2012 - you're my bitch.

Argh, it's been an age.  I've been busy on my other blog, Lifestyles of the Self-deluded and Dysfunctional.  That's over now.  In no uncertain terms.

So let's move on!

Let's talk about next year, 2012.  Oh, it's going to be so amazing!  So much better than this year.

Not that 2011 was all bad - it brought roller derby to my life.  Oh derby, how do I love you?  New friends, new muscles, numerous new injuries, a whole new relationship with my physiotherapist.  It taught me that balance in your life is important, that you are not always right (especially when drunk), and the value of a heartfelt apology.

I kissed a girl and I liked it but it didn't really do anything for me.  More's the pity.  Maybe I need to try harder, or be less drunk.

But 2011 broke my heart.  Not in the way the douchebag 2010 broke my heart (which wasn't really broken, just stunned).  Really broken.  And I'm really hoping it taught me - finally - to listen to that inner voice inside of me.  Not the one I *want* to hear; the one that really is speaking from a place of knowledge.  I want to be able to listen, to be able to accept when it tells me the 411.  Because it knows, it really does, you just have to LISTEN to it.  You have to want to listen if only because it will save you from looking like a pathetic idiot.

Philosophy 101 - the answer to your question lies in the question itself:

Why doesn't that man love me?
That man doesn't love me.

and no matter how much you think it isn't true, thinking it doesn't make it so.

Anyway, 2012 is going to be better.

Better derby.  Games, even.  I live in hope.  I also want to play with my friends again.  Not sure how that will happen but I miss them so.  Less crazy derby partying.  Nuff said about that.

I will date.  I will try.  I will message people and reply - unless they weigh 300 lbs or are ancient, in body or spirit.

I will spend less money on crap.  I will have less money so this will be a given but I gotta try at least.  Less lunches.  More knitting from stash.  Maybe go back to sewing and sell something?  And get paid for it?  Follow up,baby.  You're in charge.

Knock off those 15 lbs and do it fast before they get squatter's rights.  It don't look good on you.

Smile, don't snarl.

Patience.  Patience.  Patience.  Your life isn't even half over, there's lots of time for good things to happen.

Adios 2011, you mechant, mechant, mechant lou.

ps.  how could I forget?  I will get the damn attic done, I SWEAR on the derby rule book.
xo Clammy

Falling apart

Yesterday my lovely little monsters came back.  I miss them a lot now that they're gone a bit more, and they miss me.  Not much we can do about that, I guess.

Anyway, I set about making them dinner last night as I discussed homework with Calvin.  Slapped the pot on the stove for boiled eggs, cranked it up, fought over the journal and what constituted an acceptable entry (note: one partial sentence is not an acceptable entry).  I look up after a few minutes and notice the kitchen is FULL of smoke.  I had turned on the wrong hotplate and the wool pad that had been on that hotplate was transmogrified.

Mental note:  don't leave shit on the stove.  It is not a storage space.
Mental note 2: it's true, wool doesn't burn.  It just... carbonizes.  It only burned in the exact spot it was resting on the hotplate.  So dress your babies in wool and they won't be tragically disfigured in the event of accidental burning.

It stunk to high heaven.  I had instant flashbacks to the tragic stew incident of my childhood, where we went to the mall leaving the stew on the stove on high and came back to a house FULL of disgusting smoke.  I swear it took months to get the smell of burned flesh out of our coats.

Also - my smoke detector didn't go off.  OK, most of the smoke was in the kitchen and the detector is down the hall at the bottom of the stairs.  I'm wondering if this is a bad thing or not.  It doesn't go off every time I burn the toast, which is good.  If the house actually was on fire, the smoke would have to go past the detector to get upstairs, which would wake us up.  But maybe it would be better if we got a bit of advance warning before the whole bottom storey was filled with smoke?  Hmmm.... I think not having it go off with every cooking malfunction might win out.

I know this won't come as a stunning revelation to anyone with an ounce of sense, but my kids like it when I pay attention to them.  We've been drawing, playing games (Calvin is kick-ass at chess.  He castled!), playing Lego... and they are much much much happier, spend less time fighting with each other and don't feel the need to bug me every 20 second to play computer games (we're down to every 5 minutes, but it's an improvement).  Ah, parenting.  Why can't you be easier?

Homework for two kids?  Check
Calvin punching me in the arm?  Check
Jack throwing a shoe at my ankle?  Check.
25 Lego dudes unearthed from the bottom of the bin?  Check.
Whinging bouts averted?  Check.

Both kids are finally peacefully asleep in bed, the laundry is finishing up it's cycle and the horrible sound of grinding, gnashing metal bits erupts from the washer.  Again.  Once can be explained away, twice needs attention.  Stupid front loader - I don't have a clue.

On the plus side, I've managed not to to send emails that will get me into trouble.  Not like I haven't written a few but I have managed not to send them.  So far.

Plumbing

I think I can do anything.  I look at a project and say to myself "That's totally doable.  Even if I run across a snag or two, how bad can it be?"

Now, my house was built in 1914.  I am convinced that for the first 50 years of it's existence (and most houses of it's era) all the work done on it was done by the well meaning but somewhat inept homeowner.  That's just the way it was back then.  In some houses (mine included) this trend seems to have been carried on throughout it's entire lifetime.  Electricity wired with no logic, though fully functional and seemingly safe.  Plumbing that snakes its way around in bizarrely random patterns.  There is no project that doesn't encounter a snag, no matter how hard you try to anticipate the problems.

So when I volunteered to do my friend's sink plumbing, I thought "How bad can it be?"  I looked at it, tried to imagine all the possible problems, though, though and thought again.  ANd then jumped in.

Her hot tap had been dripping, then running, for a while.  First order of business was to put in a hot water shutoff.  She had got compression fittings rather than solder on ones, not my fav but I thought hey, why not branch out?  Besides the fact that I had a hell of a time getting them to not drip, it seemed relatively painless. (I suspect they are still leaking a tiny bit, but WAY less than before and hopefully snugging them up will fix that.  Hopefully.)

Then we tackled the cold side.  Now, I had previously noted that the old galvanized iron pipe had been replaced from the kitchen upstairs, in a fully accessible place to attach new copper to the basement.  Peachy, right?  What I failed to consider was that A.  removing the ancient sink fitting from the stupid galvanized pipe would be, to put it mildly, a fucking nightmare and B. that getting to old supply lines out would be just as bad.  So we run the new copper supply line from the basement, cut the copper from the old pipe and all of a sudden I realize we can't get the old pipe out and thus can't get the new stuff in. 

Fuck.

After some serious contemplation, liberal application of WD40 and swear words, and a halfhearted attempt with the pipe wrench (I loves me a pipe wrench.  Sexiest tool ever.) I abandoned hope of removing it that night. (Did I mention we started about 6 pm?  Ha.)  So... how to get the plumbing at least functional for the next week or so?  Paper plates and takeout is fine but you gotta do da business somewhere.

So we decided to bypass the sink for now since the old pipe was talking up all the room needed to run the new supply line and shutoff and just reconnect the cold water lines with new copper pipe.  Then when we figured out how to get the old pipe out we could just add in the sink supply line.  Sure.

Except that the lines in the basement wouldn't drain properly so we had a bitch of a time getting them to seal.  M had left for derby practice leaving poor C with me to help.  I am eternally grateful to her for her patience with my ineptness, and her excellent, thoughtful suggestions.

To make a long story short, we tried three (four?) separate times to get the stupid lines to seal - in various configurations, adding in little drains, over and over.  Every time we turned the water on there was a leak.  The last time, with our last set of connectors (don't ask how many we wasted) as I dried out the pipe with the torch I said let's just shove some more flux in here and see if that helps.  And it did.  It fucking did.

It sounds so anticlimactic as I write it, but it was 10:30, we had no more fittings and no prospect of getting the water back on if this didn't work.  We were elated.  Overjoyed. 

Now we just gotta figure out how to get the stupid galvanized pipe out.  The rest will be easy. 

Stop laughing.

(Oh, and it leaked in a different spot and I had to go back and fix it, sick child in tow.  Not fun.  There may have been a hissy-fit involved.)

Drinking the Koolaid

Roller derby is a force to be reckoned with.  It is a fantastic way to stay in shape, meet new people and have a hell of a good time.  But it can quickly spiral out of control.

It's the drug that fixes everything for me.  It takes away my hangover, my cold symptoms, my bone-deep fatigue, my angst about my kids and my personal life...  I notice none of these things while skating.  Yes, it can be frustrating when you're tring for the 27th time to weave through cones and you're sure you'll NEVER get it.  When you want to jump in the air and your legs refuse to cooperate and actually bend.  But the speed, the hitting, the sense of control - the adrenalin rush is a potent, addictive drug.

The social aspect is something else entirely.  Derby culture is like a cult.  Before you know it, you're going out after practice on a Wednesday night, rolling in at 1 am, and dragging your ass back out of bed at 6:30 to go to work.  Two days later you're out until 3, hammered.  and maybe the night after that too. 

And it's not just the lifestyle, it's how the attitudes of these women rub off on you so quickly.  If you had told me a year ago that I would be taking the subway dressed in a pair of holey tights and a running skirt that barely clears my ass I would have laughed uproariously.  Now my only concern is that I don't freeze to death.  I'm not saying this is a bad thing - I'm all about havng a positive body image but it sure is different, especially for me, suzy conservative.

And then there's the sex thing.  Derby girls have a reputation for being, um... skanky hos.  This is coming from men.  I think they have there wires crossed as most derby girls aren't even interested in  men, and those who are have a hard time finding men to skank with, so filled with women are the venues we tend to frequent.  But the woman-on-woman action is unbelievable.  I don't want to generalize either lesbians or derby girls, but most of the women I have run across have a very broad sens of what is acceptable behaviour.  Now I kind of like this.  I think it's refreshing that they can do pretty much whatever they want and not be judged for it.  (I'm going to assume that there is some sort of understanding between partners about what is or is not acceptable.)  I used t be very uptight and moralistc about "relationships" and what constituted "acceptable" standards of practice, but this has changed a lot lately.  (It's not all to do with derby and there is a lot of stuff I have come to believe that I would never discuss with my "conventional" friends as I know they'd think I was nuts, but I have changed a lot.  For the better, I think.  Theory is one thing - I might have to see what happens if it ever gets put into practice.)

Anyway... the point of this is that your perspective tends to get skewed after a while.  Throwing women into the mix as more-than-friends is weird.  No longer is there that safe space of friendship, when women (notoriously judgmental bitches) only judge you on your looks and attitudes and shoes, now it's on your potential as a prospective hook-up as well.  You start to think that you have to have good hair and clothing around them, not only when you're looking to impress the opposite sex.  What a chore.  And it makes conversation (difficult enough for someone as socially stunted as myself) even more difficult.  Who needs that?

This is so high school, I know.  And for someone of my age it's ridiculous.  Still, it sneaks up on you and you don't realize how far of the path you've strayed until all of a sudden you've humiliated your best friend and are making out with a virtual stranger in a dive bar.

Reality check, dudes.  There is too much of a good thing.  I'm sticking with the sport and camaraderie aspect of derby and leaving the rest behind me.  

Not to mention the fact that anything non-derby tends to get the shaft when consumed by the obsession.  Housework, hobbies, OTHER FRIENDS.  You did things before derby and you can do things as well as derby.  There's a reason you don't put all your eggs in one basket.

But I have improved my ability to apologize, something I'm not very good at.  I guess that's a good thing.  I'd rather improve my ability to relate to people, to deal with adversity, so I don't have to apologize so much.

Crazy dude.

Just for posterity, I think I should record this here.  In case y'all think I don't love you, this is what I put up with in the name of research and entertainment.  God knows I don;t get much out of it, SOMEONE should...

Went for drinks, dude likes to talk about himself.  We had nothing in common, but I got somewhat drunk and managed to chit chat acceptably well.  He just talks about how smart and cheap he is and the car his sister gave him and then he sold and she was pissed and he doesn't know why.   Had no interest in derby - just said soccer is a much better sport.  Why would girls want to hit each other?  dude...  I shoulda bailed then.

Then he says lets go get some lamb and cook and make salad and bread and wine and I agreed since it's so much easier, and I was still contemplating fucking him for research purposes.  Then we're half way to the store and I say - no I don't want to do dinner.  And he says Oh, I was just going to say we have a good vibe - I haven't invited anyone up to my place before (riiiiight - cuz you're a crazy mofo and they all run away first).  And he starts grilling me on why I changed my mind etc etc.  So I agree to a drink at his place.  I'm a pushover.

So we go to his place and he keeps filling my glass up to almost the rim and I'm half in the bag and he tries to teach me to dance and the music was AWFUL.  He just listens to stuff from Youtube - no actual music.   Black dudes sorta rapping with half naked chicks crawling around on the screen - seriously?  And he plays the same few awful songs over and over.  The dancing was sorta fun in a completely uncoordinated way.  Then he starts going on about what do I want to do for fun and he'll take me anywhere and he will pay and I say no - I want to go see my friends.  I only have so much free time and I want to spread it around and he says can I come and I say no (surprise).  So by now I just want to get the fuck out but then he kisses me and says there wasn't that good?  Which it wasn't - he sorta ate my face too much tongue and teeth and dude - SUBTLETY please - you don't have to ran your tongue down my throat!!  So then he tries again to convince me we should do something together and I say no about 20 time and finally I just say I gotta go.  And he's obviously pissy. 

So I make my escape and he calls me 3 x before I'm 100 yards away and I don't pick up and then he texts me to say:

• you made me feel like sort of a jerk and I kindof liked you
• but sorry please lose my number
• please lose my number as you are fake

to which I reply:

Dude - get a grip.  not wanting to spend the whole evening with you is not fake.

and he sends texts 4,5 and 6:

• sure please lose my number is that too much asking I know ur kind (?!?!?!! wtf does that mean????)
• no offense good luck
• just lose number please

Gosh, I guess you don;t want me to call you again?  Like I would, you crazy psycho freak!

Oh, and he MADE me wash my hands when we got to his place.  He WATCHED me put soap on and said Oh, I guess you do know how to do that.  What, WASH?????  And when I tried to change the music on his computer he was all - oh I'm a computer guy, you probably can't figure out HOW TO USE YOUTUBE let me help.  Dude's obviously been dating driftwood.

So then I went and got even more trashed with my friends.  Good times!!!

Oh, and he smokes.  Seriously?  Did you think I just wouldn't notice???

Enthusiasm`

When was the last time I approache my kife with any enthusiasm?  Someone on the street today said I was having a mid-life crisis.  Could be, but it's a crisis which is making my life a hell of a lot better.

Tried longboarding today.  Think skateboarding on a big scale - boards 3-4 feet long.  SO.  Much.  Fun.  Borrowed a board from a friend while the kids are away and wow.  I feel moderately competant already!  It's a very cool feeling leaning into the corners and carving the hill.  Loosened her trucks WAY up - hope she doesn;t mind.  Now you actually turn when you lean (thanks, derby!).

And derby.  Sigh, how do I love thee?  Went skating in High Park on Sat, ostentably with the derby/cardinal gals, but really just me and Miko and Rosa.  Did a controlled crash on my way to the park (read: steep hill, out of control descent, turned corner onto corrugated sidewalk, chose to bail out rather than flame out) resulting in some minor road rash/bruising but otherwise was AWESOME!!!

The main road loop around the park is pretty short, but hilly.  Oh the hills.  What an adrenalin rush.  Once I found out there was nothing at the bottom of the hill (no stops etc.) I just tucked and went.  Could have done it a thousand times.  Down the hill, up a bit, down another, around the corner and back to the beginning fairly flat.  Repeat until you can't stand.

Chose to take my skates off rather than risk a repeat performance on the sidewalk on the way back.  I think I made the right decision.

Keep in mind we're moving in this pic...

You can't teach an old horse...

Ha.  So much for the new me, able to deal with uncertainly, to relax and let things slide.  You know why?  Because that person is a DOORMAT and I don't want to be a doormat.

Notice I'm not saying I *won't* be a doormat - just that I don't like it.  God, that would require me taking a stand, being confrontational, having a backbone.  My problem is that I had a backbone at the beginning, we discussed this shit and sort of resolved it and now I am not doing anything about it.

Problem - as usual - communication.  I leave it all up to him and then get all hinky when things don't proceed as I think they should.  So stupid, though.  He's not psychic, he hasn't done anything wrong, it's just that I won't man up and say I have an issue.  And of course we all know why - because I don't want him to walk away.  Yes, I know, if that makes him walk away I don't want him in the first place but it's so easy to say and so hard to do.

So I'm going to set myself a time limit.  You can enjoy (?) the two weeks that the kids are away, make the most of that (if anything even comes of that - I have a long history of spending my free time alone) and then see how things are after that.  If you pull the plug after that you won't feel like you chucked away all that potential action (mmmmm... action).

Remember, being a doormat is not attractive.  Really.  And he likes you, he really does -  you're just taking his issues and turning them into an opportunity to be the old passive sappy you.  DO something, then you can blame him if it all goes to shit instead of taking it all on yourself.  You are awesome.  It won't be your fault if this doesn't work out, and as you have discovered it's not your only opportunity for good sex.  Good sex is 80% in your mind and 20% a competent partner.  Yeah, so you like him.  Do you want an inevitably on again off again drag me through the rosebush relationship?  Nope, I didn't think so.

Screwing a 35 yo dude?  Not sure how I feel about that.  Screwing a 35 yo dude who's never been with an "older" woman?  Could be a psychologically traumatic experience for yours truly.  Only if he's as asshole, though, and I should be able to figure that out before we hop in the sack.

Retrospective

Remember this? 
Haaaaarrrgghh.

What F-PERT means to me:

Oh, the injustice of it all

It sucks being a chick sometimes. I have raging PMS this month.  I wish I could figure out what made it worse.

• My boobs rival Dolly Parton's and they are about 10 degrees hotter than the rest of me.  Great in this weather, eh?  And the pain! 
• I ate my own body weight in sugar yesterday.  I think I would have chewed off the arm of anyone who tried to stop me.
• I went from total adoration to screaming banshee at my kids yesterday.  Can you say "mood swing", Billy?  Sure, I knew you could.

When does my biological clock run out???

The view from here

What exactly is the view like  from out of your arsehole?  Fuzzy with hints of brown, I suspect.  My wretched brother has his head shoved so far up his ass I'm surprised he can see at all.  Do you think he will realize the universe doesn't revolve around him at some point?  I've cut him more slack than anyone and more that he deserves, certainly, but I've had it.  He can either discuss his shit with me and we can have it out or not.  Frankly, I've lost interest.

Hollywood version:  He calls Monday to ask if he can bring his gf's teenage children up to the cottage.  Now, I knew this was coming since she facebooked she'd been invited a few days before and my umbillically-connected nephew told me, so I was prepared.  It's my vacation.  My time to chill out and relax with my family.  Not to have to deal with strangers, to have to worry about not wearing a bra, changing out of my swimsuit, etc etc.  So I said no.  He said that wasn't fair to him, Darcy went on vacation with him and his kids all the time and he should bring her kids.  WTF?  Not my problem!   I said it was MY vacation and I wanted to spend it with my family and only family.   You're my family; Darcy isn't.  I barely know her, let alone her kids.  And he said:

But Orly came up.

Um, and Orly is not A. the mother of my niece and nephew? B.  My friend??
Don't even start to compare her with Darcy. 

Anyway, I said I wasn't going to argue with him, I'm not comfortable sharing my vacation with strangers and that's that.  He said then he wasn't going to bring Darcy either.  Whatever.

The he sent me a pissy text saying he wasn't coming at all.  Fine, eyeroll.  I let him think about that and he remembered he had to collect his children from me.  He shows up with the van, three passengers, proceeds to pack everyone into the car (six people, five seatbelts).  Calvin cried, Jade wasn't pleased but would never question her dad.  Ari didn't care as long as he had wifi.

Tit.

That is all.

It's official...

I'm a member of the Divine Viper Assasination Squad.  Frankly, I'm terrified.  Tales of split and blackened eyes abound.  Still, that's what makes life exciting, isn't it?  Maybe I can earn some of my injuries now instead of them all being self-inflicted.

Outdoor skating only till Sept, though .  I'm away for the next week, then the league is moving to a new facility which isn't ready.  Then no practice in August.  I have no desire (let alone hope in hell) of being drafted.  I just wanna play on the D-VAS until I am marginally competant.

25 laps in 5 minutes.  I am way pleased with myself.

Well *I* didn't have internet, at least.

A week with these two:

...has actually been fairly delightful. 
Lots of this:

 

And this:

 

Even Chester had and good time:

 Didn't wash my hair for a week.  Awesome.

Home for derby with children (curses) due to unexpected tragedy not at all related to me.  Still, if you didn't have internet and didn't discover it for a few days, how would life be different?  You'd get a few more days of blissful vacation, oblivious, and the person would still be dead when you got back to the city.

A list (not A-list)

• I am on vacation for two glorious weeks.  No internet.  Good for my mental health if nothing else.
• The kids are gone for the long weekend so I can pack, clean, relax.  Even better, they went up to the cottage with steve so I get to drive alone, oh joy.
• I should be shopping/packing but am, as usual, procrastinating.
• Skated on the lakeshore path yesterday with Miko and Michelle, who rode M's bike - it was awesome.  I refuse to give in to my fear of obstacles, rough ground, railroad tracks, potholes, traffic, gravel, and falling in front of cars, but I categorically refuse to skate through standing water and/or mud.  Did some off-roading as a result.
• Why don't you spell obstacle like testicle?
• The smell of sewage off the treatment plant is truly DISGUSTING.
• I drunk texted dude (who is an M, btw) and was called a lush for my efforts.  Very true.  Will try not to do that again as he threatened to turn back the clock
• Sucked back more vodka and tonic that a body should be able to handle.  Derby is a bad influence on my drinking  habits.
• Had a coughing fit in the car and I couldn't breath in.  Thought my companions would have a stroke since I was driving at the time.  Fun times.  Stupid cough.
• Dude listens to Ray LaMontagne, in case anyone doubted he was perfect for me.
• The Ray tee shirt I got, which is a women's large, fits Calvin who is a skinny 9.  What is wrong with clothing manufacturers?
• There is no rule that said I couldn't stalk him.  I just can't talk to him.
• Six days is forever, six months is eternity.  I hope it gets better.
• Everyone thinks I'm fucked and no one will let me talk about it.  Hence this.
• I put my hands in Bruiseberry's pants.  No, not pants, underwear.  I was drunk. My friends were baiting me.  I am an easy target - they said she had my phone, lying bitches.
• I was box manager for the clam slam!  Most stressful hour of my life.  Tell me again why I do this?  Oh yeah, because it's fun and no one's yelled at me yet.  The day that happens I WILL cry.
• Did absolutely nothing to celebrate Canada day.  I am an apathetic Canadian.

Clams

In case you're interested in why I picked Free-Range Clam over some of the other options...
Free-Range implies slutty, which I aspire to, and describes my parenting style.
Clam is... well, a clam - always good in a sport dominated by lesbian women.  I can hint that I might swing that way and fit in with the cool kids.  Also reflective of my emotional ability, according to some/many.

During the year, the free-range clam tends to stay close to it's own territory, though will occasionally venture into the west end in search of a mate.  During the summer, however, the free-range clam lives up to it's name and wanders all over the countryside.

The free-range clam has been known to slam it's potential mate repeatedly against a hard object to determine his suitability.  It seems obvious that the clam is selecting for hardy genes, although this behavior has also been noted in clams outside the reproductive age.  The clam seems somewhat bloodthirsty as it will often, in the throes of mating passion,  ingest the blood it has drawn..

Am home nursing snot bubbles, trying to kick this stupid chest thing before a. I go on vacation and b. I lose my mind.  Isn't it weird how my doctor will give me a prescription for antibiotics over the phone, based on a few questions the receptionist asks, while some won't even refill a Rx for insulin needles?  My doctor will also see you the same day if you want, while hers takes six weeks for an appointment.  D'ya think you might die in those six weeks?  I think there should be common standards.  When I rule the world things will be better.

Six hours, six days, six weeks, six months.

Momentous

On the advice of my trusted adviser, Dr. Morrison, I ended it with dude today.  It was mutual.  We both recognized it was not viable as is.  Both equally reluctant to end it.  Both knew we had to.  I'd been pushing and pushing and he was so kind and good natured about it, but in the end he was right.  We're done.

On a note that will send Dr. Morrison through the roof, we agreed to get back in touch (if I want to) in six months and see how things stand.  I find that reassuring.  Not that he'll be there waiting for me all fixed and available, or that I will be waiting.  Just... reassuring. 

He is a truly lovely man and I am so sad and sorry that things couldn't work out.  God, I've tried so hard and waited so long for someone like him and then when I do find him, he's "unavailable".  Fix your baggage dude and lets move on.

In other news:

I am now Free-Range Clam #666.  It's not the most popular choice but I love it.

Old and new

Wow, this has been a fabulous week.  I came to the conclusion today that it would be better to just accept the fact that my mom is somewhat defective in the parenting department and move on.  It's too late to fix this puppy.  I don't think she ever really had much interest in her children beyond grooming them into the sort of people who she could talk about in those damn christmas letters without embarrassment.  Needless to say, she didn't do those sort of letters for long.  She seems to feel the same sort of remoteness for her grandkids, surprise.  She was never one to bundle up the baby and snuggle for hours just because she wanted to - more like she would come and do it because it was her duty.  And she let you know. 

I find this very sad and really hope I'm not like this.  I don't think so.  God knows I have my issues but I hope this isn't one of them.

On an unrelated (?) topic, I find the quality of the friendships I've cultivated in the last 10 years (actually I think I can carbon date the start of this to when steve left)  is much better that it used to be.  Sure I have old friends, but in general those were... not particularly equal or healthy relationships.  These days my friends are amazing people.  I would ask them for the world if I had to (OK it would still be an effort, but I could do it)  and give it right back to them when they needed it.  Yes, I'm a moody, cranky, intolerant bitch.  I wonder why anyone puts up with me?  Regardless I am truly grateful and I would never (knowingly - I was drunk!) stand them up for anything.  Blah blah blah.  What's the point of this?  I dunno - I'm depressed and need to find something good in my life?  It's a challenge.


More positively - I went to the finals last night expecting to be a grunt volunteer.  I wanted to watch the game.
 since I figure it would be good.  And it was.

However, I got sucked into doing stats which is somewhat less than low stress.  In fact, I was penalty wrangler, which meant  listening to the refs and transmitting their calls to the penalty tackers.  Which I'd never done before. And did I mention it was the FINALS???  Har.  So me and my crazy ass dress + groovin' pink NSO shirt spent the entire game tripping around in circles after the refs.  I somehow managed  not to fuck up completely, much to my everlasting relief.  AND THE CHICKS WON!  I am SO pleased.  I lave me some Chicks.  And the Gores, but they usually annihilate everyone.  The Chicks have really come into their own this season.  (Did I mention this is on Rogers next weekend?  Must find someone with cable to let me see it.  I hear the game was awesome.  All I saw were the refs.  Who are awesome too.)

New derby name:  Free-Range Clam.  Appropriately trashy, somewhat sexually ambiguous.  What more could I ask for??

Day 6 of "thinking".  I'm losing hope.  I can't believe I lasted this long.  Hope/blind optimism/stupidity springs eternal in my wasted emotional shell.

Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick

That is all.

Relativity

How long is "time"?  Sound pretty open-ended to me. 

Spidey Senses: 1

Dude and I had this looooong discussion last night where he unburdened himself of lots of baggage... to what purpose, I'm not sure.  To make me understand him?  I don't.

Dude needs TIME.  God, I've heard that before.  I couldn't even bring myself to ask how much time he thinks he might need to decide whether I was worth fitting into his life, which is what it boils down to.  He can say he's confused till the cows come home but what dude doesn't just go for what they want if they want it?  It all just screams backing away at warp speed.  I must be really great in bed.

I am not going though this train wreck again.  One day of sobbing into my keyboard is pretty much as much as I can take, and my hair hasn't finished growing back from last time.  (Hmmm ...think what a supermodel I'd be if I lost another 50 lbs, though).  My bullshit meter is going off like a mad thing.  Nobody avoids a relationship because they're worried they'll hurt someone - it happens all the time and people get hurt and move on.  C'est la vie.  Me invading your space?  Being too demanding?  All those are reasonable (and probably much more valid) reasons.  So man up and say what the problem really is.

Speaking of, you'd think being all (relatively) thin and fit would have made a difference to the quality of my sex/relationship life.  Nope.  Not. At. All.  I find this completely disappointing.  I guess before I could have blamed my perennially single status on the size of my ass, but now what?  I guess it really is my stellar personality.  How depressing.  Yes, I like it for it's own sake, because I feel better and my clothes fit better and I'm more comfortable but really - it's not life changing.  Which sucks.

I want a Big Mac.

It's my blog and I'll angst if I want to.

Oh boy. 

Yes, I'm at work.  No, I can't concentrate.

I'm trying really hard not to give in to the feeling of impending doom that is lurking.  Yes, I know I have a long history of denial.  So what, I should change now?

It's been about 24 hours since he left my bed (OK, more like 28, but who's counting?).  When he got home he sent me a text saying good things and ambiguous things which I'm not going to go into.  In general, positive.  Or so I thought.  I sent him an email later that afternoon with the info for next Sat's derby bout in it.  Nothing.  Nothing at all.

OK, I don't know what his policy is on returning emails.  Generally it hasn't been very snappy despite his obvious interest.  But... what?  I wait.  I HATE waiting.  I am not a patient person and my imagination in the interim is a terrible force to be reckoned with.

Has he decided I'm going to ask too much of him?  He's probably right.  We did discuss this in the lead up to him staying the night and it seemed OK but who knows in the light of day how he'll feel.  He promised he wouldn't Houdini. ( Just writing this makes me laugh.  It's the internet, where promises mean less than nothing.  But I believed him.)

It's just that it was so perfect.  So perfect.  So much chemistry.  So much to talk about.   And he was so obviously... well whatever.   Why does everyone have to have plans, expectations, agendas?  Can't you just go with it?  I guess one person's going with it can be perceived and something entirely different to another.

I want to believe you, and so I do, just for tonight.  Thanks Alison Krauss

You're going to break my heart, dude.

What number is this? Eight?

D'you know what the problem with dating when you a hundred and two like I am is?  Your friends get pretty sick and tried of your rhapsodizing/complaining/sobbing/angsting.  Back when you're young and silly and all your friends are young and silly there's a whole host of people willing to play the dating game with you:

- Do you think he's cute?
- OMG he's totally cute and he totally likes you.  I can totally tell.
- Do you think so?  I thought he liked Jenny.
- No way man.  Jenny's totally ancient history.  And Matt told Karl who told Suzi who told me that he's totally into you.
- What if he doesn't call me?  Should I call him?  Should I text him 100x an hour unitl he calls me?
- He'll call you.  He was totally into you.  But don't call him.  It'll make you look like you like him.

etc. etc. etc.

While teenage girls can do this with no apparent limit, grown ups cannot.  While they act supportive and willing to listen to your stories, the inner eyerolling is hard to disguise.

So of my epic 12 hour date I have one thing to say:  Drywall 1:  Wallpaper 0.  And that's a good thing :)

Testus Interruptus

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Didn't get the testing finished because we ran out of time and I couldn't stay but

YAY!

All I can say is that the testing committee in general was so helpful, supportive and clear about their expectations.  Moni Chrome in particular rocks my world.  I love her.

I.  Did.  The.  Cones.  

They gave us 6 tries, not 3.  The first try I did them all and then just missed the last one.  I thought that was all I was going to do.  Tries 2-5 sucked the hairy one. Then, on try #6, I did them ALL.  OK, I ran over the last one but they gave me a 2!!!!  I could not have been more thrilled and happy.  I think it was sheer force of will that got me through those cones.  I tend to get pissy when I start fucking up and things go downhill from there, but they were so encouraging that I did it.  Yay me!

The rest of the test was unremarkable except tfor the good feeling, camaraderie and support form the other dskjaters and the testers.  It made it fun, not stressful.  Except for the plow stop.  But I think I got a 1 even on that.  My hits sort of sucked but I didn't fall on my ass, gave and got a few good ones so I should be OK.

I'll have to finish the testing later, maybe Jul 10.  I'll be at the cottage but it will be worth the trip to get er done.  It's only moving around the track and endurance, neither of which I'm worried about and then I'll be a WFTDA skater!!!!!!!

I'm a wee bit bummed about the lack of completion but totally riding the high!

Bare minimum

I figure I should talk about this today.  Tomorrow might be messy...

Tomorrow I make a mighty attempt to pass the WFTDA minimum skills test.  These are *minimum* skills, designed not to make you a great derby player, but to stop you hurting yourself or others when out on the track learning to be a great derby player.  Some are sensible - weaving through the pack, avoiding sudden obstacles, skating next to people, being bumped etc etc.  Some seem pretty arbitrary - hits and whips?  Should these be part of *minimum* skills?  I don't know.  I can see both viewpoints.  Weaving through cones on one leg is the one that's going to bite me in the ass.  If I spend a hour warming up, doing it over and over, I can usually manage a somewhat acceptable approximation of the weave.  Today at practice was a fucking joke.  OK, the were too close together, but I couldn't even do every second one.  I was prepared to take a zero on this, but you can't get a zero.  On anything.  Fuck.  I guess I shall have to try and find a time space to warm myself up and hope to god the winds are blowing in my favour.  I don't want to fail on that alone.

Har - there are SO many things I could fail on.  Plow stops, hip checks (giving - I can take a moderate one just fine), jumping, ohmygod the jumping.  I mananged it today by gluing my eyes on the Chicks sign that was directly across on the opposite wall but I think that was a miracle.  Throw in some stress and I may well end up on my ass.

Fresh Meat was somewhat of a cluster-fuck, if you ask me.  Too disorganized, no one seemed to know what the ultimate goal was.  Shouldn't they have been concentrating on teaching us the things we need to know to pass the test?  Some things we didn't do even ONCE (yes I'm talking about you, jumping from foot to foot while moving).  Nobody talked at ALL about skate adjustment and that is MANDATORY for things like weaving.  If you trucks are fucked you can't do it at all - it's like trying to bend a fork with your mind and Kreskin I am not.  My trucks were so tight I couldn't turn at all - AT ALL - and I gnashed my teeth about my complete lack of skill for AGES.  When Coach Paulie swapped my cushions and adjusted my trucks it was like a choir of angels was singing in my head.  I looked down, shifted my weight and the wheels TURNED like I had a steering wheel.  Halle fucking lujah.  Ya thing we could have covered this in the first few weeks?  Sigh.  Seems to be in better hands now but it's too late for us Freshies.

Speaking of stress... lets discuss my mother.  As we all know, she has not been very supportive of my derby aspirations from the get-go.  Roller blading as she STILL calls it.  It seems irrelevant to her that it's fun, social, excellent exercise and makes me SO happy.  I have NEVER done organized sport and have been a couch potato for most of my adult life.  You would think she would be delighted to see me getting off my fat ass and doing something.  But no.  As best I can tell, the problem is that derby is not a socially acceptable activity.  One step up from cockfighting, as she said (and has been oft quoted!).  God forbid she has to tell her friends what her dear daughter does for fun.  Seriously?  When is she going to get over this?

So this weekend is our final test, plus we had a practice today and I was supposed to volunteer for a game tonight.  I asked her if she'd do Saturday instead of Sunday since it was basically the whole day.  Nope.  That, apparently, was too much to ask.  Too much to ask a grandparent to look after her youngest grandchildren.  In contrast, the kids down the street (all four of them) were left with their grandparents overnight.  Why me?  Why do I get the grinchy grandmother?

So my stress level was through the roof this week.  On Thursday I basically begged Carolyn to look after the boys for the four hours today.  She semi-reluctantly volunteered her husband, but only I asked directly and said I was desperate.  Paul was great, completely unphased and I owe him huge.

So - tomorrow.  Will I pass?  Will I flame out?  Will I just fail by a whisker (which would be even worse)?  I hold out high hope for Miko, Michelle (wishes for Melinda's speedy recovery!) and the portugese princess, but me not so much.  Too old, too timid, to cautious.

In reality I don't have the time for the level of commitment ToRD demands.  I don't want to be a derby superstar but I do want to play.  I want to do more and more until skating is like biking is for me - a natural reflexive activity that I don't even have to think about.  Then I can hit, dodge, deke and feint like it's meant to be.  THAT's the fun stuff.  The game.  So I want to pass.  Yes, I can go to elsewhere and probably get in with little problem, but I'd rather pass the stupid test and keep my options open.

However, if I fail the written test I will be devastated.  I'm an academic, not a jock.  I've studied this stuff more than anyone I know.  I WANT to pass the written.  I'm going to bawl regardless of what I fail but I'm going to feel like a real loser if I fail the written.  I'm kinds glad I have the kids so I don't have to worry about bailing out of celebratory activities.  They're my derby gals, they rock my world.  I've never met such an awesome, positive, supportive bunch who tolerate my moods and crustiness, but still.  Sometimes you just gotta hole up and lick your wounds alone.

I am looking forward to a free weekend, though.

Yikes!

June 12th is derby D-day.  The day we get tested for our WFTDA Minimum Skills Requirements.  Double yikes.

Done like dinner

OK, really.  I tried.  I've done it all and more for the sake of what -   My relentless quest for the perfect (or at least acceptable) man?  My friends' entertainment?  Something to do while the kids were away?


I've been out with men who make you feel greatand you think there's great chemistry but it mysteriously evaporates (drywall dude), men who make you feel like crap but you adore them anyway for some stupid fucked up reason (douchebag),  men who are so easy to talk to you overlook the fact that they have a personality like wallpaper (Phil).  Men who talk incessantly about themselves (old dude).  Men who bitch about their ex the entire time and how they never got laid and hey, let's go parking! (that would be clicky, the parking dude).  Men who look nothing like their pictures and eat off your plate without asking (can't remember his name - that was a while ago) oh, and then expect you to ask them to come in!  Flicky, the dope fiend with the earlobe issue.  The old fat limpy lawyer who took me to a loud band where he talked incessantly, couldn't hear a word I said when I tried, and then repeatedly tried to stick his tongue down my throat.  Oh, and had a fetish about women with fake limbs... ew.  Well endowed, poorly endowed, good in the sack, USELESS in the sack.  I've done it all.

There were more.  I'm sure I'm forgetting some particularly heinous examples. 

Hey, it's not all bad.  I've had my horizons expanded, my interests changed, my musical taste improved (or at least diversified).  I lost 50 pounds (and lots of my hair - douchebag) .  I've been to therapy for stupid reasons (douchebag) but which ultimately turned out to be helpful.

Post-douchebag we've had:
1:  Toothy - guy who was there with his friend the whole time.
2: Crazy Bill - set up a date and then bailed by email 2 seconds later.  I'm counting him.
3. Drywall dude - total attraction first time, then nothing.  So weird.
4. Lawyer dude with the derby fetish.
5. Bancroft dude.  I'm still counting him since he'd bone me given a chance.
6. Wallpaper dude.  AKA cunnilingus master.
7. Wattle.

Only three to go but I don't think I can do it without a break.

Derby tally

We're in week 13 of 16 of fresh meat.  Three more weeks to go.  It seem like an appropriate time to look back and see how it's been going...

At the beginning I literally couldn't carry on a conversation while on my skates without falling over. Now you can hit me, bump skates with me, I can skate on one foot while turning to look behind me (well, one leg anyway), I can jump and turn in a circle, I can jump over three obstacles in a row (!) and almost almost almost do 25 laps in 5 minutes.  I wouldn't call myself good by any stretch but when I saw the Hamilton team play on Saturday I thought maybe we were almost as good as them (OK, they got their asses kicked deservedly, but still...).

I do hurt myself fairly regularly.  I don't know if everyone else does this.  I think I'm just old and heal slowly.

• Week one I tore my medial cruciate ligament (MCL).  That was bad.  It still hurts but it's getting better.  
• The week I had the flu I fell on my ass several times in the same place but didn't do any serious injury, however I did something to my rib cage which lasted several weeks.  When I ran my ribs would go into spasm so I couldn't breathe.  That was fun.  
• The week we did whips I strained my tricept on the arm I broke since it apparently has no strength at all.  
• The week we had Aston Martini and her gang my leg slipped while plow stopping and I did something somewhat major to the muscles at the back of my *other* knee, the right one.  This hurts and cramps up when I run which is a total pain in the arse, but if I stop to stretch it it seems to go away.  I thought this was minor but it's been a month or so and it's still bugging me.  
• This week I strained something in my upper thigh - not my regular quad, but something higher up so I can't lift my leg higher than parallel to the floor. It doesn't hurt to run though.

I gotta tell you, none of these has caused me to miss a week of practice.  Call me stupid, but I figure if it doesn't actually hurt, I can work through it.  I don't want to miss a minute of track time.

Three weeks to go.  The sun is shining.  Time to master the stuff I can't do:

• Plow stops.
• Skating on one leg.
• Weaving through cones on one leg.
• Fast starts

Get on with it.  There's lots of time to be in a wheelchair when you flunk out of derby.

Mine

I love Etsy.  These were custom made for me by Derbyvixen.

And hey, it's my dad's birthday today.  He would have been 81!  Yikes.

Retrospective

I love this blog.  It puts my life into perspective and makes things crystal clear that might otherwise be allowed to pass by relatively unnoticed.

Lets take the douchebag dude.  I believe I made some crack about him being "too busy" last post.  I have officially labelled him done since he seems incapable of returning my emails in a timely manner, or at all now.  Douche.  I can see now that it took me a full two weeks of BS to come to that conclusion.  Actually, that's not bad for me.  But still... I'll do better next time.  Dude had weird taste in music and was a weird kisser anyway.
 ___________________________________________________________

Anyone want a Wii?  I'm taking mine away from the kids today, calmly and politely.  For at least a month, until the sass and disrespect and trashtalking is over.  I cannot believe I let things get so out of hand.  I am a bad parent.  The kind that lets their kids play Wii even when they talk to her like a piece of dirt on the bottom of their shoe.  The kind of kids who wake up using that tone with their mama.  This is NOT the way my house is going to be.  It's making me angry and crazy and undermining the minimal parenting selfconfidence I do have.  Get the fuck outside and play with your friends.
____________________________________________________________

Raging PMS last week.  So bad I ate all the accumulated stash of chocolate, 6 Joe Louis in less than 12 hours, bread and butter to feed a boarding school.  I did run twice towards the end of the week, but that didn't really make up for it.  Today I'm back on the wagon with only a few transgressions into pretzels.  Let's hope the worst has passed.

I'm sewing a new dress.  I didn't like the shape of the cream one with black trees or whatever they were so  switched to the grey dress pattern (really, no one notices the difference except me).  Went out on a limb and made size 16 (the original grey one was 22!) so I don't know if it will fit.  It's sort of limey green with pink flowers on it.  If this one works (and isn't too short - I think I cut it off about 5" too short) I'm going to make a black one from that pattern.  Depending on the fit/feel, I'll either make it one layer or I'll make it with a striped lining.  That striped Egyptian cotton from the Fabric Store of Amazement is too good not to have next to your skin.  Then I'm going to make one with the curtain material Barb gave me.  And then... and then... and then.... I could make them forever.  I also need to improvise a sundress pattern for the cowboy fabric.  And don't forget the magenta stuff I bought last week!  You never know when I'll need a fancy-ass party dress. Yeah.  Like never.

Oh, and practiced off-skates derby with two of the M's and third-person Rosa in Michelle's parking garage..  So. Much. fun.  I sort of though it would be lame but it was AWESOME and so helpful.  I think I'll take up skateless roller derby :D

Rating the week.

Fridays should be for looking back on your week and seeing how you are (mis)spending your time.   I should do it every week.

Work:  Wasted about 80% of my time.  Gotta work on that.  Had some quality naps, though.  Work my douchebag teeshirt today, which pretty much sums up the depths to which I've fallen.

Kids:  Used the F-bomb in direct relation to my eldest child.  Not as in "jesus fucking christ" like I usually do, but more like "you wretched fucking child".  Yeah, excellent parenting skills there.   And it happened twice in the same evening.  Some days their nonsense just washes over me and some days... maybe not drinking is the wrong approach.  Maybe more drinking is the key.  Something to contemplate.

Drugs:  Really, how much pain medication do I really need to ingest?  For the migraines, two high-dose rounds of aspirin; for the knee, enough advil that I ran out;   for the back, enough robaxacet that I ran out (though that seems to be nicely fixed); and my nightly dose of perc to make me sleep like a warm and fuzzy baby. Mmmmmm sleep.  Not to mention a day of agony because I forgot to take my hernia stuff for a few days and it takes a while to kick back in.  Cue the daily pill box,  I am becoming an old lady!!!

Derby:  Wrenched back on Friday night, skated Sat anyway.  That made it feel better.  Then skated Monday night with Michelle and that was good too.  It's the sitting on my ass that makes things hurt.  Played on the street with Calvin on Wed night, which was fun.  That kids rocks his roller blades.  I have to get him to come and practice with the girls - I bet he's make a great obstacle for us.  I should probably invest in some proper padding for him though.  Nothing after that though, except I ran yesterday which made my knee hurt.  Feh.

Boy:  What boy?  I know you're busy and all but really?  Is it always the same stupid story?  He did wish me a happy birthday but that's the last I heard from him.  Feh.


Food:  I have become a compulsive chocolate buyer - no, scratch that.  I am *still* a compulsive chocolate buyer.  This seems to work for me if I leave it at home since I don't have much desire to eat it there, go figure.  So I still buy it compulsively and it accumulates and occasionally I will eat some.  If I bring it to work I'm so bored I will eat. it. all.  Like I want to now.  Chocolate?  Anyone have any chocolate???

Overall rating?  Last Friday it stated around a C, peaked on Sunday night at A+ and declined steadily every since to today's low of D.  Nowhere to go but up, right???

Call *me* crankypants

Feh.  Kids are back and foul.  Why can't they be sweet loving little creatures when they come back, like they missed me or something?  I am a model of patience and tolerance and they are... evil.

My back hurts.  Physio helped some but I bet some Percocet tonight will help more. 

Had a massage and it was OK, but not great.  For the cost of them they'd better be great.  I think I'll have to do all Wanda, all the time.  Cheating disagrees with me.

Stupid motherfucking PoF keeps taking down my pictures.  First the sort of legitimate one.  OK, whatever.  But this time it was the one of me on the bed and all it is is a head shot.  What part about HEAD does their computer-generated moronic picture-screener not understand?  Someone must have it out for me cuz I'm sure they don't yank pictures on their own. 

And dude won't have more than a three word convo woth me.  (I only mention this because I'm cranky, not because I think it's an issue.)  We gotta get the communication pathways nailed down, though.  I can't go through this again. 

Bancroft dude seems to be over his knickerbunching about me screwing someone else.  Move along, dude  You're here for conversational purposes only.

Anything else?  I'm sure a million things, but nothing for now... I gotta go see a girl about a purse.

Wow

Now we know why the dorky guy always ends up getting the girl.  It's because he's freaking fabulo in bed, and packing to boot.  Holy Hannah. 

Frankly, I think that was a masterful piece of stage-directing on my part.  In retrospect I don't think it would have taken him too long to get there but I really didn't want to have to worry about that.  Not that I'm a worrier, or a control freak.  Who me?  Oh no.

So although it was a beautiful evening,. I drove down to the Roy solely so I could have the excuse of getting him in my car.  Bwah ha ha!  Now you are at my mercy!!  No, we came back to my place ostentiably to drop the car and go for a walk.  I asked if he wanted to come in.  Yes.  D'ya want to sit down?  Yes.  D'ya want a drink?  Yep.  OK, so now we know where this is heading.  So we sat and chitchatted and I showed him my skates (my version of my etchings) and then eventually he leaned over and smooched me.  And the rest is history. 

Blah, blah, blah.  Stop me when it gets boring.

Todays sponsor: Robaxacet

Awesome practice!  I was involved in my first high-speed pileup last night!  We were doing endurance (25 laps in 5 minutes) and someone wiped out right in front of me.  I couldn't have avoided her if I tried so I sort of threw myself over her, landing on... my hands and right shoulder, I think.  I executed a very sloppy sort-of monkey roll over her.  Something went crunch but it was surprisingly unpainful.  And I still managed to do 23 laps!  There is hope. I was actually more relaxed after the wipeout and made better time, I think.  I get all wiggy about the endurance test and totally forget how to skate.

I spent a significant amount of time in the tub last night, armed with a big glass of wine and a bowl of chips.  That was about all I could find to eat.  Doesn't seem to have helped much as my back is KILLING me.  Going to skate with Michelle anyway, maybe it will loosen me up a bit.  Turns out we *do* have to know how to weave though pylons on one foot, so that will be today's focus.  I totally can't do it.

Incurred another knuckle injury, surprise, surprise.  I think I might have to go with Bloody Knuckles as my Derby name after all.  I dunno.  I change my mind all the time.  The frontrunners are:

Bloody Knuckles
Lotter Bruises
Blood Sweat and Beers

Thoughts?

Of MRIs and Men

I finally went and sought professional help on the results of my MRI.  Not the doctor, oh no.  Doctors are for drugs and referrals.  Physiotherapists are for getting stuff done.

It turns out I have a high grade tear in my MCL.  No ACL at all, which is good, minimal meniscal involvement, lots of old arthritis and bursitis.  Jen the wonder physio says the end of the bone was bleeding (!) into a very small space causing inflammation and pain.  Nothing radical to be done except ultrasound and acupuncture to reduce the goop and thus the pain.  I love her - she doesn't suggest I stay off it or limit my activities in any way except for trying to avoid falling on my left knee so it won't bleed anymore.  Nice.  She did hook me up with a seriously medieval-looking knee brace to protect, of all things, my kneecap which seems to be more fragile than one would like.  Kneecaps apparently are the kind of things that lead to arthritis in old age and at my increasingly advanced age these are things am starting to worry about.  I don't want to be one of these old ladies that whinges about climbing stairs or stepping up curb or having a handicap-accessible washroom. 

We also talked a bit about the possible neuroma on my left foot which is aggravated by too-tight shoes and running long distances.  She seemed to think it might be something else but suggested some stretching and stuff to loosen up my calves, since apparently the thigh bone is connected to the hip bone, the hip bone's connected....  But when I said I couldn't see myself ever running more than 10K, she said that's a good thing since our bodies are not really designed to run much further than that.  Long-distance is when things start to fall apart, especially as we age.  So,  great - no half-marathons for me!

And let me just jinx my life entirely by saying how much I like the new dude.  He seems so... normal.  Yeah, I've said that before but I don't think I'm deluding myself this time.  Tall.  Not fat but not perfect.  The worst thing I can say about him is that he has a gluten intolerance, but we could all use a little less bread in our lives, couldn't we?  He ate hamburger bun so it can't be all that bad. 

Great conversationalist, but not by magic - because he is good at asking questions that lead to conversation, he listens, he acts interested in what you have to say.  We have lots in common in our outlook on politics, social issues, Adam Giambrone.  He likes his job.  He like his 9-5 lifestyle rather than disparaging it (not to make comparisons or anything, douchbag).  He's a bit dorky in an undefinable but not off-putting way - sort of like the dork in the movies that still manages to get the girl?  It's hard to explain.  Maybe it will become clearer (for better or worse) with more exposure.  Here's hoping he'll expose himself soon :D

Equipment improvement

When you start derby, the first thing they teach you to do is fall, and that seems to be what you spend a majority of your time doing.  Ideally, you fall forward, and naturally the toes of your skates take the brunt of the damage as they are constantly hitting the ground at speed.  One knee falls are killer on your toes as you slide, slide, slide on the poor toes of your precious leather skates.

As a result, one gets toe guards.  It's much cheaper to periodically replace these that the whole skate.  My first ones were very basic - a strip of leather that wraps over the toebox and is secured by the laces.

This is somewhat unsatisfactory as they shift around a lot and don't really provide protection when you need it.  Can you call it protection if it fails in the heat of the moment?  I think not.  Look at my poor violated toe:

 So I discovered you can get ones that wrap over the toe box.  I got mine from www.skatesnouts.etsy.com since I think everything should come from Etsy.  Cool jammer stripes in red.

While unscrewing my toestops, it occurred to me that I should check and see how far out they really should be.  I've just been guessing.  Badly, it turns out.  The starting rule seems to be that when your skates are tipped up on the toestop, there shouldn't be more than 4 finger widths between the ground and the back wheel.  Having only two hands I could not get a picture of this, but when you compare the unadjusted one to the adjusted one, you can really see a difference.  Mine were way to far in, making me tip way too far forward to use them to stop:

I sort of thought the leather was a bit thin but when I discovered I pretty much had to turn them inside out to get the toestop tight, I reconsidered.

Now they're on, my skates are smiling and so am I.  One of the grommets popped out as I was lacing back up but that's just cosmetic.  I wonder how long they'll last, though?  I have a pair from another Etsy shop on order - should take a while.  They have red skulls and crossbones on them.  (No, not everything derby has skull and crossbones on it but lots of stuff does - it's a dog-eat-dog sport) I can't wait!  I just hope these ones last until the next ones arrive.  Gotta love cool stuff that wears out regularly :)

New vs old:

I put them on just to tighten the laces and all I want to do is skate.  They're like magical things that turn you into a different, more coordinated, cool, kickass person.  Man, but I love to skate.  It just feels like weeks ago I was stumbling around the house when I tried to skate her but I felt GOOD today.  I can turn, I can stop, I don't trip over the floor joins.  I AM DERBY.

It's really hard to take a picture of your own foot.
________________________________________________________________________

I'm de-douched.  I unfriended him on facebook.  Miko & Barb will be so proud.  Movin' on, my friends.  Movin' on.

Reality check

If your name is Plank, how can you ever be anything but a douchebag??

I will be forever grateful for the 50 pounds I've lost. Not so much for the hair I lost, the nights I spent weeping on the couch, for the time I spent boring my friends as they tried to get me to see the obvious. I'm sorry for that, my friends. I'm a bit slow sometimes and you were very patient and kind.

I will hate you forever for making me feel substandard. Stupid. Boring. And for making me feel like it was all my fault.

YOU are a douchbag. D'ya think there's a reason you go out with girls who are 20 something? Women get BETTER as they get older. The smart men have figured this out. Guess where this leaves you?

I am woman, see me hipcheck. And you never will.

A whole new chapter...

Ya, I knw.  Things were getting a bit stale, eh?  So now I'm introducing a whole new level of fascinating posts - DERBY !

Today's post involves the badly designed grommets in my skate boots.  I've been skating for about 8 weeks and I noticed the other day that one of my laces was almost severed in half:

I couldn't figure out why until I looked carefully at the gromments and on my right boot the grommets were really hsarp.  Also, the right hand ones had cracked.  Recipe for disaster if you're a skate lace.

This one doesn't look so bad but you can see how the top is much narrower - and sharper! - than the bottom.

So I got out my hand dandy chisel and proceeded to shave them down.  They're plastic, not metal, so it was an easy job.

I have new laces now!













...and my boots are relaced and ready to go for tomorrows practice!

Too bad the stupid laces are still too short.  Who designs this stuff????

Nothing says I love you like booze.

My dear friend Jennifer:

Those cans of drink you left at my house the other day?  The Palm Bay Ruby Grapefruit Sunrise?  The devil's work.  Indeed, they do taste like something totally non-alcoholic.  I sucked haf of one back just now in the space of about 10 seconds before I remembered that they DO have booze in them.

Then I drank another.

It's Jack's birthday today.  Got Lego Batman for the Wii so I am the best mother ever, for now anyway.  And I made a candy cake, again, best idea ever for the kids who's totally sick of cake.  Easy easy birthday, though I did have to reach into my superpower stash and come up with plan B when my child declared his favourite food chicken legs.  What?  I was counting on pizza.  Shit - how do you pull that out of your arse at 5 pm?  Two words: Chalet Suisse.

Now I have a date - yes, on my child's birthday - and I'm already half cut.  Thank you Jenn C.  I blame you totally for whatever transpires.  And no, it's completely unrelated to douchbag.

Weakness

Roller derby.  So fun, yet such a timesucker.  I don't have time to get laid now even if I had the opportunity.  Though doing a good block on Bren Bren was almost as satisfying.  I think I'm born to block.  Jam, not so much.

So I say to myself, at the risk of provoking an aneurysm in those near and dear to me, why not go hang out with a douchbag?  Fun, entertaining, always available (strange how that is now, eh?).  I have resisted the temptation to fill my 14 seconds of free time with a little douchbaggery.  So far.  But I am weak.  I do realize, dear reader, the futility of going down that road again.  I hold out hope, but I know its futile.

Bancroft dude wants to come and visit.  So much for a purely email relationship.  I doubt this will go anywhere but I am not prepared to have a long distance, subsidized by me relationship.  Unless he's really worth it :D  I got low standards, what can I say?

Or not.

I guess I should publicly admit to what a disaster that was.

No chemistry.  None.  So weird.  We did it anyway but it was lame and he had no creativity and a small penis.  I wonder what happened?  Weirdest thing ever.

Maybe I should take this as a lesson - either sleep with the dude when you get the urge or wait until you know him well enough to know if you really want to. 

Back into the trenches.

Four is the luckiest number

Oh.  My.  God.  I have become the drywall commercial.  It's sickening.  Nauseating.  And pretty damn awesome.

After a few days of really good email exchange, we decided we couldn't wait until Tuesday and I got a babysitter for Sunday night.  This way, I thought, if it's good we can do someting fun on Tuesday and if it sucks I haven't wasted a quality evening on some innernet dude.  I was completely prepared to find him disappointing - email is usually a bad predictor of future behaviour. 

Not this time.

Dude shows up and he is WAY cuter than his pics.  Looks young and adorable and has dimples for god's sake.  And all his hair, not grey at all!  Very smiley, excellent personality, funny, charming and totally into me.  But not in the creepy way of #3.  Not at all.  Maybe because I was the same.

I've never experience anything like that - it was weird.  I had absolutely no problem making conversation with him, but now and then we'd just stop and stare at each other.  Then we started holding hands.  Pretty much doing as much physical contact as you can do seated across the table from someone in a public place.  If hands could have sex, our would have.  So here we are gazing across the table into each others eyes.  If I had been watching I would have barfed.  I may indeed have sicked a little up in my own mouth.  It wasn;t just the physics, though.  It was totally a mental thing as well.

I think it was the fact that he was so obviously into me.  Very good for the confidence level.  He thought I was "cute as a button" which he said was the most socially acceptable thing he could think of to say in public.  Har.  He didn't seem to have any sense that it might have been a disaster.  He's mildly suggestive in a very hot yet inoffensive way.  Confident but not arrogant.  Talkative but not a bore.  Good listener.  Funny.  Perfect.

We met at 7:30.  Left at 11:30 despite the fact that I told the sitter I'd be home at 11.  Oops.  We barely made it out the door before we were making out in the vestibule (what a great word) and we got some serious necking in before someone else left and made us stop..  Walked to the subway, made out some more and then went our respective directions.  Absolutely no doubt in anyone's mind that we'll be getting busy on Tuesday.

Oh yeah.  I'm such a classy broad.  It was snowing like crazy and I was quite wet when I arrived.  Little did I know that my mascara had smudged onto my upper eyelids.  When I finally went to pee and noticed, I was horrified.  I looked like a crazy person.  He was too polite to say anything, either before or after the repair for which I am eternally grateful.  It was sort of hidden by the tops of my glasses, but I don't think he could have failed to see.

And he still likes me.

Number 4

Yes, I'm getting ahead of myself.  #4 only counts if we go out, but we've made plans.

#4 is mid-40s sort of dude who lives in the west end. Am I doomed to find myself forever commuting to and from the west end?  NO.  Unlike your previous relationship, dude is obligated to come to your end of town at least 50% of the time.  That's my new rule. (Rules, as always, evolve from the stupid situations one gets into and thus must make rules to avoid in future.  Of course we all know how good I am with rules...)

Dude has a way with words, a penchant for profanity which I quite enjoy, and finds me fabulously funny.  How's that for alliteration?  He doesn't run away from jokes about drinking at work or getting shitfaced - important things as I embrace my inner alcoholic.

We're supposed to be going out Tuesday.  That's a week from now and give everyone plenty of time to bail. 
Hey, if he doesn't kiss like a fish maybe I'll sleep with him.

As for the previous #4 (3?), I have decided after the events of last weekend and him texting me yesterday with ultra-solicitous concern about my mental health that I need to dial back my Facebook presence severely, at least for now.  I am weak and stalker-like and can't make myself un-friend him which is what a normal person would do.  So instead I will make no updates worthy of comment, I will not respond to anything he says (which should be nothing if I adhere to the previous point) and I will not post on his stuff, whatever it is.  Radio silence is what we're aiming for.  I need about a month more I think before I'm somewhat functional again.  (Slight hiccup in the recover process may happen on Thursday, but that's my own fault and I'll deal with that if it arises.)  M thinks I'm a crackpot and should cut him off completely but I cannae do tha.

Sleeping with #4 would help.

One step forward...

So I was recently informed that I had that expression wrong.  In an uncharacteristic show of optimism, I was convinced it was two steps forward, one step back.  Because then at least you're moving in the right direction, right?

Apparently I have it all wrong and it's one step forward, two steps back.  Figures.  Welcome to my life.

Dude and I broke up.  OK, we we never really "going out" but I ended the illusion in my mind that we were, ending months of teeth gnashing, wailing, chest beating, and rending of garments.  Slept like a baby for the first time in months.  Step forward, definitely.  I am woman, hear me dump.

Started this wretched process of innernet dating again.  Is there a more demoralizing, soul-destrying enterprise?  Getting judged, initially, by a couple of crappy photos and some ill-chosen words.  Then in person by someone who may or may not be to your liking.  Bleah.

# - Toothy - 1 had some teeth issues and a serious inability to stand up for himself.  Really?  You come on a date with a friend who overstays his welcome and then you can't ask him to leave, explain the situation, ANYTHING?  Sheesh.  I have more balls than that.

#2 - Crazy Bill - bailed out at the last minute, via email.  Don't blame him as we had the most horrifyingly boring phone conversation, but he could have just said no.  Whatever.  Do they castrate men in this city before they let them date?

#3 - Lawyer dude - short, dumpy, ancient glasses, some weird walking problem.  Fine, all superficialities.  Took me to the Dominion where the music was too loud for any conversation, but insisted on talking anyway.  Every time I spoke, he said he couldn't hear.  Hmph.  And people wonder why i don't talk about myself  With supremely bad manners, I started texting for a diversion (In the bathroom, I might add.  Not to his face.)  I tried J: hanging with toothless.  I tried M:  baked.  So in a fit of desperation and (and longing) I texted dude.

Yeah yeah, bad girl.  I knew he'd be out, I knew he'd be happy to see me.  And he was.  Hung out with him and his friends and it was fun.  Really fun.  I was myself, caustic and un-doormatty, and it was nice to be like that instead of the mousy bitch I was.  Two steps back, but it was worth the serious disapproval of everyone I know.  It's true - he's my crack.  I need a new drug to get over it.

And #3 kissed like a dying fish.  It was G.R.O.S.S.  I actually wiped my mouth in disgust.  Like Cathy says - it's kissing!  If you can't master that, what hope is there for the rest??? 

 I'm though 3 out of 10 and I might have to off myself if things don't improve soon.

I loves me some tutu