The Good Day

Posted on 11/22/2008 by cheesefairy

I had a massage today.

It took me 6 months but I finally remembered to check my extended health benefits, get a doctor’s note, make an appointment and go. Yes, this is the average time expended on things I WANT, imagine how long it would take me to, say, get my car serviced.

Quite a while and counting is the answer to that question.

I have had two previous professional massages. The first was a lovely wedding gift; a gift certificate to a spa. I received a massage and Simultaneous Manicure and Pedicure. Uh, the massage was separate. The mani / pedi were simultaneous. The massage was amazing. The woman who massaged me was named Ursula and had two thick braids and a Slavic accent. I’m not even kidding a little bit. She was really hardcore.

(The nail painting on that occasion was somewhat disconcerting because I had married in May but didn’t use the certificate until November and the 18 year olds fresh out of aesthetics school couldn’t parse that I was already married and didn’t want bridal toenail polish, no, please take the pearl polish away, no, I want red, no, really.)

The second massage was around this time last year when I was pregnant and achy. And it was okay but I was deeply disappointed that I felt very good on the table and then pretty much like lukewarm hell again once I got off the table. Can I afford $85 / hr for the rest of my life? No. Compared to my previous massage, that one was kind of meek and fluffy. The scented candles were nice but the therapist was holding back. OK yes I was pregnant but still.

I got my referral last week from the doctor and spent a week looking around the Mizzle and trying to get Saturday appointments. I finally got one for next Saturday at a nearby Wellness Centre but then I decided on Thursday that next Saturday is not soon enough so I called a few more places and lo, I did score an appointment for this morning at 9 am.

I love my massage therapist. I am calling her “mine” because I am going to go there until I have spent all my extended health benefits. And then it will be a new calendar year and I will go AGAIN for another $300 worth of massage therapy and then I will cry because I will be unemployed and not have extended health benefits anymore but on the other hand I wear the same jeans every day so I can probably find the money somewhere.

She was perfect. She had a sense of humour and good posture and strong hands. She told me my left side is longer than my right and then spent an hour trying to stretch my right back out again. She told me I would leave taller than I came in. She spent 15 minutes massaging my right hamstring. She did glorious things to my neck. She talked enough that I couldn’t hear the shitty music. Thank you! I hate the shitty music! It’s not soothing. It distracts me.

One of the best things she gave me was her business card. On the back, she drew a stick figure stretching, so that I won’t forget how.

But do you people know, should I be tipping her? It is more a doctor’s office than a spa. If she was in a spa, I would feel more pressured to tip her because you tip for other services at spas. She is definitely tip-worthy. But if my therapy is “medically indicated” rather than ooh I need a rubdown before my big date wouldn’t it be like tipping my podiatrist? Or my vasectomy doctor? (there, I think, you would tip in advance, just to be sure you’re getting the GOOD snip.) In other words, silly.

Thoughts, great massaged populace?

Posted in more about me!, new westminster, two! children! | Tagged , , | 10 Comments

There is This Tree

Posted on 11/20/2008 by cheesefairy

Outside our living room window there is a tree. I don’t remember what it looked like last year. This year it had a growth spurt and it has been allowed to grow unchecked, sprouting big, hand-sized green leaves from thick branches. For the past months it has been bumping up against our window, actually leaning into our house, blocking the light, scratching against the glass when the wind blows, casting shadows, making me look twice every time I walk by because I think there is someone stuck to our window, like Spiderman, staring at me while I slouch on the couch.

In September I tried to prune it with a pair of old kitchen scissors but the window only opens a few inches so I could not reach. Also, the branches of this tree are quite healthy and the scissors are dull like chopsticks.

I decided I would write a letter to the strata council because that, I think, is what you do when you pay monthly fees to a strata council and those fees pay for, among other things, landscapers that come every Thursday to trim hedges and blow and rake leaves. I think it is the job of the landscapers to prune this tree but I don’t think I ought to be popping my head out on a Thursday to say, hey, I have this tree here. Somebody, look after this tree. I’m pretty sure I need to go through the strata council.

There is a path that runs between our housing development and the road and if you walk along this path and look up at the houses, you can see that all our neighbours have trees in front of their living room windows but no one else has a tree as big as ours. All the other trees are short, demure, bush-like. Ours is tall, extravagant, overzealous. It is clear, from the path, that we have a huge, overgrown tree blocking our living room window.

So you would think someone would notice besides me. But no one does.

Should I feel lucky? Bird-poop-on-the-head, lucky? Should I imagine that the tree knows that here is a house full of vitality and joy and the tree wants to come in and be near us? It is hard to imagine this, especially today.

I need to write that letter to the strata council, but first I need to mention that now the leaves have turned a nasty, dead brown and half of them have dropped off. This might sound like an improvement but it is not. It is more like if the tall cute boy in front of you at the movie theatre suddenly remembered a previous engagement and was replaced by a tall ugly boy with boils on his bald head.

I hate this tree. I have never hated a tree before. I am having fantasies about chainsaws. I have to write that letter.

I need more light.

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Time, Again

Posted on 11/18/2008 by cheesefairy

Showers these days are a stealth mission. Get in, get clean, get out. I have stopped washing my hair with shampoo more than once a week, the rest of the time I scrub in conditioner instead. I have never encountered a shower caddy that actually works, so everything is perched on the edge of the tub. (Apparently I am not the only one who does this.) We keep it minimal so that monkeys don’t unscrew the fascinating bottles during bathtime.

This past Sunday, while Fresco slept and the other half of our household went out, I had a long shower. For the first time in [a very long time] I defuzzed my legs. Naturally, I then needed moisturizer. In the cupboard beneath our bathroom sink there is all my extra, pre-kid stuff, stuff I don’t use very often but can’t bear to throw out, stuff that doesn’t fit on the edge of the tub. Nail polish. Mud masks. Bath salts. Eight different kinds of facial scrub. What-have-you.

I saw a jar of spiced orange body butter. Thought it sounded lovely and smoothing. Reached out and in slow motion, my hand moving to the jar, my brain calculated: dude, you bought that 3 years ago. THREE YEARS AGO. I was pregnant with Trombone, it was November, my belly was itchy, I had nothing better to do after work than wander home to my west end apartment from my downtown job, a 15 minute walk, via the Body Shop on Robson Street. I had hours to unscrew every jar in the store and sniff, dab on the wrist, rub into the back of my hand. Wandering dreamlike around the downtown core, my coat starting to strain at the buttons a bit. (let’s not talk about how long I have had the coat, then) Smiling at strangers, full of goodwill toward man.

Maybe not that last part. This blog does document those days; I cannot lie.

The days are long but the years are short; you’ve heard that one, right? I do measure out my days in spoons-full, it seems to be the only way to get through. Like an addict going one day at a time I am going hours at a time; x hours till baby nap, xy hours till toddler nap, x hours till baby nap again, xy hours till daddy’s home, zz hours since I last fed the baby, -zz hours since I woke up the last time. When you focus all your thoughts on time in this fashion it is a bit like being a horse in a parade, blinders on, marching forward, to the next lamp post and the next, stop, whinny, march on. Next thing you know, you’re glue.

The hyper-awareness of – and yes, attempts to control – the small time makes the big time recede into a blur of Past and this is messing with me a little. On the weekend I found myself with old friends, trying with some struggle and amusement to remember events from those years of my life when I saw them once or twice a week, when good friends, not a duo of incontinent midgets, were my crux, my world. Part of this is because of the beer we drank back then and also because of the wine I was drinking on Saturday night. Part of it is that I don’t see these old friends very often anymore so the oral tradition that makes old anecdotes into great stories into memories you share with your own kids is lacking. But also my brain is past fumes and is currently running on momentum, out of necessity only able to recollect with any clarity the past few years. It stands to reason that my world right now is centered around the people with whom I spend the most time.

I picture memory cells in my brain, like bubbles containing individual moments, anecdotes, memories of life before kids and they are bounced to the back, crammed like clusters of fish eggs into the dark, inaccessible corners while the front of my brain is busy doing the administrative work; charting naps and food and the ages of my children, what day it is today. How much fruit anyone has had in a given week. Has everyone pooped today. (Have you?)

It will be interesting to see if, when the children are relatively self-regulating, I can access the old memories again. Or if I will need to do intensive talk therapy with someone who was there to bring them back. Or if it’s a good thing I took so many pictures back when and in a fit of re-org after we moved in to this house decided to put them in boxes in a closet. And yes I do know which closet.

In the end, I opted to moisturize with a mango-scented lotion that I bought on our trip to Tofino in February. And no, I have still not thrown out the 3 year old body butter.

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Giant Sinkhole of BLOG

Posted on 11/18/2008 by cheesefairy

Upgraded to WordPress 2.6 last night. Well while I’m at it, maybe I should finally switch themes like I planned to a month ago. Oh it’s highly customizable, you say? Let’s play widget hockey! Wow look how out of date my blogroll is.

ONE HOUR LATER – blogroll is still out of date. Header image is not the one I want. I am leaving it alone and going to work on my gay romance.

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Decision 2008, Part III

Posted on 11/14/2008 by cheesefairy

Here in the Metro Vancouver we’ve got a civic election tomorrow. I was fairly uninterested, because we are not part of the exciting City of Vancouver race but then I saw in the local rag that the challenger for the position of Mayor of the Mizzle used to be an ICE DANCER! World class!

Wow.

I can’t decide if this works for or against him. I am not what you would call an ice dancing fan but I am a fan of the interesting and it definitely makes him more interesting than the other guy.

But first, That Other Guy. In the interview in the local rag, the incumbent is quoted as follows:

“The economy is not frightening to us” he said of the economic downturn, “The buildings, the way we are, the financial abilities in the city are quite strong. We have a great team … I think we may be going against the trend and have some pretty good things in the next couple of years.”

(emphasis mine)

The buildings of the Mizzle are going to protect us from recession? The Way We Are? Are Mizzleites particularly frugal? Some pretty good things? Like what? I mean, you are running for office, right, so maybe you would want to be more specific about the pretty good things you intend to pull out of your hat?

[Wright] has applied [his] entrepreneurial spirit to his job as mayor. “Because there wasn’t a lot of activity taking place and different things, for me that’s what I thought I could do at the beginning was to create the activity. We know we needed some people, we know where we wanted to put them. That will help us to build up the infrastructure things that we need downtown, the stores, the ability to do the art things that everyone wants. Before we do that we need to have that tax base because of the loss of all the industries in the past.”

(again, with the emphasis)

What? Sure, this is more a criticism of the writing in the local rag, which criticism I have avoided in the past because hey, shoot fish in barrels much? But ostensibly they are trying to make things clearer for me, the voter, and instead I am getting computer generated Politicianspik that doesn’t make one iota of sense. He has been Mayor since 2002 so maybe he figures he doesn’t have to make sense.

OK, fine, I’ll leave it, but here is my favourite quote.

“Everything we do is a positive to the future. If you do nothing, you get nothing.”

It’s like he was trying so hard not to say “moving forward” (and I do appreciate it, don’t get me wrong) that he caved under the pressure of future positivity.

Mr. Ice Dancer 1965 is also interviewed and somehow comes off as less of an idiot. He does use the word “issues” the way Mr. Wright uses the word “things.” And he is obviously a former civil servant, see how he says the same thing 17 times and the reporter just types it all out?

About incumbent … he said, “The differences between he and I are profound. I am a listener. I know that I bring the best out of people…I am capable of bringing quality out of people. I can get people to excel. I can get people to agree on issues. I am very good at process.” Armitage said the city has some serious issues and requires a serious person to deal with those issues. “There are a lot of good people here in the community. I am very good at harnessing the energy of other people. It’s not me who is going to get it all done, it would be me who will bring all the right people together to get it all done.”

I am serious about your serious issues! I have serious issues with how serious you are about your serious issues!

I am done with these fish now, take your stinky barrel away.

In other exciting news, I found a soother / pacifier / binkie / bonkie that Fresco will not only tolerate but actively enjoy. He is not a pacifier baby, even less so than Trombone was, and Trombone had his moments. But this one, it has inverted dimples and silicone nubbies (yes, really) and it seemed to scratch his itch this afternoon. Hallelujah.

Here is what the package said:

The Ortho Teething Pacifier was developed to assist infants through the early stages of teething. The soft dimples enable infants to easily teethe (snort! easy!) by providing offset surfaces which prepare baby’s delicate gums for the teething process. The soft silicone orthodontic bulb provides comfort and pacifies the infant (yep, quietest baby EVER over here, RIGHT) while the natural teething process takes place (HAHAHAHAHA, like VIETNAM “took place?” Assholes!) with Ortho Teething Pacifier.

(hysterical snark all mine.)(I only hate everything because I am so overflowing with tired)

But I do promise: a) to vote tomorrow and b) that if I wake up at 2 am and Fresco has four new teeth, I will send a formal apology and a half-eaten hat to the Ortho Teething Pacifier people.

Posted in Fresco, media, new westminster | 4 Comments