Spin Me I Pulsate.

Here's what I don't get.

I'm flipping through blogs, and right away I can tell which ones are american from the weepy blurbs about memorial day. Tons of self righteous blather about how much the soldiers mean to these people, how the day is special, etc, etc, etc.

Don't get me wrong-I realize the role soldiers have and do play in our lives. I frequently think of sacrifices made daily by soldiers in real wars, but those made by those who have gone before us. I hate war, but realize that often, it's is sadly made necessary since most of our world leaders are incapable of acting the way we tell most of our toddlers to "Play nice with the weird boys sweetie.."

I think of all the GOOD things that most people could be doing instead of spreading bile and hatred, instead of having to spend time blogging about dead friends and relatives.
But mostly, I think of all the blogs I've seen, talking about how there will be a poor turnout at the parades. And I wonder, just how many of these people will put forth the effort and go? How many of these people will actually do something that might help?

Posted by thordora at 9:40 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

So, I let it slip to the Dorf the other day that I wondered what a third kid wou ld look like, seeing as Vivian looks like him, and Rosalyn like me. I received that look usually reserved for the moment before you kick a guy in the nuts, and they know it's about to happen. And then he kept muttering "I can't believe you might want ANOTHER...." for the next few days.

He find it weird since I never wanted any-I secretly think it's my hormones out to get me. And it's not like I'm all wanting to do it for sure...I just don't wan thim to cut the cord so to speak, then we want another in a few years cause finances change or something..

Somehow I knew we'd have another really close as I hadn't gotten rid of much after Vivian didn't need things anymore..(of course, they also say the best way to get knocked up is to give stuff away...)

I don't think I really want another, but I'm not sure so I don't want to kill the chance, you know?

What do you guys think? Is 2 enough? Or have as many as you can afford? Im thinking about population control as well....

Posted by thordora at 9:49 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

I'm surfing at Blogexplosion at the moment, and I swear to whatever gods y'all believe in, if I read ONE more review/whine/bitch/orgasm about this movie, I'M going to hurt myself in a lightsaber duel like the OTHER story I'm SICK TO DEATH of reading.

The movie isn't going to meet the hype. Period. Nothing ever does.

However, the frequent notations of the "viagra causes blindness" are causing me no end of amusement, for obvious reasons. Watching that Daryn chick on CNN try to keep a straight face while the connection was made in her brain was PRICELESS!

Posted by thordora at 10:30 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

I JUST got my new stove! WOO HOO!
I JUST cooked muffins. They aren't burnt or anything!

Little background-My bought our first house last October-fixer upper, normal first house.The listing said all appliances included. Also stated they worked. Now, beyond checking that they turned on, I didn't probe much further, since gee, how to test the washer...

So we close, and move in. Right off the bat, the dryer and washer don't work properly. We call the realtor, who was as much help as herpes. Finally he coughs some money up for the repair, and beyond that, little we could do as advised by our lawyer.

Then the dishwasher stops working, we had to throw away the non-working microwave, the fridge leaks and the stove burns everything. According to the lawyer, we should have checked all items before closing. How the hell could I? Everything worked just enough that it seemed ok. It wasn't until y ou actually tried to do something that all hell broke loose.

So my father and Kevin fixed the fridge, we had the repair guy fix the washer and dryer, and attempt to fix the stove. Haven't fixed the dishwasher. and likely won't. Either we'll never use it, or I'll replace it. However, I don't know how to replace it since it's bolted into the counter top, and I can't figure out how to move it without destroying the counter...

So I guess the moral of the story is to never trust anyone, not even a realtor. After all this, we start talking to people about the asswipe we bought this place from (there are other things...) and everyone gives this look, and basically says they don't want to tell stories, but they could...

I'm waiting for the bodies to start coming up through the pool....

Posted by thordora at 10:27 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

Brad stated in a comment, upon my curiosity about his lack of desire to meet his birth parents, that it wasn't so much that he didn't want to, but that he didn't want to hurt his parents. They gave him a "look".

I know that look.

My father didn't mean to give me that look either. But I saw it, and ignored it. I shouldn't have, since it caused him to start drinking again. But here's how I saw it-frankly, and idiot can get knocked up and have a kid. Cats do it three times a year sometimes. Only a parent can teach you about how wonderful literature and history can be, how to properly use a level, how to enjoy quiet. Only a parent can hold you and hug you until your breathe escapes like fire. Only your father can really make you believe, at 12 just after your mother dies, that he isn't going to leave you too.

I couldn't explain this all to my father then. But when I said "You're my Dad, I meant all those things. I thought he understood.

Thinking back on it now, he was likely afraid I'd see something better in them, and want to leave what, at the time, was a pretty shitty life. What he didn't understand was that I would, and still would, walk through fire for him. My father imbued enough strength in me to make sure I didn't succeed in ending my life. Something kept me tethered to the earth, and it was him.

I have an oddly close relationship to my father. I was Daddy's Little Girl anyway, and after my mom died, it was just him and I. Strangely, it felt right. I've never been embarrassed of him (except when he forgets to wash-he's old) and I've always loved talking to him. On Friday nights, he'd ask me "Don't you have somewhere to be." I didn't want to go to parties. I liked staying home.

And I know that a lot of that is derived from feeling abandoned, alone, scared. My father doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve, and there were time I wanted that. I've always had the sense however, that he fears letting go. I don't know if he could get it back together if he did.

Back to my original point. I saw that obscure pain. But I had also heard him, all of my life, telling me to look if I needed to. It hurt him, but he did it for me, because he loves me.

In a way, that made it all worth it.

Posted by thordora at 8:39 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

So....we receive a phone message (Vivian sure does love that "ringer off" button) from the aforementioned sitter, sounding pitiful, and explaining that she really did try and leave a message, but must have not hit the send button b/c she was about to puke.

um-hmm.....

I still think she's full of it, but since we have no other options, we will still use her for the time being. I'm damn sure she only called because her sister-in-law told her how pissed I was. Really, the 20 missed calls from my number on your cell, or the message on the home line wasn't an indication of anything? No one else was home? You were SO sick that you couldn't pick up the cell?
Don't get me wrong-I'm not a total ass. I'm sure she's sick (she's also one of "those" people with anxiety...nuff said?) but I really would have liked to actually speak to you? Just call me-she always says she doesn't want to call to early-honey, I have an infant and a toddler-since I doubt you're calling at 2am, early doesn't really apply.

I'm more mad that it ruined my day, and caused me to be kinda shitty to the kids today. And the fact that I spent 14 hours straight around them, esp since Vivian mostly didn't nap...I had been looking forward to one last "sit on my ass" day...

Posted by thordora at 8:33 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

Today I was reminded of why I think most people are arseholes.

I was to have a break today. The sitter was supposed to come, and take the kids for a few hours, as agreed to awhile back. Guess who DIDN'T show up, or even call. I tried her cell about 20 times in a row-no answer, and once, a hang up. Left a message at the home number. Nothing.

I emailed her sister-in-law, who I happen to work with, checking if there was some sort of family emergency, the only reason I wouldn't get mad. Nope. And apparently she told her sister-in-law she left me a message...ah...NOPE. Apparently she's still sick, like she was last week from an infection where they pulled a tooth.

Now I would have been annoyed, but not upset if she had of called me last night, or even early this morning to cancel. Shit happens, and as I'm not back to work until Wednesday, it wouldn't have been a big deal. As she didn't call me, I had stayed up much too late since I assumed I'd be able to nap, and had planned on watching a movie. I kept the baby up in the morning, thus screwing up her scheduale.

So now, unless she calls with a REALLY good story, I'm stuck finding a new sitter in oh, about 5 days.

I mean really. Are you over 12? Then you can CALL. Don't try and tell me you left a message when you CLEARLY didn't. That's her other little trick=I'll call thru the voice mail and leave a message so I don't have to talk to you. meaning unless I pick up the phone, I won't know. I don't use the phone often, so I might not get the message. And yes, I checked-there was NO message.

Mostly what's REALLY bothering me about this is that I doubt she's ill at all. She recently hooked up with a guy who lives two hours away. Who wants to put money on the theory that she's having fun and can't be bothered to come in to, oh, I don't know, LIVE UP TO THE COMMITTMENT SHE'S AGREED TO!!!

If she no longer wished to sit for us, she could have said so. I did tell her we'd be looking for someone (operative term LOOKING) as she was looking for a full time job, and I didn't want to get stuck.

ARGH. I HATE it when people act like children. And I've been in a rotten mood all day since. I can't be using sick days the second day I get back.

Arsehole.

Posted by thordora at 4:01 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

I don't normally do or post these things, as they mostly annoy me-but I found it amusing to be 100% existential...not surprising, just amusing...

stolen from pissoff, who stole it from someone else...

You scored as Existentialist. Existentialism emphasizes human capability. There is no greater power interfering with life and thus it is up to us to make things happen. Sometimes considered a negative and depressing world view, your optimism towards human accomplishment is immense. Mankind is condemned to be free and must accept the responsibility. Existentialist 100% Materialist 94% Modernist 81% Postmodernist 81% Idealist 63% Cultural Creative 38% Romanticist 25% Fundamentalist 19% What is Your World View? (updated) created with QuizFarm.com

Posted by thordora at 8:24 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

Can you believe it's STILL FUCKING RAINING? I return to work on June 1. Looking at the forecast, just GUESS when the sun will come out for a week straight.

FUckers. If I wasn't an atheist, I'd be blaming a MALE god for this...

Posted by thordora at 9:08 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

What happened next was I'm spending my life trying to figure out how to be a mother, how to parent, how to open up my heart.

I have a theory that due to the initial separation, adopted kids in some way spend the rest of their life ever so slightly blocked off, a little window in their soul painted black so to speak. Really, would that count as one of the biggest traumas? You are part of this woman, and then she is suddenly and forever gone. I often wonder if that is what caused me to be so cautious around people, that and the rest of my "interesting life" to nail that in. How can you trust anyone when the first person you ever meet disappears?

That's just a theory though.

My life continued on. I spend most days wondering if I can ever read enough parenting and psych books to replace the mothering models I have lost. I think of what I know of my birth mother, and I wonder, will there be little habits, expressions that come out in my children that I will never associate with her? I think of my real mother, watching me try to get the shampoo out of Vivian's hair. I always hated that part of the bath too.

I often wonder if my mother is proud of me, would be proud of me, despite the fact that I'm not, and never will be, the perfect little girl. I know that both of my mother's really wanted that little girl in pink to be theirs. I want to drive a tank, not learn how to apply eyeliner. I want more o ut of my life than to stay living in the town I grew up in, drinking a tthe same bar every single Friday for years.

It occured to me today that my birth mother likely had no choice but to give me up, given that she was 17, and her father the principal of the high school in their small town. No wonder she looked for me. I can't even fathom having your child, the creature you've created and nurtured and talked to (and swore at during bladder dances), this tiny helpless baby being taken from your arms, never to be yours again. That thought breaks my heart. That and the fact that it took 18 odd years for her to see me again. 18 years wondering if I'm happy, if I'm alive, if I'm blonde.

This might continue. I'm veering into some territory I haven't explored before, and it's interesting. Having children adds a new perpective to many things.

Posted by thordora at 7:48 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

Megabrad had posed a question to me-what's it like to find your biological mother when you're adopted. Heh.

Think of the most complicated and overwrought situation emotionally you've ever been in. Multiply that by about 30. You're getting there.

Of course, NOT finding my biological mother at 18 or so, when I was already dealing with my father, who was dealing with his grief by waking me up drunk every morning at 2 am, the end of high school and it's inevitable confusion, and falling in love would have been a good idea. Waiting until things had calmed down would have been smarter. REALLY bad timing for me emotionally. I was already a pretty messed up kid. But hey, I put my name on the list of adoptees looking for their parents. Of course, I rethought the idea a little while later, but forgot to take my name off the list.

It was cool to meet people who sorta looked like me, people with the same eyebrows, some of the same mannerisms, people who I was. What wasn't cool was this enormous pressure I felt to be something I wasn't. I doubt that most women who give up daughters imagine their reunion will be with a girl with pink hair and army boots. It was awkward, and the disappointment in someways was very palpable. It wasn't cool to feel like I had to spend my last summer before university with a bunch of people I didn't know instead of the person I had fallen in love with, all because I was related by blood.

I hated feeling like I was merely a resolution for my biological mother, a reason to stop drinking on my birthday. I hated the fact that, aside from my half sister, I didn't like these people, and I was glad I didn't grow up with them.

My biological father had, oddly enough, died the same year my adoptive mother had. I briefly met relatives from his side, but not for long. I was overwhelmed with meeting people-with my ADD, I have to avoid too much stimulation or my brain shuts down. Of course, I didn't know that then, so my biological mother just thought I was being an asshole. It was overwhelming to say the least, in a really unpleasant way.
She kept giving me money as well, which while at first I appreciated, began to feel weird. I started feeling like one of those kids in a family that has divorced parents. Weeks at my Dad's, weekends with my biological mother.

The breaking point was when her and my grandmother took me shopping for my graduation dress. I started bawling in the dressing room, ostensibly because I hated my body and was upset that nothing fit. But really, I was crying because my mother should have been the one there with me, my real mother, the one who adopted me, and stayed awake with me all those nights I was sick. It should have been her watching me finally graduate.

After that summer, once I moved away, my contact became less, until finally I received an unsigned birthday card. I figured it was time to move on. As well, my biological mother was sick, and I coluldn't deal with becoming emotionally invested again, just to lose a mother again. I just couldn't do it.

We have VERY sporatic contact now. My grandmother died of cancer just after I had my first daughter, and that spurred me to contact them again.I had spoken to my grandmother 4 months before she died to tell her she was finally going to be a great grandmother. She didn't tell me she was dying. My mother couldn't call to tell me cause she was in pain, which I understood.

Would I suggest that people should search for and find their birth parents?I don't know-on one hand, that part of my life that I always wondered about, I don't wonder about. I am the spitting image of my great-grandmother. I'll probably die of cancer in my 70's. But I still don't know many of the things other people know about themselves. But it was also a painful situation that no one tells you about. It's fucked up and confusing and in a way, painful. The people who bore you are real and human, and will never live up to the myths you've created for yourself in your head.

More on this later possibly....I have a poopy bum to change...

Posted by thordora at 8:22 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

Well, the moncton bus strike is over. For now. Apparently they've made a deal, and went back to work instead of waiting for it to be ratified. Fares were free yesterday and today, and will be 1$ for the month of June instead of 1.75.
Which got me thinking-while I think it's a nice gesture, it's more of a case of the transit commission trying to save their ridership than anything. And all it means is less profitability for the transit commission, which now has to pay out more wages...so to protest the drivers and their union, I kinda want to pay the full fare, because I appreciate and use my transit system. We don't have a car, and as annoying as that is sometimes, I'm kinda proud of the fact. I just fucking HATE unions. All they do is cause problems. And it's not like bus drivers take their lives into their hands driving the bus...then again, considering the way people in this city drive....

anyway...it is nice to have the buses back. Now if only it would stop raining...

Posted by thordora at 8:44 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

I just noticed something the other day.

I'm adopted. So I didn't grow up like most people, seeing myself reflected back in the faces of my parents. In fact, my adoptive parents are so not like me physically it's not even funny. So I had trouble finding any physical similarities in Vivian, especially since she's so much his side of the family, namely his mother's. Then Rosalyn comes along.

The child could truly be called "Mini-Me." It's frightening. Even some of the facial expressions she makes are totally me. Her personality is all me-she's either happy as a pig in shit, or really REALLY mad. But easy to please if you take the time.

And I just thought that for the first time in my lif e, I was having my own face reflected back at me, that this child was undeniably mine. I've met my birth mother, but honestly, I look more like a deceased relative anyway, so it wasn't the same. But to look at Rosalyn and to see the innocent little creature I was once...sometimes it's hard. I remember being so happy. And then I wasn't. This is why I think I'm constantly thinking of my mother a lot. It's easier to put myself in her shoes, think about the choices she made, her wants and wishes for me and my life. But it also hurts to think of my mother holding me at 4am, rocking me to sleep and kissing me goodnight.
It's a mixed bag of emotions really. I just hadn't thought about it before...

Posted by thordora at 8:06 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

I wish I could dream normally....

I had the strangest dream last night. I dreampt that I went to the library to get out books, and for some reason they wouldn't let me take any. I kept going to get books about birds, my newest obsession, and they wouldn't let me. Then I couldn't find any. I just kept sitting there staring at everyone reading and doing whatever they wanted in the library.

The strange part of the dream was that whenever I asked the librarian why I wasn't allowed to take any books, they just stared at me like I was crazy....

I mean, I know I can't find anything in the library here since they use the secondary classification to organize the books, and that drives me nuts, but really...

Posted by thordora at 9:09 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

The fuckers might be back to work today. Lord I hope so. I hadn't been downtown in so long there were NEW stores. COMPLETELY new. Plus, all it's done is RAIN for the past few weeks, so I don't want to have to walk to work...

The leech has decided to wake up at 6am. I am not kindly disposed to waking at this ungodly hour. And I'm trying to type around Vivian, who keeps moving my arms away...

Posted by thordora at 8:27 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

Pick 5 "vocations" from the list below and complete the sentence to explain why. Then I then add three (or so) and pass the "stick".
If I could be a musician...
If I could be a doctor...
If I could be a painter...
If I could be a gardener...
If I could be a missionary...
If I could be a chef...
If I could be an architect...
If I could be a linguist...
If I could be a psychologist...
If I could be a librarian...
If I could be an athlete...
If I could be a lawyer...
If I could be an innkeeper...
If I could be a professor...
If I could be a writer...
If I could be a llama-rider...
If I could be a bonnie pirate...
If I could be a service member...
If I could be a business owner...
If I could be an actor...
If I could be an agent….
If I could be video game designer...
If I could be a comic book artist...
If I could be a hooker...
If I could be a crack addict....
If I could be a porn star....
If I could be a mime....
If I could be a domestic engineer...
If I could be a chimney sweep....
If I could be a masseuse...
If I could be a taxi driver....
If I could be a priest...
If I could be a fighter pilot...
If I could be a homeless person...
If I could be a biker...
If I could be a mortician...
If I could be a horror film killer...
If I could be a movie writer...
If I could be a muppet...
If I could be a fast food product...
If I could be a piece of office equipment...
If I could be a head of state...
If I could be a member of a boy band...
If I could be a Wednesday...
If I could be a list...
If I could be a figment of someones imagination...
If I could be a research scientist...
If I could be an animal...
If I could be an item of clothing…
If I could be a superhero…
If I could be a carpenter….
If I could be a layman….
If I could be a piece of candy….
If I could be a beach….
If I could be a master…..

If I could be a bonnie pirate-that way I would FINALLY have an excuse to saw "ARGH", or whatever it is that pirates say. And I could wear all the stripes I wanted, and people would just have to shut up about my stripe socks cause if they didn't they'd walk the plank near bloodthirsty sharks.
If I could be a librarian....I'd fix the library here in the armpit so maybe just once I could bloody well find all the women's studies books in one place.
If I could be a carpenter...I would have fed Karen more than once a month...

I will add...
If I could be a condom...
If I could be a diaper....
If I could be a spore....

And pass the wacking stick over to....
Babin...http://spaces.msn.com/members/neastwood
Megabrad...http://spaces.msn.com/members/nothingheretoseemovealon
Kitty, so perhaps kitty will say something...http://spaces.msn.com/members/okie777

Posted by thordora at 8:51 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

So we avoided a vote by one stupid speaker of the house vote. Woo Wee. I actually would have appreciated not voting liberal again. Why does Steven Harper think people like him? The man is creep creep creepy in that "weird guy at church" sorta way....

and Belinda Stronach? Shudder ew ew ew ew..

these people all scare me...perhaps I should run!

Posted by thordora at 8:30 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

Now before anyone gets excited, I'm quietly, mutteringly proud to be canadian just like the rest of us. But all too often, we pretend we're this perfect place...of course, next to our neighbours we do often look like angels but....

Things about being canadian I dislike.

• I will never be able to name a child "Finnigan" like I wanted to.
• All our policians share a startling resemblance to mutated penguins, squawking and all.
• Any good Canadian food is fried, and quite possibly a massive coronary waiting to happen.
• Everyone leaves Toronto to live in Vancouver. There, they run into all the people from Toronto they didn't like.
• We have the following seasons...Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter, Construction.
• You have to like hockey. Or people...look at you funny..
• You automatically know what I'm talking about when I say "Burnt Toast!".
• We have a dead boring anthem.
• EVERYONE from the states always asks if you know a Bob in a city at least 2000 kms away. But yeha, I TOTALLY know Bob in Regina...
• Moose are REALLY bug and REALLY scary. And they pop up in the woods at the darndest times...same with bears..
• One starts to think Tim Hortons coffee is good due to rapid exposure.
• It's cheaper to fly to Prague most of the time, then it is to fly from Toronto to Vancouver.

Things I like about being Canadian (because I'm in a good mood)

• ALL those fried bad things, poutine, beaver tails...
• People in Europe like us. They like us so much that americans pretend to be us.
• If I get sick, I won't die of a heart attack when the bill comes.
• Generally speaking, we're nice to eachother.
• Beavers. Beavers are cool-I actually saw one today in the stream near my house.
• Jean Cretin (whatever) for basically telling Dubya to go fuck himself when he wanted us to drop everything and bomb Iraq. And not caving when Dubya did the political equivilent of "chickens".
• We like pot. Sure, it's not totally legal, but like anyone cares.

Oh, I'm sure there are tons more, but I'm all out.I'm up WAY later than I'm used to, and it promises to be a long night. Any canadians reading this, feel free to add anything I missed. THe comments should be working now...go to the other blog and tell me if they aren't.

Posted by thordora at 10:17 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

I was watching Oprah earlier (stop laughing, it's one of my tacky indulgent pleasures...) and there was this woman on who basically had to go on national television to tell her family, and namely her father, how much she had been hurt by them not accepting her because she was fat. Her father sat there and said he was ashamed...she told stories of him constantly chastising her for eating again, gave her these looks, basically made her feel like shit, like she was ugly and worthless..

Yeah, this girl was bigger, and her entire family skinny, which would be bad enough. But to be constantly put down for it, for something that likely wasn't even her fault, since she had been bigger since birth? And she was beautiful. So what, she's a size 18. The girl looked beautiful, and sweet and kind. And her father was slowly stealing that from her.

It got me to thinking. When Vivian was a baby, and now as I look at Rosalyn, all I want for their lives is for them to be happy. I really don't care what they want to do with their lives-they can be hookers if it makes them happy. I sit here looking at Rosalyn yanking her baby links, and I wonder, how does a parent justify sitting there insulting their child? How co uld you live with yourself for hurting them? How could you look at your own flesh and blood and say they aren't good enough?

There's no way I'll ever qualify for mother of the year-I'm short tempered and have a severe hate on for the people in this town (I'm racist against idiots-so kill me)but I know that there's one thing my children will always know. That they ARE good, beautiful people, and that I love them regardless of anything. Like my Dad always tells me, I'll pull the moon down for them, if they ever need it.

And to that girls father-I hope someday, after she's told you to go fuck yourself, that you fully realize what you've done and what you've thrown away. Cause you'll never have a true second chance with raising your child.

Posted by thordora at 4:39 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

The leech let me sleep in until 9AM...I haven't slept that late in years....ahhh

wish me luck-I'm about to venture outdoors into the armpit...

Posted by thordora at 10:18 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

Either I'm going crazy, or this blog is out to get me. I have made numerous changes to my template and profile, and suddenly it's not showing?!?! Does that mean the last 30 minutes are down the train?

DIE DIE DIE!!!
ARGH!

Posted by thordora at 8:56 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

if anyone is actually reading this, please leave a comment...trying to figure out if I'm talking to myself here.....

and a theoretical question for the day...if you were looking to arrange a threesome, would you hire someone? Pick up a stranger? Hit on a friend?

There. Now you have a reason to leave a comment. If you're reading this in the first place

Posted by thordora at 10:14 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

Um...not...how I hated that marketing campaign... no, my period has just made a resounding return after 11 glorious period free months. That's the best part of pregnancy I swear. I knew it was coming-I've been both excessively horny and weepy the last few days-always a good sign that it's about to make an appearance. Hopefully it fucks off by Wednesday, or it will put a severe crimp in the plans we've made for the husbands return. Not that we haven't fucked through blood before, but it puts a crimp in some of the stranger plans I suppose.

I've been really trying to come to grips with my personal kinks lately. Let's just say I like to be bossed around and leave it at. That's as polite as I can get with at. It's just been hard to really come to terms with some of the more violent or degrading aspects of my desires, especially as the educated, "semi-feminist" that I consider myself to be. And actually expressing and communicating the details to my other, that's been really hard.

I also spend half my time thinking about people I work with, or see on the street, and I wonder if they have their own little kinks, or who's really vanilla in bed. It's like trying to figure out who wears boxers vs briefs.

Posted by thordora at 12:40 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

You know what I miss? I miss Friday's being a big deal. When you're younger, it's like "cool, it's Friday!" Cause there's parties and people to hang out with and drugs to take. Now it's just another day. I don't even get to watch anything I like since I have to go to bed early, and were in the atlantic time zone, so stuff that would normally be on when I could watch it isn't...not that I watch much TV, but all the good movies are on late.

Ah, husband and one daughter in Ontario, other daughter with sitter for the day. WOO HOO! TORI AMOS AS LOUD AND AS LONG AS I WANT! BWAHAA

Posted by thordora at 10:15 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

71. I act like I don't want a fuss on birthdays, anniversaries, etc, but secretly, just once, I'd like a HUGE deal made.
72. Yellow Corn Tortilla Chips are my favorite chip.
73. Heathers will always be my favorite movie.
74. I like my nose.
75. I've shot spit balls at people.
76. I've had the cops bring me home drunk once.
77. Speed makes me hallucinate for some reason.
78. I watched someone drown unwanted kittens when I was a kid, and did nothing to stop them. I have felt incredibly guilty ever since.
79. I've only ever told one person about that.
80. I hate having sex outside.
81. My dream job would be a sex educator.
82. I miss being able to take more naps.
83. My hair is SOOOO close to being down to my butt.
84. I dream about death. ALL THE TIME.
85. I have to watch the news, even when it's retarded.
86. I am addicted to the Weather Network. Especially during storms.
87. Strangely, so is my brother, despite the fact that we didn't have cable growing up. We'll watch the bloody channel for hours. Drives our father cat-shit.
88. Fox News is a contradiction in terms.
89. I am now hopelessly addicted to blogging.
90. The one person in the world I dont' feel comfortable reading these is my husband. I don't know why.
91. I would go barefoot all the time if I could.
92. Emily Dickinson and William Carlos Williams are my favorite poets.
93. I wish babies turned different colors for different wants.
94. If I could go back, I would make sure I never got pregnant.
95. I don't remember what color my mother's eyes were.
96. I fucking HATE tomatoes. Watching someone eat one makes me gag.
97. Black Olives smell like B.O.
98. I tend to be good at things I hate.
99. I like to do laundry.
100. A newborn crying makes my stomach hurt.
101. I wish I could like myself.

Posted by thordora at 9:05 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

"The first time I had a yeast infection, I wanted to scratch it with a potato brush."

Things I never want anyone to share with me...this image was RIGHT at the top of that...the woman is so odd-she's in her late fifties, and gets all weird at work cause she has a new boss. Umm....and? "He's so quiet, and I don't know what he's thinking."
Newsflash! That's most of our bosses.

She tries really hard, but sometimes I don't know what to say aside from "WTF"?

Posted by thordora at 7:55 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

41. I procrastinate. All the time.
42. I am obsessed with plucking my nose hair.
43.I can't dive.
44. I hate the feeling of wet wool. Makes my teeth itch.
45. I don't have a driver's license.
46. I think zoos are reprehensible.
47. I don't eat pork, beef or fish/seafood. Pork because why would you, the others because they make me sick.
48. I'm lactose intolerant, but I eat it anyway.
49. I've done enough Acid that if the stories are true, I would be completely insane.
50. All of my relationships have been driven by my need to not be alone.
51. I will never feel good enough.
52. The asshole english professor who thought embarrassing people was an effective teaching mechanism-yeah, that essay you gave me 78 on? I never read the book.
53. I wish I was good at math.
54. I can't take a compliment.
55. I'm terrible with money.
56. I can only sleep comfortably on futons.
57. Only now do I understand how icky my having a 24 year old boyfriend at 16 was.
58.I miss my pet rats.
59. I am an atheist.
60.My daughters have MY last name.
61. I hate poodles.
62. I am flexible enough to chew off my own toenails. Not that I do. Anymore.
63. I've thrown away every journal I've ever kept.
64. I absolutely hate my job.
65. I'm too chicken shit to seriously look for a new one.
66. I want to open my own music store.
67. I want to learn to play the banjo.
68. I can recite Green Eggs & ham from memory.
69. No matter how much I like someone, there is always something that drives me absolutely cat shit.
70. I had a cat named "Booger" once.

Posted by thordora at 6:38 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

I've seen this around on other blogs, and I thought I'd do it on this blog, since no one reads it, yet it works towards my end goal of honesty-something I'm not good at, being the private ass that I am...
1. I got married at 19.
2. My mother died of breast cancer at 42, when I was 11.
3. I am adopted.
4. I've met my biological mother.
5. My biological father died the same year my adoptive mother died.
6. I was accepted into Honours Arts at the University of Waterloo, and never completed it.
7. I have ADHD.
8. I have lived in Prescott, Marathon, Kitchener, London and Toronto Ontario.
9. I remember my complete address and phone number from the place I grew up.
10. The first time a guy went down on me was practically rape. I never said yes. But I didn't say no either.
11. A llama spit on me once. THEN bit me.
12. I am bi-sexual, but very picky on both sides.
13. I want to dye my hair fire engine red.
14. I shaved all my hair off when I was 17. It wasn't pretty.
15. I've been in a threesome.
16. I want to have multiple partner sex again, but I'm afraid because my body is...fat and unattractive.
17. I have a crappy tattoo on my right shoulder because I was drunk at 15, and wanted to hold the hand of this guy I liked. I was drunk-that's an excuse of some kind, right?
18. I tried to kill myself once. I almost succeeded.
19. I hate it when people ask "How are you?"
20.I don't like boats. Even a ferry gives me the hebbies.
21. Bridges are no better. I can feel the empty space below.
22. I lost my virginity at 15.
23. I love the smell of baked bread.
24. I've lost conct with almost everyone I've ever known.
25. I need to be properly fitted for a bra.
26. The thought of some old lady measuring my tits creeps me out.
27. I've become obsessed with cutting off my split-ends.
28. Tofu disgusts me.
29. Halloween is my favorite holiday.
30. I slept with a friend's boyfriend once.
31. I didn't feel so bad when years later, she told me that it led to them breaking up, which was good, because he had been beating her.
32. I've never run into a person I wanted to talk to that I didn't end up talking to.
33. I'm a submissive masochist. That's right folks-I'm a bottom.
34. I've never felt pretty.
35. I've always used the ""It's not you, it's me." speech to break it off with people.
36. Each time a friend has told me about her abortion, I didn't know what to say.
37. I like to hitchhike.
38. The first time a guy came in my mouth, it felt like I could feel the sperm swimming around.
39. My feet are size 11.
40. I wish I was more likable.

This is supposed to be 101 things, but since this computer is doing weird things and not typing half the words, I'll continue tomorrow. It's also really hard.

Posted by thordora at 7:07 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

As she is gone for the next little while, I have come to the crushing realization that I truly and dearly love my daughter. I miss her. Why has it taken almost 2 years for me to admit this to myself? Kevin keeps saying that for someone who didn't want the job, I'm this incredible patient and wise mother. I say I just keep reading so I can feel like someone's mother.

My issue is that my own mother has been dead for 16 years, since I was 11. I don't really understand what I mother does. I don't remember cuddling that much with my mother, although I do remember licking the beaters when she'd make a cake. I don't really feel like I have a guide in this whole mother thing.

Sometimes I look at my kids and the pain I feel is so sharp, it's like she just died yesterday again all over. I see what she might have seen-the future she would never hold. I wish she could meet them. I wish that she and my Dad could enjoy them together the way they deserve to.

So admitting love for anyone or anything is really difficult for me, as it usually ends in something painful. And I'm so fucking scared that I'll die on them like she died on me, just when I needed her. There's this litt le girl in me that has never grown, never wavered, but just sits in some corner of my mind, wailing and wailing for her mommy.

I'd sacrifice everything I have just to talk with her one last time. Just to make sure she heard me tell her I love her.

Posted by thordora at 7:00 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

Kevin and Vivian are away for the next week and a half, leaving me and Rosalyn to our own devices. Which should be amusing, considering this child will not make a serious choice regarding her sleeping and eating habits. One day she's sleeping from 7-5am, the next, she's up twice between midnight and 6 am, eating at LEAST 6 oz each time. My only thought it that I'm not feeding her enough during the day, which is hard to rectify when she takes 3 oz, gives me t hat "I just shit" grin and starts wanting to go to sleep......
I'm beginning to think that the first child is easier in some ways like....

• No expectations-despite knowing from Vivian's journal that she didn't start to sleep through the night until she was 6 months, I want Rosalyn to do it, well, right now. I KNOW that the end does arrive, and so I want it to come....right about... NOW!
• No surprises-i know what to expect developmentally. I also don't freak out at weird rashes and things.
• No clue about how cool they are when older. I HATE babies. I wish they'd come out running like horses. I don't like being needed the way an infant needs you. I prefer independance...(but I'm sure I'll miss them when they don't need me)

And right this minute, Vivian is whining, and thumping the floor screaming, which has just roused Rosalyn from the nap I finally convinced her to have an hour again.....

How can I go from loving this child, to wanting to try for a new shotput record with her so quickly?

And I swear, this little "music book" her father bought her....he's gonna eat it...

Posted by thordora at 2:42 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

I started playing with the HTML......I have found new crack...

Posted by thordora at 10:09 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

I watched this movie the other day, and it got to me. It's about a young mother with two daughters who finds out she has terminal cancer and not long to live. She makes a list of things to do, and does them.
It got me thinking-what would I want to do?

• Swim naked
• Visit Angkor Wat
• disappear in Tokyo for a month
• spend a month alone somewhere like paradise with each kid
• write everyone i love a prose piece telling them why I love them
• get dredlocks
• hitchhike to tijuana like i planned with Mike in grade 11, but he chickened out
• smoke ALOT of hash and drop ALOT of acid
• love my husband
• plant all the flowers I love
• sit outside in a howling rainstorm like Dad and I got caught in once.
• go camping. Enjoy
• speak only the truth
• do good things to make days better

I'm sure I'll add to this as days go by...

Posted by thordora at 9:05 p.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

Why do children only give you gross things, like

• Wet dust balls full of hair
• 3 day old pieces of fruit
• pieces of paper they've JUST torn from the new magazine

I need to stop having fights with my husband in front if the child. She now yells like we do. We also need to stop hitting walls when frustrated. She's begun to do that as well. They always seem to pick up on the bad stuff first.

Posted by thordora at 9:11 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

Babies are not fun. I do not enjoy babies. I never wanted children. Yet somehow, I have two girls, Vivian, who is 21 months, and Rosalyn who is 8 weeks today. Now, part of me TOTALLY digs these kids, mostly when my Ritalin kicks in. THe other part of me, resents them, resents myself for not being more careful, not having the abortion, etc, etc. It's really conflicting. How can I love them so fucking much sometimes it actually hurts, and yet other times, want to throw them?
I had to take Rosalyn to the doctor yesterday because of these rashes-she had a yeast infection from a diaper rash....which I attribute to people putting the diapers too tight, and also she seems to be rather sensative to Gain, so I had to go out and buy Ivory Snow for 10 freaking dollars and am now rewashing everything. Like I don't have enough stuff to avoid doing. It was the first time I had a chance to just hang out with Rosalyn alone, and you know what? She's a GREAT baby when we go out. We ran into a co-worker-she was totally smiling and everything-she's totally interested in the world around her....and Vivian is currently sitting at the window yelling "bye boobies!" (her word for birds ) Somedays they are so cool...
I bought some bird feeders for Vivian to watch the birds-so far in our yard/general area we have seen the following:

• Pheasants
• Finches ( male and female)
• Blue Jay
• Canada Goose
• Male & Female Mallards

THis does not include the HUGE racoon that tries the garbage can once a week in the hopes that my Dad is still here and forgot to seal the lid. That damn things is bigger than the coons at home in Toronto I swear.

So it's cool to be able to do shit with Vivian, like having her "help" me rake the backyard. She LISTENED to instructions! She calls her grandfather "Bucko" (which is alot more amusing when you know the guy) She's a beautiful intelligent little girl who's happier than I've ever been. So apparently we're doing something right. I know that everyone says their kid is the best, but when I look at other kids her age, they don't look nearly as "with it".

Have to go. She's decided it's time to read mommy a book.

Posted by thordora at 7:58 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken:

Thought I could use a second blog. Lord knows my life is SO exciting with 2 kids in a shitty town that I will have tons to share. I work at a call centre-THAT alone should provide us all with HOURS of amusement.

More later. Need to go to sleep so I can dream I'm addicted to heroin again.

Posted by thordora at 2:21 a.m. | Permalink | Pulses Taken: