I love the smell of fall. Dead rotting leaves and damp earth smell delicious. I love pumpkins, spices and hot apple cider. I love wearing sweaters and jeans. Sleeping with the window open under tons of blankets. Orange, red and yellow everywhere. Squirrels frantically collecting food for winter. Lighting candles for that little bit of warmth and glow.
Oh, I love it. I love it so much.
I wish it could be fall all the time... I even love cold autumn rain
I'm not taking anyone's shit anymore. I'm really not. I told my mother in law what I thought of her attitude today, and it felt good. I'm going to tell everyone else when they're stepping on me too. Not bitchily, not evilly, just bluntly. Frostily, perhaps, but nothing more.
I'm going to speak my mind and everyone who doesn't like it can leave. I don't owe anyone anything but the truth.
And the truth is, I'm sick of everyone's crap.
Yesterday I met a client that had taken over at one of my schools. I got to her class just before it started (the kids were coming in, but they were still sorting themselves out). I introduced myself, gave her a catalogue, a calendar and all the things she would need to be a client of mine (well, technically the SCHOOL is the client but the teacher facilitates it).
Anyway, she asked me to come to meet the teacher night at her school "in case" some kids wanted to rent instruments. I explained that the company discourages us from doing Rental Nights during other school activities. There's too much going on at the school and you don't get any serious customers. We need a dedicated evening to explain the process and answer questions to a group all at once.
She said she understood Four hours later she sent me an email telling me that she already told everyone I'd be coming October 8th at 7pm. She was sorry she didn't know I wasn't "keen" about it.
She didn't ask anyone at the store if I could do it. Then she asked me, I said no, and she did it anyway.
Fucking bitch.
Matt and I didn't get a vacation this summer. With the deaths among friends and coworkers, illnesses and everything else, we didn't have a chance.
So we're going on a dinner cruise in Bracebridge. A night where I can wear a real dress, and he can wear a suit. We will have dinner on the water and dance into the evening.
I'm so excited to have a real husband and wife night out. I can't wait. Oh, I can't wait.
Anyone who says they don't work for the money is full of it. I think working is about making money, and money allows you to live.
Work to live, don't live to work!
Thus, when I found out that a local jewellery store is paying $80-120k a year for salespeople, I brushed off my resume.
Sure, I'll miss the fun of driving around all day, but for 80k I would do damned near anything.
Usually on Hallowe'en, Matt and I don't do anything. Last year our friends invited us out last minute and we scrambled through my dad's work gear to find some last minute costumes. It wasn't the greatest outcome.
This year, we will actually do something good!
Matt is going to go as Flavor Flav, which is hilarious because he's so white he's nearly transparent. He'll be wearing the big clock necklace, fake gold grill and viking horns. It's going to be fabulous.
I am going to be a jellyfish. I have decided that it is a very random and easy to make costume that should be easily recognizable. I'm kind of excited. YAY JELLYFISH!
Thank you for carrying bras with a cup size larger than a DD. As I'm sure you are well aware, it's nearly impossible to find such sizes outside of expensive boutiques. I have been buying bras from you (and your sister company, Addition-Elle) for years. What I'm wondering is exactly WHY you decided to discontinue any band sizes under 40. 40... are you serious? Exactly how can you justify carrying cup sizes as small as a B, but no band sizes under a 40? That's INSANE. Not all well-endowed ladies are thick in the ribs! Where the hell am I supposed to find my bras now? Do I have to frankenstein your cups onto a La Senza band?
I saw a 46B today. 46B. How common a size could that POSSIBLY be? You carry size 12 pants, but not smaller bra band sizes. What would a size 12 WEAR?!
I'm pissed that I have a gift certificate for your store that I basically consider useless now. I don't even want to shop at your store. Next thing I know you'll be selling pants with a 54" waist and a 26" inseam. Exactly WHO is your target market?
Let me know when you figure it out.
I was dogsitting for my mother and her boyfriend this weekend. My mother has the two dogs I grew up with, Jack Russells names Cooper and Shilo. Her boyfrtiend, Steve, has an old chocolate lab named Fletcher. We (my husband and I) renamed Fletcher, Chesterfield. This is due to the fact that he's the exact colour of brown as my mom's leather couch. Chesterfield now responds to his new moniker without hesitation and he's a lovely old boy.
When I was dogsitting he wouldn't do anything I asked. He wouldn't go outside, wouldn't go in the basement where he eats and sleeps. I thought he was being stubborn, I raised my voice at him. He just looked at me sadly.
By the end of the day yesterday I noticed he couldn't scratch his ear, and he could barely stand. He was in terrible pain and he was favouring his back legs (both of them). My brother and I had to carry him into the house because he couldn't even walk. The poor guy, he's the sweetest dog ever and I had been cross with him for two days.
Mom and Steve took him to the vet. He has arthritis, apparently so they loaded him up with anti-inflammatory and codeine injections. He's lost 10 lbs of muscle because he can't exercise. I love him so much, I can't bear the thought of him being in pain all the time. The thing that makes me sad is I don't think Steve will ever be able to let him go. They think he might be able to live another 3 or 4 years. I wonder whether Chesterfield wants to live that much longer.
It breaks my heart.
As much as going back to work freaked me out a little bit, I can't believe how happy I am to be back. The normal bedtimes and wake-up times, the routine of packing a lunch... all that plus the physical exertion. Running up and down stairs, across parking lots, carrying things. Many things!
In five days of being back to work, I feel fitter, happier and much more focussed.
My life lacks focus. I think that's why work and structure are good for me. I'm even more excited to start boxing classes. I have a certain kind of competitive streak that is enhanced by agressive sports. Soccer and martial arts always kept me fit and happy. I can't wait to box. Everytime I close my eyes I see my self gritting my teeth, grunting and slamming a gloved fist into a punching bag. I think it's going to be pretty spectacular. I can't wait to go and get my anger out, to work up a good sweat and to fall in bed exhausted.
I can't wait. I hope I get yellow boxing gloves.
Last night I had a horrible nightmare that I was dating this new guy at work named Chris. Chris is 35 and just recently moved back from New Zealand. I find him odd but fascinating.
In my dream, I lived at my old house. My parents were not divorced. The whole thing felt incredibly real, and that's possibly why I woke up in a cold, terrified sweat.
Chris met my parents and was introduced as "Chris Sweet" (later in the dream I somehow realized it was actually spelled 'Suite' as is "tout de suite"; French for 'fast' or 'quickly'. Actually, it really means immediately but I was dreaming so i forgive my poor grasp of French). Regardless, my parents loved him. He is tall, muscular and oddly good looking. He has travelled to 30 countries and speaks bits of many languages. He is wordly and intriguing. He passes their test.
We leave the house, and he starts to say things that scare me. I don't even remember what they were, only that they were full of menace and I was terrified. I tried to run from him and he told me he was going to go home to my parents.
My legs were like concrete... I think he's drugged me. I can barely move, but I manage to run into the brush of the greenspace we're walking near. There are houses on one side, so I drag myself through them. I can't go to the front door, because he will see me. I cannot get help, I'm too drugged to talk.
Chris leaves.
I assume he has gone to do something to my family.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, but I can't press the buttons. My hands are rubber and they won't work. I try to voice dail but my words are slurred and messy; the phone can't understand me. I'm crying. I am so numb but I try to drag myself on, trying the phone over and over again.
I finally dial my parents number. He answers. I can hear him faking a side of the conversation, fooling my parents into thinking I am on an errand. He whispers evil into the phone. I'm crying. Slurring and begging for him to leave them alone. "Come home soon, we miss you" he says and hangs up.
I try to call everyone's cell phones, but nobody answers. My house is 5km away and I can only crawl. I can't find help, I am scared to come out into the open.
I call my house again... "hello?" says Chris.
I wake up
***
Today I had to drive 550 km with the man who drugged me and was going to kill me in my dream. I thought I was going to vomit all morning, the sweat of the night before was out in full force.
The sad thing is, he actually seems to be a really nice guy.
I had to sit Matt down to have a serious conversation about our lives. I need to preface this by saying that I love him dearly, more than anything.
As much as I love him, I want to smack him sometimes.
We moved to Newmarket because I got a decent job in the area. By decent, I mean I get about 14 weeks off a year and make pretty good money (for someone who has no university degree). As good as my job is, it's dead end. I will not go up from here. I am at the end of the line. The only thing that would ever happen is I would get a "richer" route (which just means I would be driving in more urban areas. Eww).
I have no pension, no good benefits. I don't know how I could ever really retire.
Matt is the assistant manager for a video store. Video rental business is going down the tubes. He works terrible hours for not so spectacular money.
I sat him down and had the "5 year plan" conversation.
I need to go to school to open my own jewellery company. We cannot live on his income if I quit and go to school. Matt is the sort of person who is scared of change. As much as his job sucks, he is good at it and won't leave until it goes down the tubes entirely.
After a serious talk, he realized that it was true, he needed change.
So now he's going to be an electrician's apprentice...
but he doesn't want to have to drive any real distance.
It makes me die a little bit inside.
