Sunday, May 31, 2009

10 Things I bet you didn't know about Blog

1. It took me awhile to decide on Blog's name. Just like naming your baby, choosing the right name for your blog is important. It needs to fit your personality. Be catchy, but not throw-up-in-your-mouth cutesy. "Come on in, the Senilty is Fine" is the title of a poem by American poet, Ogden Nash. I've always loved his humorous wit, and the way he translates it into verse. They should seriously make a children's book out of some of his poetry.

2. I also had trouble thinking of an address for blog. I wanted it to be something that was easy to remember. But apparently I'm not all that original, because some of my favourites were already being camped on. One of them hasn't been written on since 2005 or so. Stupid squatters. Here were some of my favourites; eh2zed.blogspot, bigballofcrazy.blogspot, mykingdomforahorse.blogspot, and thisismyblogspot.blogspot (a take off on this is my dog spot). I decided on miscellaneoust.blogspot because I use misct as my "internet name", plus Miscellaneous T is the name of an album by the awesome They Might be Giants. As an added bonus, I now know how to spell miscellaneous.

3. I mostly write about random thoughts that pop into my melon, but seldom do update-on-my-life posts.

4. I do have two recurring posts that I do;
favourite things, and daily picture rejects.

Rants are my absolute favourite posts to write.

6. I did struggle with the decision to post pics of Elise, and using our names. But then I realized nobody gives a poop who I am, and the people who read blog are people I know. And I'm already well aware who the crazies are. I am careful about being too specific about where I live. This is so my in-laws don't know where to come visit. I kid, I kid! They already know.

7. Blog loves it when people leave comments. This makes blog very happy.

8. I get my best ideas for blog at about 2:00 am. Only once did I get up to actually write
this post. Now I keep a pen and paper beside the bed so I can jot down my ideas. Such as they are.

9. I try not to use bad words, but crap and suck in various forms (sucktastic, crap-sandwhich) are staples of my writing. I can't help it, they make me laugh.

10. Did I mention that comments are like chocolate to blog?

Saturday, May 30, 2009

An ode to my blog

Oh blog... I just realized that our one year anniversary together passed, and I failed to acknowledge it. So here is my long overdue anniversary post.

Dearest Blog,

Twas just (over) a year ago when you were but a gleam in my eye; a lone (and lonely) idea peculating in my brain. I had so much to say, yet wasn't sure I was ready to play in traffic on the world-wide-web-information-super-highway. So I started you off as quietly as I could. Just another small voice staking out my corner and not caring if the world even heard what I had to say.

Then, just a month into our courtship, our relationship was foisted out into the open by my husband. As good as his intentions were, I wasn't sure I was ready for other people to read the various things I rambled on about. In the end, it happened for the best, because it taught me so many things.

First and foremost, it helped me remember how much I like to put pen to paper (in a manner of speaking), and express myself. I had forgotten how much I love using words to form ideas, tell stories, or make people laugh. I love the artistry that writing entails, and I feel that I do have a bit of a knack for it. Dear blog, you have done my heart good by just being here.

You have also become an important way to relieve stress. Let's face it, although it would be nice to sit down with someone for an hour a week, and allow myself to unload some of the baggage that adds up from day-to-day, it is not a luxury I have time for. You, sweet blog, have allowed me to express myself, and get rid of some of the pent up frustration. Plus you are way, way cheaper than therapy.

Through you, I have learned that not everybody on the internet has malicious intent. When I read other blogs, or articles, and then read some of the comments; I wonder how on earth we can be so cruel to each other. The promise of anonymity has made some of us ugly, and more prone to say the twisted things that we should not give voice to.

But with you, dear blog, I have learned not everyone is like that. Through writing on you, and your sister-blog
Death of a Pancreas, I have met some truly kind and wonderful people that in my small physical world, I never would have been introduced to. People like Maria, or some of the other D-Mommas out there. I am thankful for their cyber-friendships, and hope they realize how supportive they have been through the trials we've dealt with over the past year.

So thank you, dear blog. It has been a fun year together. I'm looking forward to all the nonsense I will post on you in the future.

Bloggingly yours,

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Is the econmy THAT bad?

You know what I hate? Stupid people.

You know what I hate even more? Stupid people that steal our stuff.

You know what I hate most out of all of these? Stupid people that steal our stuff that they could otherwise get for free if they just made an effort.

I came out of my house a few Mondays ago to find only one of our two blue recycling boxes missing. Fred looked up and down the street, but it appeared as though some thief had absconded with it. This is annoying on so many levels, least of which that we now had too much recyclables and not enough receptacle.

Fast forward about a week, and we now have a spiffy new landmark in our garage; the Leaning Tower of Plastic (and aluminum, and cardboard, etc). How am I supposed to live with only one blue box? And what kind of a person steals them?

The only reason my muddled brain can come up with as to why someone would make off with our recycling box is because someone took theirs, so they in turn, helped themselves to ours. It can't be for the reason we used to "borrow" our neighbour's boxes as kids; when you pack them full of snow, they make wonderful bricks for snow forts. Perhaps one of our neighbours is making himself a good ol' dirt fort, or something. Who knows?

Anyway, you know what I love? Living in a city that, even though I called the water department because I had the bill downstairs and I was too lazy to go upstairs and look on the internet for the phone number for whatever department handles recycling, the lady who picked up the phone (and it was a real person who picked it up, no annoying "press-one-for-this" menus) answered my question on how to get a new box, as well as giving me directions to the office, and telling me the hours of operation.

Do you think you can install Lo-Jack on a recycling box? I might just try it.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

The return of These are a Few of my Favourite Things; This time it's personal

I'm not famous, so I don't really have any fear that semi-embarrassing (or totally embarrassing, for that matter) pictures of me will show up on the net where vast quantities of people could see them. I really don't have any pictures out there to be embarrassed of, save for some "hairstyles-of-the-80s" class pictures.

Anyway, this website is hilarious. Called Awkward Family Photos, I think the name speaks for itself.

And if I ever find pictures of me on there, I will hunt down the guilty party and make you watch The Collective Works of Elise Doing Various Stuff. Total run-time: about 20 million hours.

You have been warned.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Two days later and I'm still sore

Well, Friday night was a success; if by success I mean I didn't die, I didn't get hurt, I didn't hurt anybody, and didn't make a complete fool out of myself.

A demi-fool, maybe.

All in all, I think I did pretty well. I got on base once, scored, coached the crap out of third base, didn't drop any of the balls thrown at me while playing first base, and was error-free.

Because technically, I didn't touch the ball that was rocketed down the first base line by the 6 foot 5 giant man who was hitting from the left side of the plate. I waved my glove at it, but I really don't have any interest in throwing my body in front of something actually whistles as it flies by me because it's going to fast.

The last time I sacrificed my body was bringing Elise into this world, and I still haven't recovered from that.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Put me in coach...

So apparently, I've reached new heights of pathetic-ness. My wonderful husband, most likely sick of hearing me moan and wail about having no life outside of being a Mom, took it upon himself to pimp me out (as a softball player, come on people... minds outta the gutter) on facebook to any interested co-ed teams.

To my total surprise, some poor, misguided individual (a co-worker of a friend of a friend, or something convoluted like that) out there was interested and I will be making my debut tonight.

To say I'm a little nervous and frightened would be a vast understatement. It's not that I can't play. I'm actually quite secure in my athletic prowess.

It's that I haven't done any sort of activity since the night before I found out I was pregnant with Elise. In that instance, it was a soccer game and I was mowed over no less than 3 times that evening. Further proof that Elise has been a tough little bean from the word "go".

I actually did try to work out during my first trimester, but the other gym patrons did not seem to appreciate the "spew catcher" I carried around with me because I seemed to have difficulty going a full 10 minutes without revisiting the last thing I ate.

I also tried rollerblading, but gave that up when my OB told me in no uncertain terms that that was one of the dumbest things he's ever heard a pregnant woman admit to. I was all like, "Dude, I'm from Canada, we glide into to hospital on ice skates, already in labour up there."

Anyway, the saving grace of all this is that I don't know anybody on the team, so if I show up and make a total jackass out of myself, no biggie. I'll just give them a fake address, and nobody will be any the wiser.

All I can really hope for is that; I get a few hits, don't drop the ball, remember which one is second base, don't get hit by the ball because I'm too busy chatting (that actually did almost happen one game, I was playing third and talking to the other team's base coach. I didn't realize the game had started and almost got smoked by a line-drive), and that I won't be so sore that I can't get out of bed the next morning.

On second thought, that last one might be a good thing...

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Number Nine

It seems like only a year ago I was writing this celebratory post of our 8-year wedding anniversary; yet here I am, just 365 days later waxing nostalgic on number nine.

Fred and I have done a lot in these nine years, and I'm not just talking about the actual stuff we have done. I am also amazed to look back and see how much we have grown as individuals and as a couple.

In nine years we have gone from arguing like cats and dogs; to owning a dog (actually two dogs), and sometimes petting the neighbour's outside cat. Oh, and instead of fighting, we actually discuss the issue instead of acting like two raving lunatics. For the most part.

In nine years we've realized that there is no "I" in team, but there sure is a "me". But you have to move the letters around and that's just a lot of hard work. So it's really best to let the team remain and work together as one.

In nine years we've gone from loving ourselves, to loving each other, to loving God. For some reason, we're not always good, and we find ourselves back on square one. But I'm glad to say we don't stay there very long.

In nine years we have discovered what it means to die to our own selfish desires. In doing that we were blessed with the most adorable, smartest, sassiest, and heartbreakingly beautiful child you will ever meet. And we are not biased at all.

In nine years we've come to realize that life doesn't always turn out the way you pictured it, but as long as we are in it together, we can always make it through one more day.

In nine years it finally dawned on us that stuff is just stuff, and it is not important in the grand scheme of things. Keeping up with Mr. and Mrs. Jones just doesn't matter and we have learned to be content with what we have.

In nine years we've learned that while we don't always get it right, we never let it get so bad that we can't come back from it. We have discovered what the word "commitment" really means.

Nine years has taught us that when you get knocked down, you help each other back up. Rinse and repeat as needed.

So to my wonderful husband, I say Happy Anniversary. Thank you for 9 mostly fabulous years. What? Anyone who says every minute of every day of their marriage is perfect, is full of lies. If I had to pick a number, I'd say we've had about 8.7 perfectly fabulous years.

What a strange way to end a happy anniversary post. Whatever... love you, Freddie!

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

I think I'll call him Harold

My ulcer that is. What? How do I know I have an ulcer? Because I googled "unbearable gut-wrenching fire-ball of pain in my stomach", and that's what came up.

Because WebMD told me so. And we all know that WebMD is, in fact, a fine replacement to a living, breathing, real-life doctor.

Because, although I'm not a doctor, I do play one in my head, and after waiting 45 minutes to see me for a quick 5 minute visit where I pretended to intently listen to all my symptoms, that's what I told myself. I also wrote myself a prescription on the wrapper of a chocolate bar, but the pharmacy wouldn't take it.

Actually, the truth is, I've had one before, and I can remember all too well the pain that drinking my morning glass of orange juice brings.

My blog has pretty much been doom and gloom lately. And I hate that, but I can't pretend that everything is shiny and happy when it's not.

Yesterday we found out that Fred's company is changing health insurance plans. And while I am so thankful that we do have insurance, this change had caused the pain in my gut to reach new levels.

It wouldn't be such a big deal, but having a child with a chronic disease that needs constant medical monitoring, makes it a big deal. This new plan is definitely not as good as our old one (we have to pay more out of pocket, and the coverage isn't as good), and there are a lot of unknowns. Namely, will all our docs take the new insurance. Will it cover a pump for Elise in the future (they can cost upwards of $5000)? There are so many other questions, but the more I think about them, the more stressed I get.

I know that not thinking about it is not a good thing. But it's my coping mechanism for right now.

I'm seriously thinking that it's time to high-tail it back north for some good, ol' socialized medicine...

Friday, May 8, 2009

Happy Birthday M to the A-R-C

Well, well... little brother Marc is turning another year older today. It's been awhile since we've seen each other (four years, I think), and we're hoping to remedy that soon. If Marc had his way, he'd move down to Texas, like, yesterday. I find it hard to believe that we're related sometimes...

We're only 21 months apart (something like that, I find it hard to do math after 9:00 pm), and spent most of our childhood at each other's throats. But we did have some fun, and rather hilarious adventures together. We were always pretty good at creating mischief.

Anyway Marc, Happy Birthday! Here's a nice little blast from the past. Totally rockin' the dominos. And I am totally rockin' that sweater. It also looks like my pants are tucked into my socks. And yet I posted the picture anyway.

I'm it!

I am so excited... I was tagged! I've never been tagged before. Woo! Penny, from My son has diabetes put the slap on me, so here it goes... I think I just peed my pants a little.

Eight things I’m looking forward to….
-Finding a cure for Elise and everyone suffering from diabetes
-Going ANYWHERE on vacation
-Fall, or at least cooler and less humid weather
-The JDRF walk in September
-Taking Elise to see the ocean or mountains
-Getting a pump for Elise
-Getting pregnant and having another baby
-Just one day when Elise will nap for more than 45 minutes and doesn't wake up crying

Eight things I did yesterday…
-Played hide and seek with Elise
-Watched the Canucks lose to Chicago (boo)
-Walked the dog
-Cursed diabetes when I had to keep Elise home from a play date at the park with some friends and their kids because Elise's BG was 504 and she had moderate ketones
-Wondered how Elise's BG can go from 504 to 57 in less than 6 hours and no extra insulin on board
-Hand washed my dishes

Eight things I wish I could do…
-Cure diabetes
-Take Elise to Vancouver to meet my Dad, my brothers and my friends
-Play the guitar better
-Take wonderful pictures
-Get a full nights sleep
-Be independently wealthy
-Be better organized

Eight shows I watch…
-Amazing Race
-Stanley Cup playoffs
-Law & Order
-Law & Order SVU
-30 Rock
-The Office

Eight people I want to read 8 things about…
-Maria (On the Carousel of Time)
-Hannah (Diabetic Dilemma)
-Jade (Your Head is Punk)
-Amber (My Cup Runneth Over)
-Val (In My Backyard)
-Laura (Mommy Moments)
-Laura(Should you be Reading This)
-Christy (On the most Intimate Terms)

I am cross posting this on my other blog because there are people I listed above that read this blog, but not my other one and vice versa. This was fun, thanks Penny!

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Can I get a perscription for a nap?

I heard that Jay Leno checked himself into the hospital a few weeks ago, citing "exhaustion" as the reason. I didn't know that "exhaustion" was a valid diagnoses to be hospitalized for. I mean, I'm exhausted too, but my doc has never told me that hospitalization was an option. Maybe "celebrity exhaustion" is different from the exhaustion us "common-folk" get. Maybe they get a more potent form; sort of like swine-exhaustion.

Why am I tired? Maybe it's because I haven't had a vacation since I was 6 months pregnant with Elise. It could be because I don't get more than about 4 - 5 hours of sleep a night. Perhaps it's because I've forgotten what having fun is like. Maybe it's due to the fact that I haven't been away from Elise for more than a few hours since her diabetes diagnoses. Or it could be because I am IT. The go-to gal. A-number 1. The starting pitcher, reliever, and sometimes closer for Elise's care. And I am exhausted.

I don't really swear in real life, or in blog life for that matter. Crap is about the worst you'll get out of me. But lately I've wanted to find the highest spot in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area, maybe a water tower or my roof, and scream the F-word for as long and as loudly as I can. Sort of like that scene in Little Miss Sunshine, when the son finds out he's colour-blind.

I don't think it will help matters, but it sure would feel good.

I am very aware that my feelings of exhaustion come mostly when life with Elise is difficult. She hasn't been napping well lately, we've had some night time issues (diabetes related), and I had a very frightening experience with her yesterday that I chronicled on my other blog.

I just can't find a way to get un-exhausted.

Since we commoners can't check into the hospital for "exhaustion" (I called my HMO and checked), I think I'll go play in traffic in hopes of getting run over. Don't worry, it will most likely be a school zone when the lights are flashing.

I don't want to be exhausted and dead.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Elise-isms... this girl makes me laugh

We have a walking, talking, little girl on our hands, and she is a source of endless entertainment. I swear, you can't make up some of the stuff that comes out of her mouth. Here are just a few gems:

- I was singing the Eagles "Takin' it Easy" to her the other day while feeding her breakfast (not sure why; I'm not a huge Eagles fan, I just had it in my head for some reason), and when I got to the "oh oh oh oh we got it easy" part, she starts imitating my ohh, ohhs. And then she says, "train!" Apparently my singing sounds like a train whistle.

- When we would ask her what her name is, for some reason she would reply, "Anne... baby Anne." No idea why, but she's finally figured out her name is Elise.

- If I lie down, just for a second when I'm around her, she starts making snoring noises.

- She calls blackberries (the fruit, not the phone), "black-a-bees". Not particularly funny, but cute, nonetheless.

- She laughs when she farts and then says, "co-co" (Portuguese for poo). That's my girl!

- She pointed at my knee the other day and said, "elbow". Now, she knows what a knee is, and what an elbow is; plus she was laughing when she said it, so I think it was some sort of joke. I think she was calling me fat somehow.

- The other day I was in the kitchen making dinner when she announced she had made a "co-co". When I heard the portable changing pad being unfolded, I thought Fred was taking care of it. When I heard him laughing, I went into the other room and saw that she had taken the changing pad off the shelf, unfolded it and was laying down ready for us to take care of her business! I guess we're too slow!

- When she sees sports on TV, she yells, "go, go team!"

- I was shopping at Target the other day, and I had pulled a shirt off the shelf and was looking at it. Elise started yelling at the top of her lungs, "shirt, shirt, shirt!" Except when she says shirt, she doesn't pronounce the "R". So now it sounds like I have a little girl yelling expletives. Every time she saw a shirt, she would yell the word. Needless to say, I got out of the clothing department very quickly.

In retrospect, I'm sure those aren't interesting to anybody except those related to Elise by blood, but I had to get them down for posterity's sake.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Hey Time Warner Cable? You suck!

Everyone says that there are two givens in life; death and taxes. I know of a third. Cable/satellite companies and their employees/contractors being mindless idiots.

When Fred and I committed to getting out of debt in 2001, the first thing to go was cable. It was a bit hard at first, but after I realized that real-life can be far more interesting than watching pretty people act it out on TV, I was okay. Plus I don't need to pay some idiot company money to rot my brain; I can do that all by myself for free.

But the only time I do miss it is during the Stanley Cup playoffs. Especially when my 'nucks are playing. Fred did some research and found that it wasn't too expensive to get cable for a month, so we went ahead and took the plunge. I felt dirty just thinking about it.

So yesterday was to be installation day. Time Warner gave us a relatively small window of 2 - 5 pm for the appointment time, so we sat home and waited. And waited. And well... you get the picture.

So at 5:00, with our afternoon wasted, Fred called Time Warner and they told us somebody had been by, but we didn't answer the door. This is quite impossible. If you've ever met Seven, our dog, you know that she starts barking the minute someone walks by our house and even looks at it. There was no way the guy got within 20 feet of our front door. To prove their point, the person gave a description of our house; "Yeah, it had a door, and like, some windows, a roof, and there might have been a chimney too." Okay, they didn't say that, but what does a description of our house prove, that you have Google Street View?

Methinks that Mr. Cable Guy drove by our house, saw that there were no cars in the driveway (because we keep them in the garage), didn't like the inclement weather, and kept driving.

So Fred gets on the phone with the idiot-contracted company, who gives him mega-attitude and argues that their guy WAS there, and WE were the ones who weren't home. Because apparently, we've been watching too much TV, and are too stupid to know whether or not we are in our house.

They finally arrange a guy to come back and do the job he was supposed to do in the first place. Of course he said that it wasn't him that was the one who "knocked on our door", it must have been someone else. Yeah. Right.

When the guy goes to set-up the box, Fred asks him where the HD cable is. They guys answers that Time Warner doesn't supply him with those, and we'd have to make do with an SD cable. Apparently, Time Warner is the "Home of free HD", without the HD cables. So we had to pay $25 of our own money to get "free" HD.

When Fred called Time Warner today to figure out the cable issue, the guy snotted at him, "we don't supply the cables or the TV." Niiiice... a wiseguy and an idiot! Fred also mentioned that the box didn't support HDMI, and the guy said that not all their boxes do and if we wanted one that did, they could send another cable guy with a new box, but they would charge us $40 for it, and there was no guarantee the new box would support HDMI either (so we'd be paying $40 to sit around and wait for another idiot cable guy to show up, and possibly the right box?). Or we could spend our valuable time driving to the nearest payment center and exchange boxes. We don't have time for that; we have cable now!

(by the way, I really don't understand a single thing I wrote in that last paragraph, but Fred assures me it's important)

So now we have cable. And it's just as crap-tastic as I remember it. 200+ channels, and nothing on.

Except when there's a hockey game, of course.