Muskie-bait Makeover

MISTY YESTERDAY MORNING: Lookit me, I'm all hairy. Even my feet are hairy. I look so snooty.  And I'm fat! Lookee how fat I am. How can I smile when I am this fat? You wanna talk about hot flashes? Don't even go there, girlfriend; I'm a walking talking waddling hot flash all day all the time. Do I look happy? Well? Do I, punk? Go ahead. Pet me. Make my day. I will grab your fingers in my tiny white teeth and, grrrrrr, bite them off like pre-wrapped sausages. How come they don't have pre-wrapped bacon? Oh wait. They do. And it's gross, but I'll eat anything in a pinch because I am so fat and so snooty. I am hairy, hear me rowr-rowr.

MISTY LAST NIGHT AFTER TRIP TO MUSKOKA SPA FOR DOGS: (Note: her voice has gone up two octaves.) Lookit meeeee! I am happpeeeeee! I lose 10 pounds in one day, even though I only weigh 7 pounds to begin with. Years younger, I look. Everyone say. Oil of Olay, that's meeeee. Big eyes, I have. No make-up, just natural beauty. I sleek and light, like greyhound. No, like black squirrel, especially with poofy tail that you can't see, but have I. Sleek with puffy squirrel tail and so-Cosmo pink scarf to match happeeeee tongue. Lookit how happy my tongue is! I soooooo happy! Masters say, "where Misty? where Misty go?" But I right here in disguise. I look so good, they don't recognize me. They think Paris Hilton dog has moved in, or Great Black Squirrel. No more hot flashes; I Cool Paw Luke. 

Graduation Day

CONGRATULATIONS, GUS: Angus looking incredibly dapper, sporting his Archie Stouffer Elementary School Grade 8 diploma, his new suit and the silver chain Dave and I gave him as a graduation present.

GROUP SHOT: From left, my ex Doug's parents, Jack and Mary, Doug, Angus, Sam, me and Dave. Thanks to my Mom for taking the photo!

GREAT LOOKING COUPLE: My adorable mom and my adorable son.

STACHE ALERT: Sometimes a good bow tie needs a moustache.

LOOK SEXY, SAM: So he did.

THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN: Angus and his friends all dressed up with some place to go - the Grade 8 graduation dance. Watch out, girls!

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.  Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.  It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.  We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?  Actually, who are you not to be?  You are a child of God.  Your playing small does not serve the world.  There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.  We are all meant to shine, as children do.  We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.  It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone.  And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.  As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."  

– Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of "A Course in Miracles," 1992 (commonly misattributed to Nelson Mandela, 1994 inauguration speech)

My Big Surprise

Sure glad that weekend is over.
Let's move on, shall we?
What? You want to hear about my big surprise? Really? You're not humouring me, are you? You're not one of my relatives who ask, to be polite, how my book is going, then, when I ask if they want to hear a bit of it, they get that scared rabbit look in their eyes and make up an excuse about how it's time to go...
You really want to hear this?
Ok.
(I love one-sided conversations where I imagine you hanging on my every word, looking adoringly up at me like these are the finest pearls ever to drip from the lips of a middle-aged fat woman.)
Friday night and I was exhausted. It as a week straight from hell. I came home, dropped my purse in the middle of the living room floor and headed straight to bed. "Dave?" I yelled, "come snuggle."
So he did and proceeded to listen to me whine about how tired I was until the phone rang and he leapt up from the bed like a singed cat. Never have I seen him jump out of bed in such a hurry.
The conversation he had was brief.
"Who was that?" I hollered, after he had hung up.
He came back to bed so he wouldn't have to holler back. "A survey company," he said.
"Oh yeah?" I said, intrigued. "What kind of questions were they asking?"
"Y'know, usual stuff. How many people lived here, where we worked."
"It was a pretty short conversation," I said. "Usually those surveys take ages." I imagined some kind of phone scam and remembered when Dave invited a vacuum cleaner salesman to the house (kind of like inviting a vampire).
"Is there a salesman coming?" I asked. Nervous.
"No!" said Dave.
"Well it's not some kind of scam, is it? Maybe they were scoping out the place to rob us."
Dave sighed and got this funny look on his face.
"I can't lie to you," he said. "That was a delivery guy. They're bringing a dishwasher tomorrow."
A dishwasher? Gobsmack me with a feather.
1. I hate doing dishes. I used to fight with my father about doing dishes. The minute I went away to college, my mother bought a dishwasher.
2. I am 50 years old and have never had a dishwasher EXCEPT for one glorious year a few years back. Dave and I were renovating our old house in Sundridge and part of the renos including a dishwasher. IT WAS THE BEST YEAR OF MY LIFE. Then we sold the house. End of dishwasher.
So how does a woman who hates dishes and who has worked full time all her working days, not have a dishwasher? I don't know.
Anyway, point is, my sweetie-pie decided to surprise me with one. I am going to leave Friday night, now, because he earned himself some big brownie points for that announcement.
Saturday afternoon found me writing up in the bunkie. I heard the delivery truck pull in the driveway, so I tweeted "MY DISHWASHER IS HERE" or something similar, then ran to the window to watch my present being unloaded.
Dave went out to meet the guy. The guy said, "do you want me to take the box off here?"
Dave said, "Sure. Might as well have a look at it."
Off came the cardboard box.
There was a big paint chip/ding on the front. Right in the middle, obvious as can be.
Guy said, "Guess you don't want to take this, eh?"
Dave said, "Guess not."
Guy drove my dishwasher away.
I had that dishwasher for, oh, 30 seconds.
I miss her already. I even had a name picked out for her. Melba.

Today's a big day in our family: Angus' grade eight graduation.
It doesn't seem possible. Only yesterday he was a tiny baby listening to the CBC as I fed him and changed his diaper in the middle of the night. Now he's 14 and almost as tall as me, listening to god knows what. Don't all parents hate their children's music? Isn't it a mandatory rite of passage for parents?
I couldn't be prouder of my blue-haired boy.
I took this photo last Monday morning. His school had an awards ceremony to make the actual graduation evening a little shorter. (Great idea.) I'll be sure to have photos of Angus with his new suit and the tie that matches his hair.

Yesterday

The good, the bad and the ugly. That was my yesterday.

The Good
Last night I shared the latest three chapters of my novel with the girls in my writers' group. I was so excited about this – excited and nervous. Would they like it? Would they laugh? In my mind I thought the writing was going well but the proof was hearing their reaction and, oh my, never has the sound of laughter been such a joy in my heart. I now feel I'm going the right away and can hardly wait to get back to the computer and write more.
It was also the first time I hosted the group. That, too, was a genuine pleasure, having Dawn, Linda, Paula and Sasha up in my "writing space," the bunkie. I adore these women. So talented, so friendly, so much fun. The more time I spend with them, the more I love them.

The Bad
Tragic news from Dave's hometown, Sundridge, Ontario.
One of the mechanics Dave worked with at the Mac Lang Chrysler dealership was Ben Rich. Ben was there when Dave started and he was still there when my husband left 14 years later. They worked side by side, wrench warriors in the constant battle against squeaky brake pads, engine knocks and wheels that lost their bearings. Ben was an experienced, talented mechanic who Dave looked up to when he was learning the ropes. If Dave ever had a question, he knew Ben would have the right answer.
Yesterday at lunchtime Ben was driving through the village's main intersection, likely headed towards the bank or the hardware store, when he was broadsided by a truck going through a red light. He was pronounced dead a short time later.
Our phone has been ringing off the hook with the horrifying news. So shocking.
Our most sincere condolences to Ben's family, his friends and his co-workers. Certainly the atmosphere at Mac Lang will be subdued, to say the least, at this time. Best wishes to everyone there as they cope with this terrible loss.

The Ugly
Work. Ugh. Well, I took everyone's advice and kept my eyes on the prize. Surprisingly I managed to stay relatively calm as I worked through a mountain of tasks.
Did I finish?
Almost.
In fact, I would have stayed late (and missed the beginning of my writer's group meeting) and finished the last little bit, except that I got a last minute reprieve from the printer. "I LOVE YOU" I e-mailed Kelly, the cheerful customer service rep at Central Ontario Web. She said it wouldn't be any problem at all to get the final few pages to her this morning.
So, I'm off for another day, hopefully nowhere near as stressful as yesterday.
An hour or two to finish laying out Sideroads, then some goofing around and celebrating, then an appointment with the hairdresser to touch up an inch or two of roots.
By the way, HOW COME WHEN I DYED MY HAIR BROWN, MY ROOTS WERE WHITE?
Now that my hair is blonde, HOW COME MY ROOTS ARE BROWN?
Oh, and I had the WORST dream last night!
I dreamt that, as I finished Sideroads, I was laid off! And not even by my boss, by a HAMBURGER!
Don't ask...

On Your Mark ...

So much to do today.
I'm almost afraid to go to work. A 5 o'clock deadline looms, laughing behind its frenetic fingers. Fourteen intricate, artsy magazine pages to lay out. Many others to adjust. Time waits for no man and neither does the printer.
Breathe, I tell myself.
You can do it.
One page every 20 minutes.
More coffee.
No distractions.
Let this day begin.