We're in the home stretch of getting this place mucked out and I'm tired. I didn't realize how long it's been since I'd been through some of these old files. I'm trying not to take too long strolling down memory lane looking at these files because we have to be out of here Monday, but looking at this stuff brings back memories of things long forgotten. And it also made me realize what an unbelievable packrat I am! YIKES!
I can hardly wait to get this finished. I just want to be done and be able to relax for a few days before I start the job hunt. A friend's band is playing at a local wantering hole tonight but as of this moment I'm thinking I'll have to pass. If I know I will come in here tomorrow I'll feel less stressed today. What does one have to do with the other you say? When I drink I get incredible hangovers so I know if I go out tonight I will imbibe and therefore tomorrow will be a write off. And besides, I don't think I have anyone to go with anyway. Yes, my life has become that pathetic, hence the burning desire to get things packed up, put away and moved to another place.
So I wish those boys that are supposed to be in here moving the big stuff would get their asses back here. They've moved two desks, two filing cabinets but they've been MIA for the last 45 minutes while I have two chairs and a box out on the street out front to hold the parking spot for the truck.
But on a slightly better note, I've gotten more into the Halloween spirit. I usually LOVE Halloween, and I still do, to the point I think it should be a national holiday, but this year I'm just not as fanatical about it. Probably all the general upheavel lately, plus the weather's not been cooperating either with all the rain and such. But last night I put some crosses in the yard, scattered some bones, wrapped a body in a sheet and laid a shovel nearby, splattered some blood around the scene and it feels a little more Halloweenish. I have NO idea about a costume though, which I usually have planned out by July. Halloween night I'll do something I'm sure, but I'm just not feeling the whole scaring the crap out of the kids mode I'm usually in. And believe me, I go WHOLE HOG with the fog machine, scary sounds CD blasting out the window, house in darkness and me dressed in full gothic horror opening the door yelling "WHAT DO YOU WANT! SPEAK OR BE BANISHED!" ahahhahahaahh good times good times.
np: "Bloodletting" - Concrete Blond
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Friday, October 21, 2005
Let's Review
In the interest of chronicling my life so I may one day look back on it and chuckle... let's go back over the last 3 months or so.
My puppy dog has massive epileptic seizure he never comes out of and I must put him down.
A few months go by and all is okay... UNTIL... a few weeks ago when my boss tells me the business is closing.
OCH
After 12 years I am suddenly unemployed. While I am very upset this happened, there is a whole other part of me that is actually happy because I have been thinking of moving for the last year or so and now I realize I can. I have enough experience under my belt that I'm not concerned about finding another job and as proof, I've already been contacted by another company and I'm not even finished up here yet. So while I'm certainly sad to see a business fold that's lasted 20 years, and I'll miss my boss cause he was the best boss EVER... I am equally as excited to get out of this boring ass town and back to the city.
So we had the job thing... then... last Saturday we wake up to find my daughter's fish died. I feel badly for her. She cries, I console, we bury it, then she asks for a puppy.
But the worst of all... the absolute worst... one of my cats... mah baby... my soul mate in kat form... the ying to my human yang... is not looking so good. Granted my baby is 15 yrs old and has had a plethora of health problems over the years, to the point I've often reminded her when she's given me attitude that she better take that somewhere else for the amount of money I've spent on vet bills over the years. I had noticed she had started limping and was spending alot of time sleeping, so I kept a close eye on her and after a few days when she didn't appear to shake it off, I called the vet and off we went.
They kept her for 3 days and did what they could, but it wasn't enough. She wouldn't eat. All her muscles had deteriorated, she was anemic, she had ulcers in her mouth. When I went in this past Wed to see her and the vet took her to me I broke down as I hugged her. It was pretty obvious she had one foot in the grave. She looked so horrible. The pain was written all over her face and yet, when I hugged her and kissed her, she purred and meowed, obviously happy to see her momma. She leaned into me and tried to kiss me, but her mouth hurt so bad she couldn't stick her tongue out so she just touched her nose to my forehead to let me know she tried.
*heavy sigh*
The vet advised me they could treat her, but it would be merely maintainting her as she was, which there was no way I could make her go through that. He said I would never get her back to the way she was.
So with alot of tears and a heavy heart I did what I had to do for my baby. I stayed with her and hugged her and kissed her and gently, peacefully, released her from her pain. It was actually alot less traumatic than I thought it would be, and he didn't rush me out, letting me continue patting her and hugging her until I was ready to let her go.
There will never be another cat like Oochie. Yes, that's right... 'Oochie'... like hoochie, without the 'H'. It was a slang term I heard a looonnngg time ago when I first got her as a baby kitten only 2 or 3 months old. I said Hmmmm... Oochie... how do you like that name? And she looked at me, meowed and went back to what she was doing, so Oochie it was. Whenever someone would ask I would tell them it was old Native word meaning 'BitchCat'.
She was so close to human it was frightening. She had perfected the art of the dirty look to the point my sister was afraid of her. I had a bond with her like I've never had with any other animal. I'd talk to her and she'd answer with a combination of chirps and purrs and meows, or sighs if she found me particularly irritating that day. My father called her 'Itchy Bitchy' and the vet asked me one time why I even kept such a cranky cat to which I informed him 'Because I love her! She's mah baby!' Oochie never liked him. She saved her best dirty looks for him. He eventually warmed up to her but they definitely had a mutual hate for each other in the beginning.
But she loved her mama and always let me know. She'd sleep around the top of my head and purr me to sleep, and if I turned my head to face the other way she'd get up and turn around so she was near my face, not the back of my head. I drove her crazy one night turning back and forth just to see if she'd keep changing position. She did every time.
She drove across Canada with me when we moved to BC, and flew back home with me when it was time to return. You could open the car door and ask her if she wanted to go for a drive and she'd hop into the passenger seat, sit there primly and look at me like she was asking where we're off to now.
I'll never forget when we brought Cayman the puppy home. She looked at me as of to say 'What the HELL are you doing?!' Then she looked at him with obvious disgust, shot me another dirty look, sighed, then huffed and walked away like 'That's it man. I am outta here.'
When the movie Stuart Little came out everyone who saw it said Snowball reminded them of Oochie. I had taken to calling her Queen Oochifur over the years for her diva-like attitude.
So please, Karma Gods, I don't know if this is part of the Grand Plan and if I'll see the purpose for all this hopefully sooner rather than later, but NO MORE GOD DAMMIT!!! You crossed the line when you took my cat! I LOVED that cat! Okay granted she was 15 years old but STILL!!! I'm sure she would have lived forever if you hadn't intervened.
I miss mah baby. Alot. When everything felt like shit in a cesspool she was the one bright spot I could always count on. Unconditional love. There's nothing like a little lick on the end of the nose from your favourite furry friend when everything's falling down around you.
I'll see you again Miss Ooch and try not to kick the shit out of Cayman too bad while you wait for us. I'm sure there's rules about these things, even on the Other Side.
np: "Light Years" Pearl Jam
My puppy dog has massive epileptic seizure he never comes out of and I must put him down.
A few months go by and all is okay... UNTIL... a few weeks ago when my boss tells me the business is closing.
OCH
After 12 years I am suddenly unemployed. While I am very upset this happened, there is a whole other part of me that is actually happy because I have been thinking of moving for the last year or so and now I realize I can. I have enough experience under my belt that I'm not concerned about finding another job and as proof, I've already been contacted by another company and I'm not even finished up here yet. So while I'm certainly sad to see a business fold that's lasted 20 years, and I'll miss my boss cause he was the best boss EVER... I am equally as excited to get out of this boring ass town and back to the city.
So we had the job thing... then... last Saturday we wake up to find my daughter's fish died. I feel badly for her. She cries, I console, we bury it, then she asks for a puppy.
But the worst of all... the absolute worst... one of my cats... mah baby... my soul mate in kat form... the ying to my human yang... is not looking so good. Granted my baby is 15 yrs old and has had a plethora of health problems over the years, to the point I've often reminded her when she's given me attitude that she better take that somewhere else for the amount of money I've spent on vet bills over the years. I had noticed she had started limping and was spending alot of time sleeping, so I kept a close eye on her and after a few days when she didn't appear to shake it off, I called the vet and off we went.
They kept her for 3 days and did what they could, but it wasn't enough. She wouldn't eat. All her muscles had deteriorated, she was anemic, she had ulcers in her mouth. When I went in this past Wed to see her and the vet took her to me I broke down as I hugged her. It was pretty obvious she had one foot in the grave. She looked so horrible. The pain was written all over her face and yet, when I hugged her and kissed her, she purred and meowed, obviously happy to see her momma. She leaned into me and tried to kiss me, but her mouth hurt so bad she couldn't stick her tongue out so she just touched her nose to my forehead to let me know she tried.
*heavy sigh*
The vet advised me they could treat her, but it would be merely maintainting her as she was, which there was no way I could make her go through that. He said I would never get her back to the way she was.
So with alot of tears and a heavy heart I did what I had to do for my baby. I stayed with her and hugged her and kissed her and gently, peacefully, released her from her pain. It was actually alot less traumatic than I thought it would be, and he didn't rush me out, letting me continue patting her and hugging her until I was ready to let her go.
There will never be another cat like Oochie. Yes, that's right... 'Oochie'... like hoochie, without the 'H'. It was a slang term I heard a looonnngg time ago when I first got her as a baby kitten only 2 or 3 months old. I said Hmmmm... Oochie... how do you like that name? And she looked at me, meowed and went back to what she was doing, so Oochie it was. Whenever someone would ask I would tell them it was old Native word meaning 'BitchCat'. She was so close to human it was frightening. She had perfected the art of the dirty look to the point my sister was afraid of her. I had a bond with her like I've never had with any other animal. I'd talk to her and she'd answer with a combination of chirps and purrs and meows, or sighs if she found me particularly irritating that day. My father called her 'Itchy Bitchy' and the vet asked me one time why I even kept such a cranky cat to which I informed him 'Because I love her! She's mah baby!' Oochie never liked him. She saved her best dirty looks for him. He eventually warmed up to her but they definitely had a mutual hate for each other in the beginning.
But she loved her mama and always let me know. She'd sleep around the top of my head and purr me to sleep, and if I turned my head to face the other way she'd get up and turn around so she was near my face, not the back of my head. I drove her crazy one night turning back and forth just to see if she'd keep changing position. She did every time.
She drove across Canada with me when we moved to BC, and flew back home with me when it was time to return. You could open the car door and ask her if she wanted to go for a drive and she'd hop into the passenger seat, sit there primly and look at me like she was asking where we're off to now.
I'll never forget when we brought Cayman the puppy home. She looked at me as of to say 'What the HELL are you doing?!' Then she looked at him with obvious disgust, shot me another dirty look, sighed, then huffed and walked away like 'That's it man. I am outta here.'
When the movie Stuart Little came out everyone who saw it said Snowball reminded them of Oochie. I had taken to calling her Queen Oochifur over the years for her diva-like attitude.
So please, Karma Gods, I don't know if this is part of the Grand Plan and if I'll see the purpose for all this hopefully sooner rather than later, but NO MORE GOD DAMMIT!!! You crossed the line when you took my cat! I LOVED that cat! Okay granted she was 15 years old but STILL!!! I'm sure she would have lived forever if you hadn't intervened.
I miss mah baby. Alot. When everything felt like shit in a cesspool she was the one bright spot I could always count on. Unconditional love. There's nothing like a little lick on the end of the nose from your favourite furry friend when everything's falling down around you.
I'll see you again Miss Ooch and try not to kick the shit out of Cayman too bad while you wait for us. I'm sure there's rules about these things, even on the Other Side.
np: "Light Years" Pearl Jam
Monday, October 03, 2005
Shit ... meet fan
Well I can't say I wasn't forewarned.
I can't say I didn't see it coming.
I hoped it wouldn't. But of course my luck just isn't that good.
I was like the little dutch boy with his finger in the damn, trying vainly to stop that impending floodwaters from breaking through and drowning everything in it's path.
I've felt on the verge of something... something big for the past couple months. Right now I'm too stunned and heartbroken to figure out if this will be a good or bad thing. There is a part of me that's jumping up and down in glee, rejoicing that that I'm finally free from the shackles that held me bound to a life I was smothering in.
But another part of me... the part that just likes to coast and go with the flow is already popping tylenol and reaching for the wine.
*sigh*
I have options. I'm not concerned to the point I'm freaking out. I'm sad it came to this. It feels like a large part of my life has come to an end. Perhaps I'm overdramatizing but that's how I feel at this moment.
But that little guy that's jumping up and down inside me is asking if I'm fucking crazy... this is what I've been waiting for. Someone made the decision for me and I should be thrilled.
Maybe I will be in a few days, after the shock wears off. If it was just me I had to worry about I'd have been gone five minutes after the words were spoken, a big wave, a smile, an 'It's been a slice, catch ya on the flipside' as I walk out the door into the sunshine wondering what adventure awaits me now.
But it's not just me. Because I have been given the privledge of knowing what the Grand Plan is for me in my life, I know what I'm supposed to do now. But I'm overwhelmed with decisions. There are too many things to think about and it just makes my head hurt.
Where one door closes... another opens.
Someone remind me of this in a week or two.
I can't say I didn't see it coming.
I hoped it wouldn't. But of course my luck just isn't that good.
I was like the little dutch boy with his finger in the damn, trying vainly to stop that impending floodwaters from breaking through and drowning everything in it's path.
I've felt on the verge of something... something big for the past couple months. Right now I'm too stunned and heartbroken to figure out if this will be a good or bad thing. There is a part of me that's jumping up and down in glee, rejoicing that that I'm finally free from the shackles that held me bound to a life I was smothering in.
But another part of me... the part that just likes to coast and go with the flow is already popping tylenol and reaching for the wine.
*sigh*
I have options. I'm not concerned to the point I'm freaking out. I'm sad it came to this. It feels like a large part of my life has come to an end. Perhaps I'm overdramatizing but that's how I feel at this moment.
But that little guy that's jumping up and down inside me is asking if I'm fucking crazy... this is what I've been waiting for. Someone made the decision for me and I should be thrilled.
Maybe I will be in a few days, after the shock wears off. If it was just me I had to worry about I'd have been gone five minutes after the words were spoken, a big wave, a smile, an 'It's been a slice, catch ya on the flipside' as I walk out the door into the sunshine wondering what adventure awaits me now.
But it's not just me. Because I have been given the privledge of knowing what the Grand Plan is for me in my life, I know what I'm supposed to do now. But I'm overwhelmed with decisions. There are too many things to think about and it just makes my head hurt.
Where one door closes... another opens.
Someone remind me of this in a week or two.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)