- We are both still awake, and there are birds chirping outside and What. The. Fuck.
- Way, way too many skinny, pale, almost-vaguely-ethnic, blonde chicks up in my fashion editorials right now. Diversity, PLEASE.
The Hermit Speaks
Published January 30, 2009 | 
For the past little while, ever since that night when Buffy barked & made the lady across the hallway bang on her window at me, I’ve been putting the dogs on their leashes and taking them to the side of the building (which means an extra flight of stairs, but whatever — I’m pregnant, not broken) rather than out back. But tonight, since I’ve been having cramping off and on, I did not put them on their leash and I just let them out back. As usual, Buffy barked twice as she bounced out into the snow (sigh) and peed near the lady’s patio. Then she started barking more, the way she does when she sees someone, and I was like oh shit, the bitch is probably standing in her doorway looking at the dogs, but Buffy ran over to me so I picked her up to bring her inside. Then Joss, interested in whatever had made his sister bark, ran over… and started to bark…
So bitch opens up her door to yell at me: “Keep those dogs from pissing on my patio.”
Okay, you know, I understand. In fact, I am immensely annoyed that they seem to like peeing near her patio (although I assume they do so because less snow accumulates there). “I’m sorry, I do try,” I answer.
“Put them on a fucking leash!” she screeches and slams her door. WTF?
Clearly, I’m in the wrong. I know this. I was kind of hoping that, you know, since it’s the first time in a week (and they go out three/four times a day) that I’ve taken them out back, I wouldn’t have to deal with any drama. I was hoping that I’d just let them out, they’d pee, poo if they needed to, I’d clean up after them and we’d come back inside. Now I’m all insulted and edgy and annoyed. I know they should be on their leashes. I also know it takes me longer to get their harnesses and leashes on than the amount of time they actually spend out in the cold, and it’s not exactly the safest thing in the world to be stomping up and down two flights of stairs while 9 months pregnant with two dogs on leashes running around me. So that’s why I made the decision I did. I do accept that it’s my problem, these are my dogs, and I don’t really have the ‘right’ to inconvenience or annoy someone with my pets (nor do I want to). I will continue putting them on leashes and taking them over to the side of the building.
I was just really, really hoping to get away with it tonight. Ah well.
$75+ Later…
Published January 23, 2009 | Just had some lady from the City come knock on my door and say that we need to license the dogs. I’m kinda curious as to how this even came up — we’ve been living here since September and hadn’t heard a peep about it, from the landlady or the vet or anyone. I mean, I did just look it up and it is an actual city bylaw that dogs must be licensed, so no biggie… but I totally bet it was the bitch across the hallway that complained to the city or something.
Puppy Smuggler
Published January 19, 2009 | We’ve got a couch and a loveseat in our living room. The loveseat “belongs to the dogs”, we say, as they’ve got their toys, a sweater, a comforter, and god knows what else smuggled up there to cuddle with.
Last week, we implented a “no dogs on the couch” rule. They can be on their loveseat all they want, but the couch shouldn’t smell like dog and really, shouldn’t the humans own a piece of furniture? Easier said than done. Even with nothing on the couch that could be appealing to snuggle with, we’ll still catch them (okay, usually Joss) lying on it now and again. So all week, we’ve been having to yell at the dogs to GET DOWN and then telling them GOOD BOY/GIRL! when they jump up onto the loveseat again. It kind of breaks my heart in a way to tell Joss to get down off the couch, because his perky little ears droop so low, his tail goes far between his legs, his eyes get big and wet… and when I have to move him off the couch, he whines because he is just. that. unhappy.
Needless to say, Chris suspects that I am not enforcing the “no dogs on the couch” rule as firmly as I could be, although I am. Last night, we saw Buffy lying on the loveseat, but didn’t know if Joss was there. So my darling husband walks over to the couch and lifts up a pillow that’s tucked into the corner.
As in, to check if I put a pillow on top of Joss to make sure Chris wouldn’t see him lying on the couch.
WTF? I’m still laughing about it. Who knew I was so devious?
A Few Updates
Published November 1, 2008 | I talked to the professor on the phone yesterday, and he made me feel comfortable and so so silly for even questioning whether or not I should see him. He’s my friend. Of course we should spend some time together. Chris and I talked more and ended up arriving at the conclusion that I’d get up at 4am with him, go to work with him, and then drive home, so I’d have the car to take into Toronto. Chris and I are both really nervous about me driving in the city. I suggested that I park outside of the city, at Yorkdale Mall or something, and then take a subway in — at which he wailed that there are too many crazies on the subway for a pregnant woman to be there alone.
Then I spent all night worrying. When was the last time I drove on a highway or in a city the size of Toronto on a weekend? I know for some of you these concerns are irrelevant, but for me, they’re huge; I haven’t driven on a highway in something like 5 years, and I’ve never driven in a city the size of Toronto, weekend or not. I’m pregnant. Now isn’t when I should be taking new risks, or introducing something stressful into my life. So, I decided against taking the car for the day, and I won’t be seeing the professor while he’s up here. I feel totally shitty for flaking out on a friend, but that’s the way life is. I feel like a wimp too, and at the same time, I know it makes perfect sense to put myself & our baby at the top of my priorities & concerns. Of course, I still have to blog about it as I sit here unable to go back to bed…
As far as the immigration crap goes, well, good news there — my medical extension has been granted, the right fee has been paid, and everything is now entirely out of my hands. All we need is for the office that received the fee to let the other office know so, and then approval should be forthcoming on the same day. 106 days until Maia’s projected arrival date, and since first-time mothers usually deliver late (or so I hear?) I’m feeling fairly comfortable that I’ll have health coverage before she does. Chris says it’s likely because there are no holidays to slow things down in the next few weeks … haha!
The dogs seem to be adjusting to their diet just fine, and Buffy’s already starting to show the benefits of it. She has hips again instead of being a sausage! This is good news.
MJ not only got the ultrasound pic (finally), but also the week 24 baby bump email that *I* sent! It was so sweet to talk to her on the phone and hear her gush about her grandbaby — “Look at her nose! And her lips! And that little space between her nose and lips!” I was like yeah, I know, we made a beautiful baby already, and that’s even with her being all covered with gross body goop right now.
We still dislike our apartment. We don’t have a shelf in our closet, although when I went down to the landlady’s office the other day to pick up a repair request sheet (for that, our missing towel bar, and the squealing that has suddenly started in the pipes whenever you turn hot water on in the shower), she said, “Oh, haha, you don’t need to submit anything about the shelf for your closet, it’s actually sitting in a room downstairs.” Oh, really? “Yeah, it was kind of funny, when the repair guy came in the other day he asked me why that shelf was still sitting there after a month. I just forget, I’m so busy.” GOSH DARN, THAT IS SO CUTE AND FUNNY, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY.
In other apartment-related news, they’re repaving the parking garage (thanks for the 12 hour notice on that btw) and the work should be finished by mid-December, so a ton of people have to park on the street. Everyone who did, though, was ticketed by the city for it two nights in a row — including Chris. That’s cute, to make people park somewhere that you haven’t even gotten a permit for. Fortunately the management group is covering all tickets and they’ve now gotten permission from the city for people to park on the street, but seriously? What the fuck, couldn’t you have done that beforehand? I’m not the only annoyed resident in the building; on one of the notices about the work posted on the stairwell door right next to the landlady’s unit, a tenant has scrawled, “ARE YOU FUCKIN’ KIDDIN ME? WHO POURS CONCRETE IN DECEMBER?” I wanna give him a Tootsie Pop or something.
Week 25 & I’m feeling okay, although pretty often I poke at my belly and think it’s more fat than baby (which I’m pretty sure is just female neuroses). Oh, and the fact that I have really bad gas like all the time is pretty mortifying. Blaming it on the dogs isn’t working anymore, either. OH LITTLE GIRL OF MINE, your sense of humour is frightening already!
Welcome Wagon
Published September 22, 2008 | 
It’s the first day of Fall! This could be any road where I grew up… gorgeous!
So I’m lounging around yesterday afternoon in my undies at my computer, talking to my mom online, a glass of Nestea at my side (I love this stuff… I drink it all the time, then tell my trainer I’m drinking “water with lemon”. What? I squeeze fresh lemon into it, and it’s made with WATERandpowder, so technically I’m just omitting that it’s full of sugar), and my dogs being perfectly quiet on their loveseat. Is that sad, that we’ve basically let the dogs take over the loveseat? They have their own down comforter and wool sweater. We actually bought the sweater for Chris and he, being the way he is, tossed it on top of the couch when we got it home — then as soon as we turned our backs, Buffy pulled it off the couch and made it HER SWEATER WHICH NO ONE CAN TOUCH.
That reminds me of this cute video I took of Buffy & Joss fighting when Buffy got her head stuck in a hole in her sweater (sorry about the crappy lighting):
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2kO9auwilA]
ANYHOW, I’m sitting at my computer. The phone rings. It’s not a long-distance ring, which means it isn’t Chris; the name on Caller ID is “Janet” something. I answer, and turns out this Janet is a member of my city’s Welcome Wagon — she’s in the area, she heard I just moved in (who told her?), and would I like her to stop by? I’m hesitant; then she mentions that she has free stuff from local businesses, and I tell her SURE! COME SEE ME!
The next ten minutes are filled with frantic straightening up (thank goodness I swept & mopped yesterday) and a distraught stare at my sink full of dirty dishes. Usually I do the dishes before I go to bed, but yesterday I cut the pad of my thumb on the lid of bottle of olive oil (no, seriously… second time I’ve done this) and it stung too damned much for me to fuck with hot soapy water.
But check it out, I got some sweet stuff from this lady:
- 2 toothbrushes from local dentists; the third gave me some floss
- a free haircut at a local stylist (score! remember how I was telling you I wanted to get bangs, mom?)
- $15 gift certificate to a spa, which I will totally put towards that pedicure I’ve been wanting
- free appetizer at one restaurant, free lunch at another
- free oil change & a keychain from a Ford dealership
- pampering session (aka sales pitch) from a Mary Kay dealer
- 2 pens from various financial firms
- notepad from a private school (or I guess an “independent school”) where tuition is $12000 a year
But most pleasing to me was the tidbit of information that there is a farmer’s market at one of the local malls three days a week. Sadly, it only runs through the end of September, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make out like a bandit this coming week when my darling husband and I get there FIRST THING IN THE MORNING to pick out all the good stuff. And, I got a map of all the “pick your own produce” farms in the county, which I am totally thrilled about (although I will point out that http://www.pickyourown.org is an excellent resource for this as well).
I love this city so much more than where we used to live. I mean seriously, a Welcome Wagon? Most importantly, SHE ASKED ME if I was expecting, with an understanding gesture towards my little baby bump. I could have cried and hugged her. Then I told her yes, then she told me that they do a “Baby Shower” Welcome Wagon to welcome my baby to the community too.
How adorable is that?
On a more solemn note — I love you dearly, Nana, and I will always miss you; all of my memories of you are inspiring and warm. May you rest in peace.
Dear Abby
Published September 19, 2008 | Why must your column be so addicting?
I have been reading archives at http://www.uexpress.com/dearabby for like… two days now, off and on between doing other things. I can’t help it, I need something to read, and there she is!
Totally unrelated, I spilled iced tea all over Buffy and my couch tonight… and forgot to make dinner for Chris, even though I made dinner for myself. Poor dude 