Spewing Unmentionables

I have been suffering bouts of nausea the last couple days. Trying to determine the cause has proved difficult. Week old egg salad that looked and smelt edible? Town water that has been under a "boil advisory" since April 27th? Yes, I did have a glass or two in hopes that the letter stating the chlorine has reached a satisfactory level missed my mail box after almost a month. Coffee? My java fixes in the mornings always send my tummy gurgling and other things running. Too many cigarettes...? I really can not pin point the culprit but I feel like I could vomit at any given moment and how I cringe at the thought.

I don't suppose anyone really enjoys "throwing up" but I especially try to avoid it at all costs, even if I know I will feel better afterwards. I realize it's my body's way of getting rid of the unwanted but the sensation of things that are meant to stay down coming back up in my throat and mouth...well, it's understandable.

From past encounters with stomach acid and other unmentionables I will never ever try to out drink a man who is almost double my weight again. I now know my alcohol limit (no mixing!) and will never cross that line and humiliate myself in the attempt to prove I can not only hold my vodka coolers but shots of sour puss and black and white russians - because quite obviously I will fail. Subway was a waste of $10 that night! Nor will I ever eat sausages from a concession booth, especially if I am the one cooking them.

After 4 long rainy, dreary days the skies are finally clear and the sun is shining. I would love to take the boys for a walk but the nausea has me weak and I fear being too far from a toilet.

Oh the irony...

Snippets of Home

I originally thought painting was going to be an enjoyable process, something Mom and I would do together and while we did bond during this experience - in between the cursing and banging our heads off the walls of course - when you have a whole house to colour it quickly becomes monotonous and stressful.

From not only cleaning but scrubbing, to lots and lots of patch work, to priming and then the final coat (after 1 or 2 before it) it has been one hell of a metamorphosis. That's not including 34 cupboard doors (through out the house and after having 2 removed) plus 7 drawers that either needed new hinges or handles or both which often meant creating new holes. Oh, and the troubles with curtain rods! The hardware of today is just not meant for the houses of yesterday (this being a house that is approximately 100 years old).

Of all the rooms that had to be done which we started shortly after we moved in January 7th, all that's left as of today is the sun room, the upstairs hallway and finish Mom's room. Not too shabby at all. I am thankful that painting was really our only main concern. There is carpet we want to take up and have laminate put down, replace the ugly green toilet in the bathroom, do the mosaic tile on the kitchen counters, replace the kitchen floor but all in all we were lucky that we didn't have to totally gut the place.


Our lines are far from straight, there are flaws every where but I simply adore this house in all its faulted glory. Imperfect is my middle name after all.

Phantom Mom

It's been 4 days since Mom left and life on this side of Canada has continued as normal. Back in Ontario, however, it's a different story.

Mom is having a difficult time with our separation which is strange as I thought it would've been me phoning her every day just to hear her voice. I certainly felt the butterflies before Mom left. I really didn't know what to expect from solitude once she returned to Ontario but solitude has been surprisingly kind to me. I have experienced moments where around the corner I expected to find her, sitting on the sofa fiddling around on her computer as that spot she could most likely be found. Other than that it really hasn't been that big of an adjustment for me. I suppose reminding myself every day the last 6 months that soon enough I'll be on my own and I'll have only myself to rely on assisted in my adaptation.

Guilt hasn't plagued me either for not feeling any remorse for our parting ways. I do worry about her though. Apparently she can not step foot inside Wal Mart or a grocery store without tearing up as those spots we frequented together.

My Past vs My Present

I just spent an hour or so flipping through the pages of another online diary of mine that I conveniently abandoned almost two years ago (amazing it still exists). What is also amazing is seeing in written form the kind of person I was back then. I seriously pulled a 360.

I may have transformed for the better but there are some aspects of that life that I miss now. Feeling the fire in my fingertips. Maybe I'm just a little rusty but I was quite impressed with the colourful, albeit dark entries I created. Many of the great artists (Vincent van Gogh), poets (Sylvia Plath) and musicians (Wolfgang Mozart) of the past suffered from depression. While I do not miss the emotions that come with depression I do miss the creative spark.

I honestly do not know how to write "happy" entries. Everything I've known has been filled with anger and sadness - confusion and doubt. Writing was my outlet, my escape from those emotions. I no longer feel that way so a question arises... What now?

There has been many a night I have sat in front of this screen, wanting to feel alive again (as I did when I was writing) but I was blank. I am not without inspiration but happiness has been absent from my vocabulary and affections for so long I'm not sure what to do with it. Perhaps once I get to truly know happiness and experience all it has to offer maybe then the fire will return.

Until then I suppose I will experiment.

It's a Beautiful Sunset...

I'm overwhelmed by the emotions freedom has graced me with. Mom and I said our good-byes yesterday afternoon at the airport after 26 years of togetherness - the last 6 months were 24/7 - today marking the first day of the rest of my life.

Mine. All decisions and responsibilies now lie on my shoulders. Am I the least bit worried? Not at all. I've been wanting this for awhile now but I've realized I wasn't completely ready until now. Although they weren't written all that long ago, looking back on the few previous posts I'm extremely proud of how I've grown. These past few months have been nothing short of [insert positive word(s) of choice here].

This house is pure symbolism of our/my journey. For all the renovations and changes we made here I made just as many within myself. Good-byes are never easy and I will and do miss my Mom very much but this life-changing experience was the best decision we could've made.

When Friends Turn

It's a pivotal moment when friends turn on you for no apparent reason. Your ideas and dreams suddenly seem ridiculous to them and unnecessary comments are made. You feel inferior when you know you're better than that. Their "worry" is more like disapproval and support of any kind is non-existent.

Intuition bleeds green.

Envy is a dangerous feeling. It can tear relationships to shreds (as I'm currently experiencing). I can only suspect envy as the culprit for my friends surprising and hurtful behaviour but it makes a lot of sense.

I don't have anyone I need to answer to or children I need to tend to. I'm going some where in my life not many people can and I have the guts to do it.

It hurts when you finally realize the friends you thought you had were never friends at all.

Selling My Current Life. Any Takers?

The past few months I've been up to my elbows in shit. I'm exhausted on so many levels. A whirlwind of emotions.

Our home of 13 years is up for sale. How do I really feel about that? I'm excited, nervous, scared, stressed... 'cause I know what comes next.

I'm not a fan of change but when you consider your current existence a life of bullshit, constant complaining and unhappiness change is all you can do. So, when all's said and done, I'll be out of province, over a day away to the east coast. I've never lived any where but here but people do this all the time. I'm beginning to realize why.

Away from the masses, the busy bustle of every day city life and I don't live in any hugely populated city either. Compared to some around here this is nothing but enough's enough and I've had it. Where I'm going is anything but busy, the kind of life I've been dreaming of.

However, it all looks fantastic through my minds eye. But what if, what if, what if??? There's no room for what if on our moving truck. It's not do or die, it's just do period and do so it works.

The house we want is cheaply amazing. Our backyard is basically the Atlantic ocean. That is the view from the kitchen/dining room windows. Maybe I won't mind doing dishes so much. Maybe I won't mind a lot of things.