Thomas sent a birthday email celebrating Arthur's 15th year.

He's looking pretty good for an old pansy.

1st picture: Arthur with his birthday treat (extra large portion of wet food)

2nd picture: Arthur and Hamish enjoying their loot bags (wet food)

And finally, Arthur post birthday treats (enjoying the lingering flavour of wet food on his oversized lips)


Happy Birthday Arthur!

Through clenched teeth and over the din of a crying child - I wish everyone a wonderful long weekend. Happy Canada's Day!

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.

Jakey is so offended by my elbows that he has instructed me to keep my arms bent whenever I'm with him, or wear longer sleeves to cover up the absolutely horrifying sagging of skin. When he first noticed my disfigurement in the school yard he screamed "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOUR ELBOWS?!!!" and started pulling at the skin. I said "nothing, they're not pretty but I got them from your Grandpa."

No chance of me developing a complex around him, no sirree.

bon vivant \bon-vee-VONT\, noun:

A person with refined and sociable tastes, especially one who enjoys fine food and drink.

When will I ever learn?

I made the mistake of including Mom in my email to my family about the allergic reaction I had (only because I was curious if anyone else had experienced it) and she has now called all my brothers and sister to make sure they have read the message, to find out their thoughts on the whole ridiculous ordeal, and then because that wasn't enough, forwarded a copy on to my aunt to pass on to her family and another uncle to pass on to his family. I feel like an idiot. I'm sure at this very moment she's drafting a letter to have published in her local paper - fortunately only serving a population of about 12. She feels it's NOT the hot dog but the BUN and that I had better start googling the information so I am better informed.

I don't think she rallied this much when I told her I had breast cancer.

I have such a headache now.

The strangest thing happened to me today.

I ate a hot dog at a local fundraiser where Satchel was playing in the steel pan band, and within seconds of eating it I had a severe reaction. I became really hot, my face started tingling, my lips swollen and then I developed a serious rash that looked like a really bad sun burn that started at the top of my head and worked down to my chest. I had a fever which spiked high - all within minutes of finishing a hot dog with only traditional condiments. Took an Alegra calmed the rash & fever down - the rash now all down my arms too. Kim came over and we called a nursing hotline for advice, since I've never reacted like this and always considered myself free of food allergies, and then on their recommendation went to a walk in clinic because they thought it might be an staph infection caused by my last surgery.

I was so irritated. Not only did I miss Satchel playing in the band but I am so sick of my health ruining these moments. I had visions, while sitting in the grotty walk-in clinic waiting room, of being sent to the hospital for more tests and more nights being spent and more really bad hospital food. Fortunately the doctor just looked at me and told me it was probably MSG but to avoid hot dogs, ketchup, mustard and relish until I get tested. I left feeling like my time had been completely wasted.

I am so ridiculously sore and banged up, I'm also a little bit hung over...and I have a big hive on my face.

I fell down the back steps yesterday (really must stop doing that). Jakob and Aidan had spilled bubble solution all over and I came out with a glass of milk for Satch and whoosh! My right arm now is skinned, my left elbow burned and all down the left side of my back and butt is raw and bruised.

As I lay in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs, Paul asked if I was okay. I yelled "NO!" because it truly was the most stupid question ever and then swore a blue streak. Finally I dragged my sorry - but fortunately unbroken - body back to my outdoor chair and poured a nice little rose in to my wine glass. I didn't move for a while. There were also desserts courtesy of Kim's cleaning woman beside me so to make myself feel better, I also stuffed my face with flaky pastries with cherry gelatinous goo.

I just remembered that I left J*** the contractor a message on the weekend asking when we're supposed to provide the deficiency list - strangely (I type sarcastically) we haven't heard from him. Hmmm, funny that.

Today is Target Breast Cancer day so I am proudly wearing my target breast cancer tank top. Unfortunately I am also the only person in the downtown core it seems wearing the t-shirt. The obscure advertising (Roots and very select magazines) must have been a little on the weak side. The tank top is cute - the bulls-eye kind of mirrors the look of the hive on my face.

Jakey had soccer practice last night - he spent the time separate from the other kids going "this is boring!!" and "jesus" and also "Mommy, come here - we can go home now."

Finally he got kicked in the head because he spent more time with his head on the ground and his foot in the air than actually standing up, playing with the rest of the kids.

I think this is going to be a long season.

Satchel on the other hand had practice tonight and did really well - though never leaving the position of defence, but I was so proud of him. Maybe not as proud as the mother in front of me who kept screaming at her kid and then yelling "oh shit!" every time he missed a play, but still excited none the less. Jakey was keen too, he spent the entire time picking up bottle caps and flinging them on the roof of the scariest public washroom I have ever seen.

I'm sitting with my cup of coffee trying to get motivated to go to Paul's sister's in Pickering.

I normally try hard to avoid leaving the city when the destination is the white-bread culturally-void suburbs but today I have no choice. That may sound harsh but I feel like I'm entering the twilight zone when I pull in off the highway: everything looks the same but you just know that behind the blue eyes of the white-haired children evil lurks. And if I did make the leap and live there I'd probably never see my children again because I would only get confused after work and move in to a different house each night. BECAUSE THEY ALL LOOK THE SAME.

It's why I try to avoid the 3rd floor of my office - sure it looks exactly the same but I'm always left a little uneasy.

I haven't addressed my house lately. My mission is to get mirrors for the 2 bathrooms which I'm finding as difficult as it was figuring out lighting. I just can't find a mirror I like for the powder room and with the main bathroom, the electricians fucked up ("Not my fault, not my responsibility, I can have it fixed but will have to charge you" says my evil contractor) and the lights were placed exactly where the mirror should go. Now I have to have an electrician come back to the house and move the lights so I can actually put mirror(s?) up over the sink.

I have a splinter in my hand - Jakob is giving me advice on how to remove it. It sounds a little suspect but I might just give it a try. His method involves hot water, salt and magic twisters (I think he means tweezers) and then it will just heal itself. Genius.

Jakey was very cute the other day. I picked up running shoes from the Gap for him (great sale on boys clothes, pants for Satchel - $9.00, cool running shoes for Jakey - $6.00). He said they were trick shoes and kept performing his special tricks (ninja-like moves) for everyone to see: the people in the park, the caregivers and teachers at school, his friends. The crowds were awed in to silence.

I better get my a** in gear and have shower. One should be clean for the suburbs and make my salad, and grab my children and go - I'm obviously procrastinating.

God, Jakob is trying to barter his going to clone world by saying if I play Teen Titans on the gamecube with him he will go. If he knew the words "under duress" I'm sure that would have come up too.

One last quick note: Satchel participated in an exhibition of photographs, taken by his digital photography class, at a neighbourhood gallery. Paul and I stopped by Friday afternoon to see the work (in between a cocktail at the Rushton - I had a broken heart martini, Paul a beer) and taking Arthur for suture removal at the vet. The exhibit was great, based on the kids' take on urban life using pin hole cameras and digital. Always interesting to see what 5' tall and under find fascinating. As some of the boys get closer to puberty, girls start to be a favourite subject matter - no surprise there.

Now I really have to get going!

Thursday night was the spring concert at Satch & Jake's school. Satch is part of the steel pan band and was playing that night - he was fantastic.



I took Jakey, who truly enjoyed himself. Appreciating all that is magical about the evening - the music, the dancing, the singing, the speeches...


He spent the entire time playing gameboy. I swear he'd have a seizure if I took it away from him. The threat alone reduces him to a quivering emotional mess. It's all I have on him.

Friday morning, Satchel woke with a stomach bug (diarrhea). He was very upset and wanted me to spend time with him in the bathroom as he purged and cramped. I didn't. Like a good (sane) mother, I went back to bed and listened to him kvetch. Then he mentioned his underwear which was covered in poo and waiting in the bathtub. I dragged my sorry body out of bed and checked it out - then went to his bedroom to check his bedding. It was clean but there was a suspicious mini pile of brown stuff on his carpet. He left poo on his carpet. How he managed that took me a while to figure out.

I ended up staying home with him, really missing work and the Friday office lunch, and listened to him whimper "why me, why ME!!!! make it stop Mommy..." By 1ish he was asking to go for a bike ride and again as the good mother that I am said "No, you're sick remember?" I was still bitter about losing another vacation day, cleaning poo off the white carpet and missing the office lunch and my favourite vanilla latte that keeps me going through the mornings at work.

At 1:45 I had an appointment to take Arthur to the vet for suture removal. Off I carried him to find out that poor scar face would live up to the moniker for another week. Poor guy - I don't think he's going to last much longer. I thought I found him dead today on my bed - he was just staring, not moving, not blinking. It was kind of freaky and made me realize how much I'll miss him - the little fancy ass that he is.

Outside of my chest mound and it's southbound migration, I want to announce that Jenifer gave birth this morning to Maya Peyton Brownstein at 1:40 am and the beautiful little girl weighed in at 6lb 15 oz and was 20" long. I stopped by the hospital after work today and she is absolutely gorgeous and Jen, outside of being tired, doesn't look like she just had a baby - she looks fabulous.

Arthur is still at the vets and will be there for days - the amount is increasing steadily, probably close to $1,000 now for the final bill. His surgery is scheduled for either Thursday or Friday. I can't believe they have to operate in order to close a wound - I say pin him down, save me the hundreds of dollars and slap a bandage on him. Come on! Get the staple gun out, they've done it to me...no biggy.

I'm exhausted, possibly encouraged by the 2 pints I had at Paupers. Well deserved after taking the kids to my hair stylist for cuts. Jakey was very funny - he seriously enjoyed the hair wash/massage experience. I wish I had had my camera with me so that I could have shown the world Satchel and Jakob side by side at the hair washing station, both experiencing something tantamount to ecstasy.

But since I didn't have my camera, instead I'll scare you with a couple of pictures of me and one of Jakey in the bath.





I know what you're thinking - GO TO BED MEG, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD - GET SOME SLEEP!

I'm going already.

I think my new breast is leaking down towards my new navel.
What - do they miss each other?

But more importantly:

I life my glass of wine and toast my sister Susan who would have been 53 today if she had not been taken from us so tragically 15 years ago.

I hate the money gods, hate them hate them hate them. Why can they just not leave me alone?

And all because I paid off 2 credit cards with our income tax return.

First my car dies (last week) and now Arthur gets attacked by a cat and has a gigantic abscess above his eye and is at the vets where he will be for days and probably require surgery to close the quarter size wound. The good news is that so far it looks like no nerve damage has been done after she squeezed nearly a quarter cup of puss out of the wound, the bad news is that it's going to cost nearly $800.

I feel spent - emotionally and financially. All I wanted to do was buy a dress for Dave and Jody's wedding and curtains and a rug for my bedroom. Though I still may get the rug, it's only $150 at Canadian Tire (a shag by Debbie Travis). And I can probably find curtains at Ikea that will block the light from pouring in to my room at too early of an hour.

What am I thinking! I must drink my wine and consider this carefully. Put a cheque together for Dave & Jody's wedding present, wear old Comrag skirt and older shoes with even older black shell. Roll pennies and cash in wine/beer bottles.

And yell "Fuck off money gods, find someone else's strings to pull for a while!"

The Gods are playing with my emotions again...and my bank account.

Ellie Escort had to go back to the shop, this time for electrical problems. The mechanic called with reservation saying that the cost to fix the old girl will be more than she's worth but fortunately the bill was under $400, unfortunate to think the car isn't worth that much.

With any luck we can squeeze one more year out of her and then find a replacement.

But really, this couldn't happen at a worse time and I'm sure it's because I just dumped Paul's and my combined income tax refund on to our credit cards that it is happening.

I spent the morning at the hospital for my post op appointment where the surgeon painstakingly removed the stitches with tweezers and scissors. It's surreal watching this happen to my body when I have no sensation. I can kind of feel pulling but no pain - and from the look of it, it should have hurt a bit. Especially when small little wounds reopened. I felt a bit queazy afterwards like I had just participated in a sleazy reality show.

Pat's coming over to dye my hair and bringing her entire family to watch. See, once again, I'm part of a sleazy reality show.

I'm home again, recovering from my second surgery. I knew it was going to hurt but it knocked me out more than I expected. I thought I'd be back at work today and instead slept until 11am.

Going back to Easter weekend, pre-surgery, I had my neighbours William & Brenda and their adorable little boy Aidan (not quite 2) for dinner and an Easter egg hunt.

A picture of Satchel egg hunting, Jakob with his loot from the Easter Bunny, and finally Jakey playing with Aidan.





While we ate dinner (my first attempt at a pot roast EVER and in a never-before-used slow cooker - I'm hooked), the kids, while playing together, shut the barn door and then it was stuck with Jakob trapped in the kitchen. We take a look to find the barn door broken and off it's tracks. So either Aidan is the most powerful 2 year old in the world or the door was installed incorrectly, lasting only a couple of months and during that time was rarely.

The powder room door no longer opens all the way unless forced and is now gouging the floor and the door leading to the basement barely catches and during the winter doesn't catch at all. The three doors that were "custom" and cost us an absolute fortune all need to be fixed.




Paul left a message for J*** early last week and we were told that Tim would come the following morning to assess what needed to be done - he didn't show. Paul calls J*** to find out where Tim is and he says "yeah, Tim called in sick, I was just about to call you. We'll arrange for tomorrow." So now it's been a week with no Tim and no follow-up from J***. Paul's calling him again today. It will be interesting to see how J*** reacts to follow-up work once he's been paid. Considering what an ass he was at the end of the job, I'm not optimistic.

Next chapter: the surgery.

Last Wednesday I had my 2nd surgery for the reconstruction and as I mentioned before, it hurt a lot. The surgery started an hour late and lasted just over an hour. The nurse that installed my IV did a terrible job and on her second attempt I mouthed "help me" to Paul. Dr. Lipa came in with her team of 3 and marked me up so once again I felt like a nip/tuck episode and you can still see the faint direction and arrow pointing to my navel. Sadly Christian was no where to be found.

The Princess Margaret hospital was fabulous. When I checked in I was directed to a private room to wait until it was time for me to go to pre-op. This was also the room I returned to and spent the night. It was amazing - except for the horrible decor and terrible food, I felt like I was in a hotel room. It was quiet, had a nice western view. Because the surgery wasn't as serious as the last one I wasn't bothered at night with nurses checking my vitals every hour and there was no intercom system where I would hear the paging of nurses or frantic announcements of code blue. I had so many flannel blankets that I stayed cocooned in one position the entire night, alternating between admiring the city view and sleep.

But now I'm home and I'm still sore. My hand is throbbing. My throat is sore - I initially attributed this to the breathing tube during surgery but now I wonder if I'm instead succumbing to something. I wonder if I'm depressed and if that's contributing to my excessive sleeping coupled with the sleep helping with recovery and pain management. Only pajamas and track pants are comfortable so I haven't left the house and can't figure out what I will wear to work.

I finally braved a shower on Saturday and removed all my bandages and saw myself for the first time. I should do it again today and have another shower but even though I've now seen myself, I don't feel brave enough to do it again. I think instead I'll go watch Volver with Penelope Cruz.

Flowers from Paul (with a shot of my 2 sputniks):

Part 2 of my reconstruction surgery has been scheduled for next Wednesday. It should be reasonably harmless - I liken it to a 2-hour nap. I should be home by nightfall - or the next morning. Hopefully not a night visit - the food doesn't exactly draw you back in. But the prescription drugs do!

When the surgeon's office first called yesterday to inform me of the date, I have to admit I was thrown. I liken the surgery to child birth but I haven't had the luxury of having a couple of years pass by to dull the memory of the pain. 4 months means everything, in all it's glory, is still very fresh in my mind.

I look forward to having it over, then it's only a tattooing left. I'll have to suggest to Dr. Lipa that she sign me, after all she did rebuild me - just like Steve Austin or Jamie Summers but without the sound effects.

New York was fantastic! But sadly my terrible luck in hotel rooms prevailed. Even though I thought I had a free upgrade to a suite in the bag by throwing on to the table my breast cancer card (I said I was still recovering and tired and would prefer a room with a great view because I might spend more time in the room than usual), I still wound up with this:



And this was my view:





I immediately called the front desk and asked to be switched - I mean, was this REALLY the only non-smoking room in the entire hotel? Come on! COME ON! Even with the free unlimited lattes the Shoreham has to offer, the glass of champagne handed to me upon check-in, that we were only blocks from Central Park, I wanted more of a view than a bunch of ducts and a man's face staring back at me from the other side. The face was a bit unnerving.

They did move us the very next day to a room that faced the street, where you could actually see the sky and discern what the weather was - or if it was day versus night.

Unfortunately our trip didn't start well with problems at LaGuardia keeping up stranded in Toronto - either high winds preventing us from leaving or someone in the LaGuardia control tower wasn't having a very good day. By the time we arrived in NY, we had just enough time to get to the hotel, change, clean up and have a surprise run in with William at the hotel bar. The handsome guy in the back is Paul.




Willy's show was fabulous! I channeled the 80s with a hint of Edie Sedgwick and had a fabulous time.




Here we are in front of the Forum Gallery about to go to the dealer's house for dinner.



Check out William's work at: http://www.forumgallery.com/current_on1.php?id=174

I'm off but will write more NY stories tomorrow.

Finally a few pictures to attach with my new camera!

Here are a few shots of my installed light fixtures: the powder room, front hallway and at the top of the stairs.

I'm off to New York City tomorrow morning and have no idea what to bring. Thursday night is the opening for William's show with a dinner after. That's my predicament - what does one where to a NY art opening?

I am so excited - we're off to the MOMA on Friday and then shopping, a trip to the top of the Empire State Building, perhaps a cruise around the Hudson, checking out the Statue of Liberty and then some more shopping. Kim & Scott, Eve & David are also going and we are staying at the same hotel, the Shoreham. Will be a fantastic and slightly wicked time!

It's been recommended that I censor my blogs - removing the name of a certain SOB in past postings for example as well as excerpts from an "alleged" email exchange. So I've done it - heaven forbid I enter into a lawsuit with him, as is the concern of my husband, and have to give him MORE money.

I avoided the final meeting with ___, instead bringing dinner over to Scott & Kim's place to heat up and eat while Paul dealt with ____. Suffice it to say, ____ won. When Paul brought up that he should perhaps get better in communicating and managing expectations with clients he began to get aggressive and combative again. Paul decided whatever and gave up, figuring we're done and he'll never concede. So a cheque was left in the mailbox Friday morning with his inflated amount and gone with out any note or message.

But later that evening I found out something huge is happening in ___'s life. Something that is going to completely turn his life upside down and how can I stay angry at someone who's life could potentially turn in to an absolutely nightmare?

We have our final meeting with our contractor tonight to go over the last bill and give him his payment. I am so angry with him right now that I can't bring myself to be at the meeting and will hand over the reigns to Paul. I'm taking the kids and going next door to Kim's so that I don't have to look at his face.

He is such an unethical bully. Paul wrote him asking him to clarify the cost of doors and credits that we should be entitled to after revisiting the original contract and the discrepancy with his final statement to us - and Paul wrote the email because if I had written it, I'm sure it would have led to a cat fight. It still led to one. Here are a couple of excerpts from his reply letter:

REMOVED

and then he hit with:


REMOVED


I'll write about how the meeting going tomorrow. I need to get back to my school newsletter.

Our project this weekend, outside of hanging pantings and curtains, is that we're supposed to go over the initial contract from ___ to determine if there is anything else we can hopefully deduct from his last invoice. So far we have a credit for the front door knob that R__ threw out, hopefully a credit for a $40 dimmer switch that Ron threw out and replaced with a $1 light switch, and we want ___ to justify why we were charged $500 the final clean when it consisted of R__ running through the house with a swiffer and a paper towel, and a half ass job at steam cleaning the attic carpet. I'd like to deduct $450 for that joke of a job.

My poor camera is dust, may it R.I.P. I am now waiting for Henry's to send me a replacement by Sony valued at with lens, $1,200. Yippee!

I am still poor having lost at the Millionaire lottery - not one number the same. Sigh.

Paul had his birthday on the 28th and I threw a birthday party which ended with American Idol on the PS2 and all of us signing and being rejected horribly by SImon. Well not all of us, William ended up being brilliant, David getting a perfect score and Paul doing quite well too. I think they're all wannabe lounge singers, needing only a polyester suit. While at the party I gave Scott a belated birthday present: Jesus Christ bandages which I told him I'd had blessed by a priest which tripled their healing powers and a little punching bag that when knocked, swears like a Newfie fishwife (or me). Scott took to shaking it at William everytime he'd make a comment about his "competitive nature."

Now we're desperate to get the game so we can have kareokee parties regularly. We're kareokee junkies!

Wow, Jakob has a friend coming over tomorrow - that's never happened before. I didn't think he had friends. Crazy.