Friday, September 26, 2008


Just Call Me St. Barbara

St. Barbara, patron saint of ammunition. Or perhaps St. Rabbitch, if you prefer.

Ten years ago today, Mr. Assmuppet and I were wed. It's been a rocky ride, interspersed with moments of hilarity.

And garlic. Lots of garlic.

Neither of us have done the other any major bodily harm; for that alone I think I should be considered a saint. Or a screaming fool -- either works.

And now I'm going to sleep for a while, I seem to have been up all night yet again. The kid's been sick most of the last three weeks (nothing serious, just "welcome to the new school year, have some germs") and I'm all worn out. After some sleep I'll try for a real update.

Or maybe just hang out and have dinner with my family and catch up tomorrow.

Happy anniversary to me.

Sunday, September 14, 2008


Tempest in a Teapot

And a can of worms, too!

I suppose I should clarify yesterday's post before anyone else tells me what a terrible mistake I'm making.

I don't hate Canada. I love it and I'm very proud of this country, but I have to look out for my family's best interests and we really can't survive here right now. We're not intending for this to be a permanent move, but it's the best for us at the moment. I'm still going to say "eh" and "aboot" and all of those things you find so endearing (and which I swear I don't say).

We're going to move to either Washington State or Oregon. We have friends and family in Washington State and it's an easy hop over the border. My mother-in-law is close to retirement age and we've asked her to live with us after she retires. Having another adult in the house will make things easier for us, and not having to live in a cardboard box will make things easier for her. Win-win situation there. If and when we come back, she'll come with us (unless we've killed each other by then).

As for healthcare, my husband is Native. Aboriginal. First Nations. Indian. Whatever the current politically-correct term is. He has healthcare (that includes vision care and dental work) and my daughter will also be covered until she's 18. The band will also pay for his education so he can finally finish the degree he's been longing for for so many years.

As for the political climate, I must say that I don't much like the thought of living in a country that blows folks up as much as y'all seem to like doing. I've always voted in every election here and not being able to have my say when we're there certainly grates on me but like I said -- right now this looks like the best option.

We won't be rushing. Right now we don't have the loot to rent a new house, get a moving truck and so forth, but it'll be within the next year. This isn't a decision made in haste, but rather one that's been made after much discussion and weighing the options.

I'm still gonna need packing boxes though, dude.


I'm Done

I'm so tired and so done.

This has been the worst summer of my life. I'm so tired.

I'm tired of having the government take 1/3 of my salary right off the top, so tired of paying 14% tax on everything I buy. So tired of paying right, left and centre for everything.

I pay for healthcare, but apparently to our government vision and dental care have nothing to do with health. I pay so that people can have their post-secondary education subsidized to the tune of 80%, but I'm too "rich" to get a loan for my husband to finish his degree. I pay for the postal service, but it takes longer for a package to reach its destination, if it ever does, than it would if I walked there. I pay for our transit service, but on Sundays I get one bus an hour, if it shows up at all.

So ... I'm done.

We're moving to the States as soon as we can afford it.

Oh Canada. You have failed me. Terribly.

Send packing boxes.

Saturday, September 06, 2008



Well, not exactly, but I went to the mall today and I'm pretty sure I know why it's named that, now.

I don't shop, except for food or fibre, and this was my first time near any sort of retail establishment in years. I think that the most remarkable thing about it was that most of the people there seemed to have gone there on purpose. Some were even smiling. It felt like being surrounded by noisy bobble-headed aliens; very nasty.

I've spent most of the evening wandering about the house, petting yarn and speaking to it in quiet tones. I didn't eat any of it, but I feel much better now and am ready to start loading up the car for the Avalon Country Fair (which, you will note, clearly says "rain or shine" on the website).

If y'all are in South Vancouver any time tomorrow, I'll be there, little dye-stained hands and all. Don't be shy -- come say hello.

Tuesday, September 02, 2008


In Which I Stop Screaming

The Summer of Love is over, and I've gotta be honest with you; I didn't love it.

Not one little bit.

I had been thinking there'd be a little weaving, a lot of dyeing, some spinning, trips to the beach, long lazy mornings drinking too much coffee and so on.

Instead? I ended up spending almost three months with a daughter who refused to go on any and all playdates and who was seldom more than 6" away from me.

I love her more than mice love cheese -- more than I love the "Llama, Llama, Duck" song, even -- but she's ... well, she's a talker. A noisemaker. From the minute her eyes opened to the minute they reluctantly shut again, there was noise coming out of the front of her head. Not just talking; on the few (very few) occasions upon which she ran out of things to say, there were squeaks and honks and burbles. Just a constant stream of noise.

If I went to the bathroom? I'd turn around to close the door and there she'd be, between me and the door. If I answered one of the very few phone calls I could deal with this summer, she immediately started talking, singing, doing charades until I ended the call. Taking a bath? Not likely, unless I wanted someone standing talking beside the tub, stepping into the tub, dropping toys into the tub, trickling water on me, throwing sponges at the wall ...

I am a person who thrives in silence. I need time to compose my thoughts. I need to plan ahead.

Every time I'd start saying something she'd finish the sentence for me. "I think I should ..." "... get some cheese??!!" "Next, I'm going to ..." "... dance the hoochie-koo??!!"

I haven't been able to complete a task, not even make a list of tasks to be done, complete a thought or a sentence since the spring and I've got to tell you it's taken its toll on me. I lost weight (not that it did me any harm), I lost sleep, my house is covered in filth (not joking, it's worse than ever), I had to miss going to Gibson's because I couldn't get any work done, who knows what bills I have and haven't paid, and my business is a mess.

I spent a lot of time either crying or panicking, although not in front of her.

I almost got in the car and just left.

Yes, she wants, needs and deserves my attention, but not all of it and not 24 hours a day. I know I handled this all wrong (please, no advice), however week two into the summer my mind was gone and there was little I could do.

Today -- oh blessed glorious day that is to day -- today, school started again. Only one hour, but it was a taste of things to come.

Tomorrow she starts full days again. Look for improvements both in blogging and in answering of emails (I owe some folks emails from like four months ago -- grovelling will commence shortly).

Next summer? She is either forcibly put in several summer programs (and possibly even goes away to camp) or I commit a crime of some sort so I get locked up.

Either works.

Anyhow, this post is to say ... "O hai! I'm bak."

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