  My psychiatrist suggested a few books to read, and I'm very, very slowly working through the first one. I cringed when I saw it's an Oprah Bok Club selection, but decided to give it a try. Well, I can tell you, Eckhert Tolle has a handful of interesting points to make, but the guy doesn't know how to write. I have to read everything multiple times to follow what he's saying. He's repeating himself anyway. He's a total New Age hippie type who gives me the impression he's smoked a little too much weed. Gilly and I are now joking that "my ego doesn't like your ego" and "your ego isn't funny" after I read her some passages. When I get through the book, I'll take it to a used book store and I should have no problem getting most of my money back by selling it.

  I'm sure I'll think of lots of other stuff I forgot to write about, but that's OK as it's past noon and I need to get a bunch of stuff done before suppertime. Have a fantabulous day!
  
    

  • 12:27 pm
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