Sunday, March 17, 2013


     Happy Monday, what a week last week was. Busy, busy, busy. Getting things ready for the first proper sleep over here at Casa di Craig, That's right. I had my mother and aunt Jean here with me this weekend.

     I got the spare bedroom all set up (now I'm officially open for visits, book now to avoid the rush), printed the tickets, double checked the dinner reservation, shopped, cleaned, cooked, cleaned, cleaned, cleaned....

     "OMG, this place doesn't look any where near as bad as I thought it would." That's how my mom started the visit. I was killing myself laughing and didn't stop until they left. I have the Mom seal of approval on the new house, she loves it.

     I finally got to tell my aunt her surprise, ballet tickets to see Romeo and Juliet.

     We went to dinner at Nota Bene and I got to spring the surprise I've been keeping for both of them, their sister Susan (yes, also my aunt) was joining us for the evening. The five of us ate, drank, soaked up some culture and laughed. It's been an awesome weekend.

     And that brings us to this week's prompt, 10 ways our partners are awesome. (and this did come up as a topic of conversation this weekend after a bunch of beer and champagne)

1 He makes me laugh. Despite everything, after 15 years, we still giggle together like madmen.

2 He has absolute faith in me. I have no idea why, but he has always believed I can make things work. Financial stability, a place to live, to making sure the taps work. He believes I can do anything.

3 He fits in with my family. Not as easy as it sounds given the fact there are so many of us. He has embraced the horde as they have embraced him.

4 He has a beautiful singing voice. It's how we met, I heard his voice before I ever saw his face.

5 He cooks. Unfortunately he doesn't clean, that's not so awesome. And no matter how he tries, I will never eat balut. Some things just don't need to be experienced.

6 He brings me surprise gifts for no reason. Again, a bit of a crap shoot. Is it my size? Did the tags come off? Do I really need one more chocolate caramel cupcake?

7 He lets me be me. Never tried to change the way I dress, cut my hair, refused to try something I wanted to do. We may not agree on things but have always allowed each other the space to pursue things as we saw fit.

8 He compromises. We both can agree to disagree and still respect the other's point of view and try to find the middle ground.

9 He trusts me, completely.

10 He makes this house our home.

     Now I'm off to eat some more of those Chocolate Marshmallow Brownies that mysteriously showed up in my fridge. (thanks aunt Jean) The awesome just keeps on coming.


Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Keep it, toss it, burn it, sell it

     A bit of a change of pace today in honour of March Madness Break. Playing a game with Rory over at Time out for Mom, the home version of Hoarders.

"Keep it, toss it, burn it, sell it  "
In the same vein as last Chat's game, except this time I am giving you the items:
1.  old high school/alma mater tshirt
2.  love letter from old flame who broke your heart
3.  engagement ring -- from when you said "no"
4.  vinyl edition of what was "your song" - you can download from iTunes anyway

 1 Old high school/alma mater t shirt. I'm hard on my clothes. There is no chance that anything that old is still in my closet. If by some miracle it survived, I'd keep it. How much space does an old t shirt take up? Besides, I can wear it on laundry day and reminisce.

2 Love letter from an old flame who broke your heart. Burn it. who needs evidence of love gone wrong hanging around.

3 Engagement ring from when you said no. I'm a firm believer that it goes back to who ever bought it. (Yes Rory, even the antique one) Sell it. Again, who wants a reminder of love gone awry.

4 Vinyl edition of your song. I love my music. There is something about the sound of vinyl. However, keeping vinyl means having the equipment to play it and storage space for the actual records. Toss it or sell it. I'm not sentimental about the format, as long as I can still hear the song.....

     There you go, I guess I'm not a Hoarder. My motto is, the more you have, the more you have to clean.

     Drop by Rory's and see what other players had to say.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

The Nose Knows

     Happy Monday. Time make a list and link up with Stasha. Last week we got to read all about how accomplished everyone is, impressive and entertaining. This week 10 favourite smells. Easy, but only 10?

1 Cinnamon, reminds me of Christmas, baking, mulled wine
2 Daffodils, Canadian, first sign of spring, enough said.
3 Fresh cut hay, farm boy at heart.
4 Fresh turned earth., see above.
5 Horses, reminds me of home and being a kid.
6 Warm leather, as in riding tack. Get your minds out of the gutter.
7 Coffee, caffeine is my favourite vitamin
8 Chocolate, no explanation necessary.
9 Fresh sweat, okay let your imagination run wild.
10 Tomato plants, yes the plant not the fruit. I like the taste of the fruit but don't like the smell of cooking tomatoes, blech. I do love the smell of the plants, like geraniums and marigolds.
11 Because you knew I couldn't stick to only 10, gasoline. No, idea why just love the smell.

     I could have easily rhymed off a dozen more. Did you know a women's sense of smell is more acute than a man's? That's why we never shower unless we're looking for company LOL.

     Drop by Stasha's and see what makes our noses twitch.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Stand tall

     Yet another week has flown past. Reading about your buyer's remorse made me feel better about being so cheap, I mean frugal. LOL

     This week we're supposed to talk about things that make us proud.  A bunch of things ran through my mind, you know; splitting the atom, preforming open heart surgery while climbing Everest, raising children who didn't turn out to be axe murderers, Oh wait, none of those apply to me. Pride always makes me think of BIG achievements. I had nothing that stood out.

     I was looking at the postings on the ALS support group. Being a new member, I wanted to see what others had to say. There were great stories of hope and encouragement. People doing amazing things in the face of personal hardship. It got me thinking.

     Tragedy is relative, you know the old saying I felt bad I had no shoes until I met a man with no feet. No, whatever, the point is there is no way to quantify crisis or loss. Our life experiences are all so different. What rolls off my back might cripple someone else. Okay, maybe that's not what that old saying is supposed to mean but it works.

     So what happens when the stories aren't so inspirational? You know, like mine.

   My partner and I aren't doing so well. I'm not a paragon of understanding and support, seeing the good in everything. He's not rallying, being strong in the face of adversity. Looking at death with teeth bared. It's just not like that.

     It's a mess.

    There are days I'm so angry I could scream. Angry at him for being sick. That's he's going to leave me alone. Angry, I can't change this, that I can't make him follow the doctor's instructions. Furious with God and the world in general that we're going through this. This was supposed to be our time.

    There are days I can't listen to one more complaint. Can't bear to hear about the latest ache or pain. Days that I want to be anywhere but at home with him. Times when it's suffocating and all I want to do is run, anywhere.

     There are days I'm so frustrated I could choke the life out of him. Days I want to push him off the couch, shake him until he realises he's not an invalid, make him see it's not over yet.

    There are days I can hardly see the point of getting out of bed. Of struggling through one more day. It's exhausting, demoralizing.

     I feel guilty. That I'm not that tower of strength. That I'm healthy. That I'm not more understanding. That this one time, when it matters so much, I can't fix this. Can't make it go away.

     Sometimes it feels like there are a thousand tiny wedges jammed into every crack driving us apart. Making us weaker, turning us into him and I.

     There are days I wallow in self pity. No one understands.

     Sometimes I'm so afraid it hurts to breathe. It's paralysing. Afraid of him being alone while I'm at work. Afraid of how we'll afford his care. Afraid of him going to the hospital, of not being able to take care of him. Of failing the person who means so much to me.

     There is this constant riot of emotion going on inside. Every day.

     But I'm here. Sometimes with a grimace, sometimes after a few deep breaths. I'm here.

     There is no right way. There is no succeed or fail. Some people rise to the occasion, some people sink. No one can be strong all the time. Scream, cry, rage, curl up and pull the covers over your head. Be fragile, be sad, be broken. Try your best not to be beaten. Reach out, needing help isn't weakness, it's human.

    Because there are also days when he makes me laugh. When I feel strong enough to get through this. When I remember why we are us, not him and I. When the day ahead looks rosy. When I realise how blessed I am and all that I have. When I know the only way to fail is to not try. When I can focus on the good rather than the bad. When I'm here with a smile and an easy heart.

     Trying is what makes me proud. Getting up, facing the day and looking for the best in it. Not grand, not heroic, just doing what needs to be done. Day by day.

     If reading this makes someone else feel better about their own personal struggle then I'm proud of sharing as well. We're all stronger together. Suffering in silence is only suffering, not strength.

     Drop by Stasha's and see what else makes us stand tall.