Corner of Bourbon & Division

Most of what's going on is not super interesting to the outside viewer, alas. I applied for the rental house I wanted on Friday, and I'm supposed to hear back by close of business today. It turns out that my medium credit rating is a cause for concern to prospective landlords. I mean, it's an okay rating, but due to a fuck-up over four years ago there's a thing on it that's keeping it "artificially" low (another three years to go before that black mark disappears, alas), so the manager I spoke to said he had some reservations. I tap-danced my way out of it, and the fact that I've been employed by the government for over nine years helped a lot. All that's left is for them to call my references, which, of course, includes my current landlady. YAY. I hope she doesn't fuck things up for me. Close of business (or COB, which always, always makes me snigger) is in six hours or so, maybe seven, depending on when their day ends, so everyone keep your fingers crossed.

More landlady shenanigans ensued while I was chasing all over town trying to get my application approved. I got a text message from her while I was out, saying that the reno guys were going to remove the wall between the downstairs storage space and my part of the house, and was I home so they could show me? Needless to say, my blood pressure rose about a million points, because there's nothing I'd like more than to have an entire wall missing in my house. It would mean that anyone with a key to the side door of the house would have unlimited access to my living space. Reassuring, right?

I took a detour out of my day to come home, and spoke with the reno guy. It turns out he had told my landlady that he didn't want to take out the wall and leave my living space wide open without alerting me first, as a common courtesy. If it hadn't been for him having a conscience, I wouldn't have known until I came home one day to find my wall missing. He also proposed installing a lock on a door at the bottom of my stairs (the storage space is about two feet beyond the door, behind the wall in question), so that I'd have at least something of an illusion of control. I mean, the door is made of glass, so it wouldn't afford me true privacy or safety, but anyone in that space would have to at least expend effort to get into my house. So yay for reno guys with scruples! If all goes according to plan, the lock will go on today, and the wall will come down sometime this week (although I don't know exactly when, maybe Wednesday). So at least that's resolved, for now. I even got my landlady to agree, via text message, to return my post-dated cheques to me, so that's a small victory too.

I played 7 Days to Die with my friend V. on Friday evening, and went to bed WAY too late. I knew I had to get up early the next morning for a 06:00 Skype date with my parents, after which I was meant to drive to Montreal for le_maistre_e 's birthday Dim Sum party. Still, because V.'s computer has been on the fritz for nearly a month, I rationalized to myself that I'd go to bed early Saturday night and make up for it then. Remember this bit, because it will come back later.

Saturday was my mother's birthday, and the Skype call was fun, if maybe a bit shorter than usual. They were expecting my aunt to come to lunch, so I actually got to see her briefly before we hung up, which was nice. She had cancer last year, and had to undergo chemo for a while. She was looking quite good, as it turns out (my mother was convinced that she'd have lost all her hair and look like a skeleton, in spite of evidence to the contrary), if a little fragile. As far as I know she's in remission now, which is good news all around.

I hopped in the car and drove to Montreal, which as usual went well until I got into the city proper, at which point the construction nightmare resumed, and I found myself threading my way through detour after detour until I got to Chinatown. The restaurant itself was on a one-way street that, unbeknownst to me, had been blocked at the end. Why unbeknownst to me? Because there was no sign saying it had been blocked off! So I had to do a U-turn and go back the wrong way up a one-lane one-way street until I managed to find an alleyway I could use to get out of there. Good times. I do not miss Montreal and its shitty traffic and its shitty street signs, let me tell you. I miss my friends and family, but I've become spoiled in Ottawa, where getting around with your car is not a logistical nightmare on the best of days.

The birthday Dim Sum was a lot of fun, as was the outing afterward for bubble tea and cheese cake. I geeked out with friends, caught up with people I hadn't seen in weeks and months, and it was all over far too soon. I did leave on time, though, and managed to get back to Ottawa without mishap. Since it was still relatively early (18:00 or so), I took a couple of hours to run some errands. I was out of milk, and I needed to pull together supplies for First Day School on Sunday (I was meant to lead again, and the first Sunday of the month is always potluck, as I think I've mentioned before).

That's when things went south. I was a little surprised when I got home that Sergent didn't immediately get up to greet me, but when I looked over he was lying quietly on his bed, so I assumed he was just continuing his nap. That was quickly put to the lie less than an hour later when I heard the unmistakable sound of nails scrabbling against the floor. When I went over to check what was happening, I found him unable to get up under his own power. Even with me helping him, he couldn't stand for long, poor puppy. I ran for my coat and boots, and then spent nearly 20 minutes maneuvering the poor dog to the car. He weighs 90 pounds these days (he always gains a bit of weight in the winter), and that's about 10 pounds more than I can deadlift, unfortunately. I just can't pick him up and carry him (I'll have to start going to the gym again or something). Luckily with some coaxing and support from me, he was able to limp to the car. I could see then that it was his front left leg that was giving him trouble, and not just weakness in his hindquarters. I was able to lift him into the backseat, and drove him to the nearest emergency vet (which, luckily, is about five minutes from my house), where the vet tech and the assistant got a stretcher for him and carried him inside.

Once there he was sort of able to stand for a little bit, long enough for them to weigh him (which is why I know exactly how much he weighs right now) and for him to then poop all over their floor (oops). An examination revealed him to have a fever on top of the mystery leg injury. So $900 later we had bloodworm and an x-ray done, all of which led the vet to the inevitable conclusion of "We're not really sure." Nice to know that Sergent's streak of mystery ailments continues unbroken. :P They pumped him full of hydropmorphone in order to perform the x-rays, and he spent the rest of the night stoned out of his gourd. It was actually pretty funny, amidst the rest of the shit show that was that whole night. We spent nearly an hour in a nice quiet room with a leather sofa while he recovered a bit (he lay on the sofa, lucky dog, but also had diarrhea all over it, which was maybe less ideal), and after two and a half hours total spent at the vet's they loaded him back into the car, and I drove him home.

The story doesn't end there, alas. I couldn't get him out of the car at all once we were home. He refused to stand up under his own power, and I couldn't get the proper leverage to lift him out on my own. I wasn't sure if this was the result of the hydromorphone (he was still pretty loopy) or a combination of that and his leg injury. Either way, I could not get him to budge. So, I decided to wait and see if, when the narcotics wore off, he'd be more willing to come with me. Long story short, we slept in the car. Let me tell you, sleeping in your car is overrated. For one, Sergent picked the coldest day of the week to need to spend the night in the car, so I had to run the engine quite a bit to keep us (mostly me, probably) both warm, and I was really worried that someone would come across the still-running car and report me (for what, I don't know, but I was overtired). 

Anyway, morning broke, and Sergent still wouldn't get up, so back we went to the emergency vet. I wrote an email to the First Day School volunteers, and thank goodness they agreed to pinch hit for me, because I was a bit of a wreck by then. The same assistant and a new tech carried Sergent back inside, and we got seen by the day vet. It took all three of them to get him up and moving, but by then he managed to start walking around mostly on his own. I took him out a few feet away for a pee, and the vet gave him some makeshift physiotherapy, after which we went home again. It took me another ten minutes to get him inside, but after I lifted him out of the car he was able to mostly manage the stairs on his own, which I took as an encouraging sign. I gave him his pain meds (Tramadol), and he actually asked to go back outside on his own (poor puppy still had the runs) and managed it on his own reasonably well. Then we both got a much-needed nap.

He's doing okay today. He's obviously not 100%, but he's putting a lot more weight on his leg than before, and I was able to get him to eat a little bit, at least. I think the Tramadol makes him feel nauseated, so his appetite has obviously been affected.

Once my nap was over I ended up spending the rest of the evening bookending my weekend with 7 Days to Die with V. and later my friend M., before passing out in bed at a more reasonable hour than on Friday. So, yes, the moral of that story is: don't go to bed late thinking you'll be able to make up for it the next night, because that guarantees you'll have to spend the night in the car with your sick dog. ;)

I'm scheduled for a Skype call with my parents at noon today. My father sent me a slightly panicky email about my living situation, which tells me he's even more stressed about it than I am. He said he would help me out, but I'm disappointed that the content of his message implied that all of this was actually my fault, that if only I kept the house cleaner or whatever, that I wouldn't be having trouble with my landlady. Why didn't I accept her offer? he wanted to know. Why didn't I get a house cleaner before? Why not agree to pay more money so I could stay on here? His offer to support me boiled down to "I will help you fix your fuck-up," which is not exactly the ringing endorsement I would have liked. It's disheartening to feel that, after all this time, my parents still default to the notion that if something bad has happened, it must be because I made a mess of things, and not because the other party is at fault. I constantly hear about parents these days who refused to believe that their precious darlings could ever do anything wrong, and I confess I'd like it if my parents took that stance more often. :P

In conclusion, I had an interesting weekend. Lots of ups and downs, so it's difficult to say whether it was "bad" or "good." I guess it just was.

 My father left for a working trip to Hanoi last Sunday, and I've been calling my mother every day since then to check on her. This is the first time that I've been actively worried about my mother when my father's been away that I can recall. The main reason I'm worried is that my mother took a header into a store window a few weeks ago. I was looking through my entries to see if I mentioned it when it happened, but I apparently didn't, so I'll give a bit of background first.

For those of you who are new (or newish) to this LJ (hi, people from the friending meme!), my parents officially qualify as Elderly™ even if they don't act it. My mother is going to be eighty (!!!) in March, and has stage 2 emphysema, glaucoma (on top of not seeing well to begin with), and osteoporosis. She also has a bad hip, and refuses to take her walking stick with her when she goes out, because she's stubborn. We got lucky this time with the grocery store incident. My godmother (who is considerably younger than my mother and has a driver's license) happened to be there entirely coincidentally, and so she was able to step in ahead of all the useless do-gooders and make sure my mother was taken care of. My mother hit her head hard enough to split open her forehead, and she rocked two black eyes and a serious goose egg for weeks. The goose egg is still there, in fact, though everything else has healed up nicely.

Because she is my mother, she refused to go to the hospital to be checked for a concussion, and I didn't find out about it until nearly two days later, whereupon I read both her and my father the riot act. He sheepishly took her for x-rays the next morning, and all appears to be well. Like I said, we got lucky. It could have been *so* much worse. She could have fractured her skull, or broken any number of bones, thank you osteoporosis.

So I'm worried because now she's by herself, without my physically healthy father there to keep an eye on her. I am a minimum of two hours away in good weather, which means that I can't get there quickly in an emergency. Anyway, in an attempt to assuage my worry (and the attendant guilt), I've asked my godmother to please check in on her while my father's gone for the next three weeks or so. My godmother is leaving town on the 17th, but it's still better than nothing, I guess. I may call my other godmother and ask her to check in as well, just in case.

In the meantime, my mother has been slightly less stubborn these last few days, and has agreed to at least update her emergency contact information and have it clearly visible on her person at all times. We've also got a plan in place for when she leaves on March 1st to join my father in Paris, since she'll be traveling alone. She's agreed to request assistance at the airport in order to get shuttled around by their services, which is reassuring. I don't like the idea of her tottering around while people who are in a hurry rush around her, increasing her risk of getting knocked over. Last time I traveled with her I often had to physically interpose myself between other people and her because they simply weren't looking where they were going.


In more local news, the dog is having yet another bout of gastrointestinal distress. He's still in fine spirits, eating and drinking fine, so I'm not overly worried about him. The inconvenient part is that he asks to go out every 1-2 hours while I'm trying to sleep, and it is exhausting. I've had about four hours of broken sleep today as a result (I got home late from work because I was discussing union stuff with a coworker—more on that later), and am not looking forward to another twelve-hour night shift after that.

I was going to go into detail on another subject, but I just saw that it was ten to five, which means I have to get my act in gear for work. I have no idea where the time went today, but I have twenty minutes or so before I have to leave. I will come back to discuss Star Wars: The Clone Wars (I have begun watching on the recommendation of friends, and so far have mixed feelings), as well as the Hugely Complicated Issue Of Becoming Unionized At Work And Attendant Other Things™.

See you on the flip side, LJ!

Especially when you haven't done much writing in months. Capricornucopia is coming along, but very slowly. Mostly I'm having trouble pulling it all together. With any luck and a bit of perseverance I'll be able to get it to work, although I will confess to not feeling super excited about it this year, for reasons I've detailed already. More people have cancelled or declined since then, which is further demoralizing.

Still, I'm at least entertaining myself by trying to work in as many Hamilton references as I can manage. I am late to the Hamilton party, but I have been listening to it in the car for the past few weeks, and it's every bit as great as everyone has been saying it is.

I hope to come back with a longer post tomorrow or maybe Sunday, once Capricornucopia has come and gone. I do try to get a report written up every year, even if it's a relatively brief one, so I will make an effort this year to be diligent about it and be detailed, if events warrant it.

I'm heading in early in order to have breakfast with my parents, too, so that will be nice. I haven't seen them in person since Christmas, and a lot has happened in the interim. My mother has gotten into the alarming habit of falling. She's going to be eighty in March, and her balance isn't too great, on top of the arthritis in her hip. Ten days ago or so she took a header into a window at a grocery store, and came out of it with a goose egg on her forehead and two black eyes. I already gave her a really hard time for not going directly to the emergency room to be checked for a concussion, and we all got lucky this time, as there's no lasting harm other than the bruising. I wish she weren't so stubborn and would at least use a cane when she goes out, but arguing with her is like trying to melt an iceberg with a Zippo. I'll have another go at her tomorrow over breakfast, at least.

On that note, I should get back to writing my script. It's not going to write itself, unfortunately.

I've been bad about posting here, for the same reasons as usual. So much stuff happens IRL that I don't have the energy left over to post when it happens, and then afterward there's so much of it to catch up on that I get overwhelmed. I'm going to try to do better. A few years ago I did well when I challenged myself to post once a day to LJ for a year, regardless of how much or how little had happened that day, so I may try that again in the New Year. You've been warned. ;)

I don't know what I've posted the last few times. I should go back and check, but I probably won't for now. The dog training classes are over, and I haven't been out running in a bit because I find running in over a foot of snow really hard on my ankles and back, among other things. I'm a little disappointed about that, but better to take it a bit easy than to injure myself and not be able to run at all for weeks or even months.

Christmas is in two days, and I'll be at work. I don't mind working Christmas for now, or any of the statutory holidays, to be honest. I don't have kids yet, so I'm fine with the idea of working Christmas so other young families can be together during the holidays. I've done that for ten years now, and I probably won't stop until I have children of my own. I can only hope that someone in my office will choose to repay the favour when that happens, but of course, they're not obligated to. I just remember my cousin having to spend Christmas without my aunt (she was a nurse) when we were growing up, and I remember how much it sucked.

Anyway, it's been a whirlwind of Christmas prep around here. I've sent out holiday cards to everyone I know who wanted and asked for one (if you missed my post on here and on LJ and on Twitter, ping me and I'll add you to the list for next year), totalling fifty-seven cards (egads). Two weeks ago I baked cookies with ai731, which as usual have been a big hit with everyone at the office and at Meeting. I've been lighting the candles on my Advent wreath for the first time in a long time, and I must say I've missed the comfort of that particular ritual. It's as much a part of my Christmas now as singing carols with the Quakers, so I'm glad I was able to start up that tradition again. It's the only tradition I came up with specifically for myself: my parents never lit candles, nor did my ex (who I'm pretty sure no longer identified as Christian, although the secular part of Christmas was a big deal for her and for Bean too), nor does anyone else I know. I just remember the wreath candles being lit at school when I was a child, and to me it doesn't feel like Christmas without it.

I'm hosting an "un-Christmas" lunch again this year, as I'm working through Christmas. My parents are coming up on the 29th, and on the 30th I'm having them and fearsclave and his wife for lunch. I have what I hope is a fun menu planned: a beet salad as an entrée, followed by lemon tarragon Cornish game hens, wild rice, and mashed sweet potatoes. Yesterday I baked and froze a tourtière as the final side dish. That's the last time I ever follow a baking "tip," incidentally. Several recipes suggested I wrap foil around the edges of my pie crust so they wouldn't burn, and they *stuck* to the foil and ripped apart my lovely pie. :( It should still taste fine, at least, but I'm disappointed in how it turned out. Today, if there's time, I'm going to bake and freeze an apple pie for dessert. There should be time, if I do it right.

I've been doing some tidying and cleaning of spaces in the house I hadn't touched in a while. The front closet got a makeover yesterday morning, and my CDs got sort of organised. Or at least they're not in a massive pile anymore where they didn't fit into my CD case. I need to get a second CD case to hold them all, frankly. I still need to actually tidy, vacuum, and mop the main areas of the house. I've been procrastinating on that, in part because I've been sleeping poorly of late and the idea of doing those "big" jobs feels exhausting. Eventually I'll get over my reticence and do it, probably on Monday, between my day and night shifts. I even put my curtains in the wash, though I haven't ironed them yet. I should put them back up before my night shifts start, at least, so I can be sure to get enough sleep next week. It's hard to tell what consists of me being truly productive, and what's actually a sort of constructive procrastination. Still, at least things are getting done, and with any luck and a bit of hard work everything that needs to be finished will be by the time Thursday rolls around. Then maybe I'll sleep for the next year. ;)

We've been getting a lot of snow this year, which is pleasing to me, in spite of the shovelling. Last year we had a green Christmas, and it almost broke my heart. So I'm happy enough to have to shovel, if it means having a white Christmas.

As I mentioned before, I got inspired by toughlovemuse to try out bullet journaling. I had tried it back in April or May, if memory serves, but I didn't stick with it for more than a few days at best. Having seen her beautiful notebook and nifty pens and washi tape, I decided to give it another go. It's only been a few days, but I'm having a lot more fun with it this time, now that I know that I can experiment with different layouts and fun things like that.

I'm going to try to use it to track new (good) habits and old (bad) habits, and see if I can't become more organised and productive in the future. I mean, I've been doing this dance for as long as I've lived on my own, so honestly it probably won't work. At least it'll be fun while I'm doing it. It's allowing me to indulge in some more artistic pursuits, even though I have basically no artistic talent. I've looked up a bunch of different ideas online, and am using the plethora of users and communities that have sprung up around this phenomenon for inspiration. I've got several pages done already, and managed to mess up my first weekly layout (my weeks start on Sunday, but I was copying a layount and accidentally started the first week on Monday), but at least it should be relatively easy to alter it later on. Here's hoping it sticks, but if it doesn't, it's not the end of the world.

( Bullet Journal pictures behind the cut )

curtana has asked me to write about the music I love. If I had infinite amounts of time, I would never get to the end of this subject, and tonight I only have about an hour in which to write this post, get dressed and run to work. Alas.

Working 911 here has been exhausting (in a good way), because not only is it quite busy but I also have to learn everything anew, since each comm centre works differently. So instead of waking up at 14:30 or even 15:30, I've been sleeping until 16:00 or even 16:30 every day (I also finish later in the morning, which means a bit less sleep than usual), and today I had a half-hour phone call with my parents, which resulted in my having even less time than usual for writing.

( Let me sing you the song of my people! )

tx_cronopio asked me to talk about my own experience coming out. Most of you who read this LJ these days were there when I came out, but I suspect there are a handful of you who weren't, so I guess this might be new to you.

I feel like I should preface this with a few caveats. For one thing, everyone's coming out experience is unique, even if they share a few common elements. My own coming out story is even less typical than the ones you will usually find in North America, though it has nothing especially remarkable about it. In fact, my story is probably remarkable for the fact that it's wholly unremarkable, if that makes any sense.

( Out of the closet, into the fire. )

Not necessarily in that order. Come to think of it, when all the craziness has died down I may well do a Sergio Leone rewatch. It's been a while since I enjoyed a good Spaghetti Western. :)


( Nattering about the week that just went by and the week to come )

My parents and I were supposed to Skype on Thursday morning, but they never turned up. This is what happened instead:

( Correspondence )

So in spite of my mother's absolute certainty that my mild cold was in fact really the H1N1/swine flu, I find myself pretty much recovered, as of yesterday.

I am always amused by my parents' hypochondria when it comes to my own health. They themselves come from the "Eh, I'll walk it off," school of doctoring, but the minute I have a sniffle or a paper cut, they're *thisclose* to calling the paramedics.

In other news, work is crazy. I've been trying to post this for about 30 minutes now. Time to quit while I'm ahead.