The prednisone didn’t help at all. In fact, it looked like it made things worse.
The last straw, as it were, the sign we’d been begging him for, was the morning of the vet appointment. He was drinking water and assumed the poop position WHILE he was drinking. He realised what was happening and ran for the door, only to slip on the ceramic tile. He basically pooped where he landed and that was that. The look on his face said it all…
While there are definitely regrets - we didn’t catch it early enough, we didn’t do enough - I feel better knowing he’s not going to suffer any more. Supposedly, it wasn’t hurting him, but you could see his frustration.
It must be terrible to know your body is failing you and there’s nothing you can do about it.
So, we said goodbye to Guinness, our Guinney Pig, our moose, our beer, our asshole… our baby.
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We saw Океан Ельзи the Thursday after. While it was a good show, it wasn’t as good as the one we saw in NYC. I’m chalking part of that up to the fact that we sat in seats instead of hanging out in GA on the floor and part of it to mourning.
That leaves us with one band left, but we won’t see them until October. (OCTOBER!!!!!)
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I’d been moving on the treadmill every day since Feb 1st, and I broke my streak on Thursday.
In my defence, I had a pretty bad migraine, but it still sucks. I started over yesterday even though it sucked. It was my worst workout yet, and that’s saying a lot.
It was a perfect storm of dog’s death, dad’s 22nd anniversary, and what would have been my mother’s 77th birthday.
Not to mention work stress from the IT project from hell.
We’re “upgrading” our project management software with a group of programmers in India.
And it is not going well.
They can’t do a simple upgrade since we’re going from Windows 7 / CRM 2011 to Windows 10 / Dynamics 365.
They also can’t build a report or take simple instruction.
It has been the most frustrating thing about my job to date, and that’s saying something… I mean, the woman I replaced made my life a living hell for the three months she hung around to train me. God, she was a nasty piece of work.
Next weekend, we’re decompressing with a trip to Disney. Well, I’m hoping it will be more relaxing than heading to the parks on a runDisney race weekend… but we’ll see.
- - - - - - - - - -
I am really hating being left alone while the hubby plays hockey three nights a week. The house feels different without a pet in it.
And I’m not counting my squirrel buddy, although they kept me company ALL FUCKING NIGHT last night.
The damn thing managed to bust through one of the soffit vents in a place that is practically impossible for a human to access. And, that is, for once, not a complete and utter exaggeration. Neither is the fact that they kept me company in the bathroom, in my office, and in the living room. You can hear them in the ceiling when they get really active. I suppose we should be happy it’s not a fucking lizard. I’m use to squirrels and mice in the house.
Mind you, I like to watch a lot of horror movies when I’m fucking around on the computer, so the first few times I heard them, I freaked the fuck out. There’s a bunch of horror movies about previous owners who refuse to leave their houses and stalk the new residents, and we get a lot of mail for the previous residents even though we’ve been here for like 5 years. So… not a huge stretch for my overactive imagination.
Anyhoo, a dog is off the menu. I was thinking about getting a rabbit, but that was shot down. I’ve decided that we’ll get a cat. Maybe two… but not until Memorial Day weekend.
It’s been a long month already, and we’re only seven days into May.
just like the real citgo sign, it only works about 85% of the time
Favorite American Artist: Matt Nathanson
Concert: 10 February 2023, Fort Lauderdale
Ticket Acquired: ✅
Favourite Ukrainian Band: Океан Ельзи
Concert: 27 April 2023, Miami
Ticket Acquired: ✅
Second Favourite Ukrainian Band: Антитіла
Concert: 18 October 2023, Miami
Ticket Acquired: ✅
Third Favourite Ukrainian Band: Бумбокс
Concert: 8 March 2023, Miami
Ticket Acquired: ✅
New Love: KALUSH
Concert: 10 March 2023, Orlando
Ticket Acquired: ✅
If you’ve been around me for any length of time, you know how much live music means to me. I mean, fuck, I used to drive to Upstate NY as much as I could to see Black Mountain Symphony. There were countless trips to Connecticut for Instrument and All Crazy shows. That doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what I jokingly called “Scott-the-Roadie: Live at UConn” - all the BiG MiSTAKE, Frogboy, and Spring Heeled Jack shows I used to attend with him. Then, there were the nights at The Sting, and the nights at Toad’s Place. A random concert in Maryland. The day I went to a gathering at Bird’s that turned into an impromptu concert only to leave and catch BMS in Providence. (That, my friends, was probably one of my more ridiculous weekends: I drove through four New England states in less than 24 hours.)
Thinking about it, I’ve probably spent more of my life at live shows than I have engaging in any of my other hobbies in my life to date.
Of course, I don’t have the luxury of getting in the car and driving to NY anymore. It breaks my heart to think of the ridiculous logistics nightmare leaving Florida has become. There’s a plane ticket, and a hotel, and a rental car… I hate shit like that. I just want to get in the car and go. The drive itself is as therapeutic as the live show. All planes, hotels, and rental cars do is stress me the fuck out.
There is one unexpected perk of being exiled to Florida - the massive Ukrainian community in Miami.
I haven’t been kidding when I’ve babbled on about how thrilled I am about the opportunity to see ALL of my favourite Ukrainian bands.
Granted, I hate the reason why they’re all on tour, but… at the same time…
I GET TO SEE ALL FOUR OF MY FAVOURITE UKRAINIAN BANDS THIS YEAR!!!!
- - - - - - - - - -
I went on a deep dive in YouTubeLand to find live video of KALUSH and… expectations matched reality.
Seriously.
This video confirmed that I’ve been to too many shows.
When you can perfectly imagine a show just by listening to the recorded versions of songs, you know that shit needs to be a resume-level skill.
I’m always that person who takes charge of a group project when people are slacking… this time, I bulldozed a Captain.
In my defence, not a single person on the team was offering anything up, and I have charities that mean a shit-ton to me.
FRC is attempting a new format for racery - teams of five people randomly chosen, a fundraising component, and all the shenanigans we’ve grown to love.
I’m really looking forward to this one. The last few just haven’t been fun because people talk offline and make teams full of super cappers. They take off and are impossible to catch… but, with random people creating teams? We might actually have a chance to have fun this go ‘round.
So any way - I wanted to choose Cobblestone for our charity, but that didn’t work out. (Cobblestone hooked us up with with our trip to Lviv, sent us the most amazing tour guide ever, and now are helping support his family through donations. I donate as much as I can, when I can.) Unfortunately, Cobblestone isn’t a registered charity in Canada yet.
I asked if we could fundraise for Razom for Ukraine. This is a better known charity and absolutely massive. I’d rather donate to them, if I can’t directly donate to Ukrainians hurt by the lack of tourism.
Razom is the transliterated version of разом - the Ukrainian word for together. (It’s pronounced “rah-zom”)
The team ran with the word, brainstormed different ways to use razom in the team name, and we settled on razoomies, because, well, we’ll zoom.
Razombies was also thrown out there. I loved that one, too.
Our team colours were also chosen for us. The Ukrainian flag serving as inspiration.
I know it’s trendy right now to care about Ukraine, but - of course - this means so much to me, personally.
I’ve been crying on and off, I’ve been so touched by the interest.
I have bunch of hashtags chosen for the race itself and I’m so excited to use them.
If we’re friends on Facebook, you’re about to get sick of the relentless posts sending you to the racery fundraising link. And I’d apologise, but sorry, not sorry.
There’s a key on the MacBook’s keyboard that lets me switch between the keyboards for different languages… I’ve got a switching shortcut programmed for my bluetooth keyboard, but I always manage to go from italics to Ukrainian when I don’t mean to. Since I’ve changed my computer usage and mainly work glued to two monitors, I can get rid of the shortcut and just press the button on the Mac.
ЦРН вшв ерфе ефлу ищ дщтп ещ аштв? Um, WHY did that take so long to find?
Exactly.
- - - - - - - - - -
For Christmas, my husband gave me an early “present”. He’s not going to Marathon Weekend with me.
I had talked about skipping out, true, but in the end, I want to see how far I could go.
I mean, it might be for the best, but…
When he’s around, I feel bad going to the meetups. I missed hanging out with the RTI crew during Wine and Dine because of him. But… it’s like that every time we go somewhere. One of us is always awkward and it is uncomfortable as fuck for the other one. That’s why he didn’t go to Homecoming with me. It’s why I don’t go to Ohio with him.
Also, I’m a complete shit during the Disney races. I’m tired. I’m cranky. I’m a petulant brat.
Also, also, I don’t like going to the Disney parks. They’re overcrowded and I’m just not a Disney fan, but I’m too tired and cranky to go to Universal.
He’s using the excuse that he doesn’t want to go to the parks because they suck.
Which, OK, fair… but when I told him it wasn’t about going to the fucking parks, it was about supporting me, I got an “I know. I’m sorry.”
He’s also paranoid about the dog.
Guinness is getting old and it’s starting to show. His right leg doesn’t really work the way it’s supposed to anymore. He doesn’t freak out when the doorbell rings. He can’t get up on the couch anymore.
And now, he’s starting to lose control of his bowels. He’s taken 4 or 5 craps in my car on the way to day care. This last time, we were at the light right before the parking lot and he got up and… well. Yeah. And then he sat in it. Because it wasn’t enough to crap, he had to rub it into the blanket. You try cleaning out a car with some wet paper towels and then having to drive to work with the windows open and hope that airs it out. (I should really start carrying that special cleaner we bought for this specific purpose.)
Last night, he woke the husband up and didn’t even make it out of the bedroom.
So, Guinness is his other reason… in addition to all that, there’s a distinct change in the dog’s personality after he’s been boarded for several days (not a good one.) And, let’s be honest, the husband doesn’t deal with death well. Which puts me in the awkward position of hoping that the dog has the kindness to kick the bucket once I’m home (assuming that his expiration date is in the next few weeks as the husband seems to believe.) Personally, I think that the dog will live forever because I hate paying for day care and, on a good day, Guinness is nothing if not pure, unadulterated, evil.
I’m afraid to tell him that I had a dream last night where Guinness got hit by a car and died. I also thought at one point this morning that he stopped breathing.
I’m not saying a damn word because it will make everything worse, but I knew when it was time to let go of both Arsey and Apache. I’m not saying it’s his time… I’m just saying I’m on high alert. My dreams aren’t always harbingers, but sometimes they are.
I mean, fuck, I’m nervous, too, but he’s an eleven year old German Shepherd. Our Aussies both made it to thirteen, so I pray he’ll make it to that age.
Even with that all taken into consideration, I’m pissed off, disappointed, and hurt beyond belief that the husband doesn’t want to be there for me.
So… long story short, I’m more miserable than ever. I’m scraping rock bottom and it’s beginning to show.
It also doesn’t help that this is my first year-end at the new job and I have a fuck ton of stuff to do by January 10th (according to the old Controller’s schedule.) I’ll be at Disney from the 4th to the 9th. I have a feeling I’m taking my laptop… since I’ll be alone any way, I don’t feel too bad. BUT… it also makes me want to revert to my original decision of just eating the $600 for the Dopey bib and staying home.
I don’t fucking know any more.
- - - - - - - - - -
In happier news, I’m working on making some significant changes in my life. Are they still New Year’s resolutions if I decide to do them before Christmas?
I haven’t really embraced the three words concept for a few years. I’ve just gotten lazy, but I think it’s time to bring them back. (Disclaimer: the three words idea is from my beloved friend CC’s book, “Amazing Things Will Happen”. You should really read it.)
SO.
For this year, my three words are:
PHYSICAL: A little too encompassing, maybe, but all the things that fit under this are related. I want to get past this roadblock with my running. I want to lose weight. I want to finally kick Dopey’s ass in 2024 since it’s a given that it probably won’t happen this year. I want to feel better / get into a shape that isn’t rotund. (Although, I still don’t get anything positive out of running. I want a runner’s high, damnit! I demand the ability to consistently have a runner’s high for Christmas. You hear that, fat man?)
MENTAL: Also a little too broad, but again, when I put together my list of things I wanted to manifest this year, I kept finding things that are related. I want to read more. I want to engage in hobbies I used to love. I want to learn Ukrainian. And Polish.(Apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment. Polish is supposedly a very difficult language to learn.) I want to do the things that make me feel whole and since my brain is my superpower… I want to keep it active. Zoning out to the Sims every night isn’t doing it and I can feel a difference in the way the depression affects me. Sometimes, being as self-aware as I am is a motherfucker.
SOCIAL: I want to make friends. It’s as simple as that. I lost my high school and college friends when I moved to Ohio. I fought hard to get some of them back when we moved to New Hampshire, but some of that was short-lived. Then we moved to Florida and the tenuous grasp I had on any of those friendships continues to lessen as the distance gets in the way. I have two friends in Florida - both from Facebook groups - and neither friendship has really taken off IRL, even though we live relatively close to each other.
And, related to word number three - what the holy fuck have I done?!? I signed up for a learn to play D&D session through the FRC.
ME!
Playing Dungeons & Fucking Dragons.
(I’m laughing my ass off at how that came out, btw.)
I have never been interested in D&D. NEVER.
But.
It’s a way to connect with more people. It’s a way to maybe take some of those random online names and make them friends.
There’s a few more ideas that I’ve had, but signing up for an online learn to play D&D class is a big enough jump for this weekend.
On that note, I’m going to grab my copy of Beginner’s Ukrainian and fight my way through the first chapter.
The year my mother died, I was taking a drama class. I was friends with all the theatre geeks and I liked the drama club teacher, so why the fuck not?
(Long time readers will recognise the fuck it factor at work…)
The homework assignment was to describe an emotional day you had - the day you got your driver’s license, for example. You know. Emotional shit.
My essay might have started by grabbing you by the short hairs and didn’t let go for two pages.
On Wednesday, March 18th, I walked into the condo to see my father crying at the kitchen table.
My father never cries.
When he finally looked at me, I knew.
“Ding dong, the witch is dead,” I asked.
“Ding dong,” he answered.
Have I said how absolutely fucking thrilled I am to be cleaning out 40+ years of memories I’d rather forget? (STILL!)
Do you know, I couldn’t remember what grade I got? I couldn’t just flip to the end and look. No! That would have been the sensible thing to do. The easy thing.
When the fuck have I ever done the easy thing?
I read the entire fucking thing. Cried through all of it. Wondered how it would end.
(Spoiler alert: it ends with my mother six feet under.)
And the grade? As if there were any doubt: A+ The relationship between mother and child can be difficult and you captured that.
Can. Be. Difficult.
Oh, Doc L., you have no idea.
BBQ sauce on my titties would have been a much better story.
- - - - - - - - - -
I ran last night.
Willingly got on the treadmill with my puffer in hand.
2 miles - intervals for all of it: 30 seconds (13mm) / 2 minutes (20mm).
Not speedy. Not balloon lady safe.
I did two beginner iFit workouts because I wanted to zone out and let the treadmill tell me what to do.
(The girl who drives a stick and refuses to use cruise control because she drives the car put the treadmill in charge. Yeah.)
I didn’t enjoy it.
But, I didn’t hate it, either.
I have a Turkey Trot coming up on the 24th. In fucking Miami.
I wasn’t really looking forward to the race, but… I’ve always done well at 10Ks. Especially there.
It’s not enough to salvage my Dopey training, but it’s a start.
My new shoes and socks don’t cause blisters, so maybe I can get father in the marathon than mile four.
I have no idea and I don’t really care.
I’ll do what I can and then I’m hanging up the sneakers.
