Note to the dogs

While it's true that I normally stop to use the facilities before we go for a walk, this does not mean that you should celebrate every time that I go pee. It's been about 35 years since my successful use of the toilet was cause for celebration, and now is not the time to start again.

I thank you. My bladder thanks you.

Everybody has a story

... and this one's mine.

It feels weird talking (writing) about this. I allude to it often, because it's had such a big impact on my life; but I don't usually tell the whole story. I feel as though it was a long time ago, that I should get over it and move on. By telling people about it, I feel as though I'm holding myself back from moving on... And, really, who wants to hear about a car accident that happened 20 years ago? But I figure that I touch on it enough here that I should explain about my accident.

I learned to fly airplanes before I learned to drive a car. When you taxi a plane on the ground, you steer with four pedals in the ground... two in the front and two in the back. As a result, you sit with your seat quite far forward.

Eventually, when I started to drive, I sat in the car like you'd sit in the plane... with the steering wheel in my gut. I remember my mom commenting multiple times that it wasn't safe, but my driving instructor told me I should sit where ever it felt comfortable. Driving instructors having so much more knowledge than moms, I went with his advice.

Even though I had my license, it had been a really cold, snowy winter and my parents had been driving me to my lessons and work for a few weeks. That particular day, it was -35C outside and my parents wanted to drive me again. As I'd been doing for weeks, I gave them the excuse of 'if I can fly an airplane, shouldn't I be capable of driving a car?' That night, they gave in and let me drive; but I never made it to flight school.

I don't remember the accident, but it looks like I lost control on ice when I tried to steer around a mailbox that was overhanging the country road. The car spun, collided with a truck, spun around again and collided with the trailer that the truck was hauling. I was wearing a seat belt, but I was sitting so far forward that my head still hit the rear view mirror.

The mirror broke through my skull between my eye socket and my temple, and was pushed into the center of the brain. The crack in the skull then extended down into the jaw joint in the front, and towards the back of my head. The back of the skull shattered.

The man driving the truck that I hit was fine, physically; but he went into shock and was unable to get out of his truck to check on me. Fortunately, a good friend of mine happened to be driving home and came upon us. She ran to the nearest farm house and called the ambulance, and then came back as I stopped breathing because I was choking on blood. She turned my head (probably not so smart) so that the blood coming from my ear wouldn't flow into my mouth anymore, and then gave me mouth to mouth resuscitation until the ambulance arrived.

She saved my life. I was flown by air ambulance to the Calgary hospital, where I remained in a coma for 10 days. When I woke up, I was delusional for a few weeks (I had the mindset of a 3 year old, the potty mouth of sailor and a really great talent for escaping the hospital). When I became lucid, I was pain free.

I don't remember the accident, and I don't remember any pain from it. Actually, I didn't believe that it had happened for a long time. It was months before I was convinced that it wasn't a bad dream. After all, I was up and about; and the injuries seemed minor, compared to what you'd expect from a head injury like that.

I was incredibly lucky, and I know that. I suspect that's why I don't tell people what happened; because I feel like I'm complaining or making excuses when I do. But, some of the consequences have stayed with me. I am now legally an epileptic. I don't have seizures, just the brain waves of an epileptic... chances of me having a seizure are a fair bit higher than the average person. My jaw will never heal completely. My short term memory, impulse control and ability to concentrate are limited. My balance is awful, and I'm deaf in one ear. What I don't have - what I never really did have - is a headache.

Another side effect of the brain injury is a form of amnesia, where I forgot everything I'd previously "learned". I knew who people were, I knew the year it was and I knew the prime minister. I had forgotten all of my school knowledge, like maths and sciences, reading music or anything related to flying. What I could go over right away, like maths and sciences, I picked up again immediately. It was like being reminded of something I already knew. The longer I took to review something, though, the harder it became to remember or relearn. Something like reading music, which was delayed for a few years because I couldn't play the violin with a broken jaw, never did come back. In addition to playing the violin, I also used to play the piano & flute, and had gone as far as possible with musical theory classes. And yet, now I have a mental block when it comes to music. Regardless of how many times I sit down and try to figure it out, I cannot read music. Nor can I tune or play a violin. I can, however, play the piano fairly well by ear... probably because there was always a piano in the house; and I probably tinkered away at it as soon as I got home.

I recovered really quickly. One of the first things I said once I was lucid was that I wanted to fly again. They told me that when I was well enough to do everything else that I'd been doing before, we could talk about flying. So, I went back to school a few weeks after I got out of the hospital. I had a tutor, and I relearned enough of my classes to graduate the same year that my friends did. I went to summer school, and then I took another driving class so that I could start driving again. I went to college.

A few years later - multiple, multiple tests later - it was determined that I wouldn't be able to fly again. Whether they have seizures or not, people with brain waves like mine aren't allowed to fly. That was a hard knock. It was hard to hear that I couldn't have what I'd worked so hard for; but if I hadn't had something like that to work towards, I don't know if I'd have been able to recover so well and live such a normal life. As far as I'm concerned, the fact that I'm up and about, employed and independent is pretty darned cool.

So, that's my story. That's why I sometimes talk about things I used to do, but don't do anymore. Then again, everybody's got a story; and everybody's got things from their youth that they can't have or can't do. That's life, I think. It makes us who we are.

Random Rainy Day Thoughts

It's been pouring rain for three days straight.

The garden along the south of the house is dry because the house is sheltering it from the rain. I'm glad I've got a privacy fence so that people don't see me out in the pouring rain, watering my garden.

My basement is flooding again. I don't want to talk about it.

I went to the dentist last night. 8 years of braces and biweekly (painful) checkups and a broken jaw have led me to having an extreme dislike for dentists. It may have been a while since my last checkup. Both the dentist and the technician were torn between telling me off for the length of time between visits, and complimenting me on the good condition of my teeth. I choose to focus on the good condition of my teeth.

... I am thinking of having my teeth whitened, though, and my dentist says he'll refuse to do it unless I go see him every six months for at least a year. I might need to change dentists.

Speaking of which, my health care insurance through work pays for 80% of my dental care. Even so, my bill - 20% of the total bill - came to $68. I think I might go back to school and learn to be a dentist.

Not being a dentist, and not having money to spare, I decided to buy replacement windshield wipers and put them on my car myself. Because I'm something of a boob, I couldn't figure out how to remove the old wipers. It was pouring rain outside, and when the salesman saw me struggling, he came out & switched them for me. Had I made an appointment and driven my car into the building for that work, it would have cost $50 in labour. He only charged me for the parts. Gotta love dealerships. (But kudos to the salesman.)

Fire Sale

My mom and dad just bought a new house. They decided to downsize, which means that suddenly 'you should think about coming to collect your stuff' turned into 'if you don't take it, we'll throw it out'.

Much of the things that I've left behind have no actual use; but lots of sentimental value.

Over the next few weeks, I'm going to have to decide between throwing stuff away, selling it, storing it in the basement or using it.

The first carload included a wrought iron table, for which I took the base and tossed the top. I'll spray paint it, then look into getting a granite off-cut for it's top.

Loads and loads of books. It seems I've always been a wee bit of a book worm.

Then there's this: 20 years ago, this was the bomb.

My parents always made it clear that in our family, graduation from grade twelve was a milestone and an expectation - not an accomplishment. Unlike many of our friends, we didn't receive big graduation gifts, and the actual ceremony was something of a non-event. For me, it was a little different. Since that was the year of my big accident, it was something of a medical miracle that I made it to graduation. My parents let me make a bigger deal of it, and said they'd buy whatever dress I wanted.

That dress was what I wanted. It had poofy, off-the-shoulder sleeves, bows, sequins, and multiple crinolines. Scarlett O'Hara would have been jealous. ... And the fact that I'd just come off of a six week IV diet meant my waist would have rivaled hers.

Somehow, it doesn't look as fabulous as I remember it; but I'm thinking that I'll steam it up, put some stuffing in the girl parts and see if I can get a better picture of it. I'm a little late for grad season, but maybe somebody on Kajiji will want it.

Then there's these:

These were the perfect pj's for a college student living in co-ed housing; but mostly, I just showed you these to make Moosepants jealous.

Then there's the important stuff. I told my parents that the one thing they absolutely could NOT throw out was my violin. I've actually got a couple of them, but this is one is my favorite. My dad bought it for me after I aced a significant music exam, and I remember working so hard to prepare for that test... it was the first time that I felt as though I'd really earned something. I was always very proud of that violin.

Since I can't play it anymore, and likely won't ever again, I'm thinking that I want to put it on display. I just need to find a way to make it safe from cat, kid, poodle or any other type of damage. I just need to find something a little nicer than a basic shadow box. Or, maybe I'll pimp up a shadow box with crown moulding, and line it with the score of one of my favorite songs. Either way, I think it won't be long before this violin has a home on my dining room wall.

Dog on it...

This being the weekend, yesterday was the last real vacation day of my time off. For a gardening vacation, I can't say that'd I'd done much up until now. Lucky for me, Moosepants stepped in and decided to help me procrastinate a little longer.

We did some plant shopping for our gardens, and took some time out to wrangle a Newfoundlander dog that we found wandering around the parking lot. She has somehow learned to open up the side door to their van, and let herself out. Sweet dog, who happily hopped into the back of Moosepants' suburban while we called the numbers on her tag and the owners came to reclaim her.

When I spoke with the husband on the phone, he said that his wife hadn't believed him that the dog can get out of the van - I don't know if I would have if I hadn't seen it - but there's no question that she believes him now. Who knew that Newfoundlanders have thumbs under all that fur?

As an aside, imagine how awful it would feel to come out of store to find your van with the door wide open and your dog gone. I could totally see that happening to me. Not that my dog has figured out how to open the car doors (knock wood) but I have an irrational fear that, if left unattended, my dogs would be stolen in a heartbeat.

I don't know if that the fear comes from a neighbour's dog having been stolen out of their yard when I was living in Edmonton (they got him back 4 months later when he was found in BC) , or if it's because I am asked by strangers so often how much my dogs cost. Of course, my stock answer to that question is to tell them that I paid $4000 in vet bills the first year I had Tallulah; but apparently people seem to think these yahoos are worth something.

And they are, to me. To me, they're worth a million dollars. So, even though my head tells me that not everybody wants a yappy little white dog or a Mensa poodle, my heart can't imagine that there would be anybody who wouldn't snap them right up, given the chance.

Long story short, if I'd have come out of the store to find my car door wide open and my dog(s) gone, I'd have crapped my pants.

Lucky for me, they're still here.

Cotton, who is not the brightest crayon in the box, is sitting here on my lap, with my dinner plate balanced on his back as I reach over them both and type this. That's pretty typical for him. He always wants to be on my lap, regadless of where I am or what I'm doing; so I've learned to work around him. (Except at the dinner table. If I'm sitting at the table, he knows to leave me a lone.) Lucky for him, as much as he wants to be in my space, he's respectful of my stuff. I don't feed him table scraps, and so he has no expectation getting anything from my plate. Even so, I've got to admit that I questioned his dogginess when I dropped a noodle right in front of his nose and he didn't even notice it. I had to point it out, and tell him to eat it.

Then there's Tula.

I don't even know what to say about that picture; except that she's a weirdo.

...and that I hope she knows what a great life she's got.

The dog down the road can't say the same. His owners continually leave their gates open and let him wander around; but when they discover that he's left the open yard they lash out at him. Today I was out gardening and saw the dog wandering around. Shortly after that, I heard the lady yelling at him and looked over in time to see her kick him. He crouched down and growled at her, and she yelled louder for him to get up and go into the yard. They went back and forth like this for a while, until my other neighbour came over to ask me what was going on. While I was talking to her, they must have convinced him to go back in or carried him into the yard. More yelling ensued back there, but we couldn't see what was happening.

I have zero tolerance for people like that, and I said so loud enough for her to hear. In fact, I've half a mind to call the SPCA on Monday. There's no excuse for kicking a dog, period.

This is why

I haven't been to Costco since before Christmas, when I went and came home with a car load of stuff that was well priced but almost entirely unnecessary. Avoiding temptation is more than half the battle is it not?

But then it occurred to me that I paid good money for my Costco membership, and that not going to the store was wasting that membership fee.

So I went. I was looking for bedding plants (for which I found some really great deals), but then I couldn't help myself and not do a tour of the whole store. I actually did fairly well, and only picked up things I would have bought elsewhere. I probably saved money on most of what I bought.

Except this.

One might say that this is a little obscene.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the metric system, that's a hair's breath away from being 8 pounds of popcorn kernels. For $7.

To clarify, yes, I still live alone.

Lesson learned. I'll not be going back anytime soon.

This, not that

What I've done on my vacation:

• Painted the new dresser four times.
• Unclogged the bathroom drain
• Made jam
• Cooked, cooked and cooked some more
  
• 11 loads of dishes in the dish washer
• Woke up at 5:00am to a cat exploding at both ends
• Supervised (aka pestered) foundation repair guy
  
• Set my alarm for obscenely early hours too many times
  
• worked with roofer to design new dormer/overhang over front door

What I haven't done while on vacation

• napped
• slept until noon
• watched movies
• napped
  
• gardenened
• worn anything other than pj's or stretchy pants
• napped