I'm going to open my own school of procrastination ... next week

It's been a couple of days. I've bee on the hunt for apartments or a house so that I can get my chubby, white ass out of here and into something more comfortable. I've decided to say a good "fuck you" to the place that I left and stay where I am. My family is here ... the most important people.

I've been working and I don't really like it but it's money for now. Decided to go back to university in the fall to finish my degree. I want to switch from Psych to English considering I'm getting a lot of good feedback from this little thing and since I've been published in other newspapers/magazines, I think I should up the anty and get a degree behind my name. Maybe then I could be taken a little more seriously and ask for more money.

I was also thinking that I could teach some classes to make some extra money while I'm in school. When you consider that I'm a single mother of three small kids, I need all the income I can get. So, here is my personalized list of courses offered by none other than...MOI:

Fartology 101: The History and Art of Flatulence
Modern Procrastination: How to Effectively Reschedule Assignments

Okay, so I left off at two. I re-read my study plan for Modern Procrastination and have decided that I'll finish my course list at another time. See, my studies are affective!

I just realized that it's after midnight and I've got one hell of a busy day tomorrow. I have to get up with the babies, get one out to school, make a lot of phone calls to schedule a lot of appointments. It's going to be busy and stressful and I can't wait until it's Friday and it's over. Mondays are harsh days, especially ones like the one I'm facing tomorrow. I won't be reading my course schematics for Modern Procrastination tomorrow morning.

Alright, I'm done. I feel a vent waiting to come flying out of my fingertips and I don't want to do it....oh....here...it is:

Equalization payments are necessary for the survival of this island. The problem is that there has to be equalization within the communities. Take that for you what you will but I don't see the point of developing the downtown core of Sydney only. Why don't we develop Whitney Pier, New Waterford, Glace Bay, Louisbourg and bring back some old landmarks like the old motel in Broughton -- a booming business in the late 1930s and early 1940s. Wouldn't making all the towns in this God forsaken corner of the world cause our little Celtic island to become one of the more attractive attractions for businesses to set up shop. And, wouldn't all this development create more jobs thus creating more revenue within our economy? It's a sad state to realize that the biggest business on this island is the illegal sale of prescription drugs. I'm sure this isn't something that's going to be easily fixed but maybe the development of our tiny towns, the prospect of new and good paying jobs becoming available and the idea that maybe life here is worth something bring a new sense of peace to the already unhappy and jaded citizens that live here??

Now I'm sure that not everyone is looking at life in Cape Breton the same way I do. As much as I love it here, I hate it at the same time. I hate the lack of opportunity and growth. I hate the nepotism and limited job creation. I hate the opportunities that are given to those already in benefit and leaving us little peons to fight and fend over seats in call centres and shopping malls. I'm not putting down these jobs because they are decent and reasonable ways to make a living; I've been doing it myself but it's sad to look at the amount of skilled workers who are not using their talents. EDS alone has an 80% rate of university or college graduates answering their phones. Why can't we develop a plan of action that will create more jobs for those people to utilize their hard-earned education which will in turn free up more seats in these centres for other skilled workers to develop their skills and experience?? Why are the majority of our trade workers leaving the island to spend months on end in freezing cold climates on highly dangerous work sites to bring home money for their familes, some of whom had forgotten them the minute they leave the door?? It's not fair to us that we are being led to believe that the only real opportunities for a comfortable life lie on the other side of the Canso Causeway.

Alright, I've lost myself in this little rant of how unfairly this island can treat us. We do create our own fate and we are masters of our destiny. If we work hard we will be rewarded and I am a firm believer in that. However, sometimes the struggle can be foreboding and we get lost in the wash of broken promises and a sea of resumes. But, if we sit back and look at the Bras d'or Lakes, Kelly's Mountain, the Highlands, the docks, the piers, the fishing boats lined up and colourful in Port Morien we realize that the poverty that is here is almost worth the beauty that we get to enjoy whenever we wish. The quiet parks, the slow pace and the friendly people are what makes us stand out from the rest of the humdrum world. We ARE different and we are a special group of people, all living on a tiny Atlantic island, making us all a family tied by history instead of blood. We should be celebrating our heritage and developing our towns to make the most attractive place to live and work our own back yard.

So, now that naive and somewhat seemingly juvenile blabber about our islands state of affairs through half finished thoughts and sleepy hands is finished .... any arguements??

PREGNANT!!

Now that I've got your attention, I have to say that it's not me. There is a pregnancy happening in my house and that's HoneyCat, my little blonde kitty who sneaks out my windows for rendezvous with her tomcat lovers. She is supposed to stay in the house but when I moved to this new apartment she ran away for almost three weeks before I grabbed her out of the bushes and dragged her home.

After flea treatments and deworming and, luckily, no signs of pregnancy she seemed content to stay in the house with her sister/lesbian lover, Sasha. Yeah, they take care of each other when they're in heat, it's quite odd. So, I have incestuous gay kitties. However, that's neither here nor there right now. What's the main thing is that HoneyCat figured out she can come in and out of the windows when I open them to let fresh air in. The little brat didn't listen to me when we had the discussion about birth control. You know, typical of today's youth and their "it'll never happen to me" attitude. Well, it happened to her.

Now I have a cat in her first 3-5 weeks of pregnancy. Her belly is starting to balloon under her ribs, her nipples are getting large and pink, she's extra sookie and lovable AND I'm starting to be able to feel little golf balls in her belly. Now I have to prepare for a pregnancy and birth but I honestly have no clue as how to assist a cat through this life-altering time of her life. She's blessed to be a mother but she's not ready and neither am I.

We made a huge decision together based on poor HoneyCat's abilities and readiness to be a parent. She decided that she may only have the strength to raise her kittens for about eight weeks and, as a result, we are going the route of adoption. Abortion was discussed but she doesn't believe in it so we didn't even bother contacting the proper experts, IE: the vet. I'm happy for her decision to raise these kittens through their formative weeks but I would support her through any decision, including a kitty abortion.

Alright, I'm completely humanizing my cat and that's not always a good thing. Bottom line is that my sneaky feline got out of my window and got knocked up.

Anyone want a kitten??

Frozen doors, cold walks and barium...

I walked out the door today and it was c-c-c-cold. The sun was shining so I was a little misled as to the temperature outside so I decided that it would be a good idea to walk Miss Lily to school and then head down to my "Great Adventure". The Great Adventure meaning an Upper GI series to help diagnose the revolt in my belly (reference blog post: http://blueallieboo.blogspot.com/2008/12/body-revolution-epic-battle.html). What a wonderful way to start a day!!

Miss Lily and I slept in this morning so we ran around and got ready to leave. She ate her breakfast while I brushed her hair and we both got dressed in a tizzy, throwing on whatever was on the top of the clean clothes pile. Little Miss and Little Man Meatball stayed the night with Big Cranky because of my test this morning so I didn't have to worry about rushing them along. If they had been home, there wouldn't have been any hope to get out the door on time.
Anyway, Miss Lily and I got our winter protection together and went to go out the door but, to my suprise and dismay due to already having Miss late for school, was that the door was frozen shut. So there we were, Miss and I standing there trying to figure out how to get out of the house. Then, I saw a lightbulb over my little girl's head and with a big smile she says, "Mommy, get the blow dryer and melt the door!"

My baby is brilliant!! That's exactly what we did. She held the blowdryer and I yanked and yanked on that damn door which I'm starting to consider to be one of the bains of my existance. I've been looking into becoming a Buddhist so this thing is going to be on my list of things that I need to put out of my mind. Yes, I do think about that door quite a bit, it's scary when you're stuck in the house but then I was thinking about coming home and what would happen if we got stuck on the step. What would we do then?? I don't carry a blowdryer wherever I go, it's only a small purse and I have it crammed with papers and wallets (yes, that's supposed to be plural).
We did get the door open and off we went. I dropped Miss Lily off at school and I headed down to the hospital so I could drink yucky stuff and get x-rayed to death. It was very Arctic-esque out there today and it didn't matter how bundled I was, there was no way I could fight that kind of cold. -30 degree windchill and there I was, like a complete boob, walking in it again. Doesn't matter, I wanted to clear my mind before I got there because all these tests are scary for me now. It's getting closer to finding out what's going on with my evil belly and, in my typical fashion, my brain goes to worst possible scenario.

The walk wasn't too bad actually, cold and bitter but sunny and oddly pretty. I made it to the hospital and got myself registered, put on my beautiful johnny shirt and robe, walked into the waiting area and sat. I looked around and marvelled at how the brilliant orange plastic chairs set off the decor by complimenting the plushy, artichoke green ones and how the out of place wingback brown faux-leather chair with the tear in the seat hid itself in shame in the corner pulled it all together.

The nurse came out with that knowing look on her face, the impending doom and handed me to large cups full of thick, white, chaulky nastiness that smelled oddly good. She told me to drink it as fast as I could and let her know when I was finished. That was the hardest thing I ever drank, it was horrible...it was barium. Ick. After that fiasco that I don't even want to attempt to describe, I had an x-ray every fifteen minutes for the next two and half hours. It was crazy and boring and a little weird to be sitting there waiting to lay on my belly, hold my breath and have pictures taken of my insides...wheee!!

When it was all over I got dressed and left the hospital, walked home in the freezing cold but not before checking out deals in the Bargain Shop where I bought two good books for the kids for less than four bucks. Then I left and got Miss Lily at school and off to home. We got in the house, stripped off our winter clothes and then crawled under the blanket on my bed to read our new books and keep warm. Little Miss and Little Man Meatball came home after supper and my babies all kissed and told each other that they missed one another. It was an okay day, not bad at all.

Spending the weekend with just Lily and then watching those little bugger reconnect reminded me of the important things. Thinking about all the possible results that could come of these tests made me think that I need to cherish them as often as possible.

Open Discussion: Prison Pen Pals

Yup. That's what I'm writing about today is penpals in prison. I always found it sort of odd that women (and sometimes men) actively seek out and find people who are in prison, for any amount of time and for any crime, in order to specifically be their penpal and, as I've been finding with my limited online research, build romantic relationships with them. Actually, building a romantic relationship seems to be the most common goal of people seeking these specific type of penpals. It's not the truth in every case and some people do it to make a friend, to have the option of old-fashioned snail mail communication. This is my main reason for doing it. I figure that it never hurts to make a friend and it never hurts to keep lines of communication open, practice my penmanship and keep the post office in business.

Is there safety in this?? Definitely. Well for the most part there is safety in it and the safety is subjective, something that the person doing the initial contact has to take into their own consideration and decide for themselves if they're comfortable with the person they are about to contact and what they may have done. I guess it would be depend on with whom you are corresponding and the reasons that they are where they are. However, I do believe in reform for those who want it and I'm going to make a very uneducated psychological deduction here in believing that having someone waiting for you with an open mind as to your successful rehabilitation can work to someone's advantage in being successful when released.

But back to the safety issue; I seriously believe that it depends on the situation, for example: sexual assaults would be a huge red flag and other crimes could be held and considered according to circumstance. These people have already been through a trial and sentencing so it isn't up to us to pass a second judgement. I think that if you're comfortable enough to pick up a pen and tell someone "on the inside" (if that's even the correct jargon, excuse my naivety) secrets of your life, you're going to have to deal with the consequences if things go wrong, if anything.

Likewise, there will also be safety issues for those incarcerated penpals. They have to be curious about who would be writing to them and their reasons for it. I'm sure that there have been many occurances of inmates being taken advantage of, lied to or misled. I'm sure that there are trust issues not only from what may occur from trying to learn, know and grow with a person that you only get to communicate with through letters and pictures plus the occasional phone call but also the lifestyle that is led in prison and past experiences bringing about an almost immediate mistrust. These girls and boys also have a lot to lose by putting their hard-earned trust and understanding into someone they cannot physically touch or look into their face to gauge their honesty.

So...I have no idea where I'm going with this post. I decided to write to someone today who is in prison and as a result became my usual overanalytical self and did more thinking than necessary. I now know how to get in contact with inmates on death row -- how exciting! No, I'm not writing to someone on death row but someone within our own country who was introduced (if you could even use that word in this case) to me by a good friend. It'll be nice I think to write something that is tangible and I can hold in my hand. I'm sure it'll be exciting to wait for the envelope in the mail. I honestly, even through my analyzing and researching the fundamentals and psychological implications of having a prison penpal, can't see anything wrong with it. There is never anything wrong with making a new friend.

So, let me know what you guys think: do you think that having a penpal who is incarcerated a bad or detrimental thing??

Wagon Wheel & Smarties

I have groceries. Yup, I finally broke down and went to the grocery store and you'll never guess what I bought:

Wagon Wheels

Yes, I am a dork and you did read that correctly. It says "Wagon Wheels". I'm sure everyone my age has a bit of nostalgia for those things. Round graham wafers with marshmallow smooshed in the middle and covered with yummy chocolate. It conjures images of school lunches and recess treats. You must remember sneaking into the cupboard with the "lunch food" that you weren't allowed to touch and stealing a Wagon Wheel and run outside with it, hide under or in something and just enjoy.

Alright, maybe I was the only one.

I came home with my prize in my groceries and was excited to show Miss Lily. To my surprise, she didn't really care. I was shocked as I stood there holding one of the best lunch treats in the whole world, aside from pudding and cigarettes (don't ask) and she was more excited over the apples and the whole grain bagels for breakfast. Oh, to say I was disappointed was an understatement. I know my face fell and my hopes for all childhood were dashed at that moment. Okay, so that's a little dramatic but you get the picture.

I made her look at me as I shook the beautiful red box at her and told her that they were soooo delicious and such a treat that she should be excited that I bought them for her for her lunches or recess snack. She just looked at me, doe-eyed and knowing that her mother was merely having a fit of insanity. I tried to explain that when I was a little girl they were one of my favourite treats and that it was nice to see that she could have a treat like Mommy did when she was little.

She just kept staring at me like I was going to start force feeding her a Wagon Wheel. I finally breathed and stopped my wonton rant about all things great and Wagon Wheel and put the box on the table with the rest of the groceries that were waiting for me to put them away. I shrugged at her mispent youth and quietly put my stuff away. My little girl had turned on her heel and went to her room to finish putting toys away and get out of range of her Wagon Wheel obsessed mother.

Then...a blessing....Miss Lily appeared in the kitchen about ten minutes later, after I was finished putting away my treasures and turned on the kettle. Those big, blue eyes looked at me and asked me the redeeming question:

"Mommy, did you get any Smarties?"