BBBMF*

Yesterday, I took my mum to the hairdresser's to get her hair relaxed and of course, when I go to pick her up, she's not quite presentable for an outside trip. I look for socks and can't find any matching pairs of course. I kneel to put on her socks for her and I realize her feet are dry. I think about looking for cream, but that would mean I would have to search high and low for one of the umpteen bottles of body cream I buy for her and risk coming up empty (things never stay put in a nursing home) and there are no care aides in sight. So I continue on with the mismatched socks and of course, one won't fit and I go in search of another one. Then I notice on one of mum's pant legs, is a big whack of snot. She has this nasty habit of blowing her nose into her hands and throwing it wherever. This latest occurrence, along with your prolonged hacking cough that they can't figure out, has prevented her from being included on bus trips and social events on the main floor. I get it, it's pretty disgusting and though I am pretty used to it, it requires constant vigilance and boxes of kleenex. So, of course, I changed her pants and finish dressing her and get her in the car and run smack dab into a traffic jam. We have one way streets downtown and there's a lot of construction so certain parts of downtown are a disaster. Now we are officially late and I thrust kleenex in her hand hoping she won't hack spit all over the dashboard. We're stuck and I don't have the hairdresser's number in my cel phone. Someone is honking his horn at me. I force myself to breathe and just let it go. She's not getting any better, she is declining, slowly but surely.

Eventually we get a parking space a block away and as we make our way down the street, I realize that I could go the gym and work off some steam. If only I had brought my workout bag and gym ID, but by the time I got back home and retrieved it and made it through all the traffic, I'd have about 20 minutes before I would have to leave and pick up mum. There was another gym closer to my house, but I usually walk there because of parking and once again, I concluded I wouldn't have sufficient time. Sigh. So, after I dropped her off and provided her half a banana, I drive back home in heavy traffic, gripping the steering wheel and fighting back tears. Unsuccessfully, I might add. In a weird way, it was a perfect moment. I was feeling panicky and out of control and trying to drive all at the same time. It occurred to me that I could have been dropping my child off at a daycare or something. But I'm not. And it just hit me. I could not go through another year of this. Working, paying off bills, buying stuff to make me feel better for 5 minutes, taking care of mum, rinse, repeat, get drunk. Somehow I made it home but even crying in the car released a bit of the stress. Screaming at the top of your lungs also works wonder - just make sure the windows are up.

I love my mum and I feel gratitude for having her with me, but at the same time, taking care of her in even the limited way that I am, makes me feel, dare I say it - cheated. I've rearranged my life to suit her - I usually see her Tuesday, Thursdays and Saturdays not including days I'm working, physically ill or out of town. I even try to take acting classes only on Wednesdays, so I have time for our afternoon visits. I'm thinking this might have to change. And when I'm not around, DH goes in my place.

I woke up in a snit early this morning - free flowing anxiety I'm sure - I tossed and turned and tumbled around in bed like a grumpy bear disturbed in its hibernation. DH and I had a talk about the tension creeping up around here due to lack of action on the adoption front. And of course, DH, feeling the heat in these hard economic times, is tense. The latest inquiries didn't help. He feels my misery about being surrounded by pregnancy announcements and has provided wine AND flowers. (On another note, I thought I would dive back into the networking world and attend a film premiere and then I found out the film - no shit - it's called The Baby Formula - I bought the ticket and then I cancelled it 30 minutes later. I just can't sit through a film about two married lesbians both experiencing pregnancy. Not this week. I'm sure it's a great film, but I can't take it. Even members of the crew was giving birth. I might change my mind, who knows?) However, ANXIOUS is MY bag and I don't want to share, I need to suck it up a bit and take care of him for a change. I told him that we could borrow money from one of our super generous friends and I just made it worse. He doesn't borrow - ANYTHING, least of which is money from friends. It does make sense since we can't predict when we can pay it back and it's never smart to borrow money from friends. So I booked him for a massage today. I need to show him that I can take care of myself and be a part of the solution, not the problem. Tomorrow, he leaves for another short business trip and the last thing he needs is to worry about me.

This is the year that I win. Anxiety attacks notwithstanding, I'm going to win. As I've said before, I'm going to break the back of this bitch motherfucker*.

Whining, Waiting and Red Stilettos

WARNING! SEVERE WHINING AHEAD.

I went to a fundraiser show for a very accomplished and talented actress who has terminal cancer - and I'm watching her plays be read and people sing her praises and perform odes to her - and I'm thinking - if I died tomorrow, what precisely would I have accomplished? She has a great reel and she has a son. I know her professionally; when I first came to town, she took me to a play, but we never became friends. I was far more interested in partying and getting laid. She was married and had a son, and it was apparent that she adored her son and he was a miracle to her. She must have thought I was a ditz. I probably was and happily so.

This is what self-pity does. Part of me was in complete awe for her and her life and the other part of me was - you have 6 years of wasted time behind you and if you put on your night vision goggles, you'll see recurring "neurotic" depression sitting in the corner waiting patiently in the corner for you. Always nice to hear your point of view, Evil Twin. Thanks a lot. I completely missed the point that I have my health and my life and my future ahead of me. Nice job. Apparently, the dis-ease of IF still lingers like nerve damage.

Yep, I was doing fine with my keep busy plan and I was feeling so useful after my time in Banff and then I came back and saw a colleague with her new baby, then my best friend gets knocked up, and I spend an evening with my other good friends with their two adorable girls (with my hubby reading the 3 year old bedtime stories and me feeding the infant her dinner) and all of a sudden, my gut is twisted with the yearning to be a mother. AND THEN I get an email from our adoption agency for prospective adoptive parents to have a house and yard, have one stay at home parent and lead an active athletic lifestyle for the Asian biracial child. Well, 1 out of 3 ain't bad. AND THEN I get a call from our adoption agency about a birth mother in the States who wants Christians and yes I have answered this question before in person and in my profile, we are NOT! I did however calmly pass along the suggestion to that they encourage the US agency to share our profile with the birth mother first to see if we share similar values. I quietly rage inside.

No amount of shopping, drinking, whining is going to fill me up and take away the panic I feel and I know it. I bought a t-shirt the other day. It was cute, it was orange, I didn't need it at all, but you know, I had to have something. If hubby is getting an external hard drive, then surely I can get a lousy t-shirt at Winners. Cause that will make me feel better. Hahaha. Oooh, look those shoes are on sale. I'll get those too. Why not? And that chocolate bar? Why not? Since I've been saying yes to treats a bit too much, I thought I'd go to the gym, work off the nervous negativity. Work up a good sweat, take care of my health. I stepped on the elliptical and hey, there's a People and an US magazine. Ooh, great, stories about actresses losing their baby weight, oh, look more pictures of filthy rich yummy mummies and their adorable children. Never mind, I'll just go home and wait for my senile mum to come over. Pulling up her diapers and putting a bib on her always makes me feel better.

Could be PMS, that's why I'm a little sensitive? My boobs are full and achey, mocking me. Pre-menstrual, pre-menopausal, whatever. The patience that I often talk about, just hanging in there five minutes longer? The equanimity, the perseverance? The waiting? You know, the thing I've been doing for years? It's chafing. I've had it. I mailed off the necessary information to hire a US lawyer (phone conference to follow), and I made a phonecall to a US adoption agency but they don't work with Canadians. I tried not to sound desperate. Today, I will try Ontario agencies and see what can be done and get our internet profile going. Now it's all about writing cheques. I mentally write a prescription for myself. One hour daimoku, Rescue Remedy, vitamins, exercise, I have a phonecall scheduled with a counsellor (for next week cause I love waiting), I've got it all planned out. Maybe I should put on my red stilettos cause if someone is going to snap my last nerve, I might as well be dressed for it so I can shove my heel up their ass.

Thanks, I feel better. The Buddhist with an Edge is on a roll.

Yay! Ouch!

My best friend is pregnant. We had lunch the other day and she said she wasn't feeling pregnant and I encouraged her - I thought she tested a bit early so I told there was still hope. Lo and behold she had a beta and she is. I knew somehow that she would succeed on her first attempt. You'd have to know her to believe that. She is so sunny and supportive, so determined and so laid back at the same time. Not that it's a personality thing but I had a gut feeling. I was with my inlaws when she called me and I squealed and my mouth made all the happy sounds and words. And then I was quiet for the rest of the night. (And you what's weird, they too felt that oh, that's nice, let's watch a movie now.) I am happy for her, relieved that she doesn't have to be disappointed. Still this happiness feels tainted by my own bitter experiences. That sucks. I hate that. Fuck IF! I had chanted a hour for her the night before trying to send her positive vibes that she be spared the disappointment that I have felt and to experience a big fat positive. I will continue to chant for her health and the health of her baby.

And now, for some silly reason, I feel alone again. We share so much in common but this journey, I have nothing to say to her. I've never been pregnant. I don't know anything about it. Even when I occasionally get trapped in one of the all woman let's -share -horror delivery -stories conversations, I usually go off in search of wine or my happy place. I've been in love, so I had lots to say on that topic, I've been married, had marital problems, had spiritual problems, had family problems - she always looked to me for guidance. We encouraged and cheered one another on. Yeah, I know, I know, I've managed to make this all about me. But a woman my age has a perspective about what it's like for an infertile woman in an fertile world and I'm just being truthful. So I feel sad that I can't share this experience in the way that I've shared other experiences with her. Cheated. I've never read What to Expect when You're Expecting. Was on the list of books to read but... I guess that's the mother in me. Wanting to guide, wanting to protect.

And yep, it's a nightmare for a person like me to NOT KNOW about something first hand. I know the phrase, "I don't know" rarely comes out of my mouth because it was drilled into my head from a young age that I "had to be better than anyone else" in order to achieve the same acknowledgement. I actually spent a day saying, "I don't know" as an exercise in feeling out of control to teach me that I don't HAVE TO KNOW everything. And it's become quite obvious to me that I really DON'T KNOW ABOUT A LOT OF THINGS. The more I study the Buddhist gosho, the more I struggle to understand about this life's purpose. Some things I get, others I don't. Not really, not with my life. And what I have yearned for for so long TO KNOW, is this special thing that I have traded chunks of my joyful life to experience. It cost me the woman I used to be. My journey apparently is to travel another path. Not what I prayed for, but something else.

I guess this is the part where I grow again. Ouch. Thanks universe for checking my ego. It's not all about me, life goes on, procreation goes on. This is the part where I learn to be a different kind of friend. We'll still walk our babies in the park. She'll just be the one with stretch marks. :)

Physical and mental therapy

Feeling much better thanks. Had a lovely hot stone aromatherapy massage (that I got from hubby for Valentine's) and that helped a lot. Oh, it felt so good to just have someone attend to my achey brachy body. Also chanted a bunch with my old district and that's always helpful. I realized that going to the doggy shelter just triggered feelings of grief and I kept saying I was fine, but ignoring my feelings always makes me a little crazy. I've been doing a little impulse shopping to fill the void. http://www.cloggs.co.uk/page/uggboots They are the black basic cardy boots. Well, I didn't buy Ugg, I bought the cheap knockoffs. I have no idea why other than it seemed like a good idea at the time. On sale, so I can't take them back, so sad. Tee hee! Ah, the thrills of retail therapy.

Making good progress on my other things to do - won actor's demo reel package at a raffle - so that's my next big project on the list of unpleasant things to do. Yeah, it's not really so much fun but it's necessary.

Also, my changing financial karma thing - I think it's working - got a huge unexpected cheque in the mail for a movie I did years ago - I'm going to put it towards something special! Since when are bills special? :)

Going to my inlaws for a couple of days - they got another dog - another cocker spaniel. Also, put vibes out there for my friend's beta test today (they test twice at her clinic), I hope it works out for her! I saw her yesterday and I just know the heartache so well, I can't stand the thought of her not getting a positive.

so cute!

Anybody want a puppy? The big guy Sylvester is gone - good for him - I did feel a pang of regret, but also a certain relief.

http://www.petfinder.com/petnote/displaypet.cgi?petid=13051999

It's anxiety calling!

Phone's ringing and ringing. It's anxiety on the line for me. Fuck, I thought she lost my number.

Feeling a bit anxious here. Not sure why. Felt overwhelmed grocery shopping. Had to chant under my breath to keep from bursting out in tears in the meat department. But I used coupons and saved $50 and earned 120 airmiles! How exciting.

Was it looking for a new dog that did it? Was it waiting to hear about a part I auditioned for (and obviously didn't get)? Is it all reminding me of what I LOST? Went to a terrific film premiere that a friend of mine produced on recovering from eating disorders. I was in the film talking about the importance of community. I sounded intelligent. There was a line somewhere in the film about feeling invisible which is reverberating in me. When I returned from Banff, I threw myself into work and my list of things to do. I spent a full day at the emergency child care course by St. John's Ambulance - passed with flying colours! Shopped for the perfect lingerie outfit complete with sky high red heels that killed my back. And yes, our romantic Valentine's was worth it.

My mum came over last night for dinner - I know I gave her too much booze (she had wine, beer and a Bailey's). Totally my fault, she likes her booze and I let her have it. Bad daughter. Apparently, our side of the family loves their booze. For a while there, it was all fun and games but she ended up peeing herself and I had to change her adult diaper. Which sounds easy but results in me giving her directions that she finds too hard to follow and the whole thing gets messy. Her care conference is today (we all sit down and talk about her needs in the home) and luckily a care aide reminded me yesterday. Then I have to go to my typing job.

My friend's beta test is on Friday. I love her so much, I'm scared. Of either result.

Yep, remember that promise to seek therapy if I should need it? I'm in. My ego is not getting enough attention from me apparently so it's seeking negative reinforcement. It's not going to win this time.

Not quite ready

Okay, here's the deal. I'm not going to make a decision because I am not ready quite yet. I hate the thought of any animal in a shelter but I shouldn't take one home just because I feel bad for them. Both of those dogs are highly adoptable and they may be gone before the week is out.

I could barely sleep last night. DH kept pushing me to look at pictures cause he knows that my "maybe one day" would be "maybe never" and I know he's ready, but since I'm going to be doing most of the work, I'm going to table this one til later. DH even had a new name picked out! OHN makes a good point - when are we ever ready about anything - even a giant dog with the head the size of a basketball? I'm definitely not ready for both a puppy and a one year old Newfie! The pound won't let you do that anyway. You have to fill out an application for one dog at a time. I think I realized I wasn't ready when we drove up to the pound and I had a knot in my stomach and my shoulders were up to my ears. Yet even this experience has been good for me - it opened up the possibility that I could have another dog in this space. I remembered all the fun time we had walking with our dog in the woods, and watching him play in the water. Along with the hair and the slobber comes the reward of a sloppy kiss or the manic welcome at the door.

Thanks for all your encouragement and words of wisdom. It really helped a lot.

Still not sure

Just came back from the pound. Spent some time with Sylvester in a kennel run. He's quite good on a leash, and just as strong as Sampson used to be when we first got him and maybe a bit bigger. Then we went to see the puppy, Timber. Still couldn't decide. It's a little like apples and oranges. They both have great potential to become terrific pets. They'll both require commitment and training. Not sure if I liked Sylvester so much cause he reminded me of Sampson with his brown eyes. He likes to snuggle as well. Not that that's a bad thing. And of course, Timber, is adorable in his own right and smart too.

Yeah, maybe I'm not ready. That's why this is so hard.

A bundle of joy?

DH and I went to the Vancouver pound and saw 2 dogs, one a very cute mutt puppy shepherd/lab mix they say (but they really have no idea) named Timber and the other a large, lab/Newfie mix, 1 yr old. Thought I might like raising a puppy. Having a hard time making a decision. I guess I'll never get over Sampson, but it's so hard to make up my mind. The puppy doesn't look anything like Big Boy (which is nice in a way), he's brown, has a dark muzzle, very good disposition, two white toes on one of his back legs, comes when you call him over, but he seems calm, manageable. I was quite impressed with his disposition. The other one Sylvester, we didn't spend any time with but I'm feeling like no one will take him cause he's so big. And of course, he reminds me of you know who. http://www.petfinder.com/petnote/displaypet.cgi?petid=12993336Well, his head is big, his body is slender and has no training but when I went over to his cage, he came over and he kind of howled a wookie (in Star Wars) does. This is why I don't like going to the pound or looking at pictures, I feel bad for them. I even saw one lab female, 8 yrs old with arthritis who looked like she could have been Sampson's sister, she had those eyes, she just lay there looking up at me and I started crying. DH pushed me pass her cage. Seriously, I can't even watch dog rescue shows without crying.

Large breeds don't live as long, Newfie's are lucky if they make it to 10. Yet, I'm naturally attracted to him because of prior experience. So, it's the Heinz 57 puppy or the big dopey looking guy. Who will shed a lot, I'm sure. And slobber. Argggh! DH keeps sending me pics of dogs at shelters and I have to admit, when we drove up to the shelter, I was really tense (like I was going to the dentist). Part of me isn't over Sampson and part of me wants us to have some bundle of joy - human or canine - I don't care! Yes, I know puppies are a lot of work, but because it will really be me doing all the work during the day, DH is leaving the decision up to ME! Perhaps it would be good training for me, a puppy? And he doesn't remind me of Saint Sampson at all. Sigh. I'm seeing the parallels already - baby or older child, housebroken or not?

Help!

I hate going to the dentist

I was feeling pretty crappy yesterday morning, so I chanted (very loudly cause of the jet plane fans in my kitchen) and declared to the voices in my head to shut the fuck up and off I went to the chiropractor (good), then the dentist (bad, very bad).

When I was a teenager, I ran into my old dentist one day. Behind our house lay a ditch and then a rising hill and beyond that lay the sprawling parking lot to the local hospital. I often cut behind our house to walk to the strip mall about 15 minutes away. He was driving a Porsche and stopped me randomly to ask directions. He didn't recognize me, but I recognized him. With every filling in my head, I recognized him. What I really wanted to say hey, you gave me so much pain I'm traumatized forever. Every single time I saw you apparently I had a cavity. Instead I gave him directions so he could drive the Porsche that we paid for to wherever he was going.

Now I know the man didn't mean to traumatize me, he did his best I'm sure, but now I have a nervous shakes in the dentist chair. The year I was to go to the American Academy of Dramatic Arts - the acting school of my dreams! - I had a bad tooth. It required a root canal. I asked my dad for the money to fix it as being an adult now, my mum's health insurance didn't cover me any longer. She had already taken a loan out to pay for the first year. The only money I had saved from my waitressing jobs was to go to this school. My dad turned me down. I asked the dentist how much to pull it and he said $35. $35 it was. School of my dreams or my molar. Easy choice, but every time my tongue finds that space, I am reminded of that choice.

Oh, I still go. Periodically. I might go more often if my insurance covered me better, and I didn't have to pay up front first. Lately, I've been passing with flying colours. Until last month. A little cavity. A little but deep cavity. So being the year that I get nasty things over and done with, I made the appointment to get it taken care of. And of course, I forgot about it until they called me. I do have a consistent habit of forgetting medical appointments that I truly dread.

Anyhoo, I warned my new dentist - I keep switching in hopes of finding the magical one that won't keep reminding me of the gold mine that lies in the missing molar on my right side. They do it every single time. I keep telling them no, it's never going to happen. My insurance won't cover it anyway. I can barely sit through a cleaning unsedated. I had taken an ativan, ONE being wholly insufficient as I sat in the chair twisting the remote in my hands. I made it through, they were lovely and patient with me, there wasn't even any pain, but at one point the sound of the drilling and smell, I put my hand up, and I took a time out to calm my hyper breathing and wipe tears from my eyes. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to go to the land of Bodhisattva Doesn't Cry in the Dentist Chair. Honestly, I'm such a suck. I had eggs removed from my ovaries with a giant needle for crying out loud. I've had 2 HSGs!!! It's a good thing I'm not a spy, if the bad guys came at me with a dentist drill, I'd fold quicker than Superman on laundry day. When I came out and paid the friggin bill, guess what I heard. Construction drilling noises in the mall. Big fat haha on me, Universe. See ya in 6 weeks, fat chance!

Determined to get on with the rest of my day, I took my frozen face out in the bitter cold and picked up my mum to bring her over for dinner. She still had a chesty cough, but she seemed excited to come over for a visit. I turned off the jet airplane fans and made a nice supper, which I could eat in small bites, but eventually the numbing wore off and OH. MY. GOD. The pain set in and even the spit in my mouth was too cold. Tried Tylenol #3. Waited, tried to be patient while my mum kept making comments through the movie we were watching. Then another. Now losing the power of speech. Not working. My husband bundled up my mum, who didn't seem too concerned about me - thanks mum - and by now big fat tears are splashing out of my eyes. But deliverance awaits in the oxycodeine I had squirrelled away from last year. I don't think they go bad.

Take effect it did and by the time hubby had returned, he esconced me in bed with a hot water bottle and made cow eyes at me. Oh, blessed relief. By 11:30, I was flapping my gums, you know I'm feeling better.

You can root around my uterus, but leave my mouth alone.

The Universe is testing me again

I had an audition yesterday, right after talking to my friend about how her eggs are doing in the fertility lab. Bodhisattva of Infertility, that's me! Guess who walked in to the waiting room? An actress friend I hadn't seen in ages, with her new baby! I took one look at her and tears started to well up. (I know your journey, she says, so I know our mutual friend spilled the beans) I've known her for ages and we have mutual friends, we just never really hung out. She was the one who told me about seeing her gynecologist for fibroids (she had surgery to remove them) and now she has a baby at 42. A beautiful biracial baby girl. Yes, it's taking everything in there to not go to my bitter, envious place, but I'M NOT GOING THERE. (She has the life YOU wanted, you know. They all do.)

I held her baby girl while she went in to audition. As I write this, the Bitter Betty voices are whispering (my life, my life). I looked down and smiled and cooed at the little one grasping my shirt mouth open looking for food. She started to cry a bit so I stood up (she knows you're not her mum) and I rocked her back and forth. I told my friend that I would be babysitting soon, so if she ever needed someone to look after her wee one for an audition or something (can you really do this? you don't know anything about babies). I can learn, I have this opportunity to prepare (this is not an audition, you know) and I need to get back there in the land of children. I can do this (hello, heartache).

We talked a bit about "my journey", but I kept switching the subject. She doesn't know anything about it herself, so I don't want to go down that tiring road. I took her new number and I will call her later (when you're drunk). She has to go feed her baby in her car (just like how you would have done) and I have to get back to my life (taking care of your mum, filling out paperwork, making money to afford a child).

I can do this.

Waiting for retirement

60 year old #1



http://www.vancouversun.com/Health/year+woman+gave+birth+twins+Calgary+Tuesday/1256896/story.html

"A 60-year-old woman delivered twins at Calgary's Foothills Hospital Tuesday, family members confirmed. She is believed to be the oldest person in Canada to give birth.
Family members said Ranjit Hayer and her husband have been trying to have a child for years, to no avail. Reports say Hayer, originally from India, returned to the country to receive in vitro fertilization after being turned down in Canada because of her age.
Hayer gave birth to two boys, Manjot and Gurpreet.
Daljit, Hayer's younger sister, said the birth is especially significant, considering the importance of offspring in Indian culture."

60 year old #2

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2007/05/24/health/main2845879.shtml

"A 60-year-old New Jersey psychologist gave birth to two boys Tuesday, making her possibly the oldest woman ever to deliver twins in the United States. Frieda Birnbaum gave birth to "Baby A" at 12:44 p.m. and "Baby B" a minute later by Caesarean section at Hackensack University Medical Center, hospital spokeswoman Nancy Radwin said. The twins each weighed 4 pounds, 11 ounces, she said. Birnbaum told CBS' The Early Show co-anchor Hannah Storm that age and longevity were not considerations for her. "I didn't know I was that old. And then I'm looking at the media and seeing '60-year-old woman.' I said, 'That's me?' Because I don't know what age means, you know? I feel like a 40-year-old." "

While you guys talk about that one woman soccer team supplier, I'd like to throw a little more tinder on the ethics and fertility fire. How old is too old? And what's the address of these accommodating clinics?

I see all these stories and I think, mmmm, what is all this supposed to mean? Did I give up on having children of my own too soon? Well, no, I don't think so. I was apprised of all the options I could choose including donor eggs and surrogates. I have to say I never really considered any of these options seriously because I wanted it our way or no way. I didn't have a bottomless emotional reserve or endless funds at my disposal. Like most people, I just wanted to start a family with the partner I loved. I didn't want a child at any cost. It wasn't my reason for being on this earth. I wasn't craving love I didn't receive as a child. I didn't want to be famous for it or have a show. I didn't think I could do a better job than somebody else. The desire was born out of love and willingness to share my life, the usual reasons, blah, blah, blah.

I never thought I would feel as shitty as I did at not being able to become pregnant and deliver a child. I never counted on the devastation that swept through my life. I never realized that not only my life would be affected, but both our families would mourn. I could have had more surgeries I guess, gone south of the border in search of young, fresh eggs of African American women. Could have. Did not.

I went to plan B, and opened up my life to the joys of adoption. Instead of paying money to lawyers and social workers and adoption agencies and the plethora of businesses that have sprung up from that, I should be saving my money for retirement. Cause that's when I could finally give birth to the preemies of my dreams. What was I thinking? That way, when my kids are school age, I'll be dead or ready for diapers and creamed corn. I can barely remember where I hide Christmas presents, what the hell is going to happen when I can't keep track of a teenager's whereabouts? Do Pampers come in adult sizes? Or yes, they do, they're called Depends! Oh, yeah, I know - I sound ageist. I just hope for the sake of these young children that these people age really, really well, or at least have extended family just in case.

Let's face it, I'm pretty much pushing the envelope now. If I had a child right now, they just might be too mortified to bring their friends home. (Who is that, your grandma? Sssh, don't wake her - just let me snag the car keys!) No, I shouldn't say that, I'm pretty frigging hot for my age. As a matter of fact, I got carded at the hockey game last night. Hah!

If anyone every accuses you of being obsessed, just print and shove those articles under their noses! Obsession, dedication - I'll let you decide!

Home again

Had a really nice time with our friends in Calgary. Despite the sudden onset of flu in their household, dear Lori made time for me. Her eldest son was ill, but he still came to the door to greet me. Her kids are so sweet. They're very involved with lots of sport activities. They haven't hit puberty yet, so they have that sweet still like hanging out with their mum kind of quality. We had really good talks about kids and well, not having kids. It was like coming out as an infertile in a way. Having never been down each other's road, I think we learned something from each other.

Ah, home again, home again. Almost didn't make it. By the time I got dropped off at the airport, apparently I hadn't made the 90 minute cutoff to make the plane. Yes, my fault, I lost track of time, I know I was late. I got to the check in counter with my pre-printed boarding pass and was informed I was 10 minutes too late so I would have to catch the next WestJet plane for $45. Good thing my host insisted she pick up the lunch tab. Now get this. My plane was at 3pm and I was officially at the counter at 2:40pm. She checked the gate and though the plane hadn't left, I could tell she got the standard answer. Then it took 15 minutes for her to process my $50 bill into a seat on the next plane. 15 minutes! I could have been through security and on the plane in less than 10 min. I just sighed, accepted my fate like a good woman and listened to her apologize for taking so long. At least WestJet people have the grace to act like I'm a customer (you know who doesn't). DH says it depends on who you get if they choose to relax the rules or not. I arrived at the gate at at 3:12pm (after a stop in the bathroom to freshen up and calm down.) No worries, in the age of instant everything, I could text hubby to let him know I would be an hour late.

I came home to two giant fans in my kitchen. Oh, didn't I tell you? Apparently there was a massive flood in the penthouse (due to a boiler malfunction - don't ask me why the boiler is on the roof) which means that we have water in the walls now. Arrgh!!!! Of course, there is no set schedule as to when things will be repaired or what day or what time the walls in my kitchen will have to be torn out. Just the usual letters to be available all day or have keys cut. For those who have had kitchen renovations, it will most likely be something like that, except I didn't choose to have a kitchen renovation. There's nothing like not knowing when workers are supposed to show up and fix things or how long it's supposed to take.

On the adoption front, it's time to pony up more dough to be kept on their books, a form to sign and mail off. Any other decisions will have to be made when hubby gets back on the weekend. His belated Christmas gift finally arrived - - How to be a Good Atheist. I ordered The Buddha Next Door and When Things Fall Apart. I'll let you know how they are.

Oh, I almost forgot. Showed hubby the scene I did where I'm making out with another guy. It was a little weird sitting with him watching it, but he was really pleased with my work. So was I. Oh, that's what it's like to be an actor.