home for a rest

  • Went to Fright Night
  • Somehow managed to take 369 pictures
  • Was kicked off the Ferris wheel (“weight distribution problem” – the Ferris Wheel called me fat)
  • Was put back on the Ferris wheel and NOT ALLOWED TO GET OFF – seriously, we went around about 10 times and I was getting wheel sick
  • Reconvened at Denny’s with gang plus extras; disassembled then ate a club sandwich
  • Woke up horribly early on Saturday morning
  • Applied zombie makeup
  • Went to Mac’s for water in full getup; disappointed at lack of reaction
  • For one beautiful moment, knew what it was to be a grandmother famous – at one point, Shan and I had six photographers crowded around us taking pictures as we posed on the beach
  • Went for brunch at a ritzy restaurant, still zombie’d up
  • Got my brunch for free because my chicken and brie sandwich was missing brie
  • Left brunch to reconvene at a pub in Gastown; drew two directors out of a hat and have to do a photo project in the styles of Fellini and Gilliam
  • Finally dezombie’d; took nap
  • Mouthed off to strangers in Gastown
  • Went to hockey game!
  • Walked from GM Place to the Art Gallery to take photos of art projection
  • Walked from Art Gallery to Gastown
  • Was passive-aggressively assaulted by some chick walking in a group of Canucks supporters as they razzed Ed for his Oilers jersey
  • Ran out of latex gloves
  • Cleaned the apartment minus the bedroom
  • Bought a new TV – a 47” LG LCD, and a stand for it
  • Graduated from my beloved Canon S5 to a Pentax K200D :o
  • Somehow made $15 while purchasing Fable II
  • Set up the new TV and stand with Ed
  • Bought tickets to see Amanda Palmer in Vancouver in December
  • Made dinner for the home gang
  • Got a permit to blow shit up
  • Glad the work week has started; I need some rest

October has been one hell of a month. This is good, because November is looking to be very quiet – Ed is taking a Boring Insurance Course that runs every Saturday in November; Shan will be out of town the first and last weekend of the month, Josh is gone the first weekend and is taking most of Vancouver to Tofino for the next; and Miranda and Reilly have shoots and meetings lined up for the middle of November. So far the month is looking to be just me and Gillian sitting around in our underwear, but only because she hasn’t told me her plans for the month yet. I could be all alone. Normally this would upset me, but see above re: Fable II.

I adore my life.

his and hers

I do not sleep well with others.

Due to simultaneous cases of rampant discomfort, cranky sleeps and clogged-up snottiness, Ed and I have been sleeping in separate rooms: he in the spare room, and I in the cozy hole we usually sleep in. Ed has trouble getting to sleep if there’s any noise whatsoever, and between my snoring and the cats going insane in the middle of the night, he hasn’t been getting much sleep lately. To combat this, he’s been going into sensory deprivation mode by holing up in the spare room with the door closed and ear plugs in while I get the big bed to myself.

Yes, it kind of sucks – but to look at it another way, it is fucking awesome.

Last night I was feeling petulant, so he slept in the main bed with me. While he managed to get to sleep alright, I had a horrible go of it – I tossed and turned for hours and received many elbows to the face. Every time I tried to stretch out and get comfortable, there was a limb in the way. I hated it. A lot. And I’m starting to worry that I’m going to be forever unable to sleep with another person close by, effectively cutting a large part of married life out of our daily routine.

It’s all the rage in the upper middle class for husbands and wives to have separate bedrooms, but that’s just not practical. Not only do we not have the space for it, I’m afraid I’m not up to speed on my yoga pants, tiny purse dogs and oversized SUVs. And yet .. I can’t help but think this might be the way to go.

Would it really be so bad if we had separate rooms? Yes, allowances would have to be made for when we have guests, but it might work. In my head I’ve already started to rearrange furniture and make up a list of things I’d want in my very own room. Truth be told, I long for my own space. My corner of the living room just isn’t as private as I sometimes need, and damnit, I just sleep so much better by myself. I can stretch! I can sleep diagonally! All four cats could sleep with me and I wouldn’t end up on the floor! I wouldn’t have to limit myself to 4 pillows – I could have eight! It would be fantastic! We could have giggly date nights complete with sleep overs! There’d be a whole new dimension to our relationship that would be in no way weird!

I haven’t talked to Ed about this (although by making this post, I suppose it’s now out in the open – hey Ed, how do you feel about separate bedrooms?), but I doubt he’d go for it. Even if you ignore the emotional response, the whole damn thing is a logistical nightmare. Also, who would get which room? Naturally I’d want the main room because it has the better bed, all my stuff, and the TV – but the smaller room is cozy and has better air circulation and would be quite cute if laid out just right. It’s all just wishful thinking, really. I don’t want a roommate, I rather like having a husband. I’m sure we can work something out, like trading the queen bed in for two twin beds.

Actually, that would be so much worse. It’s bad enough having someone snoring in your ear; if they were snoring but too far away to kick? I believe I would go insane with rage.

The sudden change from summer to winter appears to be affecting people negatively – everyone is weird and sad and stressed out, myself included. I don’t like it. Everyone be cool, okay?

falling for fall

Ed is home! He arrived home last night surprisingly early; around 6pm. I was happy to see him, as were the cats. Hooray for safe homecomings!

I was promptly spoiled with belated anniversary goodness. Ed went the traditional route, giving me a super cute opal and silver necklace from my favourite Edmonton-only jewellery store, some perfume that I had been coveting, and every girl’s dream: a massive sparkly Autobot patch the size of my head. It is huge and hilarious and will be applied to the back of my scooter jacket. Yay for presents! I too attempted to go traditional with the gift giving, although in a more literal sense: the old school gifts for a 6th anniversary are iron and candy, and the modern equivalent is wood. To this end, I found a gaudy yet hilarious wooden music box at the retro flea market with Happy Anniversary embossed on the top under an inch of lacquer, which I filled with candy. Iron came in the form of an Iron Man Pez dispenser, and to top the whole thing off, I bought him some naked women in a Suicide Girls photo book. Nothing says love like giving your husband anniversary porn.

I suppose it is officially time to stop living in the summer and face fall. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing – fall is my favourite time of the year – but this morning there was some definite sadness as I reluctantly put on socks. Tonight will drive home the changing seasons even more, as Ed and I attend the first hockey game of the year. Soon I’ll have to start wearing pants again, and before long Oscar will need to be put away for the winter. That is all very depressing, so I will just kind of ignore it for now and instead concentrate on how pretty it is outside.

I am disappointed that the Wiki article for Fatal Hilarity is not about hilarious deaths but instead people who died from laughter.

I think I’m buying Shan’s old desk this week, and I’m beyond excited to rearrange my computer setup. My only concern is that I’m losing my shelves, which means I will have to find a new home for my many, many toys. I think I’m going to perhaps buy some shelving units for the wall where my desk used to be, because all my toys are small and irresistible and would promptly be eaten/destroyed by cats of all sizes. Plus, the Changing of the Desk will allow me space to set up my retro-tastic typewriter for old timey writing. It is super. Pictures will follow!

In the meantime however, please enjoy this impossibly cute picture Ed managed to take last night:

refusing to be sad except for maybe a little

Ever have one of those days where everything smells like tartar sauce?

It was an .. interesting weekend. I had a good dose of alone time, sprinkled with various Gang configurations (not to be confused with the good old fashioned gang bang). Group dynamics are an interesting creature, at any rate. There were times, both good and odd.

At the moment, I’m working hard to ensure this week is going to be less bad than the potential it has to be. While that is possibly the most convoluted sentence I’ve ever written, the fact remains the same: this week could be a horrible one.

To start with, it’s supposed to rain. The weather has been spectacular for the last few weeks, and I’ll be sorry to see it go – especially since gray days will make me all sad and junk, whereas it’s difficult to be gloomy when it’s so damn pretty outside.

This Thursday will be the 3rd anniversary of my dad’s death. That day always sucks for me, but this year I was so busy that the date slipped my mind and I scheduled myself for a very early web conference for which I must arrange attendance and food. I suppose this is just another example of life going on, but trying to keep a bunch of sleepy yet rowdy techs in line when I am deep in sad will be difficult.

Adding to the difficulty: Ed is leaving on Friday to drive to Edmonton for a friend’s wedding. He’ll be gone until Monday. Not a big deal really, except Sunday is our anniversary and he won’t be home for it. I have selfishly been having a little pity party over this, which isn’t fair at all – not only will Ed get a chance to see one of his oldest friends get married, he’ll get to hang out with all his old buddies from Ago. Also, I encouraged him to go. I think he’d really regret skipping the wedding. He likes road trips, and Edmonton, and his old friends. He has the time off – it was previously booked for our anniversary – so he should totally go. And he is. But I get to feel a little sad about it, okay?

Besides, now he has an excellent excuse to buy me fabulous presents.

So, yeah. Rain, deathiversary, missed anniversary, early morning web conference that has the potential to be staggeringly dull, no car. It could be a bad week, if I let it – which I won’t.

Web headline: A new look at the Babar controversy! There’s a Babar controversy? He’s an elephant who wears green suits and sometimes a crown. What, did someone draw him passed out in a pile of hookers and blow? Don’t you people have better things to worry about?

Coming soon: a terrible, terrible update.

you want to put that where?

On Wednesday morning, I will be signing a 5-year contract extension with Team No Babies by way of a Mirena IUD. I did a lot of thinking and while I really want to Fight the System on the “never say never” policy, I just want something in place already. Also, we’re running out of condoms. I don’t want to spend the next year or so in ovarian limbo as I try to find a doctor who will tie my tubes and then wait some more for the surgery – I want to have freaky no-baby-making sex NOW, and being able to bathe my eggs in random sperm with no fetal repercussions is a priority.

I’m ready for this. I’m mentally prepared for the discomfort, thanks to the repeated sharing of IUD horror stories by people who suck at quelling fears. Ed is coming to the appointment with me then taking me home – the doctor suggested I take the day off, because it’s gonna hurt – and tomorrow evening I will stockpile the bedroom with everything I might need during my convalescence such as reading material, DS games, computing devices, kittens, and Diet Coke. It will be fine. *I* will be fine.

I think.

Yesterday, I picked up my Mirena prescription. I discovered there are two things nobody bothers to tell you if you choose this method of birth control:

  • It’s EXPENSIVE. Price was never discussed, which is good because it might have made me change my mind. The device cost $396.28! Holy shit! Okay, yes – when you price out 5 years of birth control at approximately $35 a month (60x$35=$2100), it’s a bargain. I’m lucky enough to have benefits that cover 90% of the cost, meaning I only paid $39.63, but man. That shocked me a little. And only a little, because I was too busy being shocked over:
  • The size of the friggin’ box.

I’ve never actually seen an IUD up close and in person, but logic tells me it’s probably pretty small because it’s meant to fit in your uterus, which is not enormous usually. Nothing could have prepared me for the shock and awe I felt when the pharmacist handed me the box: it measures 16”x4”x1”. It is big.

How big?

Here are some images to help you determine just how shockingly large this box is:

Mirena vs Domo-kun

Mirena vs Domo-kun

Mirena vs my new boots

Mirena vs my new boots

Mirena vs Macbook

Mirena vs Macbook

Mirena vs a half full bottle of Limoncello

Mirena vs a half full bottle of Limoncello

Mirena vs Sasha

Mirena vs Sasha



I wasn’t scared until I saw that box, and now I am terrified.

I like my men like I like my burritos, but never have I ever requested a 16″ burrito.

I think I’m going to have to do some stretching.


grand aspirations

Lemon was very vocal about his displeasure at my leaving, so my errands will wait for another day. They weren’t important, and are actually moot for now – my damn game isn’t in at EB yet, and I have plenty of Diet Coke at home. There’s no reason for me to leave, which suits Lemon just fine.

He’s sleeping right now, which is giving my hands a break. He doesn’t seem to like it when I leave the room, but I’ve been ducking out to pee and spend time with the other cats, trying to ignore his tiny squeaky cries. He’s actually doing quite well, and seems to think he’s ready for the world beyond our spare room door. That won’t happen for a few days yet, but it’s good to see that he’s eager to mingle and explore.

I hope this all works out. That’s my biggest fear, and my greatest desire – I want a big happy family of animals and also Ed. We had a very rocky time leading up to Lemon’s arrival because Ed did not want a 4th cat, and I used very stupid tactics to drop the bomb on him. We patched things up (I hope), and seeing Ed interact with Lemon last night made me smile. It also makes me feel guilty on several levels: I know he’s trying to get along with this tiny interloper for my sake and also I think he wants babies.

Did I forget to mention that?

I think Ed wants kids. He would make a great father – he’s good with small creatures, both human and non. Deep down I think that part of his refusal to get a vasectomy is because a very small part of him wants babies, and that terrifies me more than my eloquent vocabulary can let on. My membership in Team No Babies is unwavering as ever, but I do sometimes feel guilty that my selfish decision to spit on my god-given duty to procreate might affect others.

Only sometimes, mind you – I am nothing if not selfish and self-righteous in my refusal to let other people sway how I live my life, even if I happen to be married to one of them. I do not play well with others.

This is what happens when I’m locked in a room with a computer and a sleeping kitten – I think. I should never think. Scary things come to the surface when I think.