The past few days have been sort of weird – Rob works from 12:00pm – 11 pm. Since I leave for work at 7:45, and am usually asleep by 9ish, we really only see each other for a couple of minutes in the morning, and when we’re asleep. HOWEVER, he has 3 days off per week, so we do get to hang out on those days. Still though, this shift kind of makes me miss driving him in in the morning and picking him up in the evening – the extra hour and a half together in the car each day was some good togetherness time.

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It’s part of the lease where we live that residents not snowmobile in the residential area, that we don’t leave dog poop everywhere, and that we not park vehicles on our lawns. Our next-door neighbours don’t snowmobile (although there is someone down the street who did, all winter, through the field in back of our place, and nothing was ever done about it), but their dog poops everywhere and they don’t pick it up. And they have two used travel trailers sitting in their backyard. The poop thing is gross. The trailers don’t bother me. Not that I’d complain anyway, but who do you complain to, exactly, when the neighbour doing the rule-breaking is the housing administrator, i.e. the guy who takes our rent cheques? Heh. Yeah.

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This week I only teach two days. It was three days for everyone else but I had a PD day today for the subject I teach (there’s a PD on Thursday, province-wide, and Friday is Good Friday). The PD was in Charlottetown at a building I’d never really been to. It was supposed to start at 9:30. I got to the building at 9:15, and proceeded to drive around in ever-increasing circles looking for parking. I finally found a spot (4 million blocks away) at 9:40, then I RAN (uphill, in fancy shoes) to get there by 9:45. And it turned out that everyone else had had parking problems, too (there are only 4 of us on this committee, plus the head of the department) and I wasn’t THAT late, comparatively. I presented a few activities that I’d done with my class. Plus I showed them these comics by Kate Beaton, because right now we’re teaching about life in the Middle Ages, when it was time for a laugh.
The only problem is that at lunchtime I had to trek back down to the car (because I’d forgotten my lunch on my mad dash) and back up again, and then of course back to the car at the end of the day. And now I’m home, and my right ankle is all gross and swollen (not particularly painful though). So there’s that.

Blaaah bliii bla bli bla

I am now trying to figure out what to cook tonight, and I am watching Beachcombers. Mid-80s Beachcombers, so the mullets and fluorescent socks abound. Old Relic’s still the same though (and PS? I used to have the biggest crush on Jesse. I think he’s the only cast member left alive. I wonder what he’s up to these days? Pat? If you’re out there? Call me).

I have to tell you, I am *so* glad it’s Friday. Yes I realize this was the first week back after vacation so I should be all relaxed, and I am, but this week has been a difficult one for a few reasons and I kind of just want to be like a vegetable for a couple of days.

Last week, on Wednesday, I was sitting on the couch doing some knitting when I noticed my heart was doing something. I wasn’t sure if it was racing or skipping or both, but it did it, for about 10 seconds. Then it stopped. About three hours later, it did the same thing again. Nothing big. On Thursday, it happened a bit more often – but there was still a long pause in between. Now, it wasn’t going faster when I was exercising or anything. Just when I was sitting up. Or standing. When I would lay down, it would go away.
It began to get more frequent, though, and by Saturday it was happening pretty much every second that I wasn’t laying down. On Saturday evening, Rob insisted that I go to Outpatients and see what was going on.

At Outpatients, I was hooked up to an EKG machine, and told to “lay down and relax”. I told them that my heart was only doing anything when I was standing or sitting up, but they said that I had to be laying down for their machine to work. Rob read to me while I lay there perfectly still for two hours. In a completely open room (they did close the curtains when they hooked up all the monitor things, because hi, my boobs would be out and there were children around, but after that? Wide open). The kid across from me was playing Nintendo Wii bowling and I was kind of wishing I could join him because holy crap was this boring. The machine took my blood pressure every half hour – it was super low, like 50/90 at some points. My heart was up over 100 bpm, which is considered fast. They took blood to test for thyroid problems, but that came back fine.

After about two hours, a doctor came in (I hadn’t seen a doctor up until that point) and told me that there was nothing wrong, that my heart was probably going fast because of my puffers. They said that if it continued for much longer, I should make an appointment with my family doctor and go from there.

Well, it kept going, so I called my doctor’s office on Monday morning. They had a cancellation on Wednesday afternoon. I haven’t actually seen my doctor in probably more than a year, so I had a huge list of things I wanted to talk to her about. First thing was my heart – she told me that I have been on those same puffers for years, so there’s no reason that they would cause my heart to race. She decided that at some point I’d be hooked up to a portable heart monitor for three days (when one’s available from the hospital) and we’d see if it was still happening. Next she said “So, you haven’t managed to get pregnant…” so I explained all the business about my jacked up uterus. She’s been my doctor since I was five, so I let her go on about adoption for awhile as if she was the first person who’d ever suggested it and I knew absolutely nothing about it. Then we moved on to the other things on my list (are you interested in my list? Here we go: heartburn, and this thing that popped up on my forehead – turns out it’s a mole, oh lucky me) and then I came home.

Long story even longer: my heart hasn’t really stopped doing the weird thing, and worrying about it exhausts me. I’m glad it’s the weekend, because I love laying still. My dogs are cute. My husband is cuter. That is all.

The summer before last, when I started on the Clomid, my periods were nowhere near regular. In fact I hadn’t had one in something like four months, with a six-month stretch before that. When I started the clomid, and even once we stopped it because no matter how many fertility drugs I take I will never be pregnant, I have been getting my period every month.

Except this month. This month I’ve had it three times.

Yeah, you read that right.

Now, let me clarify: Four weeks ago, I had about a half day of bleeding, then it went away. I still had all the cramping and the mood swings, though.

Two weeks ago, I had about one day’s worth of bleeding. Plus cramps and mood swings.

And it started again yesterday (and is still going strong today).

What’s going on here, I do not know. PCOS is weird. Am I having menopause? At 33? I do not know. I would make an appointment with my family doctor, but she’s really busy and I don’t want to bother her with something like this. Aside from which since it’s not an “emergency situation” my appointment would likely be in three months anyway.

ANYWAY!!!!!!!!

I just wanted to mention how the hormones, they are… fascinating.

This morning I was watching the Rock N Roll Hall Of Fame 25th Anniversary concert on HBO. Paul Simon sang “You Can Call Me Al”. Then he called Graham Nash and David Crosby out and they all sang “Here Comes The Sun”.

Rob came out of his office to watch with me, and all of a sudden he noticed that I was crying. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I miss George Harrison!”

To cheer me up, he started talking about how Art Garfunkel was probably hiding somewhere in the wings, getting all pissed off. “Oh, yeah, Paul? You need TWO guys to do the high parts now? F You!” I giggled.
Next up was Dion, and then Little Anthony and the Imperials. I left to go put on pants so that we could go grocery shopping. Suddenly I hear “Love! Love! Come here! Crazy hippies! CRAZY HIPPIES!”

I came running back into the livingroom (not an easy feat when you only have your pants halfway pulled up) and there were Paul and Art, in the middle of “Sounds of Silence”. I was all “Oh yay it’s Art!” Rob said “You missed it! Art Garfunkel rappelled onto the stage via bungee cord and then he kung fu kicked David Crosby in the neck and yelled “I’LL SHOW YOU HOW TO SING THE HIGH PARTS MOFOS!”

And Art looked so happy to be singing in his Hawaiian shirt with his old buddy Paul, that I started crying. Again.

“Louise, what’s wrong now?”

“I miss Art Garfunkel!” (I know. Hormones. I think I meant I missed a time when Art Garfunkel was readily available as a Paul Simon side dish).

“OH MY GOD WOMAN HE’S RIGHT THEEEEEEEEEERE! ON THE TV! RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF US!
Do you mean that you miss him being in our house? WHEN IS HE EVER IN OUR HOUSE? Does he come over for tea and I don’t know? Is Art Garfunkel bringing his patchouli all up in my house when I’m not around? ARE YOU HELPING HIM TO HIT THE HIGH NOTES?”

Then Rob hugged me, and we went off to the store. We’re home now, and since I recorded it, I’m actually watching the concert and not crying. I’m glad Art’s hitting all the high notes without me there to help him.

OH I DIDN”T SEE THIS PART EARLIER! BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATERS YO!

Ahem. Okay bye.

Do you want to know what is funny? What’s funny is our Property Management Company. We live on a former air force base, as I believe I’ve mentioned before. It’s usually pretty nice. There is one end where people are loud and there are lots of kids who run around breaking stuff, kind of like the Bottle Kids… but we live in a pretty quiet spot and haven’t ever experienced anything like that.

Anyway. When the base closed, a bunch of businesses bought the existing facilities. They turned the Officer’s Club and the barracks into a hotel. There’s a hockey school in the arena. They opened an aerospace factory in one of the hangars, a TV production company in another, and a police academy in the former school. The companies rebuilt what needed rebuilding, and everything seems pretty good.

This summer, the Canada Games were in PEI. They were actually here, in my neighbourhood. The athletes used the (refurbished by the Canada Games committee) rec centre as their training area.

We just got a flyer in the mail from our Property Management Company, announcing that the Canada Games Fitness Facility will be open to the public soon. With Special Rates for residents!!! Special Rates!

Do you want to know what the special rates are? For regular people, it’s $8 each time you go. For those of us who live here? $5. Whether you’re using the walking track, the fitness equipment (which consists of four treadmills, two dip machines, four exercise bikes, and various weights), or the pool tables (pool tables = fitness!), you pay $5 per visit.

Now, let’s say I want to use their walking track five days a week (I usually walk 7 days but just for the sake of my multiplication capabilities). That would cost me $25/week. $100/month. They’re advertising it as a “less costly alternative” to the wellness centre.

Yes, not 10 minutes down the road, there is a Wellness Centre. This Wellness Centre has an indoor walking track that you can use for free. It also has other facilities like a gym with more than just a few pieces of fitness equipment. It has a pool. It has bowling alleys. It has two NHL-sized arenas. And how much does it cost to go? Well, as I mentioned, the walking track is free. The rest? Considerably less than $100 per month.

I’m thinking perhaps our Property Management Company has a little trouble with the mathematic.

Today I am not nearly as energetic as I was yesterday. I walked the dogs, dropped Rob at work, went to my parents’ for a few minutes. My mom is watching my brothers’ boys (since they live in the adjacent house). I walked in and there was some kind of bizarre child-sized Bacchanalia going on – the two boys in their underpants, playing Wii and eating cereal, one of their dogs chewing on a tube of my sister-in-law’s anti-wrinkle eye cream, the other one quite unwillingly wearing a Halloween costume.

My childhood was never that much fun.

They were very happy to see me, because they wanted to discuss the fact that their dog, Mater (Named after the towtruck in “Cars”, not because he mates all that often) had brothers and sisters when he was little. Then they asked me if MY dogs had any more brothers and sisters. I showed them the pictures on my flickr stream of the boys when they were puppies, with their mom and siblings. The second we were done, the oldest said “Okay, I think you should go home now. Doozer and Sprocket probably miss you. BYE!”
I asked if I could just go visit with Grandmaman and he said “NO! Doozer is probably crying for you!”.

Very convincing.

Today I am not nearly as energetic as I was yesterday. I walked the dogs, dropped Rob at work, went to my parents’ for a few minutes. My mom is watching my brothers’ boys (since they live in the adjacent house). I walked in and there was some kind of bizarre child-sized Bacchanalia going on – the two boys in their underpants, playing Wii and eating cereal, one of their dogs chewing on a tube of my sister-in-law’s anti-wrinkle eye cream, the other one quite unwillingly wearing a Halloween costume.

My childhood was never that much fun.

They were very happy to see me, because they wanted to discuss the fact that their dog, Mater (Named after the towtruck in “Cars”, not because he mates all that often) had brothers and sisters when he was little. Then they asked me if MY dogs had any more brothers and sisters. I showed them the pictures on my flickr stream of the boys when they were puppies, with their mom and siblings. The second we were done, the oldest said “Okay, I think you should go home now. Doozer and Sprocket probably miss you. BYE!”
I asked if I could just go visit with Grandmaman and he said “NO! Doozer is probably crying for you!”.

Very convincing.

Do you want to know what one of the best best appetite suppressants is?
Standing in the fabric store with your mom, reaching into your pocket, and discovering that you forgot to throw out the plastic bag of dog poop from this morning.
Ohhhh yeah.

bla di bla di bli

Our dogs don’t chew things they shouldn’t. They chew their chew toys. They don’t chew shoes, or clothes, or newspapers, or anything. EXCEPT.
In the past four days, they have chewed up 3 pair of my $1 flip-flops. Everything else, we can pretty much leave laying out with a huge sign that says “Hey dogs try to chew me!” and they don’t go for it, but the flip flops? They are ninja stealth dogs and manage to find them wherever I hide them.
I think it’s because the flip flops are possibly made with a similar meaterial to one of their early chew toys? Or maybe dogs just sometimes want to chew flipflops.

Bli bli bla bli bla

When I was probably 12 or 13, my dog Wicket (we got her when I was 10 and she had to be put down when I was 27) was outside pooping one time (anyone noticing a theme?) and I noticed that she was having troubles. She kept dragging her bum on the grass. I was home alone, having refused to go to my brother’s hockey game that day in Nowhere, SK (it took three hours to drive there, flat the whole way, and I had carsickness like you wouldn’t believe back then).

Now, these days I know that bum-dragging is the way that dogs scratch their butts, but Wicket was my first dog that I was in charge of in any way and I was freaking out. I ran over to her and was like “Stop, Wick, stop! Stop doing that!” Yeah. Dogs don’t really want to stop doing things that they’re doing when they’re doing them.

So I picked her up, and I saw something wiggly hanging about two inches out of her butt. I thought it was worms. I didn’t know what to do. The worms! They were flapping and wriggling! And they had poop on them!

I left Wicket in the yard in the hopes that she would drag her bum on the ground enough to get those worms out. Or at least clean them up some. When I was inside, I decided I would perform a little surgery. I made two stops: One at my dad’s tool box for a pair of pliers (I’d been watching Doogie Howser. I needed forceps!), and the other in the kitchen for our yellow dishwashing gloves. I then grimly stepped back outside, where Wicket was still looking confusedly behind her and then dragging on the ground.

I picked her up again, turned her so that her head was under my arm and her butt was in front of my face, used the pliers, and grabbed on to one of the worms. I pulled. The worm… stretched. I yanked agan. Wicket wriggled. The worm stretched some more. The worm was not a worm. It was a partially chewed elastic band. The pliers weren’t working out properly. They kept breaking off little pieces of the elastic. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed it between my begloved fingers and pulled, pulled, pulled, gagging the entire time (Doogie Howser I was not). Eventually it was all out. I freed Wicket, and she ran straight into the house, giving me accusing looks the entire time.

I returned the pliers to Dad’s tool kit, returned the gloves to the kitchen, and promptly blocked the whole incident from memory until I just saw Sprocket sniffing near a box of elastic bands that had fallen off the shelf in the kitchen. You should have seen me slow-motion diving toward him (“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”) and snatching up that box of elastics. These dogs are going to think that they live in a madhouse, if they don’t already.

Today:

- Woke up earlier, walked the dogs for longer. They each pooped TWICE so I got to carry extra around in my pocket! Wee!

- Got home, unloaded the dishwasher, loaded the dishwasher.

- Did some laundry

- Put new curtains up in the bedroom (really they’re the curtains that used to be in the livingroom but they actually fit the windows in the bedroom and are way better than the old sheers we had stuck up there with clothespins for the past three years)

- Woke up Rob (um. Maybe the taking down/putting up of curtains woke him up. Who knows?) and drove him to work.

- Stopped at my parents’ house where they showed me the paint colours they’ve chosen and my mom complimented me on some phantom stomach fat loss that she thinks I’ve had (I think it’s the shirt I’m wearing today. My pants have not changed sizes in over a year).

- Came home and mopped the kitchen floor

- Chopped up veggies to put in the slow cooker and make a stew

- Watched part of The View (I don’t like Elizabeth what’s her name but she wasn’t on today! Bonus! Because I really like Whoopi!).

Now my mom is on her way over because she wants me to help her to find fabric at the fabric store that will match her paint colours and that is going to be a laugh and a half because as we all know, there is no colour coordination gene in my DNA (are there genes in DNA? I don’t know. I fail at science).

We don’t let the dogs eat people food. However! They are crafty. Say I’m on the couch eating lunch (because I am here all alone! Have to watch TV! for company!) and get up and leave my plate on the arm of the sofa when I leave the room – that food is not safe. So, I have quickly learned not to do that. Until this morning, when I was eating eggs, and I heard the neighbours being crazy outside and wanted to go watch it happening. 20 minutes later (they were being REALLY crazy), I came back in to see that my plate was very, very clean. I had finished my eggs before getting up, so I didn’t think much of it… until I remembered that those eggs, and the plate, had been covered in hot sauce.
Sprocket was sort of flipping out on the floor. Doozer was sitting by my plate, licking his chops and looking smug. I think it’s time to give them both some Tums and to hope for the best (I’m also thinking that Sprocket won’t want to eat my food anymore, but that Doozer is now indestructible).

bla bla bli bla

Someone recommended to my mom that she start an msm dietary supplement for joint pain/arthritis. She’s been taking it for about two months now and is pretty happy with it. She says her knees and shoulders no longer hurt. Of course she’s been researching it, and is now telling me that I have to start taking it for allergies. And snoring. Not that I snore. Ever. No, really.

bla di bla bli bloo

Our local Big Girl Clothing Store closed on Jan. 31st. Not that I shopped there much before, because I really don’t know how to shop for myself, but it was kind of annoying that it closed, because if I did want to go buy clothes, now I had to trek out to Charlottetown (where they’ve opened a HUGE mega-store, granted, with 70% off racks! I love 70% off!).

Now. We don’t “do” credit cards, for various reasons. Paypal usually suffices, anyway, when I’m buying something on Etsy or eBay. If we’re doing something that does require a credit card (generally that’s just when I’m buying a wig), we go and get a prepaid Visa card from the grocery store and there we go.
I was ordering a new wig last week, so we got a card – but I sort of messed up. I got a Mastercard instead of a Visa. I also didn’t read the fine print. SO, the wig company emailed me yesterday to let me know that the MC wouldn’t go through and would I like to choose another form of payment?

Then Rob took a look at the card and it turns out that it could only be used in Canada.

Yay!

I said “Okay Rob, let’s just take this card and use it to buy a Visa at the grocery store” and he said “OR, how about we use it at Pennington’s online, because you need some new clothes and we aren’t going to travel to Charlottetown anytime soon and we can afford it and we can buy a Visa on Thursday anyway”.

So here are the four tops that I got:
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Laisse entrer la lumiere
Et tout deviendra plus claire

(I can’t do accents on my laptop) (okay, well, I’m TOO LAZY to do accents on my laptop)

It has come to this: I’m watching Big Brother: Quebec on my 2nd day of March Break (up next: colon cleanser testing). They had an Advil commercial on for migraine pain and that’s the song they played.

Would you like to see my round-up of activities for so far today? OF COURSE you would!

1) Walked the dogs.
2) Drove Rob to work.
3) Picked up the mail
4) Watched Life: Unexpected (it has Jack from Dawson’s Creek!)
5) Ironed and put up the new curtains (yeah, remember how I was gonna do that yesterday? Guess what? I didn’t).
6) Ate lunch
7) Walked the dogs again
8 ) Started reading a terrible book.
9) Put down said book after my 90th eyeroll and started watching BB Quebec.
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