The Diaries of a Fat Chick

I feel like I should write something.  Mostly because it’s been over a month and 1 of my 6 readers happened to make a passing comment about it when I saw her the other day.

In the last month or so there’s been a few times where I thought of some brilliant ideas to blog about or something happened that felt worthy of blogging about and then I just never…blogged about it.  It’s partially a lack of time and partially just not feeling the writing love. 

Writing is hard y’all.  Seriously.  And I feel like if it is this difficult then maybe it’s something I shouldn’t be doing.  But!  When I want to write and I have a story to tell there’s nothing better.

So yeah…there’s that.

Ben and I are still working on simplifying our lives.  I’ll be honest with you - it’s not going that well.  It’s way more difficult than I anticipated and frankly, the process of trying to begin living a simple life is tiring and stressful.  Is it this way for everyone trying to simplify?  I’ve been reading a bunch of blogs about people living the simple, minimalist life and when I read about someone blithely tossing away 90% of their dinnerware because they don’t use it on a day to day basis, the first thing that pops into my head is not, “Ooh, good for them!” it’s, “What do they do when they have company over?” Because while I would love to have only four plates and four cups and four bowls yada, yada…it would mean never having more than two people to visit at once again.  And while we’re not people who host dinner parties on a regular basis we’re also not hermits.

That’s a broad example I know and those types of stuff I don’t really struggle with; I know we occasionally have people over therefore our set of 8 dinnerware is necessary.  I do struggle with my craft items though.  I fancy myself to be creative (whether I am or not is really up for individual assessment) and so I hesitate to give away anything I might need.  Especially when it comes to miniatures; so many “trash” items can be used in miniatures that true minaturists rarely throw anything craft related away.   Which, as you can well imagine, leaves very full craft rooms.  

So, my compulsive need to hoard away craft items plus my before-mentioned laziness has resulted in very little done for simplifying the house.  We’ve done some stuff, I’ve gone through my clothes, we’ve gone through books and dvd’s (although our two bookshelves are still overflowing), and I’ve attempted to sell some items online (I say attempted because apparently my stuff is worthless to not just me, but everyone else).  There is progress being made but there’s so much more to do  - my craft room still really needs to be sorted.  Random paper and bills need to be filed or shredded, Ben’s vast record collection to sort through, Ben’s office to organize and clean.  Massive amounts really and my laziness, lack of willpower and downright refusal to let go of some stuff is hampering the efforts.

What I really need is the mumsi entity to come and visit.  That woman can clean and organize like there’s no tomorrow.  Alas, I am 35 years old and really should not be relying on my mommy to help organize my house.

However, there is hope - in an effort to simplify I’m going to box up some items in my craft room and other areas of the house and store them in the shed for six months.  If, at no point during those six months do I need something from the box I will send it to the thrift store.  They recommend doing this if you’re having a hard time letting go of stuff and while I initially scoffed at the idea

Kelly two months ago:  pfft, it’s just stuff, either you want it or you don’t!

Future Kelly:  Cork it you arrogant twit.  Simplifying is much more difficult than you think.

I’ve decided to try it.  It certainly can’t hurt and, in the long run, will be beneficial to my sanity. 

I took a week off this month and spent most of it just hanging out with Ben.  We kept the house tidy but certainly didn’t do any of the major stuff (i.e. clean Ben’s office, my craft room and do the massive amount of weeding in the yard) and you know what?  I was “okay” with it.  I had a few moments of guilt over my laziness but for the most part I truly enjoyed just relaxing and spending time with Ben.

We celebrated our sixth anniversary on the 17th and to commemorate this milestone we got tattoo’s (yeah, I know it doesn’t fit in with the buy only what you need shit I was spouting earlier does it?  Another area with mass struggling but I’m filling this post with enough shame, I’ll write about the finances another time) and they are AWESOME.  In fact, I think we shoul do tattoo’s for every anniversary.

This year we both, based on our mutual love for the cartoon, got Calvin and Hobbes tattoo’s.  Mine is on my leg right above my knee cap and Ben’s is on his rib cage.  Ask him how thrilled he was when I kept getting right in his face during his rib cage tattooing and asking him if it hurt, how much did it hurt and assuring him that no one would think of him as weak if he needed to cry (there was no crying).  I have pictures and will post them and share the story of our mutual tattooing in a later post when the healing is over and I have more pictures.   Hilariously enough, I didn’t consider the fact that shaving my leg where the tattoo is would be impossible and now Calvin is sporting some serious whiskers and Hobbes is looking very fuzzy indeed.  I’ll definitely try to capture that on film.

We recently hooked up with Skype and consequently I have spent a great deal of time Skyping my mother and my curly headed best friend Jess.  The first time mumsi and I skyped it was a total “Cloverfield” experience as she unplugged the laptop and carried it from room to room so I could “see” her house.  Now, however, I spend most of it just chatting with her and unleashing my inner child by pretending to pick my nose several times through out our video chat.  Yup, 35 and still trying to gross my mom out.   Pretend nose picking - it never gets old folks.  Ever.

Had my annual doctor’s visit today and spent a great deal of the visit discussing my life-altering stomach and foot issues.    Long story short - I got a prescription for “Super Immodium” (as well as some really helpful advice from the pharmacist on excellent probiotics and natural remedies to try) and a referral to an orthopedics place for a walking test and foot splints to wear at night.  The splints will help keep the tendon in my foot stretched out all night and promote healing, as well as stop me from tearing the tendon when I take my first few steps in the morning and re-injuring it.  

Obviously the combination of my mouth guard to stop me from grinding my teeth and now the foot splints will further increase my sex appeal in the bedroom and I’ll be fending Ben off nightly with nothing but my wits and his back scratcher. 

And on that note - Kelly K out!

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 Here’s what I had planned for the weekend:

• Sort through my clothes, putting the winter ones away and getting rid of clothes that don’t fit
• Laundry
• Clean the bedroom
• Clean the bathroom
• Hang some pictures
• Begin the sorting and cleaning of the spare room
• Take some pictures of some items to sell in our local online newspaper
• Yard work (tons and tons of yard work!)

What I actually did this weekend:

Friday afternoon:

• Finished work at 1pm, ran a couple of errands and drove home
• Spent two hours playing the Wii with Ben (And yes, I kicked his ass at bowling but to be fair he kicked mine at tennis)
• Took the dogs to the dog park for two hours
• Watched tv with Ben for a couple of hours
• Went to bed

Saturday:

• Slept in until 10
• Cooked some eggs and toast for Ben and I
• Called my dad
• Booked my dad’s plane ticket for Christmas
• Went to the school with Ben to feed his fish
• Picked up a few groceries
• Sat outside on the deck with Ben and the dogs for three hours
• Sat on the couch beside Ben and surfed the internet for two hours
• Met Kim for coffee at Starbucks for an hour
• Went back to our house with Kim and ate watermelon and chatted for another couple of hours
• Watched tv with Ben until 1 in the morning, went to bed

Sunday:

• Slept in until 10:30
• Played with the dogs
• Worked on miniatures
• Called my mom
• Wrote a blog post
• Surfed the internet
• Watched 6 hours of Criminal Minds repeats on A&E with Ben
• Went to an amateur comedy show at the Packinghouse Pub for three hours
• Went to bed around 12:30

You’ll note that I did not do ANYTHING I was supposed to.  In fact I did zero work, which to the average person, probably sounds lovely.  And at the time it WAS (mostly) lovely.  Ben and I had a very nice relaxing weekend together.  Unfortunately, much like buyer’s remorse, lazy remorse set in about 7pm on Sunday night and I couldn’t stop thinking about all the shit I should have done and didn’t.

Here’s the thing - I’m one of those people who constantly feels the need to be doing SOMETHING.  Anything.  And when I’m not, there’s this sense of unease that permeates my brain until I stop relaxing and enjoying myself and get some work done DAMMIT.   Because despite Ben’s vigorous and highly animated objections on the subject, I cannot stop believing that I am lazy.  I work a job and a half, I have about a dozen animals that I care for on a daily basis, I’m responsible for the yard work and other than the summer when Ben is off work and takes care of it, I’m in charge of the housework with the exception of cooking.  But I am lazy.  And trust me people, if you were to come to my house right now knowing that I’m in charge of yard work and house work and see how messy and disorganized our spare room is, how disgustingly dirty our bathroom is and watch as Dexter walks into the back part of the yard and completely disappears because the grass is up to my knees (Ben lovingly refers to it as the north 40) you would think I was lazy too.

I wasn’t always like this (well, I’ve always been lazy - ask my mum she’ll confirm it).  At least I don’t think I was; I seem to remember a time when I could ignore my mental to-do list and just relax but at some point in the last six to seven years I changed.  Now, all I can think about is all the stuff that I should be getting done and how lazy I am for not doing it.  Ben says I need to learn to relax, that there will always be something that NEEDS to be done and it’s impossible to be working at your to-do list all the time.   I should take some time (heck, an entire weekend) and just relax and enjoy myself. 

I respectfully disagree.  There are certain things that I want to accomplish around the house and yard and I am positive that once I achieve those I will be able to relax and enjoy myself (even if the counter is a little messy or the kitty litter needs to be cleaned).    I’m of the opinion that I should just get my entire to-do list done as soon as possible so that I can then relax without that nagging feeling of “I should be doing this…” while I’m trying to do something fun.  Because I think that’s the part I can’t get Ben to understand - that even though I DID have a great time this weekend I still felt guilty and lazy the entire time for wasting a weekend and not doing anything on my to-do list.  I may not have articulated that guilt until Sunday night but it was there the entire weekend.  And honestly, the only way I can think to get rid of it is to get the house and yard exactly the way I want it to be before I take the time to just relax. 

The only problem with that of course is that I am LAZY and so I’ll make grand plans and timelines to get things done and then come home from work and collapse on the couch with the dog for the evening.   The nagging guilt of not doing anything is merrily eating away at my brain but it would seem that my laziness is stronger.

Laziness.  It’s my superpower.

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Do you ever wonder why life can go along so swimmingly for quite a while and then BAM - just like that there’s a week that totally kicks you in the ass and then stands over you and laughs while you writhe in pain?

About halfway through last week I dropped to my knees and pleaded for mercy - the week just laughed uproariously and continued to fuck with me. 

It chuckled as it watched me struggle to finish lawn work in the smoking heat with it’s evil friend the weed wacker.  Why am I the only girl in the known universe who can’t work a fucking weed eater?  I’m smart, I’m mechanically inclined - I fix the damn photocopier at the office all the time for heaven’s sake.  Yet I am thwarted by a weed wacker.  It never works properly for me and eventually I’m going to cut off a finger trying to cut the damn lawn.

Every year around this time, when the heat levels rise to an ungodly temperature of 35 degrees celsius and stays there for a few weeks, I question my sanity for living in this city.  I’m not a beach person, I’m not a heat person, I don’t like to sit outside enjoying the “weather” and for living in one of the hottest places in Canada I’m the whitest chick I know.   I spent most of Sunday lying on the couch with a skull thumper of a heat headache and moaning loudly about the injustice of life.  Ben mostly ignored me which is what he normally does and it’s probably a good thing because I can guarantee the whining would only grow louder if it was given any type of attention.

Last night when I wandered into the house after a dismal weigh in at WW (only gained 4lbs…huh, could it be the barely eating anything all week and then when I actually did eat something it was ice cream!?!?), surveyed my messy kitchen and wondered exactly what the mystery smell was wafting from the far room I took comfort in knowing that it couldn’t get much worse.

Wrong again douchebag!  Not only did we have a dog recovering from surgery (more on that later…), as I began to clean cages I discovered a rabbit that wouldn’t eat and a rat bleeding profusely from his foot and a suspicious looking growth on his eye.

Two doses of Ovol and some running around in the kitchen and bunny was pretty much back to normal by evening’s end.  One thorough examination of rat, styptic powder applied to torn hind nail and one slightly frantic call to the home of the very kind and wise Dr. Katie and it wasn’t looking so good for Edgar the Rat.  I dosed him for the evening with some pain relief that I had at home and Ben dropped him off at the clinic for Dr. Kate to examine.

A little background about my Eddie boy - he’s the last of my ratties and well over two years old (ancient in rat years my friends) and was recently diagnosed with lung issues and a mass in his abdomen.  And did I mention the tumour growing in his armpit that we couldn’t remove because he wouldn’t survive the surgery?

Add in this mystery growth on his eye, his hair is falling out in tufts, the mass in his abdomen has grown tremendously and he’s really nothing more than skin and bones and you’ve got a rather obvious decision to make. 

It’s hard because with the ratties in the past I’ve always based whether it was time to say goodbye on their desire for food.  Last night Edgar ate a terrific amount of noodles and this morning spent some time licking and grooming my fingers.  While not in active pain he’s certainly very uncomfortable and rather then wait until he’s so painful he stops eating we’ve made the decision to say goodbye.

After work I’m dropping Ben off at the airport and then hustling back to the clinic where Edgar and Dr. Kate will be waiting for me.  I’ll hold Eddie and kiss his fur while he licks my fingers before he goes to sleep one last time.

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That’s a lie…I actually can feel my toes and, more importantly, my heels.  Fuck, how I can feel my stupid fucking heels.

I have foot pain.  More accurately put I have “plantar fasciitis”.  What is plantar fasciitis Kelly you ask.  And before you get all grossed out, no, it has nothing to do with warts.  Let’s refer to our friend Wikipedia for the textbook definition shall we?

Wikipedia defines plantar fasciitis as:

Plantar fasciitis is a painful inflammatory process of the plantar fascia. Longstanding cases of plantar fasciitis often demonstrate more degenerative changes than inflammatory changes, in which case they are termed plantar fasciosis.^[1] The plantar fascia is a thick fibrous band of connective tissue originating on the bottom surface of the calcaneus (heel bone) and extending along the sole of the foot towards the five toes. It has been reported that plantar fasciitis occurs in two million Americans a year and 10% of the population over a lifetime.^[2] It is commonly associated with long periods of work-related weight bearing. Among non-athletic populations, it is associated with a high body mass index.^[3] The pain is usually felt on the underside of the heel and is often most intense with the first steps of the day. Another symptom is that the sufferer has difficulty bending the foot so that the toes are brought toward the shin (decreased dorsiflexion of the ankle). A symptom commonly recognized among sufferers of plantar fasciitis is increased probability of knee pains, especially among runners. 

Now obviously I fall less under the athlete category and more under the high body mass category.  I’ve suffered from this for years and it’s probably the only weight related injury that my body suffers from.  Yeah, I know how lucky I am when you see all the obese people wandering around with a zillion medical problems but holy shit folks, Wikipedia can talk about how the pain is most intense it the morning but intense doesn’t even begin to describe it. 

How about, crippling, screaming, makes you want to beg for death intense pain when you take your first few steps in the morning…in fact, there’s been a few mornings where I’ve had to crawl to the bathroom because the foot pain is so intense.  (Yeah, not my proudest moment but holy mother of jeebus I had to pee).

And when it’s REALLY bad, like it is right now, it’s not just in the morning, it’s anytime that I sit for more than half an hour.  The first few steps are so painful that I look like a fool hobbling along with my face pulled down in a grimace of pain and trying not to cry.  And this is from a girl who actually handles pain fairly well.  Also, if I am not wearing shoes at all times, the pain is even more intense so you can imagine how stupid I look when I’m visiting people’s houses and I have to walk in my sock or bare feet after sitting for a bit.  It’s embarrassing.  Not to mention the random shooting pain through the bottom of my feet and sides of my heels when I’m sitting.  Or the way my feet throb and burn so badly when I lie down in bed at night that it keeps me awake, especially if I’ve done something silly like walk the dogs around the trailer park.

Still, I’ve put up with it for the last few years that it’s been so bad partly because I’m embarrassed that I have foot pain from being fat, partly because I have a high pain tolerance and partly because I think “meh, it’s not that bad, lots of people have worse things to live through”.

Two nights ago I was watching tv and as I was flipping through the channels I caught part of a program about a guy who was learning to walk with two prosthetic feet.  I watched for a few moments and was really impressed with his determination and his perseverance and wondered if I would be able to do something like that. 

I reflected on how difficult it would be to learn to walk again with two prosthetics and then as I was flipping to the next channel a random thought flickered through my head like a small bouncy cloud - “At least your feet wouldn’t hurt anymore.“  The thought didn’t bother me so much but the accompanying relief with that thought?  Kinda freaked me out a little.  Cause seriously people, how bad is the pain when the thought of having to learn to walk with prosthetic feet actually causes a small amount of relief?? 

That’s when I realized I should probably see a doctor about the foot pain.   I called and booked an appointment but unfortunately Dr. C. is away until July.  I’ve booked it for July 7th with the hopes that he’ll have some ideas for me.   In the meantime I’m off to google some possible pain relief methods that don’t involve cutting off my feet.

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With Ben off in Africa petting lion cubs and building orphanages, my bestest friend in the entire world, the lovely Jessica, flew in from California for a girls weekend. 

We spent most of the weekend doing what we both love to do best - curled up on the couch watching movie after movie and giggling and laughing over strawberry margaritas.  At one point Saturday evening I was rifling through my collection of movies, calling them out to Jess to see if there was one in particular she wanted to watch.

Me:  Dodgeball, Hairspray, Inside Man, Twilight…

Jess:  Ooh, Twilight.  I love that movie.

Me:  Me too.

Jess:  Really?

Me:  Yup.  I’ve read all the books as well.

Jess:  So have I.

Me:  I made Ben take me to see New Moon in the theatres.

Jess:  TZ and I went to see it too.

Me:  I’ll probably buy the movie when it comes out on dvd.

Jess:  I pre-ordered it.

Me:  *laughs hysterically*

Jess:  I can out-shame you anyday honey.

Me:  Twilight it is.

As we watched the movie, we chatted about our favourite parts and naturally, our conversation moved on to the second movie.  As we talked, it became apparent to me that Jess was oddly remembering way too many details of New Moon.

Me:  Um, Jess - how many times have you seen New Moon in the theatre?

Jess:  Well, uh a couple of times.

Me:  *laughs*  Exactly how many times?

Jess:  I’m not telling you because you’ll blog about it and then everyone will know what a loser I am.

Me: Honey trust me - I won’t tell anyone the number.  As your best friend I’m embarrassed for you.

Jess:  Shut up.  You want to sleep with the Dog Whisperer.

Me:  DON’T YOU JUDGE ME!

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how to get to Sesame Street!

Today was our miniature group meeting for the month of January and we made these:

How freaking adorable are they?  The best part - they were easy enough to make that I finished them at the meeting.  Nine times out of ten I can’t finish the project at the meeting and if I take it home - it doesn’t always get finished.

After the meeting Ben and I went to see the movie Avatar.  It was a good movie, it didn’t change my life like a few people told me it would and I actually thought the 3D wasn’t as spectacular as it had been hyped to be.  Regardless, glad I went to see it and thought it was the kind of movie that needed to be seen in a theatre.

A friendship has ended.  It was an important friendship to me once but as time passes and lives change so, unfortunately, can friendships.   The end of this friendship has been slowly approaching for a while now and in a small way today was almost a relief in that I am sure now that the decision I had been struggling with is the right one. 

Being the one who always had to initiate the friendship, who always had to make that phone call or reach out to inquire about what was happening in their life can, after a few years, grow tiresome.  But is that alone enough to end a friendship?  Not necessarily.  However, when your friend turns into the type of person that your mutual disdain for is what initially brought about your friendship and strengthened it over the years… it’s a tough pill to swallow.  And truthfully, there have been other things over the last year and a half that have left me questioning the friendship.

It’s painful of course.  Ending a friendship always is.  And when one person in the relationship isn’t aware of the subtle changes or the widening distance (whether because they are too wrapped up in their own lives or because they purposely choose not to see it), it’s bound to be even more painful.  But painful doesn’t mean it isn’t the right thing to do nor does it mean that while the original friendship is over, we can’t or won’t have a different type of relationship. 

What happened today guaranteed that the mutual trust and respect in our friendship is gone and while it is sad and hurtful and not what I wanted, I am adult enough to realize that friendships will change. 

And sometimes?  Sometimes those changes mean an ending.

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I am 34 years old and have never made rice krispie squares.  I’ve eaten other people’s homemade rice krispie squares and I’ve bought rice krispie squares at Walmart but I’ve never made them.

I rarely cook and when I do it usually puts me in a foul mood; however I love to bake.   Sounds weird I know but while cooking is hot and frustrating and on a time limit and rarely turns out the way you want it to, baking is soothing and relaxing.  There’s something so appealing about measuring out a cup of flour and half a cup of sugar, an egg and some vanilla extract, mixing them together and creating something not just edible but delicious!!  I get the same feeling when I’m knitting.  To create something from some string and two sticks?  Who doesn’t get a thrill from that?!?  Crazy people, that’s who!!

Yikes, I’m a loser.

But I digress.  So, 34 years old, never made rice krispie squares, last night was the night. 

One Slight Problem  - I had no idea how to make rice krispie squares. 

I realize that it’s basically rice krispies and marshmallows but is there a trick to putting them together other than melting the marshmallows and mixing them?  Who knew?  It was too late to call the mumsi entity, I had called her two hours earlier and she was already in bed (at like 8pm people, 8pm!!).  Thinking on my feet, I grabbed the box of rice krispies and scanned the back of the box.  As a kid there was always a recipe for the squares sandwiched in between the “hey kids, find your way out of the rice krispie maze” illustration and the advertisement for the rice krispie water gun. (”Send in four box vouchers kids and receive your free water gun!  Shipping and handling costs apply.”)

There was a recipe for crispy chicken (apparently you coat chicken in rice krispies…interesting) but oddly enough nothing on how to make one of their damn squares.  I muttered darkly to myself, threw the cereal box on the counter and turned on my new Christmas gift, the HP Mini (thanks mumsi!).  Using my unparalleled googling skills I quickly found the original rice krispies squares recipe and rolled up my sleeves. 

For the record, to make rice krispie squares you:

Melt a 1/4 cup of butter in a large sauce pan over low heat

Add a large bag of marshmallows and stirring constantly, heat until all of the marshmallows are melted.

Remove from heat, stir in 1/2 teaspooon of vanilla extract (optional) and add 6 cups of rice krispie squares.  Mix together well and using a lightly buttered spatula press into a lightly buttered 9×13 pan.

Sounds easy right?  Trust me, it’s not.  Melted marshmallows are extremely sticky and difficult to stir.  I’ve been thinking about buying some small dumbbells to work my arm muscles but stirring melted marshmallows would probably equal the work-out.

And trying to get them from the pot to the 9×13 pan?  Good grief.  It’s sticking to the spoon, it’s sticking to me, I’ve got marshmallows and rice krispies on my shirt, in my hair, my eyebrows, and on my chihuahua.  That shit is sticky!!

Then, once I had it all in the pan trying to mush it down relatively square and even?  Forget it.  Even with the lightly buttered spatula it would either stick to the spatula or slide around in the greased up pan.

As I was attempting to spread the mass of marshmallows and rice krispies into the pan, a long forgotten memory of watching my mother make krispie squares popped into my head.  I cursed loudly, grabbed the box of waxed paper from the cupboard, tore off a large sheet of it, greased it up with some butter, wrapped it around my hand and proceeded to mash and push the wad of marshmallows and krispies into the pan.  While it worked much better then my current efforts (thanks mumsi!), I think the last 10 minutes of fierce mashing, grunting and picking marshmallows out of my eyebrows had worn me out.  I called it a day and ended up with an extremely lumpy and uneven pan of squares.  

And no matter how much my husband loves them, with God as my witness I will never (EVER!) make rice krispie squares again.

PS:  I also made a low fat loaf of banana bread and it was both easy to make and delicious.

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I’ve done something a little different this year.  I have resolved not to make any New Year resolutions….other then, you know, resolving not to make any resolutions.

Also, we’ve decided we will spend Christmas 2010 in the warm grasp of Mexico.  Ben and I have never traveled outside of Canada and we’re thinking it’s about time we did.  And to make it even better, my curly headed little friend Jess and her sexy hunk of a man TZ will be joining us.   The four of us have never been in a room simultaneously.  Mostly because the powerful awesomeness of the four of us together will be enough to crash the moon into the ocean.

Mexico will never be the same.

In other news, Dexter the wonder humper was stopped in his tracks on Tuesday when he met the awesome laser power of Dr.  Kathy.  One dose of anesthetic, one Dr. Kathy with a laser, 20 minutes later and he was ball-less.   He’s recovering well from his lack of testicles, although he showed a remarkable amount of determination by spending his first evening at home after the neutering humping his new pink poodle.  Turns out he also had remarkably large testicles for a chihuahua.  That’s our boy.

His big beautiful ears were also marred forever by a tattoo.  It seems remarkably hyprocritical of me considering the amount of tattoo’s I myself have but I can slightly understand how a parent feels when their child comes home forever marked with a tattoo.   Although the tattoo is completely necessary in terms of identification in case he ever gets lost (and knowing how much he hates wearing a collar, it’s entirely plausible that the tattoo would be his only form of identification if he ever decided to leave home) I still frown a little whenever I see the tattoo embedded in his lovely ear.  And in an unfortunate term of events, Dexter happened to be the second dog of the year that they tattooed, hence his tattoo has the number 2 in it, leading Ben to call him “Number Two” whenever he speaks to him.

After the Great Death Year of 2009 (do you know that we lost 10 animals this year either through natural death or euthanasia?) I am determined to make 2010 the Year of Kelly.  2009 kicked my ass and I refuse to let 2010 do the same.

It started out strong too - I spent New Year’s Day reorganizing my kitchen, tossing stuff I no longer used, giving a bunch of stuff to Value Village and cleaning the microwave.  Since then it’s gone a bit downhill but I am positive that any day now it’ll turn the hell around.  It is the Year of Kelly afterall. 

Last weekend Ben built a staircase to our bed for the coolest feline on the planet - Smokey.  His arthritis has been getting steadily worse and the combination of that and our extremely high bed has been very difficult for my poor boy.  And since (stop me if you’ve heard this already) I love Smokey more than anything else in the world I immediately demanded that Ben build him a staircase.  Ben, ever so accommodating, generously donated an entire day of his Christmas break to building the stairs.  Smokey?  Loves it.

He started using it almost immediately and I can breathe a sigh of relief knowing that he’s no longer leaping from the bed to the floor with a bone jarring thump.  Yay Smokey!  Yay Ben!

And now?  Now I’m going to bed.  Night y’all.

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I took this picture yesterday while my two favourite fellas (and Kaneyko the cat!) were watching the Grey Cup:

My little puppy all grown up:

Isn’t he sweet?  So darling, so innocent?

Here’s the new toy I bought him this evening:

Isn’t he sweet?  So darling?  So innocent?  I named him Franklyn and handed him over to Dexter when I got home from work. 

And within minutes, nay seconds, my darling, sweet, innocent Dexter had defiled Franklyn in ways I cannot bear to tell you. 

But I can show you!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cCbuAULU4To

We’ve reached a new chapter in Dexter’s life, one where he is compelled to hump the living shit out of his stuffies.   I fear for his purple poodle.  She’s got a beautiful purple poofy hairdo and an unsavoury gleam in her eye.  I’m sure she’ll be next in his quest to perform illicit, steamy sexy sex with every inanimate object in this household.  The penguin?  I think he’ll be just fine, he’s got attitude about interspecies copulation. 

Five months old and he’s already Humpy McHumperson.  I’m so proud. 

In conclusion?  Someone will be getting the snip, snip soon.  Listen to Bob Barker kids!  Spay and neuter!!

In other news, the craziness at work has calmed down, I’ve reduced my average work day to 9 or 10 hours and am getting some things accomplished at home.  I cleaned my bathroom yesterday, it’s all gleamy and pretty.   Yay pretty and gleamy! 

Also, I have bought 98% of my Xmas gifts and wrapped and mailed them.  I have two gifts to buy and then I am done.  Bask in my awesome Christmas gloriousness.  Bask in it!!

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I just stumbled upon a recent picture of the very first guy I slept with (sorry mum and dad!).  He was older than me by a pretty significant amount, and in retrospect, a bit of a loser (he, ahem, still lived with his parents when he was 37) but he was pretty damn attractive.

In this most recent picture?  He looks very much like a tanned Elvis in a cowboy shirt.

 I am oddly embarrassed by this.

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