As I sit here in a puddle of sweat

You can start laughing now. The universe is having its revenge on me for 18+ years of not one period. But ha! I still get menopause. BONUS! The hot flashes started two weeks ago. Did I mention that I need to shower about three times a day now? How have women of past centuries, when the norm was seven layers of clothes, manage it? HOW? For once, I’m the one turning down the temperature and Wolfie is huddled under the blankets, teeth chattering. So, I guess there’s some small consolation.

I refuse to consider HRT, but I’m doing all i can to figure out other options. My acupuncturist stuck me in the ankle the other day, along with my regular back treatment and then prescribed a Chinese Traditional Herb called Three Immortals. Doesn’t that sound cool?

Apparently, I should be embracing ORANGE FOOD, as well. Or so says the Hot Flash Cookbook (I kid you not!). It actually has some pretty tasty and summery looking recipes in it. Last night was curried lamb and yams. It was actually much better than it sounds. Next time Imma throw in some of Wolfie’s special blackening spice, though, because it was in serious need of some zip. I also forgot to put the plain yogurt dollop on top that the recipe called for, which would probably have made it even spiffier.

 

In Her Majesty’s Service

Princess Vala is now accepting admirers. Keep the lines orderly, please.

 

I’m totally doing it!!

I’m beyond excited because I have just signed up for Canine Therapeutic Massage Certification. And after i complete that, I’m going for Canine Accupressure Certification. I should be finished with both of them in six months!

This is just one of the things I wanted to have under my belt when we move to WA and I don’t see any reason to wait. Maybe I can even build up a little clientele here to get some experience under my belt. over the next year after I get the first certification, I plan to continue on to Advanced and Master certification. I’m told that the Port Townsend area is very much “dog country” so I’m hoping to put this to good use once we get there.

I’m feeling a bit less impatient about things that I was last week, but dude, it’s hard! LOL  we’re taking the first steps though, and we’ve contacted a real estate agent to help us find the perfect piece of land (something that will meet our farming needs and will also benefit the Jefferson Land Trust, as we plan to bequeath it to them upon our death), as well as talking with friends who are already there and maybe making plans to do business together (they plan to build a community kitchen which is just awesomecakes!).

On top of that, starting this month, we’re putting half of Wolfie’s pay in savings to go toward down payment and/or Yurt building expenses!! Yeeeeeeeeee!

 

Meh

Yeah, still with the pithy titles here.

I keep thinking I need to post. I have to post. I should post. Well, this is what you get when I feel OBLIGATED. [Warning! Stream of consciousness ahead and possible discussion of finances.]

I feel like I’m in some kind of limbo halfway between where I was (and thank the gods I’m not THERE anymore) and halfway to where I plan to be. And it’s not a bad place, per se.  We’re making headway on getting back on our feet after the bankruptcy (so we’re not the old people down the road eating cat food for dinner) and there’s a helluva lot of people, many of them my friends, doing worse. So, not complaining here.  *looks nervously at the universe*

It’s just that I want to get on with it. I have PLANS. There’s THINGS I want to do and PLACES I want to go and why do I have to wait (asks instant-gratification-girl)? I’ve always been the one going after the next big thing. Not quite unhappy with where I currently am, but geared up for the next step, impatient and grumbly when life holds me back. That might be why I’ve moved eight times since 2001 (most of them during 2003). In this case, we’ve actually starting writing a PLAN for the move to Washington and a life of sustainability and mostly off-the-grid living. It looks like we’re actually going to do it!! Without going into any details, however, I feel stuck here in Denver, not really able to live like I want to live, but feeling guilty if I complain because, hello!, enough dual-income that we didn’t qualify for an economic stimulus check.

See, I want to plant this edible landscape so bad I can taste it. heh, pun intended. But all JOel wants to do is plant bulbs that will make the house pretty and SELLABLE. I get that, but when he says stuff like “I don’t want it to look like Couksville around here, I get my feelings hurt and we all know how that ends. Yeah, he’s still nursing the black-eye (just kidding). Anyway… Everytime we have to water our lawn so the grass stays green and everytime I have to throw a can away at work because they don’t know how to recycle in this day and age, I’m just crushed!

Leading me to… I just want to get on with my life. It’s feasible that we can move up there in as little as a year, but in all reality it will probably be more like two (at least) and that just makes me feel meh. So, I’ve decided to start making more plans and actually taking some action, like talking to a real estate agent up there and I even spoke to someone at the Land Trust in that county about possible assistance in purchasing land that will, when we die, be deeded to the trust for perpetuity.  It makes me feel a bit better to be making these baby steps, but I still don’t understand all this “being a grown-up” stuff that makes me be all responsible and work for my future. The 25 year old Meg wants to pack a bag and vamanos to Washington. Why can’t I do that? Oh yeah…. I’m 50 and might actually need enough money to support myself when I get old and feeble(er).

In conclusion: Mozzarella cheese and rice crackers make a great supper with a crisp, grassy Sauvignon Blanc.

 

I always do as I’m told

More dog pictures? Okay….here is The White God, Heimdall.  We rescued him at 7 months. That’s the first pic. He was six years old in March. Guess which ones those are.  And of course, The Princess, Vala.

 

[insert pithy title]

That’s just how creative I feel right now. It’s been A Week. We did get the fence stained…on the front. Who knew that was such hard work? Oh well…you could have told me! There are pictures HERE of the progression. I’m quite pleased with the work the landscaper did and will probably have him back to do some cement repair work next year (when we get another tax refund).

 

The Tuesday came along and it was a GOOD DAY. Until I went to the acupuncturist, which was not in itself an unpleasant experience, although I’m pretty sure the people down the street from her office could hear me cursing when she JABBED that needle into the ball of my foot. No, the not so good part came because Joel talked me into taking the dogs with me because they love to go anywhere. It doesn’t matter if they have to lay down in the van for two hours while we’re at a movie or wait for mommy to finish being poked with needles, the LOVE to GO.

When we got home, Heimdall was positive there was a menace right outside the van and as soon as I slid the door open,  he was off. I thought I was very clever in snagging him by the collar as he flew by me, however, I still had my hand on the door handle and as Vala very sedately went to step out of the van, as she does, Heimdall yanked me, making me pull the door shut ON VALA. OMG, the guilt. You guys won’t believe!!!!  She yelped and I was afraid i’d cracked a rib or something. it wasn’t until we were on the front porch that I saw the GAPING HOLE in her shoulder where the latch on the door had impaled her.

Off to the vet where there was, of course, only one doctor and one tech working that day. But our Vala…she is such a brave bunny. She stood there and took it when they were shaving her, flushing out the wound and then finally got a bit miffed when the doc stuck her repeatedly around the hole for the local anesthetic. While he stitched her up, I let her sit on my legs on the floor and I’m pretty sure that’s why my lower back was a mess yesterday, but it made her feel better.

I cannot express how horrible it is to be the cause of your animal companion’s pain and not even be able to explain what happened. I’m sure all she knows is she was minding her own business and WHAM, she got impaled by a piece of metal the size of my middle finger.

Needless to say, she is being treated with many amazing and wonderful things out of hte magic icebox she and Heimdall find so fascinating. And yes, she slept with me last night.

 

 

 

Get out the tissues

From one of my friends on LJ:

A Dog’s Purpose
(from a 6-year-old’s perspective).

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog’s owners, Ron, his wife Lisa, and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.

I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn’t do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.

As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker’s family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.

The little boy seemed to accept Belker’s transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker’s Death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are Shorter than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, “I know why.”

Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I’d never heard a more comforting explanation.

He said, “People are born so that they can learn how to live a good Life — like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?” The Six-year-old continued, “Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay as long.”

Live simply.

Love generously.

Care deeply.

Speak kindly.

 

What Smart Water Likes

First off, I’m sad because Ted Kennedy has a malignant brain tumor. Oh, Uncle Teddy. *prays*

Secound, I just paid for my reconditioned iPod I bought off of eBay to replace my stolen one at lunch today participating in a marketing focal group. Oh, I didn’t tell you my iPod was stolen (along with a copy of Omnivore’s Dilemma I’d checked out of the public libraray)? Yeah, the universe won’t leave my shit alone this week. But I digress… I wanted an iPod with video anyway, right? So I found one for $150 with 60G of space. And I was just paid $150 cash to give my opinions on kitchen faucet ad campaigns.

Mostly, all I have to say about them is, I could be making a helluva lot more money writing better ad campaigns than they’re coming up with and having fun doing it, too! Of the four campaigns for the same products that I saw, one would have actually made me stop long enough to watch the commercial and maybe do a bit of research about this new technology to see if it was something I wanted.

And Delta brand faucets, if you’re listening or reading?  People who want the kinds of faucets you’re touting do NOT want to listent to The Hockey Pockey song in a TV ad.

 

I can’t stand it anymore

I have a good friend who blogs about her workplace and gives her coworkers funny nicknames like Beuler and DaimondGirl so we almost come to know them as well as her. I’ve always found her posts amusing but couldn’t imagine me ever doing that. I mean, this place is all about me, right? Why should I share my limelight with the dufus-faces I work with?

However, I am going to use this space to vent my frustration at a co-worker who sits across the aisle from me in cubeworld. She’s my age, maybe a bit older and the issue I’m having with her has been growing, it seems, until I spend half my day trying not to throw the phone at her, now.

You see, she mumbles. Alot. Among other noises, I can tell’s talking to herself, but she also grunts, groans, sighs heavily and loudly, and one time I think she actually growled. I think it’s because she lives alone and doesn’t realize how NOISY she is. I’ve subtley started asking her what’s wrong when she groans and moans and she’ll look at me like “What makes you think something’s the mattter.” She’s just a strange bird and I hate that I’m actually letting this keep me from getting to know this woman who is probably very nice and we might even have much in common.

Just now, she stood at the window behind our desks and stared out into space for awhile, then turned, walked back to her cube and said (to no one in particular that I could tell), “Strange things happen around here.”

Buh?

 

I am vindicated…

…or is that validated?

Women drinking coffee have less chance of losing cognitive abilities in old age.  Cause we all know,  I need all the help I can get.

I have been absentia this week because I’ve been pounding the keyboard, trying to get the new website up for The Open Recipe Project. And uh, that was usually pounding in frustration and rage, not productive typing.  *sigh*

I think I have rastled it into submission, however, and am educating myself about content marketing and SEO along the way. No bells and whistles, since I wanted to do this all by myself and am sorely lacking in css skills, but it will do the job.