I could go on and on and relay in minute detail my trip to the in-laws’, but truthfully, there isn’t as much material there as I had hoped/feared. It was a lovely visit, under the circumstances. I will try and sum up, though. That will probably be plenty wordy for an entry.

We got away late on the trip down, partly because of the freezing rain, and partly because John just didn’t want to get his ass out of bed. I can’t really blame him, but come on. That put us at Gary’s place past midnight, where we spent the night, with less than two hours left to the farm.

Wee boy slept for twenty minutes before we finished running the last minute errands at home, but otherwise slept not a wink for the whole 10 hour trip. I’d hoped for an easy trip but both hubby and I were suitably impressed. On top of that, he was the most pleasant passenger in the vehicle. Not that any of us were particularly unpleasant, but he’s just so darn cute.

We hung out at Gary’s most of the day before heading down to mom and dad’s, so wee boy got a good break from the traveling and got to play with Gary’s little boy, who is 14 months or so. We arrived at the farm in the early evening after stopping to have supper and then a quick coffee with an old (female) friend of John’s.

I also have to comment on the wonder that is my son adapting so well to the varied sleeping arrangements throughout the trip. He slept like a log, for the most part. The car seat was a little tougher for him, but with his blankets and pillow from home, he had no problems elsewhere.

Once we’d arrived, there followed much visiting with various members of John’s family, in a multitude of combinations over the ensuing days. Plenty of the family had arrived for grandma’s funeral from out of town, and wee boy was introduced to a steady procession of relatives he’d never met and probably wouldn’t see again for quite some time. All of his aunties and uncles (some 16 or so) loved him to bits and he was at the height of congeniality for the duration of the trip, even when he came down with the sniffles the day of the funeral. A shot of Tylenol and a short nap fixed him right up, and he was back to being the life of the party.

I relaxed around the house most of Monday with wee boy while the rest of the family shopped and scurried around doing last-minute stuff, and then in the evening received condolences at the church. While everyone was off and about, I picked up around the house, did dishes, stuff like that. John had to buy Jr.’s clothes, but managed to scrounge enough out of his dad’s closet to get by on – shoes included. Wee boy and I spent a few hours exploring outside, where the temperatures reached a balmy 18C… only, with a cold wind, so you didn’t much notice. He was thrilled, however, having been less than impressed with the weather around home. He doesn’t even ask to go outside here anymore.

A minister visited the house that day and several more family members dropped by. I kept busy in the basement with the kids, mostly. I would have enjoyed listening to his tales of other countries, as seen during his work as a missionary, but less for the religious aspect of it all. These people are heavy on the worship. I noticed, several times throughout the few days that we were there, that many members of the family spent their leisure time discussing God, Jesus, or the Bible.

Despite the way it sounds, most of the family is pretty relaxed and non-judgemental. The oldest generations are the most uptight, of course, but even so everyone is outwardly warm and well-meaning. Mom and dad are much more relaxed, and most of John’s brothers and sisters are pretty tolerant – some are less proper than the others. The youngest son’s wife has a gay brother (gasp!). I never did get any dirt on what the family thinks about that, because I didn’t find that out until we got on the road back home. John couldn’t believe that mom had let her wear those tight, tight jeans into the house.

And he said he was very proud that I was one of the very few girls out of all of his sisters and sisters-in-law that didn’t change into pants when we got home from the funeral. I was mostly just comfortable, but I knew it would show some respect for the elders in the family, so I was pleased that he noticed, and even more pleased that he was pleased.

The funeral itself, Tuesday morning, was very nice. There was plenty of prayer, and beseeching of the Lord to save our pathetic sinning souls; but as far as religious services go, it was lovely. Mom had found a simple hat for me and so my heathen ass blended in well. I was a tad concerned that my hair was too long and too pretty and too tempting, or something, but it passed muster with the oldest generation even though I didn’t tie it back, and I later fielded a ton of compliments and even some light petting. *blush*

Wee boy was an absolute darling, staying quiet for the whole service, as well as in his auntie’s arms at the graveside, which blew me away until I discovered afterwards that he was running that fever. Still, he could just as easily been a nightmare because of it, so I was understandably very proud of him. He had his Hot Wheels and a baggie of Cheerios, so he was pretty content.

After the service and the brief luncheon (where, as at all formal meals, grace took about five minutes), we stopped again for a quick visit with another one of John’s old girl friends. He’d seen her and her husband earlier the day before for a coffee, when he was shopping with Jr., but she really wanted to meet wee boy. I hadn’t seen her for a while either, so it was good to visit with her again. It’s too bad we didn’t have a little more time, but we had to get going for dinner and family pictures at the farm.

Altogether, dad said there were thirty adults and about fifteen kids at the house that night. Wee boy had mastered the stairs to the playroom in the basement and was going about his business playing and mingling, doling out the love and being a little doll, albeit one with a faucet for a nose. He required so little looking after compared to the rest of the kids, and they hardly required any themselves, really, outside of a few mediated sibling spats.

After dinner, we took many many pictures since, finally, all of the grandchildren were all in one place. It’s always a big production with lots of singing and cheering to get the kids smiling, and wee boy got right into that, shrieking ‘HOORAAAYYY’ and clapping his hands continuously for nearly half an hour while everyone took their turns sitting for pictures. We even got one of our own little family, so I hope they turn out well enough to distribute if we choose. It’s a real bitch trying to arrange to have it done any other time.

Once pictures were over, I changed clothes and packed up, which itself took very little time if you don’t count the odds and ends I forgot and had to assimilate back in somewhere. Saying goodbye to everyone was the true ordeal in getting back on the road, but we finally managed to get out by 9pm in order to head back up to Gary’s for the night. He hitched a ride back home with us the next day.

Wee boy was considerably less impressed with the trip back, but he slept more, and was still awesome until about two hours from home, when he decided to set his heart on seeing my mother, and then promptly became inconsolable when no grandma could be produced. He was rescued from this funk quite accidentally, when he pulled his finger out of his soupy nose and batted at my face with it. My reaction cued the beginning of the “Yuk! Boogers!” Game, which continued for most of the rest of the drive. Jr. gamely played along.

John and I got on just peachy throughout, for the most part, although there’s enough left to be said there that it needs its own entry. You’ll all be happy to know that we made mad passionate love on Tuesday night, at least. I’m not sure if it was because of the skirt, or what.

All in all, we had a wonderful time with the family, and wee boy and Jr. got lots of special attention. I got to spend some quality time with John’s parents and family without him, too, and I remembered how much I really do like them all. It’s a shame we don’t live at least a teeeeensy bit closer together. John may have his issues with his family, and I don’t appreciate some of the things John’s had to deal with because of them, but they’ve always treated me well and accepted me as one of their own. It’s the religion that’s caused friction with me in the past, not the family.

The only downside to the whole journey is the 211 bones we’ll have to shell out for the speeding ticket we got halfway home. Happy Birthday, honey!

Whew.

Whew.

Well, we got back late last night, but I haven't had a whole lot of time on the laptop yet. The trip was great, but it's definitely nice to come home, aaahhhh. I haven't sat down a whole lot since we left - well, aside from all of the sitting in the truck, that is. My house needs to be cleaned and I still have stuff to unpack, and I have to do a bunch of baking now that Gary is back, and all I really want to do is lay around for a while...

I'll bang something out in the next day or two; I just wanted to check in before I hit the hay. Oh, how I've missed everyone! I hope you are all fabulous.

100 Posts?

100 Posts?

By the way, I think one of the last two posts was my hundredth post. It's hard to tell since blogger says it's 73, but I checked the other day.

So. Yay me! Thanks so much to my dear readers! And so forth.

Carry on.

Life gets in the way, and then some

Life gets in the way, and then some

I was hoping to have time to leave you all with another (much more interesting) entry, but unfortunately I won’t be able to do that before I go.

John’s grandma passed away yesterday – she hadn’t been doing well for some time, but still, it was a little unexpected. She worsened and died within a few hours, or we would have otherwise taken great pains in order to be there sooner. I feel bad that we didn’t make it down with wee boy, so she, along with most of the rest of the family, could meet him; we’d been discussing it right before John ended up essentially unemployed last year. Now that he’s working steady and we have a few extra bucks, we were again planning on going in the next month or so.

I wish John’s mom had phoned earlier. We knew grandma was in and out of the hospital, and maybe it was more unexpected than it seemed to be, but John is still upset that no one called him until the day she passed away. She’d been in the hospital for over three weeks, apparently, and while my brother-in-law had mentioned it to me when she first went in, I kind of thought someone would keep us on top of how she was doing. We never heard another word, so we assumed she was doing relatively all right.

Of course, with all that was going on, and with mom being at the hospital day in and out, it’s totally understandable. I just know John will still be upset, regardless. He’ll understand, logically, but emotionally he’ll still be bitter about it.

Which leads us to John’s biggest beef with his mom – we’re almost ten years with the same phone number, and his mom can’t ever seem to hang on to it. It’s always her explanation as to why she doesn’t phone. She keeps in touch for a little while once she gets it again, but then that tapers off and, nothing. It makes John feel unimportant, for sure. I mean, you’d think she would try to keep her son’s phone number where she wouldn’t ‘lose’ it. Even I have her number memorized, and even if I didn’t, I damn sure would write it down and keep it somewhere. Not that John calls often or even seldom, but at least he doesn’t make her feel guilty about it like she does him. So, if it is just an excuse, it’s a pretty poor one. If you really don’t care to talk to him that badly, don’t pretend it’s something else.

Regardless… we’re headed out tomorrow morning and we won’t be back until Wednesday night. The funeral should be early Tuesday. We’ll be stopping at Gary’s on the way down to stay the night, and to drop off half of the meat we just got back from the butcher shop – all that deer meat that we had processed – and thank heavens Gary is taking some, because already I don’t have enough room for our half. Since the weather isn’t going to be cold enough this weekend for me to utilize the back porch or my car’s trunk as a temporary deep freeze, I have to pull a bunch of crap out of the freezer to try and make room for half of this stuff before we go, none of which, except for the burger, got wrapped in paper.

I have two-foot+-long sticks of summer sausage frozen solid, loose in a box. I have jerky sticks, also loose in a big box. The garlic sausage is in huge coils and tied with string, and, yes, it is also loose in a box. John never specified that he wanted the stuff cut and wrapped into manageable sizes, as he has never had to point out something so (we thought) obvious; and they didn’t ask beyond confirming that he didn’t want everything vacuum sealed in plastic at forty cents a pound. So, that’s what we got. Really, what the hell?

Sigh. Anyway, Gary is going to be catching a ride back with us, since he’s feeling well enough to try to do some easy work for Boss, so the truck is going to be a little crowded. John’s going to go pick Jr. up tonight too, as it’s been several years since Jr.’s seen his dad’s family (grandma never phoned him or sent a card for his birthday either). The truck is a crew cab, but ten or twelve hours in the back of one of those isn’t much more comfortable than sitting in an extended cab, and since Gary’s all fucked up physically, guess who gets to sit in the backseat all the way home? …Yours truly, you betcha. I wouldn’t have it any other way, but that doesn’t mean I am looking forward to it.

I’m hoping John’s able to get a small advance today – we don’t desperately need it but it will save me from using my loan account. We still have the gas card, so we don’t have to pay for fuel. If we had to, we’d probably be taking the car; but, the truck is probably a bit more road worthy at the moment, and John prefers to drive it anyhow, so whatever. We’ll be staying at mom’s, so we won’t have to pay for a room, or food, or anything. Normally we probably wouldn’t stay there – nothing against mom, we just like to have our own space – but with wee boy and Jr. along for the trip, I know mom will really enjoy having us all at the house, and she does have the room.

I hate leaving like this last minute! As you can imagine, I’ve got several lists on the go so I don’t forget to do anything or pack anything. I think I have enough time to get what I need to get done, but I do still have to buy a skirt before we leave, since I’m not allowed to wear pants in church. I’m not going to bother pissing with a hat, so if they don’t like it they can kiss my generous ass. John’s still got a good pair of dress pants (I was amazed that after a couple of years in the closet, they’re ready to wear and free of wrinkles. Bonus!). He just needs a dress shirt, so I have to pick one of those up too. There’s no way I am letting him wear one of his bad, really bad, 80s sweaters. If they weren’t so suitable for working in, I would have pitched them all to begin with.

Wish us nice driving weather, would you? There’s a forecast for freezing rain and shit… John’s assured me that nothing is going to stop us since we have chains, but if we don’t leave too early it should be fine driving. My mom is, of course, beginning her worrywart routine because my whole family is in one vehicle on the highway in the winter, and she can’t help but imagine whatever she would do if something were to happen to all of us. But we have to go, and we can’t leave the kids behind. I’m not worried – John is an excellent driver.

I’ll check in when we get back, and I’ll be chock full of new material, I’m sure.

Edit: Well, I ended up having to pick up Jr., but I got to leave wee boy at home with first my grandma, and then my mom, since the roads were yucky. I saw lots of wildlife, some of it in my headlights; and I almost got rear-ended by someone who wasn’t paying attention to my flashing brake lights. Whee! I wish he would have gone the extra few feet into the ditch.

And also, I found a suitable skirt right away. This is a big deal. The nice clerk found a new shipment just after I’d phoned, and hit star-69 to get my number so she could let me know they had some. I thought finding a long black skirt this time of year would be easier, but nobody had them, so that was sweet.

John was asked to be pallbearer, so now I have to find him a good jacket, too. All Jr. owns are cargo pants. I think we’ll just wait until we get down there. Should be cheaper anyhow. I hope it all looks good with hiking boots.

I still have lots to do and not much time to do it in, so I best be off!

Life gets in the way

Life gets in the way

Well, it’s been several days since I last graced you with an entry, but I’ve had no real current material. There’s one topic I was planning on tackling, but I think I am going to include it in my serial, whenever the hell I get around to finishing that up. Honest, I will. Eventually. See, there’s plenty of material there, so why don’t I get on it? Yeesh.

John’s been working his arse off; he hasn’t had a day off since Christmas, pretty much. Up at 5am, and home by 9pm, but often later than that. The other night he didn’t make it back until 2am, and he still had to get up for work the next morning, the poor bastard. Such is life in the patch.

Quite obviously, there has been almost no time for le sex, much to my dismay. Even if there has been an opportunity, John is so beat that I doubt he’d be able to even get it up, much less stay awake long enough. I haven’t touched the issue, anyhow. It’s kind of a lost cause with work the way it is, so no sense in making a stink. It can’t be helped.

That doesn’t mean I’m not bummed about it and terribly, terribly horny, but I can’t be upset or pissed off since there’s not much he can do about it. It just is. More to the point, I feel awful for him because he’s been working so hard that he has barely been able to see the wee boy, who is usually in bed by the time he gets home, and doesn’t get up in the morning until long after daddy has left. I just do what I can to make John’s life as simple as possible, so that all he has to worry about is sleeping and getting his industrious self out the door in the morning.

I miss him.

The plus side of all of this is that the bills are totally getting paid, and we’re already back to having money left over once that has been done. I can’t tell you what a pleasure that is! We have a long way to go to get all those loans and crap paid back, but it will happen, and maybe it won’t take as long as I thought. I just have to plan for breakup, since we won’t have a huge tax refund to bail us out this spring. I hope we get a little bit of money back. If it weren’t for the maintenance he pays the ex, we probably would owe this year.

He’s been after the Boss about that gas card. The first couple times Boss waved him off, apparently, so John left it at that. The last time he asked, Boss said, “I told you, don’t worry about it.” So what is that supposed to mean? We don’t have to pay it now? We’re both a little confused by this one. John got another small raise on his daily wage, too. I wonder if Boss wasn’t happier about John coming back to work than he let on.

John’s got some guide work lined up for the spring already – one guy from the States that follows John around has gathered up six or seven other friends, so John called a different outfitter than the ones he’s worked for in the past (the one guy he would have gone out for this spring sold all his allocations this year, and his most recent employer doesn’t pay him enough for the bullshit he puts up with); he got himself hired on there, which was no problem with all the clients he’s bringing with. He should actually get some tips out of this bunch, too. So, between the guiding and the patch, I’m hoping he doesn’t end up with too much time off. Of course, some would definitely be nice.

I’ve been trying to get out of the house, but it’s been so cold, and snowing, and then yesterday it warmed up enough to rain before dropping back down to abysmal temperatures. I was supposed to go and visit my friend Laura today, but I’ve decided to go Thursday instead, when it shouldn’t be quite so frigging icy and cold. We did manage to get over to my mom’s and my grandma’s, at least. But other than that, wee boy has been battling boredom at home.

It would help if he would let me play more with him. Every time I grab, say, a truck from his garage set, he shrieks, “No! My truck!” and snatches it away. And so on through the fleet. I suppose I should thank my lucky stars that he plays independently so well, but it makes me feel as though I am being neglectful at times. I can’t wait until summer when we can play outside again. We’ve been watching far too much TV lately, especially in the afternoons when he zones right out for about three hours – the same period of time he should really be having a nap, but won’t, the stinker that he is.

Gary went back home last week. It just made sense; I mean, why bother staying here when you’re going to be off work for at least several weeks? So I was able to clean up all the clutter and I finally have the house to myself again. I like having the company and all, but the trade off is the privacy. Now I have lots of privacy, but nothing worth privatizing.

So… exciting update, huh? I wish I had more to tell. I’m definitely going to have to sit down and brainstorm my next entry, or get back in to my life story. Don’t worry. If worse comes to worst, I could post some recipes. Or something.

I hope everyone is doing well; and if your life is routine and boring like mine, like me you should be pretty pleased. If the days are dull in the absence of crisis, then give me dull any day.

By all means, if anyone has any burning questions, I’d be thrilled to oblige!

I require supervision.

I require supervision.

If you’ve been with me here for some time, you might remember Ray.

A few months ago, I tried to contact several people whom I haven’t seen or heard from in years – old friends from my east coast elementary school, and penpals from my teenage years, mostly. I was just hoping to hear how they were doing, to catch up on where life has taken them, and at the very least, to just let them know that they held a special place in my thoughts after so many years. Who wouldn’t like to find out that they are a piece of someone’s fond memories, especially after such a long time? I’d love to get a letter like that.

Naturally, when I was compiling this list of people, Ray’s name popped up as someone I’ve always wondered about – if he ever married, had kids, quit landscaping, and so forth. I wasn’t sure how appropriate contacting him would be, not knowing if there existed a jealous woman, and also aware that my husband likely wouldn’t understand (and that’s probably an understatement); so, I didn’t pursue it, initially.

I didn’t have too much luck locating the old penpals, though, unfortunately; and my school friends proved just as elusive, although I was at least able to find two addresses and send off a quick note to them. One of the girls, through Classmates.com, had sort of contacted my twin by requesting a picture – but, if you’re familiar with that site at all, you’ll know that you can’t reach anyone through them without paying for a membership. So, I was aware she was kicking around somewhere, but I didn’t know where and I couldn’t find out without attempting to write to her. I was pretty disappointed that I didn’t hear back – although I’m not sure if she ever did receive my letter. I sent it care of her parents’ old address, which appears to remain current. Still, no word.

I was a tad put out that my efforts met with such lame results. I didn’t actually ‘find’ anyone I had been trying to contact. My thoughts returned to Ray. I had an old address and phone number, but after ten years I hardly expected them to be valid anymore. I looked at his name and particulars for probably another week before I convinced myself that it wouldn’t hurt to have another look on the internet, to see what I could see.

What did I see? Only that he (still) didn’t appear to exist anywhere on the net. He never struck me as particularly tech-savvy, even back then, so no surprise there. It didn’t take too much longer to convince myself that a quick 411 call might supply me with a phone number. I never intended to call him, but I thought that with a number I might possibly be able to find an address. At this point I still hadn’t made up my mind as to whether or not I was actually going to write to him; I just knew that finding his phone number and address would be comforting, at least. It was that whole confirming-he-exists thing that I was really looking for, so I thought that would be enough.

To my surprise, he was still living in the same small town – or at least, someone with his name was living there. The operator supplied the number to me, and after hanging up, I set it aside and was content for a few days before my curiosity got the better of me. Into the reverse lookup went his number, and out came his name and a new address.

Even then, I sat on the address for a while. I wanted to drop him a line, but I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, or think I was stalking him, or whatever. I just wanted to say hi, and to thank him for the wonderful memories, and if I was lucky and/or deserving, I hoped he would let me know how he was doing. I certainly would never expect to keep in touch with him once that was out of the way, and it wasn’t what I was looking to do in the first place. I just wanted to put to rest that wee unfinished chapter in my life, and hearing from him would do it for me. I just wasn’t sure whether or not he would welcome such contact, never mind even remember who the hell I was, and I certainly didn’t want to upset him or cause any trouble. So, I did nothing and sat on the address some more.

I probably would not have written at all if I hadn’t been so dissatisfied that day with my own marriage. Not to say that I was writing with ulterior motives in mind, or that I was hoping he would be single and would sweep me off my feet, or anything of that nature – but I admit that a lack of attention from my own husband was sort of steering me to seek some validation elsewhere. Anywhere. Some kind words from an old boyfriend, one who I couldn’t otherwise associate with in any fashion, would do just fine. Plenty safer than inviting my friend Matt over for coffee, say.

Ever the procrastinator, I wrote a letter, explaining who I was, where we’d met, why I was writing, and about my good life, my lovely husband (who he might remember me telling him about before), and beautiful kids; and then I sat on that for another week or so. By the time I reread it, I wasn’t as upset with John anymore, and the fact that I wrote the letter when I had been was glaringly obvious, so I scrapped the first draft and wrote another, less flowery one. And I still didn’t send it.

Two more drafts and several days later, I was satisfied that my letter was appropriately concise and benign, so I sealed it in an envelope and put it aside, still not decided on whether or not to send it or throw it out – until the day I said ‘fuck it’ and dropped it in the mailbox. The only thing I had considered adding to the letter, and hadn’t, was a short disclaimer to any lady he was potentially with, reassuring whoever else that might read it that my intentions were honourable, in case the manner I’d wrote the letter in wasn’t 100% clear.

Of course, I assumed my approach was obvious enough, and that the average woman would be satisfied by that - and like me, not threatened by such a letter. If John heard from the girl that broke his heart so many years ago, I would be fine with it – actually, I would be happy for him, because I know what it would mean to him. How silly of me to make such an assumption!

I was online about a week later, doing my thing, when at about 11pm, my call director popped a window up displaying his name and phone number. I never expected him to phone me; to be honest, I didn’t expect to hear from him at all, most especially not so promptly and at such a late hour. I almost didn’t answer it, but how could I not? My heart was pounding as I picked it up.

I’m not sure how else to describe the ensuing conversation, but ‘awkward’ would fit. Right off the bat, two things were apparent – he didn’t remember me, and he had a jealous fiancée in the room with him. She’d found the letter in the mail, and accused Ray of meeting someone on a trip he’d taken the year before in my home province. I gathered that she hadn’t opened it, instead waiting for him to return home before presenting him with it and demanding an explanation. He’d given it a quick read-through and phoned me afterwards to try to determine who the hell I was.

If he’d had more time to digest the letter, he’d have remembered me. I explained again who I was, how we’d met, and so on, everything that I had written in the letter. He was asking me in front of her why I had written, and I assured him again that I had no designs on him, and that I merely wanted to catch up and say thanks for the memories. I heard him say, “Are you hearing this?” to her, and repeating what I was saying.

Well, this is uncomfortable.

When he did finally recall who I was, his tone grew less bewildered and upset; he was hardly warm and friendly with me, but I could tell that he held no hard feelings and was trying not to hurt mine, or something. He said he was still alive and doing well. I told him that was good to know, apologized profusely, and assured him that he’d never hear from me again.

That was the way things had to be, said he. Absolutely, I agreed. We exchanged goodbyes and that was that. That wasn’t quite the way I would have scripted it, had I the opportunity.

For a couple of days I felt a little sick about causing such a fuss, for having done such a foolish thing by writing the letter in the first place. Even though all I wanted to do was say hello and look forward to the same, I did it for selfish reasons and I should have left well enough alone. That’ll teach me to seek even the smallest of attentions from any man other than my husband! I shouldn’t even attempt platonic friendships with any man that I would possibly be – or had been – at all romantically interested in, given half a chance in a parallel dimension. I should just accept the anticipation that I will be rejected, in any event and not just at home, in order to deter such floosiness in the future. I felt guilty and not a little embarrassed.

I got over it, though. I’m not saying that I don’t still feel bad about it, and I sure hope I didn’t end up a catalyst for the breakup of someone’s future marriage, heaven forbid. But I’m also of the mind that if something so extreme were to happen because of an obviously innocent letter, there were bigger trust issues present before I came along, that if it wasn’t me it would be someone else, and that they’d probably both thank me later. Of course, I’ll never know if it was a non-issue or what, will I? I do hope they’ve both forgotten about it by now.

I know Ray will never read this, but if he ever somehow does, I’d just want him to know that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered him; I just wanted to tell him that he meant something to somebody, even if that day was in the past. I was hoping to bring a smile to his face, even if only to please mostly myself. I didn’t mean to cause a row. I wanted a bit of closure, and I certainly got it.

It’s been a slice.

More of the same - well, except for Gary

More of the same - well, except for Gary

John’s been working hard and hasn’t had any time off lately. Usually he’s up and gone by 6am or so, and back home by 9pm - but that’s mostly just because he’s working pretty close to home, and because Gary is his hand. He isn’t required to travel to the city and back to pick anybody up, or he could tack another two hours travel onto his day.

Work itself is still a circus. One of the new employees blew up one of the tanks the other day, and as of yesterday hasn’t shown back up for work. Another new guy, that John put a good word in for, has been doing well, though – John worked with him when he was guiding last fall (he’s the boss’s son). He and his girlfriend just moved up here, not too far from our place. If John can just populate the company with more respectable employees, he might not feel like quitting anymore. He’s getting a little tired of cleaning up after all the retards around there. It’s shades of the last hellish winter that he put in.

And John’s last raise, on his mileage, wasn’t exactly a raise because they’ve eliminated his truck’s day rate. He’ll probably make up for it regardless, but he was a tad disappointed about that. He thought he was really rich there, for a moment.

In case you haven’t guessed, either - if I’m not commenting on my sex life it means I’m not getting any, obviously. Bummer, that; but it’s due to work and all, so I’m not bitter. Much.

Myself – I’ve just been staying around home, cooking, cleaning, and mothering; and also, anticipating the mid-month check so I can get a better idea of where we’ll be at financially. I’m thinking I can get several bills cleaned up, but until I see it I won’t know for sure. I also have to consider the gas card John’s been using blindly. Since it’s the company card and his receipts don’t have dollar amounts on them, we have no idea how much he’s used of it until the boss lets us know, and if I have to wait for Busy John to find out, I’ll be waiting a long time. I think I might just phone Boss myself.

We haven’t gotten out of the house a whole lot, wee boy and I, but it’s been so damn cold we don’t much feel like leaving the house. We took the gift certificates the other day and went grocery shopping – which, if you’ve ever had the opportunity to just go and spend wildly on food, you might agree is a lot of fun. Well, I think it’s fun, anyhow. Still, after all was said and done, I went way over budget. But, I won’t have to do any major grocery shopping for quite some time. I’ve got my pantry stocked right up again, like it used to be.

Wee boy wasn’t too happy about a two hour long shopping trip, but he was so patient and accepting of it, as he usually is. He sat quietly in the cart and ‘Oh, Wow’ed over all the displays and foods he recognized, in between his book and his car and the odd bite of banana, and when he got tired of that and his repeated suggestions of ‘all done’ elicited no results, he made as if to nap in the cart on his coat even if he never actually fell asleep. He entertained himself mostly by flirting with all of the ladies that passed by, the little charmer. How many two year olds do you know that would endure a like excursion with such great aplomb? It’s not an unusual thing for him to do, and I just love him for that.

Gary has been working hard too, right alongside John. Although, since Jr. has been here he’s decided he prefers to sleep on the cot in the front room, which is easier on his back than Jr.’s waterbed. I don’t mind so much, but I’d really rather that he slept in a bedroom. With the cot and his suitcase and all his clothes about, it makes the room terribly cluttered and also makes me feel anxious and more disorganized than usual, which is a lot; not to mention that I have to tiptoe around at night, and that John and I don’t have any privacy outside the bedroom. Not that it makes a difference, I suppose. The cot doesn’t fit in the bedroom with the waterbed or I would just move him back in there.

Yesterday, though, Gary had to go to the hospital. The day before he’d been complaining of some massive pain in his belly, and I was all prepared to run him in to outpatients the night before last, thinking that perhaps he had a kidney stone or something. Unlike John, he doesn’t complain unless something is really wrong. But, the pain was off and on, and after supper was finished, it was off again, so he thought it might be gastritis or something, decided not to go, and just went to bed. The next morning it was worse again, and was putting his pale ass on the verge of passing out, so John forced him to go in and arranged for a replacement.

Wouldn’t you know, they rushed Gary right into surgery and took his appendix out yesterday, so we’re all quite pleased that he got his stubborn self in there – one more day and it probably would have ruptured, they said. When we hadn’t heard from him all day we kind of wondered what was up. He’s probably going to be off work for a few weeks, unless Boss can find him some easy and likely unnecessary work that he’s willing to let Gary collect a check for. Either way, he’s unemployed for a while, and the thought of taking the time off isn’t sitting well with him.

I went and picked him up today, and he’s been taking it real easy. I would be quite happy to wait on him more, but he’s the type that doesn’t like to be a bother. I’m not sure if he’ll be heading home for a while – which I would expect, only he’d have to take the bus and it’s an extra long trip – or if he’s just going to hang out here. If that’s the case, I imagine his girlfriend will be coming up to dote on him, so I’ll have two more guests with their young son along. Wee boy would be thrilled, of course, as they’re close in age, but I don’t really relish the thought of more company when all I want to do is be alone with my husband. She and I get along great, though, so it sure could be worse.

The guys were both supposed to be heading out to camp for six weeks, apparently, but they were also supposed to be leaving today. Gary won’t be going now, obviously, since he can’t handle any lifting or repetitive stress for about the same length of time, but John will go regardless if it materializes. As it is, John just knows that he’s staying where he’s at until Thursday. After that, who the hell knows. He’ll find out the night before he leaves (upon such time I will be insistent that he look after his duties as my husband before he is allowed to leave the house).

I imagine that he’ll have a few days off here and there, but neither of us is looking forward to it too much. I think John’s more upset that he won’t see the kids, frankly, but I know he will miss me too. He just doesn’t seem to think I need to hear that.

I’m thinking I should hit the love shop on payday and buy that new phallic friend I’ve been meaning to get.

100 Things About Me

100 Things About Me

Since it’s a new year, and I’ve been at this blog thing for six months or more, I thought I would bestow upon you all the ever-popular List. I think even I learned something from it.

1 – I am very close to six feet tall. I just round up.
2 – I like to wear shoes that emphasize my height.
3 – I don’t like to wear socks.
4 – Or underwear.
5 – If I could get away with it, without succumbing to gravity, I’d rather not wear a bra either.

6 – If you’ve inferred that I prefer to sleep nude, you are correct.
7 – I usually sleep on my left side.
8 – I have pierced ears, and that’s it.
9 – I have one tattoo. It’s a bird of paradise and it’s on my upper left arm.
10 – I ‘d like to get a dragon tattoo someday, because I love dragons, and also because Dragon is my Chinese astrological sign. Until last year, I thought I was a Snake.

11 – Yes, I’m a leftie.
12 – I can draw really well, but I don’t do it as often as I should… almost never, actually.
13 – I don’t write with my arm all screwed up like most lefties (including my dad).
14 – I’ve always wanted to be able to play an instrument, but aside from a short stint in junior high playing the flute, it’s not something I ever pursued with any seriousness.
15 – I can spell like nobody’s business.

16 – I have two pets – a 9-year old overweight tabby cat that came from a litter of strays at the farm, and a pretty 6-year old mutt that we picked up at the animal shelter.
17 – Love the pets; HATE the pet hair. Hate.
18 – I live about 200 yards away from a railroad.
19 – Often, I am a stone’s throw from a herd of cows. Front or back door.
20 – I grew up in this house and have spent most of my life in it…

21 – Except for just over three years that I spent on the east coast, one year in my parents’ new house down the road, and one year renting in town.
22 – I had Honour Roll marks all twelve years in school.
23 – I rarely, if ever, did any studying.
24 – I regret I didn’t try harder and do my absolute best.
25 – I prefer to watch educational TV.

26 – When I’m not in the mood for such dry programming, I’ll choose South Park, The Simpsons, Family Guy, Trailer Park Boys, or The Daily Show.
27 – Or movies.
28 – I don’t watch sitcoms, as a general rule. It has to be pretty damn good if you catch me watching it.
29 – I’d listen to more music but my stereo doesn’t play CDs anymore – hasn’t for years, sadly. And my DVD player has the shittiest sound quality. I have to rely on my satellite’s music channels.
30 – I have come to enjoy plenty of children’s programming, including but not limited to Blue’s Clues, Peep and the Big Wide World, Sesame Street (which I have always loved), This Is Daniel Cook, Hi-5, Max and Ruby, and anything with the Kratt Brothers.

31 – I love to read. I’ll read absolutely anything, but as with TV I usually choose non-fiction.
32 – I wish I were tidier and more organized.
33 – And less of a procrastinator.
34 – I’m terrible when it comes to keeping in touch with people, but I have no problem picking up where we left off, as though no time has passed.
35 – I don’t do Christmas cards and I often forget birthdays.

36 – I’d much rather spend time talking with someone than buying them a card they’re probably going to throw away anyway.
37 – I keep every card I receive because I feel guilty if I throw them away.
38 – Receiving gifts makes me uncomfortable, usually.
39 – I don’t give gifts to anyone outside my immediate family unless etiquette dictates it, probably because of #38.
40 – I’d much rather give the gift of fresh-baked goods than anything else.

41 – I like to paint my finger- and toenails funky colours, such as those found on vehicles. My favourites are royal blue and chrome.
42 – I worry I am getting too old to pull it off anymore.
43 – My style is pretty conservative, so that helps. I try to go for classy, or perhaps classy with cleavage.
44 – Of course, I’m not terribly classy around the house, so I miss working for that reason, among others; I dress comfortably but not like a total slob.
45 – I have an intense weakness for cheese of all kinds, but those Kraft Singles are like crack. I have to abstain.

46 – And Tostitos Hint of Lime tortilla chips with copious amounts of salsa... well.
47 – I don’t drink often, but when I do it’s either red-eyes, Caesars, tequila, or spiced rum.
48 – I smoke way more marijuana than I drink alcohol.
49 – Aside from one instance with mushrooms of the magic sort, I’ve never done any other drugs, nor had any desire to.
50 – I broke my nose on a sofa once when I was young and obliterated. I was drinking out of someone else’s bottle, at his urging, without knowing exactly what it was (which I don’t recommend, by the way). I think he was trying to incapacitate me enough to get me into the closet and cover me with hickeys again.

51 – My nose is the only bone in my body that I’ve ever broken.
52 – I’ve only been in the hospital four times – to get my tonsils out at 8; when I slipped and impaled my hand on a bill peg at work; for my breast reduction; and to have my baby.
53 – I play a mean game of pool.
54 – Also, cribbage.
55 – I can make small talk with anyone and enjoy meeting new people, although in social situations I tend to keep to myself around people I don’t know.

56 – My biggest beef with people is a lack of courtesy and respect for others, which, if you think about it, is at the root of every problem, really. It infuriates me, not just as a human being, but also as a veteran of the service industry.
57 – I love to flirt, despite that (or more likely because) I can’t follow through. Well, I could, but I don’t.
58 – Although monogamous, I tend to fixate on other men, but never more than one at a time. I suck as much life out of the crush as I can, and then I move on to another one. It could be a friend, or a co-worker, or less often, some obscure celebrity. I’m totally out of my Bruce Campbell phase now, but that one was on and off for years.
59 – I always thought I had a ‘type’, and I do notice the tall, slim, broad-shouldered, geeky guys a lot quicker, but this innate preference has never stopped me from making a determination of sexiness. I find myself attracted to the darnedest people.
60 – In other words, personality is way more important to me than looks. If you’re genuine and you can make me laugh, I’m yours.

61 – I still love flirting with the pretty boys, sure; but if that’s all there is to them, I move on.
62 – As you can see, sometimes I fantasize that I am single. Not because I wish to be, or anything - I love my husband, but I’m thinking I didn’t get to play around as much as perhaps I needed to.
63 – In my next life, I would choose to be more of a raging slut.
64 – Still, I’ve had thirteen sex partners in total, but only one in the last decade.
65 – I sometimes wonder what would have become of me if I had not found John so early. Thirteen is a pretty big number.

66 – I didn’t even start until I was sixteen, for crissakes.
67 – As it is, I’m always seducing people in my head. ‘Seducing’ could mean ‘delivering an impromptu anonymous blowjob on some guy’, for instance. Good thing there isn’t any more testosterone in my system or I would be out of fucking control.
68 – I haven’t been in every possible position or location, or done a whole lot of fetish or role-playing, but I’ve had my fair share of experiences.
69 – I’m willing to try anything at least once, except acts involving kids, animals, corpses, or anything that belongs in a toilet.
70 – Aside from the common sex-with-a-stranger scenario, and not just the consensual kind, I will also admit to having strap-on and three+some fantasies (both with either sex).

71 – I love to give blowjobs. It’s such a power trip.
72 – I’m sure I’m bisexual but I’ve never had the opportunity to truly test that theory.
73 – I’d much rather look at naked women than men, and I can’t wait to taste a pussy one day, but I really do worship cocks… so I’m just assuming.
74 – Is this all too much information? I tend to think so.
75 – I’ve got a clean driving record – no accidents, just one speeding ticket, and one seatbelt ticket (in my driveway, no less; the one time that I didn’t put it on for two blocks. That’ll learn me).

76 – I’ve been arrested before, but not charged with anything. Cuffs hurt.
77 – Oh yeah – another fantasy of mine is to seduce an on-duty cop right out of his uniform. No other uniforms need apply.
78 – I can dance but I only do it when I’m drunk.
79 – I can also sing, but not well enough to ever make a career out of it or anything.
80 – When it comes to memorizing song lyrics, though, my mind is as a steel trap.

81 – People always seem to think I should be a leader, but I’m really much more comfortable being led.
82 – I love to sleep but I typically only leave myself five or six hours a night, for whatever reason. I always find one.
83 – I’m naturally pretty physically flexible but it’s never something I have worked at.
84 – I love to play video games and I also kick ass at them. I’m a child of the Atari age, and I’ve never quit playing, I’ve just changed platforms.
85 – Everything I know about computers I’ve learned on my own. I’m no whiz, mind you; but I grew up using them, so I’ve accumulated a good working knowledge along the way, and I can fix most of my own problems.

86 – Don’t know a whit about programming, though.
87 – I own very little in the way of high-tech gadgetry – just my 200MHz desktop, my 700MHz laptop, and a video camera that also takes digital pictures. I don’t even have a working cell phone right now, and the one I would use is analog. John uses an obsolete bag phone in his truck.
88 – I have dialup, and no other option but, so I don’t download music or movies; and even if I did, I don’t have a burner of either sort.
89 – In any event, I would still purchase my entertainment rather than steal it, given the opportunity.
90 – I used to have penpals when I was young, and I kept in touch with people in Tennessee, Iowa, Germany, and Canada’s east coast, among others, not to mention the friends I had from Atlantic Canada who I kept in touch with for so many years.

91 – I have several shoeboxes packed full of all of the letters I’ve ever received.
92 – I’ve also kept some of the notes and notebooks my friends and I used to pass around in elementary and junior high school. They’re a riot.
93 – I’m a crack shot at long range with a rifle, it seems.
94 – I wore braces for four years as a teenager because I had the most crooked teeth I’ve ever seen.
95 – I’m missing two permanent teeth. They were pulled to make room for the rest of my oversized teeth.

96 – I have large eyes. When I say that, I mean my eyeballs are actually larger than your average eyeballs.
97 – My second toe is longer than my big toe. Actually, my toes are all freakishly long.
98 – I wear size 11 wide women’s shoes, if I can find them. I’m not above buying men’s shoes (size 9) if it means I’ll get footwear that fits.
99 – My baby boy falls into 50th percentile for everything except head circumference, in which he is 75th. From whom does he get his robust Charlie Brown skull?
100 – There’s nothing quite like wrapping up my list by making myself out to be an anomaly.

I intimidate people, apparently. I can’t for the life of me figure out why…

New Year's Eve 2004 circa 1993

New Year's Eve 2004 circa 1993

Thankfully, New Year’s Eve held little to no drama, and yet I've still got enough to ramble on about for several more pages. I wish I could manage this posting thing a little differently, but it is what it is!

I’d managed my time beautifully that day, though. Because I planned on staying the night at Phil and Shelley’s, I had to prepare dinner for the guys to eat after I’d left, as well as lunches for the next day, not to mention cleaning up the kitchen (twice) and trying to help Jr. get the homework done that was still left over from when he was down with pneumonia… and then there was an unexpected errand in town that I had to run. Plus, it was Gary’s birthday, so I had to bake and ice a birthday cake for the poor hardworking bastard - he was able to go home for Christmas on the 23rd and made it back four days later; but then, it was straight back to work with John, gone by 5am and home by 10pm.

For several days their eyes were as pissholes in the snow. Often they barely even had time to eat through the whole shift. There’ve been a few problems with some of the other employees – John had to fire one, which he wasn’t even sure he was allowed to do; but he did anyway, and it wasn’t vetoed. Said employee had designs on being a night supervisor with absolutely no experience and with a fresh hit and run under his belt, in a late attempt to get to work - he put some poor vehicle and occupants unknown in the ditch and left them there! One of his first shifts he spent sleeping in the shack. Star material, that one. I don’t know if anyone reported him to the police, but I damn sure would have if I had known his name and/or license plate number.

The guys’ night shift replacement has also been routinely late, meaning John and Gary are working part of that shift while the slackers are getting paid for it. Another guy is pretty fresh off getting stabbed in the face for stealing some other guy’s handgun, and since he’s arrived plenty has gone AWOL already, including equipment from John’s shack. Yet another newly hired, notorious thief is also under surveillance at the moment. The big money jobs always seem to attract social rejects… probably because they need the big money or the stolen big money equipment to support their meth habits. They just jump from job to job until they find an employer who will put up with their shit or turn a blind eye. Since the ‘patch is forever in need of skilled workers, apparently this isn’t too difficult to accomplish.

However, John is persevering and he’s already received a second raise – this time on his mileage reimbursement, some crazy amount like another 40 or 50 cents a kilometre, I think. On a couple hundred kilometres a day, it really adds up. Basically, his boss isn’t making any money off of him anymore – John’s getting what the boss is getting paid for putting him to work. John’s worth it, though. He’s the most reliable, hard-working, trustworthy employee they have going. Good help really is a bitch to find. Boss does find little ways to let John know how relieved he is to have him back at work, so I think John is more aware how appreciated he really is. He has a tough time seeing that, usually, the pessimist that he is.

So, on the relationship front, not much is new and exciting. No intimate encounters to report, either. John has barely been here, and when he is he’s only been awake for just long enough to eat and possibly make it to bed. What time he has spent coherent has generally been heavily coloured by the stress of work politics and lack of sleep. Fun, fun.

He was ever so crabby this morning when I objected to the comment he made in regards to ‘turning wee boy into a girl’, what with all of the kitchen related toys that he received for Christmas – play microwave, fake food, and so on - the kid loves to ‘cook’, but he also loves his trucks and cars, and I pointed that out, too. John didn’t seem to see how his comment might be construed as offensive to me, or women in general. I wasn’t trying to make a big issue out of it - I just asked him not to say such things in front of wee boy. I’m no feminazi, obviously, but he certainly doesn’t need to be reinforcing gender stereotypes with our son and insulting me in the process.

In defending his choice of words, he pointed out that if any of my friends, say Lucas or Phil, were to say such a thing, I would be laughing and accepting of it, and I wouldn’t be pulling this bullshit with Phil. That’s hardly correct, but it didn’t stop him from entering into a mini-fucking-tirade on how I need to learn how to not take stuff so seriously, and that if it were anyone else but him I would just brush it off. Well, I’m not exactly married to ‘anyone else’, nor am I trying to raise a respectful child with ‘anyone else’, and I expect him to respect me just a tad, most especially in front of children I’ve borne. That was pretty much the end of that discussion. I know he’s tired, but meow.

Methinks John was more jealous of my fun than I initially predicted, no? God forbid I ever have any. And, no, John’s not threatened by Phil. He’s threatened because I had fun, and it happened to be with Phil and co. and not him. Strange, how he has had ample opportunity to show me some fun in the recent past and yet he’s chosen not to. I don’t think he has any right to be a bitch about it. I hate it when he tosses in comments like that; he says something isn’t a big deal, and then as soon as we have the next argument, he whips out the guilt trip. I thought that was female territory.

Today they had a shop day, so they didn’t head in until 11am or so, and they stopped to help my uncle put a cow down on the way out – no one on the farm can bear to put any of their pet cows out of their misery if need be, so they call the big Super Hunter Man with his powerful rifle to come and dispatch the suffering as necessary (or, alternately, to borrow his chainsaw, or services with such, on occasion, as he was also the Chainsaw Avenger in a previous incarnation).

Later he phoned me to whine about the finances, even though I tried to explain them in a non-threatening fashion earlier when I’d told him that we only had 30 bucks to our name until mid-month, once I’d paid all the bills that absolutely had to be paid. I was still required to put off about 600 bucks worth that wasn’t as dire, but could have used some money thrown at it. He didn’t get very far on that tack before I set him straight about the importance of electricity and the avoidance of loan-payment default.

His self-righteous moneybags attitude withered pretty quickly when he realized I was making sense, and that I wasn’t hiding any money or spending it unnecessarily (which I never do, by the way, and yet it comes up in a roundabout way again and again) – there actually wasn’t enough to cover everything. Imagine that, coming off all those months of insufficient paychecks, that we should have a backlog of bills! The nerve! I should have been able to stretch that money to cover everything all at once and with money left over, by gum.

I understand that he is working so very hard and making an excellent living and that it’s frustrating when he still doesn’t have any money to show for it at the end of the pay period, but I’m doing the best I can with what I’m given, as I have always done over the years. If the budget was up to him, we would have declared bankruptcy ages ago.

Whee.

So, back to New Year’s Eve, which was a lot more fun than dealing with my lately cranky husband.

By the time I arrived at close to 10pm, thanks to a wired wee boy who wasn’t terribly happy about going to bed (“No nap!! No nap!!”), the party was already well under way. Snacks were out and the music mix was nostalgically apropos. It was a fairly small gathering compared to the initial invite list, only about 15 people or so, but I felt it was just right and everyone who really mattered showed up. Apparently, they were waiting for little ol’ me to break out the alcoholic checkers, so in short order we had the board set up with shots of Arbor Mist. I can’t imagine playing it with anything stronger, or at least, playing more than one round.

The first match pitted Shelley’s dad and I against Shelley and Shane, Phil’s friend from work. Shane and his wife Jeri had been drinking since 6 or 7, and they were both plenty corked. Shane was exponentially more talkative with a little booze in him. Jeri, who never drinks, was one of the sloppiest drunks I’ve ever come across. Shelley spent much of the night following them both around with the mop.

Shelley’s dad and I wiped the board with the other two. We were the only ones who could see past the one move, so it was a cinch – Shelley wasn’t even buzzed yet, she just isn’t that good at checkers, apparently. Since she was sober, she gracefully took most of the shots to save Shane’s ass, and then dumped all of our leftover ones into her glass to finish them off.

I played Lucas’s wife next, since she claimed a need to catch up to everyone else, having just gotten off work and sober as a judge (or most judges, anyway). I kicked her ass, too. Shane, who was watching me do so in between fetching snacks, drunkenly working the room, and helping Lucas’s wife with her penalty shooters, immediately demanded a rematch, confident in his ability to shame me by beating me at what appeared to be my own game. I hadn’t played checkers in years, but it’s not chess, for crying out loud.

So, naturally, I kicked Shane’s ass again. He was in sorry shape to start out with – still functioning but obviously far more intoxicated than anyone had any right to be. He was absolutely astounded that I beat him so soundly, and he came up to me over and over throughout the night to repeatedly profess his respect for me, and my checkers skills, and claiming that he doesn’t usually get beaten at anything, so good on me for doing so. I think I wowed him. With checkers. I thought he was going to put the moves on me, or something, the way he was nattering on about it.

He vowed revenge but there was no way I was making him drink any more shooters, especially since we didn’t have anything besides Crown Royal to put in them. Plus, despite winning and not being required to actually drink anything, I was still downing cocktails and port on the side and was on my own merry way to becoming sufficiently inebriated. Thank goodness we never got around to playing Black/Red.

I made a run down to the bar for more Kahlua with a sober driver, another acquaintance from so many years back. There was nothing noteworthy about that, except that I got to see my friend Matt, who had been successfully coerced into bouncing that night since they were short-staffed, and he was none too pleased about it. It was a zoo there; it reminded me of how happy I am that I don’t bartend anymore. They never did give me any Kahlua, though, because they needed to keep what they had to serve drinks with. And, no Tia Maria either, so we had to settle for some Bailey’s instead. I can see that I definitely don’t have any pull there anymore, darn it.

Back at the house at near midnight, Lucas, who had been enamoured with the thought of fireworks the week prior, pulled four pieces out of the box of booze he’d brought and lamented the fact that we didn’t have more. What seemed to me like a bad idea last week was suddenly fabulous, and I headed to the backyard with glee just like everyone else to send them off.

Well, of course fireworks are a bad idea, right? Especially in the hands of drunks. But I’m not sure whose fault it was that the screamer lived up to its name and screamed directly at the heads of those standing near the shed, nearly taking Jeri out in the process - who, with amazing reflexes for someone so hammered, dropped to the snow like a stone - before screaming its way over the roof of the house and out of sight. The whole fireworks procedure took all of maybe three minutes, so we dragged the fun out by lighting some stubborn sparklers and congratulating Jeri for narrowly avoiding a dance with death, before retreating from the bone-chilling cold (-35C, I think it was) to cook cheeseburgers in the kitchen.

The do was split between the upstairs and the basement, better known as the newly transformed Olde Tyme Party Roome – the ambience eerily reminiscent of Phil’s old duplex, where we spent many a soused eve. The rest of the night was spent drinking and chatting into the wee hours, until a spate of slower songs rightly signalled bedtime at about 4:30am. In that time, Phil made his rounds and got cozy with all the ladies, but aside from Shelley, mostly with me, and possibly Jeri, who was really more in need of someone to hold her up and keep her awake. I espied her caressing his back at one point in the evening and was inappropriately jealous, even though I’d had a couple of opportunities to do the same. In both, he let me and reciprocated. It sounds naughty but it was all very innocent and about as platonic as caressing people can get, really; and it was enough excitement for me anyway, although the drunker I got the dirtier my thoughts became. Terrible, huh? Good thing I know how to behave.

But oh, the next morning I was a hurtin’ unit. I got up around 11am with everyone else who had spent the night. Shelley’s brother was a doll and cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes. The rest of us sat around and groaned until Lucas moved his truck so I could pick up the baby and get home. Jr. had spent the night at home with John and Gary, but they’d been gone since 5am to work, so I didn’t want to leave him alone all day or anything. He declined to come to my mom’s to pick wee boy up, instead choosing to stay at home and ‘work on his homework’ (read: play PS2).

Mom chastised me for drinking too much, of course, since I didn’t exactly listen to her well-meaning advice to take it easy, but then she promptly ordered me to bed to get some more sleep. After a couple of hours I took wee boy home and spent most of the rest of the day on the couch, in between tending to the baby and Jr. and venturing to the bathroom to puke up whatever water I tried to drink. It wasn’t until the guys got home at 10pm and I had to cook supper for them that I felt any better, and I even managed to get some rice into me. I would have asked John to cook the steaks but I don’t remember ever seeing him so exhausted.

By the time I got lunches made and the kitchen tidy and smokes rolled it was after 1am. I collapsed into bed with a hearty sigh, and with a full night’s sleep in me, I felt much, much better the next day… which was great because I had to spend most of it in the car driving Jr. home, and the roads were shitty. Some woman lost her daughter in an accident on the same highway the day before, because the roads were so icy. Thank heavens for my new tires.

To sum up: New Year’s Eve was a hoot and a holler this year. I think Phil and Shelley are turning the evening into an annual event, so quite obviously I am very much looking forward to the next bash.

I hope all my friends had as much fun!