3 days/2 nights/$230 later, Hamish is home...and he's PISSED!

But still adorable with his shaved, punctured backside, looking like he lost a battle to a vampire.

And I've won him over, he won't leave the basement but he's completely affectionate again.

Hamish is coming home - and WITHOUT having surgery! The only thing possibly more exciting then that bit of news is that the Spicegirls are reuniting for a farewell tour or excerpts from Larry King's interview with Paris Hilton!

First day out of school and Satchel is already driving me crazy. I came home to root beer on the walls, empty pop cans on the floor, my precious computer used, Satchel gone...

And now he's back with a friend and wants me to sit and WATCH him play an electronic game.

No way I'm going to make it through the summer...no possible way.

One last thing:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAT! YOU ARE ALWAYS FABULOUS!!!!






Love Meg

More than anything I need to vent, cry, drink a lovely rose called French Folies (roughly $10 at the local LCBO)...

I am back at home Hamish-less, having left him at the vet's. He too was attacked by another cat and has an abscess on his back which will require pain killers, antibiotics, extended stay at the vets, a shaving tomorrow, an attempt to drain and if necessary, surgery to remove excessive dead skin.

And my speakers are shot and I really do want to sit back and feel sorry for myself and maybe weep a little.

AND Jakob has soccer tonight - Jakob who HATES soccer and it's almost painful to watch him "play".

Here I am slumped over my kitchen island wanting to laugh, wanting a drink, because now I have to take Hamish to the vets and I swear my speakers are cutting out. What would I rather do, buy new speakers, take Hamish to the vet...

Hamish is lucky he's adorable.

Let's hope the old credit card doesn't get rejected. Especially since I just booked a night into someplace FABULOUS to take the kids as a reward for passing and doing so incredibly well at school (well, Satchel anyway - but Jakob passed and there was a definite improvement!). They are going to flip when they find out, which won't be until we actually get to the door!

Now hopefully Hamish will cost less than $100 and only need to have a change in his diet - a fur ball preventative one. Poor little guy gets knocked all over the place when he's trying to cough one up. Oh $#*&$, don't let him need surgery because of a blockage.

and finally, the last of my old ads.

You know you're going to miss them.

I really feel like screaming right now.

I've just done laundry, dishes, wiped dried egg of the stove because someone in the house never remembers to wipe down after cooking, updated photo albums, prepared end-of-year gifts for teachers, made dinner, dropped dinner in the oven, tried to clean up the oven while boiling hot and finally, wrote cheques for property tax payment and water payment and updated our account.

This is what makes me want to scream: WE NEVER HAVE ENOUGH MONEY!!!!!

And I somehow managed to forget Rogers last month which is our phone, cable and internet access - how I managed to forget one of the major bills is beyond me but there it is in blazing black, pay NOW or suffer the consequences!

Which could be pretty severe, how would we manage without internet surfing, tv watching, talking on the phone - well, losing the phone wouldn't kill me but losing the internet would make my life feel so empty...I mean, how would I know what's going on with Brangelina? or that Paris Hilton has found God by spending 3 days in jail - I would never KNOW that kind of important stuff.

This reno has really made our life tricky - I love the new space but man, life was so financially easy before. We even had savings.

"I'm starving!"

"What do you want for dinner Jakob?"

"I want Satchel. I'm hungry. I need Satchel. I don't know. I need to show Satchel something on our Pokenmon SP game so he could beat the big battle. We need to call him right now. The battle is at a place. Pokemon level 40. I should be able to do it. My Espion can beat it."

"Oh."

Jakob grabs a pudding cup and I'm left shaking my head.

Took another tumble on the old bicycle again today. Fortunately, as I disentangled myself from my trusty steed, I found I had nothing but bruises, scrapes, and a bit of embedded gravel to contend with.

When I bought my bike 6 years ago, the salesperson talked me out of buying a mountain bike and instead suggested a hybrid between a MB and a racing bike. Why buy a mountain bike if you're not doing any off roading? he said. I should have realized that the state of Toronto's streets constitutes off roading in the worst way because there is only hard cold pavement to land on. This thought went through my head as my bike and I, joined together by the pedal cage, flew up and over and onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately a woman got out of her car and helped me up and out of my bike. And then as I helplessly watched my favourite Tiffany sterling silver mesh ring fly in slow motion on to the road, bouncing and narrowly missing a grate, she went and collected it for me.

A couple of very polite Jehovah's witnesses just stopped by to invite me to their church - an opportunity for me to oppose the Devil and gain everlasting life (according to the pamphlet). Now if only they could promise me a little road repair, I'd be all over it!

Work was interesting last week - I had a call Tuesday evening from my office asking me to do a mural for Community Living Toronto for severely disabled adults, both intellectually and physically, on FRIDAY.

I normally don't like to write about my workplace because I really don't care to be DOOCED (see www.dooce.com), but I was so impressed with my office that I have to mention it in an incredibly vague and unhelpful way. Our entire office was sent out to different organizations throughout the GTA to offer our help for the full day. I went from doing some environmental work (what I thought I would be facing on Friday) to the mural for a big drab wall in the gym where physical therapy takes place.

Back to the mural:

So in the middle of the night I awoke with my mind racing, thinking what the fuck am I going to do?!? I don't know anything about the space, the size, the wall, the lighting, the people, their needs...While hyperventilating, I thought of a children's book that I might be able to steal images from and finally fell back to sleep. Next morning I found the book, took it to work, scanned in the images, started playing with different parts, called the guy who might have information for me and found out they now wanted a temporary mural that could be removed from the wall when necessary. I ended up going out Wednesday afternoon to buy 6 large canvases and a ton of paint (the final size of the mural would be 8' x 9'). Thursday morning I drew out each panel and then Friday with a team of 5 people (some who seemed to have never picked up a brush before), we painted and had the completed mural hung in just over 4 hours. I still can't believe I/we pulled it off.

I met a couple of the "high functioning" adults that take advantage of the centre - they're considered high functioning if they can walk which gives you an idea of how severely disabled the majority are - and the staff and other volunteers who are absolute angels.

But they always need help in case you have time: www.communitylivingtoronto.ca

My panel is the bottom right - the best one according to my most wonderful son.

Satchel entered a regional-based Remembrance Day poetry contest last November and came in 3rd! At the assembly last Tuesday, he was presented with a framed certificate of recognition and $20 by 3 veterans.

Here is his poem:

The Glowing Hearts of Soldiers
By Satchel Page

For years these men lay in a field,
free from the weapons they used to wield.

All the fighting is now a thought
of all the men who have ever fought!

Thousands of men are now dead,
from bullets in the heart or head.

On the beach they rode their tanks,
over bodies on the banks.

The soldiers' hearts always shone,
always brave and always brawn!

The men walked wearing a tag,
dodging bullets to protect their flag.

Remember them from house to tower
while we wear a special flower,

for all the soldiers who have fought
we should all forget them not!






I am SO proud of him.

I post these old advertisements when I'm too tired to write but feel I owe you something other than a glass of wine and a cookie for continuing to read these diatribes of mine. But I really do love them!

Lately I have been feeling like I'm back in high school, exposed to but not part of the popular girls' posse. I really hated high school - would have to say it was one of the least favourite periods of my life - and that's not even counting the death of my father at age 16...and my hair. I just really hated the cliques and the backstabbing and the posing...and lunch time in the cafeteria, walking in with my Goodwill clothes modified to look like an extra from the movie Quadrophenia to be met with whispers, pointing and giggles.

When, I ask you, will the lottery pan out for me and free me from this torment? My clothes are FINE!

Jakob, in an effort to fully describe how well he takes care of me to the school administrative assistant and the school librarian, pointed out and outlined where all the scars are ON MY BODY. The poor women, they were trying to eat dinner. Afterwards they picked themselves up of the ground, wished me a good evening and said that they would head out now before Jakob gave them any more graphic details. I said not to worry, he likes to save the gory details for snack time - when he has a captive audience.

Again, this is why parents of young children drink more - as the study in the Globe & Mail pointed out - it's the only way we can cope with our suffering humility.

I can't begin to describe fully just how painful it is to watch Jakob on the soccer field.

He has mastered the shuffle and complete disinterest of a bent over, crotchety 90 year old waiting for a jello treat (or my mother with a plate of vegetables in front of her). The only time he came close to the ball was when he was lying down on the field and it just happened to pass by him. But rather than feebly lift his foot to try to give it a kick, he would instead roll over and face the other direction. As if the ball, or the 11 kids chasing it en masse, were all just part of an exceptionally boring dream.

When he was finally roused to action by the coach and possibly the threat of a foot in his face, he limped with arms flailing wildly over to me to tell me that he thought his foot was broken.

Jakob would make a great reality TV star.

My friend recommended a band to me - Nouvelle Vague.
They do fabulous versions of late 70's, early 80's punk music, from Blondie to Dead Kennedys.

Check out their myspace site for a few samplings:

http://www.myspace.com/nouvellevague

One last thing before I pass out...


Q: What do you get when you combine an orange with a frog?


A: An orange frog






Jakob is screaming at me, time to take action and put that little nugget of joy TO BED!

I am so tired I feel ill.

Between my coughing, Paul snoring, Jakob joining us...I didn't get any sleep last night. Out of desperation I kept my bottle of Buckley's on my nightstand for easy swigging.

Ironically Paul's spending the night at the sleep clinic to determine if he has sleep apnea and if that explains his"lack of motivation" and absent mindedness. Ironic because I haven't had a good night sleep in over 10 years (since the birth of Satch) and I think bitterly to myself that the 10 years of broken sleep have made me cranky but still motivated. I think to myself, how can he have sleep apnea? He snored all night. I was awake to hear him.

The thought of having the bed to myself has me so excited! I just want to run around the house, setting the clocks ahead a couple of hours so I can send the kids to bed now, just so I can start my night of blissful, uninterrupted sleep.

Please let it be blissful, uninterrupted sleep otherwise I'm going to have a breakdown.