That Will Teach Me To Control The Vigour!

Broken Bones

It would appear that I have broken my back. Not in the terrifying never-going-to-walk-again kind of way, but in a fuck-fuck-fuck this hurts kind of way. Admittedly the latter is not nearly as inconvenient as the former, but, man, it really hurts.

I am unable to give a play by play about the incident, just that I was fine when I picked my pants up, but by the time they were over my thighs (before they were buttoned), I had an intense, intolerable, excruciating pain running from the base of my neck to my shoulder blades. Did you pick that up? I broke my back when putting on my jeans this morning. Right.

This would suggest that I was wrestling with skinny jeans that require a mammoth effort to put on, or in the manner of Monster, who simply cannot be restrained and is Just! So! Excited! To! Wear! Denim! And that would be wrong. They were in fact the jeans that I wore last night, so they were even broken in for me for this morning.

So I haven’t been to the office today and have had, what would otherwise have been a very pleasant day: watching movies with Hodge*, and cuddling as much as back spasms will allow, having emotional conversations with the mothership (her emotions, not mine) and eating fudge and chips and last nights veggie shepherds pie (amazing, if I do say so myself). But just when I get comfortable, a lightning bolt runs through my spine and I count down the hours until I can take the next dose of Robaxacet.

Speaking of, that special time, the time for more drugs, is right now. Which certainly trumps blogging, so…see you!

-Anna

*What is the young man doing home? He got himself a bit of gastro sometime yesterday, so he’s having a legit sick day, too. We’re so in sync! Though he did ask me earlier today “How’s the period going?” So, that’s weird. Thought you might like to know.

Posts from Last Week

What Just Happened?

I’ve had a bit of a whirlwind week so far. And I think it will continue until the end of the month. In fact I know it will continue until the end of the month, because I am going to London. Just bought the tickets yesterday, we leave in exactly one week to the hour. The hour!*

I’m sure that this isn’t cause for celebration for a lot of people, but this girl, this one right here, typing her excited little heart out, she’s never been. I’ve been through Heathrow a handful of times, but have never stepped out of the airport boundaries, ever ever ever. And I’m 96% confident that I am going to lurve it.

What about the 4% internet? I’ll tell you about the 4%:

1% - Rick. I'm missing out on seeing a really good friend, one that I haven’t seen in far too long by 6 days. Six days, universe! What a cruel mistress you are. As much as I would like to curse karma, or whoever it is in charge of shitty schedules (also responsible for public transit, I am confident that one day, when we’re grey and wrinkly that we’ll manage to organise a real life date. It is now officially on my bucket list. or would be, if I had one. I will start one today and ammend to list. Can a bucket list have only one item??

1% - Hodge’s friends. To be absolutely clear, I am not too concerned at all about meeting his friends. They seem like a cool bunch and I’m really looking forward to meeting them. What I am concerned about is my liver. I have been told three times since we booked the tickets 12 hours ago to make sure I pack my drinking boots, ‘cause we’re going to see the inside of a lot of pubs. I like pubs, but I like not drinking too. But, once I'm in a pub, I am incapable of ordering a non alcoholic beverage. It's the rules.

1% - Hodge’s sister. They’re really close and I think that if I don’t get the stamp of approval from her, then we’re done. So, that’s exciting! I don’t think any part of my future has ever been held in the palm of a peer, particularly someone I’ve yet to meet. Kill me now!

1% - Sleeping arrangements. They have an apartment in London where we’ll be staying. The spare bedroom, has two single (!) beds, is where the kids will be sleeping – Hodge, his sister and myself - …huh? Is that weird? It’s really his sisters bedroom, because she lives there full time, so we’re really invading her space, but Hodge thinks that we’ll put an air mattress in between them and he’ll sleep on that. I’m stuck on the idea that people still use single beds. I thought they stopped making them years ago, when the collective realised that the bigger the bed, the happier the soul. I don’t know if I will fully realise the dorm room-ness of bed-time will be fully realised until then.

So that’s that. I’ve genuinely given myself pause by writing that last paragraph and will require a very stiff drink to come to terms with that whole birds nest. (anxiety level up at least 5%).

The Mothership…

…has returned to her own neck of the woods and I am surprised and happy to report that she had a great time. This means, of course, that she wants to come back very soon, but I suppose there are worse things in life (like sharing bedrooms with strangers…what if I fart in my sleep? Anxiety +7 points).

During the weekend, I hosted not one, but two very successful dinner parties catered by Mama. They were delicious, I’m told – they were meat heavy, so I opted for vegetables – and well lubricated. Thankfully!!

I’ve also realised that by having friends over, I have increased my wine rack occupancy by 50%. I think if I were a good hostess, I would return the wine to it’s respective owners, BUT, I now consider the bottles abandoned and will do my duty as a surrogate parent to make sure they are well digested. Just give me time!

Birthday week!!

I had an early celebration on Friday, because everyone in the office is travelling for my (very important) birthday week. Since all of us are always up for eating lunch and drinking beer, we went to the pub.

And stayed there.

To the tune of 50,000 pints. Or near enough. I was quite drunk by 2.30 pm and took an early day, convinced my friends that we should go drink mojitos by the ocean, which led into a few other drinking dens of various repute as they night went on. And I had a great time. I think of it as my unofficial birthday party, because I have been equal parts lazy/busy/disinterested in planning an actual event, and I much prefer spontaneous happenings! They always turn out much better, don’t they??

Late last night

My super sweet and cool cousin T broke up with her long distance boyfriend yesterday. If it were anyone else, I’m sure that I would be complaining about how late it was and how long we spoke for, heartbreak and breakups, etc, but, it’s T and I’m crying with her.

The story is:

He lives in Seattle, she’s in Vancouver, which makes him an American and she a Canadian. Though they’re only separated by a 2 hour drive, the limitations on them making a further commitment to each other is hindered by the ugly beast called Immigration. T can’t work there unless she gets sponsored by a company, which is a big ask in ordinary circumstances, but is a huge ask in a flailing economy. S has a really great job and doesn’t really want to leave, because it’s what he’s always wanted to do for a career and he’s got a really good set up.

So where do they go from here? Personally, I think they’ll get back together and work out a solution together. That’s my hope, anyway. They’re really good people and so good together that I can’t help but want the best for them both, as a duo or separately, if that's how it's supposed to be. Watch this space.

And to lighten things up

I have joined a rowing club and I couldn’t be more excited!! I’ve wanted to learn to row for years, but it’s always slipped to the periphery of what I’ve been doing, until Bobo mentioned it to me a few weeks ago. He joined up and will be starting in May (in 5 short weeks) and I will be in the boat with him. Gold star to him for inspiration and motivation!!

This leaves me just enough time to hit the gym and use the rowing machine, because I will be damned if I am going to be the weakest link on the boat. I would simply die of shame, turn into a fish and get caught in trawler nets. It would be the WORST.THING.EVER. If I was the slowest kid.

I joined a boot camp class last year, and it was the worst thing ever. The class was heavy on cardio and light on circuit training, and my soul was crushed every Tuesday and Thursday morning when I practiced what I signed up for. Each class, we’d do a 2 km run to a destination, do some squats, lunges and planks and then jog 2 kms back to the gym, uphill**.

The thing with the running is, I don’t like it. I’ve earnestly tried and re-tried to give it a chance. I even went for a jog two weeks ago to see if I’d like it yet (I didn’t). I always get shin splints and there isn’t much that I dislike more than having sore shins for days following a run. And on the motivation front, I hated being the slowest in the class. There wasn’t much support for the slow ones, aside from occasional shouts of encouragement from an instructor who’d run back to cheer us on. So, after 4 classes, I stopped going.

I don’t want the rowing to turn into boot camp. But, I am pretty sure that there is a certain level of fitness that I should reach before I can be competent in pulling those oars for 90 minutes, twice a week. Fingers crossed that I can make that happen. Send me fit thoughts!

-Leaving on a jet plane (countdown is 32 hours…god…laundry…empty the fridge…take the trash out…) Anna

*I began writing this post last week, as the timeline suggests, so I thought to add a simple postscript, largely due to the lack of time I have to re-write. So make due with this sloppy post, internet.

*Not in the, 'in my day, we walked 40kms to school backwards, up hill, in the snow!' kind of way but in the, run to the park down hill, and finish with a 40% grade up hill run. Because that's a fun way to end classes. Jogging Fail!

They Want Brains...

…which is unfortunate, since mine seem to be absent.

I am tired today. There is a reason for this tiredness that causes my body to involuntarily stop, stretch, no reaaaaally stretch, before trying to resume what it was doing before it interrupted itself, only to find that my entire self has forgotten what it was doing previously.

I suspect that this is my body’s natural defence mechanism of distraction until nap/bed time. Eventually, I suppose, I will have no choice but to throw up my hands in frustration and acquiesce to its demands. It is, after all, holding my hands for a ransom I’m only too happy to pay: the sweetness of oblivion in the arms of my pillow top.

The reason for sleepy time is this nugget. I watched a film yesterday that was awesome! Someone recommended Watcher in the Woods, because of Ms. Bette Davis, and I cannot tell you how excited I was to watch an old school horror* movie. ‘Natch, when I asked the shop assistant where I could find this movie (that is supposed to rawk) I was met with silence and the blinking eyes of a stunned deer. But, since I promised myself that I would watch a scary movie, I picked up Paranormal Activity. It’s freaking awesome, even though the guy in it is a bit of a d-bag. I heartily recommend and it has the official AM seal of approval.

I digress, back to the full body and mind burn out. Post film, Hodge, being very tough, informed me that I needed a protector and that he would be sleeping at mine to “battle the demons” while I slept.** Since we were in a bit of a state post movie, we needed to dissect it to undermine its scariness quotient and laid awake chatting for hours and hours, probably waking up the neighbours with nervous giggling and squeals as we tried to out-spook each other. Effectively, it was the grown up version of a sleepover, minus the sleeping bags on the floor with parents yelling at half hour intervals to shut up and go to sleep – which I would have benefitted from.

*I hate saying 'horror films', since with a Canadian accent, it sounds very much like 'whore films'. When I was 15, one of the elderlyish uncles of a friend of a friend of mine was stepping out to pick up some films for us at New Year. “You like horrors?” was what he said, but what I heard was “You like whores?” I was well and truly horrified (HA!) and avoided him for the rest of the evening, thinking he was the most lecherous man alive. He probably was.

**Firstly, the only ‘demons’ Hodge would be protecting me from are the three queens that share the hallway with me, and I assure you, they have absolutely zero interest in what I’m packing around. It would be, in fact, me protecting Hodge’s honour. Secondly, … I can’t remember what my other point was except that it was a gooder, and now my fatigued mind has let it slip into the ether. Dammit, brain, smarten up!

Holiday for Whom?

The mother ship is coming to visit tomorrow, and has gotten off to a bad start. How can it be, dear internet, that she hasn’t landed, or even boarded the departing plane and already she’s shitty with me and I with her?

It’s one of lifes great mysteries and science is nowhere near close to figuring mother daughter relationships out. And this exchange decidedly did not help with M/D relations:

Call 1 - (8.10 am – Getting ready to leave for work)

Me – Hi Mum, what’s up?
Mum – I’m at the AMA website, I’m going to rent a car.
Me – Uh, ok.
Mum – It’s a really great price, so I’m doing it.
Me – Are you renting it for the whole time?
Mum – Yeah, I think so, why?
Me – Dunno, seems a bit silly to rent a car for five days and only use it once.
Mum – But, it’s a good price.***
Me – So get the car.
Mum – But you don’t think it’s a good idea.
Me – Who cares what I think? I’m just getting dressed at the moment, can I call you from the office?
Mum – Fine – click.

Following this is three more calls in quick succession, (I’ll spare the transcripts) where she wanted to discuss the merits of hiring a car at the airport vs. hiring a car in town, location of pick ups, what kind of car to hire, etc.

My patience reserve is very limited on a good day, and is appallingly low on a bad day and non existent on a grumpy-haven’t-had-coffee-yet day. I reached my limit on the last call. I have no time to figure out the minutiae of car rentals at 8.15 in the morning, and frankly I don’t care. Especially since the person in question (Mother dearest) wanted to get into a philosophical discussion about cars and related car things, but mostly why she’s right and I’m wrong. I had to tell her to do what she wanted and that I was, in fact, busy and it wasn't a good time for me.

It’s going to be a great visit. Can I call in sick for that?

***What she’s really doing here with ‘the bargain’ is this: She feels like getting a lower daily rate is a good thing, and $400/5 days trumps paying $140/1 day because it’s better value. And it is better value, if you’re using it. Every day. I wonder if this is but a $400 safety blanket…

Etiquette avec Mme. Mac

When asking for coins, cigarettes, lighters and/or liquor on the streets, do not interrupt the person you wish to beg from when they are on the phone. This is unseemly behaviour and will not result in a positive outcome.

Instead, you should wait, at a respectful distance, until that person is available to make your request.

Be prepared for them to decline the offer, in any case, and take this in stride.

Respectfully Yours,

-Anna Mac

Things I have learned today

Home Edition:

Reminding someone of their drunken obnoxious behaviour rarely has the outcome anticipated. Say it with me…anticlimactic and unsatisfying.

Wine is a cure all. And if it can’t be a cure all, it will be a can’t-be-assed all.

Dreams of obscure actors whilst sleeping lead to unnecessary internet stalking and imaginary celebrity boyfriends. Jonathan Rhys Meyers…I don’t even know if I find him attractive, but since I had a dream last night, I am obsessed.

Cleaning my house in anticipation of zombie mothership visits sucks old hairy balls. Additional lesson…don’t leave pancake batter to harden in bowl because washing that shit is on par with finding a cure for cancer.

BONUS:

Office Edition:

Subway sandwiches don’t age well. They become soggy, sticky and slimy in a mysterious and decidedly unnatural manner. I ate it anyway.

Meetings are for chumps. I, therefore, am a chump.

Washing coffee mug and leaving it to dry on the counter leads to mug theft. This results in mug/colleague stalking to retrieve it, and this is a travesty that is best avoided.

Ordering office supplies is more effort than its worth, as I discovered when I received the rolodex for fuller figured girls today. Seriously supersized rolodex.*

Yeah, that old saying that a messy desk means an organized mind…I disproved that theory today. If I’m being honest, I’ve been disproving it for years.

Forgetting what day it is and thinking you have no time leads to RESULTS! At least until I realised that I still had twenty four hours to complete the tasks at hand. Now I’m writing.

I can’t find everything on the internet. There are still some mysteries in the world. Shipping industry, I’m looking at you.

When in doubt, make it up!

*American Rolodex! Ha!

In Conclusion:

Thank you for all the wonderful lessons, life. I really appreciate you taking time out of your busy day to lovingly coach and guide me into being a better, if slightly demented and increasingly hysterical, person.

Now piss off.

-A

Words From My (Zombie) Mother

My Mum was waiting for her vaccination of the swine flu aka H1N1 aka (post innoculation) I ain't afraid of no flu. While she was waiting in line and I was working on my high scores in solitare, Mum was texting updates of her progress.

It would appear that everyone in Edmonton went to the same clinic as her, dazzled by the promise of not getting the dreaded leurgy, to which I applaud them for being proactive in the not-dying-today dept. The effect, however, was a crazy long line of people waiting to get a prick in the arm, for a change.

This is the end of the exchange (after 3.5 hours of waiting - and while Mum has told some whoppers before, she would say embellished - I would say LIE, I'm tempted to believe her in this case with all the hysteria surrounding this flu):

Mum: Good News. Shots done so in 15 min. I'm outta here!

Me: Nice one. Are you feeling healthy or has your blood sugar level dropped far enough to make you unrecognisable as a human?

Mum: Totally unhuman ... almost zombie like and there are so many brains here!

Me: Me want brains!! And guts!

Mum: NICE......I think I'll settle for some good old fashioned fast food!

Me: I think brains might have a higher nutritional value than fast food.

Mum: Lunch good. Brain mushy. Arms sore.

Me: I didn't think that zombies could text. Spooky. But I'm glad the brains were good.

Mum (in what is, and will be, the coolest comment ever to leave her sweet [ha!] soul): Zombies are highly misunderstood sensitive beings with rather unfortunate fashion sense.

This, dear internet, is the woman that raised me. Show her a roomful of people and she wants to eat their braiiiiiins.

Still, it has to be better than McDonalds.