My face is stuffed

Not the same way I stuffed my face with turkey on December 25 ... mmmm turkey ... my face is now stuffed with something a little less appetizing and extremely annoying. My face is stuffed with phlegm. And I can't get it out no matter how hard I hork ... yes, I said hork. I tried a hot steamy shower ... but after 5 minutes was barely warm because I wasn't paying attention to how long T-Bone showered for and he drained the hot water tank before I could build up any steam. But it was an attempt none the less and it didn't work. I have been gargling with salt water and when my hot water tank filled up again, I kneeled for 10 minutes infront of my bathroom sink with a towel over my head and the hot water running. Kneeling on my bathroom floor and trying to hork ... sexy! And the day before New Years Eve .... absolute and utter bullshit. Even more-so because the same damn thing happened last year and I swear to god, it happened the same damn day. I  spent last New Years Eve at T-Bone's condo curled up in a chair in front of his TV with a glass of wine watching hockey games and texting all my friends who were out having a fabulous time ringing in the New Year begging me to chug some meds, ditch the sweat pants, and meet them for a celebratory shooter .. or 5. But I didn't and I was too sick to care ... well, that and the fact that T-Bone made an unbelievable comment that I thought was worth a fight. My bad? I don't think so ...

So what in the world did I do to deserve this again? I was already sick ... sometime in Novemer? Can't remember, but give me a break. It was bad enough that I felt like shit 6 hours after posting my last blog o blues when I learned that T-Bone's family had put their 13 year old and very loved dog down. My Christmas blues seemed like garbage after that. I had a house full of love and happiness and presents galore, and 2 days later, a flu that hit me so hard I didn't know what to do with myself. 48 hours later, I'm left with a slight headache and a face full of snot! And I'm pissed right off. I work full time with only 3 weeks vacation after 10 years in. And I've had a long year ... a great year, but a long year. More things have changed in my life in 2009 than in the 4 years before combined and not only have I earned this 10 days off work as a functioning human being, I earned the right to celebrate tomorrow night. If not at a bar with my good friends dancing, drinking, celebrating, having a good ol time preparing for the following couch and gatorade day, then at least, at the very friggin least, in bed with T-Bone without him avoiding me so not to breathe in my infected air ... hell, we don't even have to face each other, there are ways around that ya know, even a pillow over the face ... his or mine, I'm not picky. Really.

Christmas blues, Stacy style

Well it's been confirmed. I'm just not that into Christmas this year. I was doing well getting ready for Christmas ... I thought. But it just hit me as I sit here at my desk trying to get myself motivated to work, but spending most of my time writing nasty e-mails to a seller on Amazon.com who said T-Bone's gift would be here on the 17th as I still wait ... I'm really not handling myself very well this season. I put my tree up on December 6, but I can't even take credit for that. I put it together (fake, and not as nice a few years old now that Rusty has been using the base as a scratch post and has crawled a few feet up leaving nice gaps and holes and bent branches)  ... I spiraled every strand of lights that would work around the tree without paying much attention, and did the same with the garland. Sydnerella and her friend put the decorations on and without even batting an eye at it, that's where it's been left. The boxes with extra decorations still sit around the tree, beside and on top of boxes that haven't been unpacked since I moved in (again ... in JULY!). I have a ton of wall hangings, stockings, Christmas stuffies, snow globes, candle arrangements and more still in the storage room in the basement. I have a momma and baby deer in my garage that I bought to put on the front lawn with all the new outdoor lights (which are also still sitting on the kitchen table where they've been since I bought them 3 weeks ago .... ) Seriously, I need help. Not help getting my shit together, it's too late for that, I need mental help. A Christmas intervention. I think I earned my Christmas blues this year though, so maybe screw the intervention and pass the rum and egg nog! I'll start with my company party that has happened the last weekend of November every year for the past 6 years. 5 out of the 6 have been spent at the Banff Springs Hotel, a magical place in the Rocky Mountains where I have been able to experience a fraction of a life of luxury, and hangovers aside, they were 5 of the most special weekends of my life in the past 6 years ... every year except this year. Goddam recession.

And I know how spoiled I sound, I know there are people out there without homes, or family, and all sorts of other sadness ... but this is my sadness and this is my blog after all. Aside from missing out on Banff this year, I also missed my daughters daycare party. Not because I didn't want to go, we missed it because Sydnerella isn't a daycare kid anymore. Hooray for not paying daycare fees, but not so much for my only child growing up so damn fast.

Let me tell ya, there's nothing more festive than squishing into a small daycare centre with 60+ people, getting a small but satisfying taste of basmati rice and spicy beef samosas and watching everyone else go crazy over my usual contribution of KFC fries and gravy while the kids run around spilling juice, crushing short bread into the carpet while anxiously waiting for Santa to hand out presents. I would give anything right now to be sitting in a teeny daycare chair, sweatin like a pig while trying to remain sane listening to my daughter and the rest of the daycare kids sing Christmas carols taught by the new to Canada daycare workers who don't know the tune of Jingle Bells. How precious, really, funny as hell, but special and now so dearly missed. I knew I would miss it, just by the fact that I only had 1 kid, I knew this would all be missed one day. I couldn't have prepared myself for this ... And who would have thought that I'd actually want to arm myself and head into battle against the entire foreign population of Whitehorn for a good seat in the school gym so we can watch our kids sing their hearts out in their fancy little dresses and bow ties. And me, trying to make sure Sydnerella is keeping her dress down, her bangs swept off her face, and a big smile on her face while singing or acting or playing the hand bells.

That's Christmas. And just like Santa, is now just a memory. I have tons of pics to prove it was all real (I've added some for your viewing pleasure ...) but it just doesn't seem so real or as magical this year. Santa is coming to my new house this year whether Sydnerella believes or not  ... (not taking credit for the good gifts anymore though ...) and she will help me track him on Norad right until midnight when he's somewhere over Hawaii and we will have family, and food, and laughs, and smiles, and music. But I can feel it in my aching little heart right now that Christmas won’t ever be the same.

the K-Mart story

Bet you were all wondering if I'd ever be back, if I fell off the face of the earth, if I blew my knee out at soccer (well ... that wouldn't prevent me from typing really now would it?) The truth is my home computer has been munched on by a virus .... nom non nom ..... and my work computer, although in perfect condition with my 2 screens has been busy .... working. I'm telling ya, lovin your job and wanting to impress for year end is exhausting. And I figured since I was knocked out of poker on the 3rd hand today at lunch (seriously, with my 2 pair I thought the large balding gambling addict was bluffing when he called me all-in .... he was not bluffing with his flopped straight) so I came back to my office with my tail between my legs and that's when I remembered you all and my blog .... so here I am, back on True Story Tuesday with a follow up to a comment left last time wondering about the K-Mart story. So here it is ... the K-Mart story (don't forget to click on the pic with the 4 ladies gossiping below and read more stories) .....

I was 8. Wacky was 8. Silly Sally was 6. Wacky lived a block from K-Mart, which was located in a little mall across the parking lot of the church. I don't know if it was because times were different back then, or if it was because our parents drank, but it was completely appropriate for 2 8 year olds and a 6 year old to hang out at a mall without supervision ... just setting the stage there, not trying to offend parents who drink because I'm actually a fan of parents who drink and often drink myself .... so we were off to spend a usual afternoon at the mall "looking around". On our way to the mall, I should add, while we passed the church, we thought we should dip our hands in holy water to help accomplish the task we had at hand, to successfully complete the plan we had set in motion earlier that day ... holy water of course being the cold rain water that was dripping off the outside roof as we walked past. And in order for the holy water to work, we had to let it air dry as we walked to the mall ........ laugh all you want, remember ... we were EIGHT! Now, how many of you remember Oodles? These are Oodles and they were quite popular back then ....

The plan we devised that day before we left the house was to 'acquire' some Oodles. Not having any money of our own, I can imagine you know where I'm going with this ... Yes, we decided that we were going to acquire these by way of the 5 finger discount. So, there we were, in the middle of the toy isle in the K-Mart, blessed by God himself with holy water (again this may have been because our parents drank that we thought God helped thieves ...), and we were going in for the kill. We chose the Oodle we wanted the most and headed for the public washroom. Once inside, we tore open the packages, left them in the trash, pocketed the Oodles, and made our exit. We made it through the store and out the doors. Safe. We made it down the mall. Safe. We almost made it to the parking lot. Not safe. We were approached by security and escorted back to the K-Mart, into the office, and were made to empty our pockets. We were devastated, terrified, thought we'd be put to death ... well, I honestly can't recall the details, but knowing Silly Sally and Wacky, it probably went a little like this .... me crying silently in the corner with my head down, Wacky screaming in hysterics for security to get their hands off her and her Oodles, and Silly Sally running around a table laughing her 6 year old little ass off at everyone in the room. Our parents arrived after what seemed like hours, rescuing us from the wrath of the K-Mart rent-a-cops, making us do the walk of shame down the mall and all the way home. As vaguely as I remember the details, one thing I remember distinctly, is Wacky whispering to me as we walked past the church that the holy water couldn't have been holy because it didn't help us at all with our mission.