Spaghetti Harvest

I was telling my aunt about the possibility of my going away for training for the better part of 7 months. Her response…….?

“wow! Would kind of be hard sending the kids to school, don’t ya think?”

Um.

What year is this again? 1950? 1976? 1912?

This was my “cool” Aunt, the one that’s only 15 or so years older than me. The socially progressive, pro-choice, feminist, uber-liberal, Greenpeace card carrying, pot smoking hippy Auntie (SPOFLG for short). The cool one. Makes me wonder what my other Auntie is going to say.

Frankly I don’t give a crap. Barring any serious medical issues, I’m doing this if they like it or not cause I’m stubborn as shit.

I had to e-mail her and asked her to clarify. I told her that the girls had a father that was perfectly capable of “taking them to school, or to daycare while their mother was away”. I also further explained that this was no different than if HE had to go away for 6 months. He’s a big boy. He helped to make them, he can help take care of them. If anything there are times when HE is much better at this parenting gig than I am, given my own abnormal upbringing.

Yes, they’re my kids. But they’re his too. If I do this, I do it to help improve ALL of our lives. The path I take will more than double our income, will give me job security a pension and as a result we will be able to offer our girls much more than we can now.

DAMMIT people need to stop pissing me off today!

Oh. And the house is sold. It closed today, one less thing to have hanging over our heads.

At what point do you get your head out of your ass, give it a good shake and crack down on the bullshit going on in the government??

It seems that this country is going for shit faster than I can think of a catchy retort. Frankly, I’m sick of being nice, and portrayed as “nice” and “PC” for the sake of not rocking the fucking boat when it comes to other cultures moving here.

People are thumbing their noses at even attempting to learn one of our official languages.

We’re involved in a war, in a place that doesn’t seem to want or appreciate help. Guess what people, if YOU want the Taliban out of the damn country, get your thumbs out of your asses, and HELP the soldiers, otherwise you are no better than the Taliban.

Then, those people who are running from the same threat come to OUR country and try to take it over screaming “racism” and “violation” of THEIR culturally derived human rights. Fuck Canada’s eh? Here’s a thought, fix your own damn country.

Hey, I have NO problem with immigrants that want to start a new life here, that follow the proper channels, that adapt to the culture. You should be Canadian (fill in the blank), not a (fill in the blank) who happens to live in Canada and expects US to bend to YOUR will. Ain’t gonna happen.

If I moved across the world, I would be expected to conform to THEIR culture, THEIR rules. So why does Canada have to bend over backwards for people who want to live here? They want to live here, they need to conform. Period.

Reverse racism is on the rise. Just visit Toronto, the center of the universe to find examples all over the damn place. At one time I was horrified at my Dad’s apparent red neck leanings, but over the last several years, I’ve noticed a real trend, I’ve been rather shocked and appalled at the crap going on in the center of the universe. Someone gets pulled over by a cop for speeding, and “racism!!!” is screamed. My step brother is called a racist because he didn’t want the neighbors parking on his lawn. The horror!

We seem to be missing about 41 freaking thousand illegal immigrants. And toss out the honest, hard working people who try to go through the proper channels to STAY in Canada.

Criminals get more respect than their victims.

Immigrants have more rights than citizens. Especially when it comes to religion and “freedom of expression” even if it comes at the expense of Canadians.

Our economy is going to hell. I don’t think I need to link anything here, just try to get gas, or buy food. Hell, try buying a house in Edmonton, got an extra half million to spare? 45 freaking year mortgage? Are you kidding me? Talk about a money grab.

I woke up disgusted. I’m about thisclose to freaking out on the next person who asks me how I am.

When the hell are we Canadians going to say enough is enough? I don’t even know where to start besides venting here!

I’m sure you’re probably all shocked and appalled with me now.

Bite me.

I hate it.

I’m starting to wonder if my anti-depressants are keeping me from loosing weight. I’m eating right (Ok, a little slip with cookies does NOT account for a 7lb weight gain over the last month), I’m excercising, I’m staying active and yet the scale (stupid scale) keeps creeping up.

In the beginning I thought perhaps I was building muscle, but now I’m getting annoyed, and frustrated.

I don’t want to think that I’ll be fat forever. I can’t be. I refuse to let that happen.

I go for a run/fast walk and wonder if I’m actually DOING anything positive.

I am trying to stay on top of taking my supplements, but I keep forgetting.

Maybe this is just one long ass plateau that made me gain some of the weight back?

I’m TRYING to do this the right way, by eating right and excercising, but dammit, why does this seem so easy for other people? I *know* its the PCOS, it makes every freaking pound hang on like crazy and besides cutting calories drastically I just don’t know what to do.

I’m tired of being fat. I’m tired of working out, feeling sore and knowing that my knees are hurting because of the extra weight, but I push on hoping/thinking/feeling that at some point the weight has to come off. I mean the laws of thermodynamics HAVE to apply to everyone right?

To reduce the clutter in this world.

This is in stark contrast to yesterdays post as you will soon find out.

Part of the moving process is to shoot the damn squirrel that makes me stock up on dry goods, canned goods and the freezer full of goodies. It’s been a bit stressful, but we have no way to transport a megaton of frozen food.

As I’ve been letting the dry goods run out, I’ve been trying to get a little more creative with meal making, and in the process I’ve been finding some stuff in the freezer that I’d forgotten I’d had.

Like cookie dough.

The cookie dough was bought to support a friends gymnastics program. Note the irony there. Selling fattening cookie dough that screams to be eaten with a spoon directly from the tub to support the little children throwing themselves at high bars and hobby horses.

So, after making my eldest child three chicken nuggets and the rest of the frozen french fries (again, blame the inlaws, I prefer to make mine from scratch - go ahead and taunt me) I found the tub of chocolaty, sugary, transfat laden goodness.

Being that it’s a windy, blustery Sunday afternoon, I thought that we could eat some fresh baked cookies.

Ahem.

That IS if I can stay away from the tub long enough.

I have this very bad habit of procrastinating, especially when my “to do” list is about 6 feet long.

Doing weights and core exercises? No problem. They don’t take long.

Getting on the treadmill or elliptical for 30-45 minutes? Boring. I end up obsessing over every little thing I *should* be doing rather than just enjoying the workout. And lets face it, staring at a book case and my linen print of Desiderata isn’t exactly thrilling.

I need to get a TV set up in the workout room and get some movies going.

The other day I went OUTSIDE for a run. On real pavement.

One benefit of going outside besides the obvious fresh air and sunshine is that when you are several kilometers from your house and are damn tired you can’t hit “stop” and walk away like you can with a treadmill.

I ran…er…walked and ran…um…walked very very fast with short bursts of running for 4.6 kilometers!

Woo Mee! I’ve been plotting my next run. I was going to go today, but between the Farmers Market (while making fun of the newbie soaper who apparently has yet to be introduced to the business end of a label), grocery shopping and having a hot bath with epsom salts to suck out all the lactic acid in my body, I’ve been busy.

Tomorrow sweet road, tomorrow I shall pound thee with my 8.5 ascics shoes while listening to my Ipod and avoid getting slapped in the face with a bouncing cord.

So, now that there are no more children planned for, my body decides all of a sudden to be all fertile like. I’m learning new things every day. Like how migraines and hormones are related, how hormones also make you eat like a starved person, and how hormones also make you want to hurt someone, for no particular reason. Or cry. Whatever.

This is compounded by the fact that my husbands work are being dicks to him. And then he’s a dick at home and then he cannot use his dick anywhere near me otherwise he may find it go mysteriously missing in the night.

We are moving across the country, at their request, but they won’t allow him to take business time to go to the bank and get financing. They have set a stupid date for his last day at work, instead of being at the end of a month when most other people in the world would move, it’s in the middle of the month. The people buying the house surprisingly want the house at the beginning of the month instead of the middle of the month, like normal people. So now, his work, again being dicks are denying him an earlier leave date.

That means we get to be stuck in a hotel for ten days before we can leave town only to spend another ten days on the road.

Yay. Can you feel my excitement at being stuck in one room with a bitchy husband and two children under the age of 5??

And I’m completely pissed off at my MIL now, I called her to vent a bit about the situation, and I mentioned that I was late paying taxes this year because the Netfile system was down, and apparently everyone and their dog was trying to send a payment to the CCRA at the last minute, so I kept getting errors when I tried to pay through the bank. I mentioned this to the MIL, and 15 minutes later the FIL is calling me to give me shit because now we’re going to have to pay a penalty. Grrrr.

FUCK OFF!

Perhaps the solution is to send the girls to visit the inlaws during those ten days, and Glen and I can hang out in the hotel.

Glen and I have been together for a very long time, twenty years this January.

For the most part, we agree on most things. In fact, I tend to make the majority of decisions around the house and regarding finances because he is usually in agreement with me. He is also very easy going, so I think he just lets me have my way the majority of the time.

But there are times where he expresses his opinion and will not budge. It doesn’t happen very often, and usually I’m so shocked that I don’t usually argue with him. I figure that if he is that adamant, then who am I to argue with him about it?

Yesterday with the back and forth negotiations over the offer to purchase, Glen stood his ground and would not budge on a particular number. He had some good reasons for it, but for some oddball reason I kept pushing for a slightly lower number thinking that we had to move at least a little in the negotiation process. In the end, I decided that if he felt that strongly, then I would listen to him.

Good thing too, because they went with the the number he wouldn’t budge from.

Now, we wait.