Attack of the Killer Tears

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I was born on the cold side of the mountain
I wanna wake up on the warm side of the bed
How I start here
And how I end there
That is the part I ain't worked out yet

Every day I climb a little bit higher
Every night I learn something new
I'm writing it down
In case I forget
One day it'll be my story for you

On every page you will know how much I love you
In every line you will see how much I care
With every word we'll grow a little closer
Even though we both know I can't be there
That's why I'm writing it down down down down down
Oh I'm writing it down
For you and for me
And for the whole wide world to read
Oh I'm writing it down

All my life I've been hoping and praying
For my time to finally arrive
To put down this pen
To say it's the end
And wake up back home with you by my side

I was born on the cold side of the mountain
I wanna wake up on the warm side of the bed
How I start here
And how I end there
That is the part I ain't worked out yet

-Uncle Kracker

There are times when I'm not so sure my heart has atrophied after all. Like when I'm sitting at my desk listening to my iPod and the lyrics of a song pierce through me like a dagger. Tears spring to my eyes and for just a second I wallow in the exquisiteness of the moment.

In this particular case I think he's also speaking in part for all journallers, which is nice. It's sort of like an anthem.

A break in the weather

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It's finally happened. Cool(er) air is wafting through the open window of my office, allowing me to rid my nasal passages of the weird ozone stench of air conditioning that's been run 24/7 for weeks. It's short-lived, mind you, but I'm going to take a beat to appreciate it before we return to the oppressive heat.

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In early this morning to cover for my boss who was at a doctor's appointment, which means early out! To celebrate, I'm going to hit Canadian Tire and pick me up a cute little pair of wire cutters so I can get going on two new necklaces. I went to the bead store with J on Sunday and dropped an amount I should be ashamed of but am not, because, so pretty! I can nae wait to go back with even more cash! Pictures over at the journal once I get them done. And probably some tales of Chain Wrangling, since it's my first attempt in that genre.

Pants on fire

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The inside button on my wraparound skirt is outing me as a size 14, not the 12 I should have been before I tried to wedge myself into it.

Bastid.

Hot and Cold

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My neck of the woods has been insanely hot lately. Like, jungle hot. Humidity and all. But without the boa constrictors.

I've been trying to garden since that is my latest love, but it's downright unhealthy to be out in the yard slugging away at weeds or digging up new beds in this weather.

(Three weeks ago I almost did myself a mischief by racing to get all my perennials in the day before I had an embryo transfer. I wanted to be able to just sit and let that little eight-celled child do my bidding, attaching itself to me like any normal embryo would have the sense to do. But nooooooooo, we have to start with the shots and the blood tests and that nonsense all over again. Blast.)

It would seem we've beaten some sort of record around here by enduring the longest stretch of 30C+ days in a row since people began keeping records of weather. Dayum. Thank heavens for a/c is all I can say; I'm not going to love the utility bill but at least the doggies and I are comfortable. The Boy really isn't affected too much by extreme heat, which I can't help but think is odd. You should see him in the bitter cold, though; all curled up under the comforter, nursing his bum shoulder and finger.

I've yet to decide which is more difficult: keeping the house a nice level of cool in the summer or suitably warm in the winter.

Haiku. For you.

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Must you cut me off?
You with three fish on your car
Not very Christian

Sis, glad you're back home
The garden liked the water
But your cat hates me

This temp job is great
Not so much for the career
But for M@ster Card

My gardening love
Has caused more freckles to bloom
On my damn shoulders

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Working the macro button on my favorite bedside table from Pier1.

Any lower and I'd be sitting on the curb guzzling from a bottle of Benylin

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Today I grovelled for a job. And it didn't help.

A week ago, I went for a second interview at a research park for my local university. The position was Review Editor for a medical journal. I burned.

A month ago, my niece got into the Jeep when I picked her up from school and tossed her knapsack on the floor of the passenger side. It sunk. When I lifted up the floor mat I saw the street. I'm driving a goddamn Flintstones Jeep.

Three months ago I received and deposited my income tax return cheque. It was the last bit of incoming cash I have seen to date.

Eight months ago I completed an on-and-off five year contract with the local college. I rejoiced because getting my ass out of that dysfunctional atmosphere was going to do wonders for my mental state. Little did I know that I would have months of sitting on my ass as an unemployed git to look forward to.

Eighteen months ago The Boy and I entered into the offices of Dr. P****, a wonderful doctor involved with the Reproductive Endocrinology and Infertility program. We answered the million highly personal questions on their application and told ourselves it would all be worth it in a short time. Yeah, right.

I've been through the Buffy series, Angel, Alias and Firefly with the occasional Friends season twice now. I think I would kick ass at a trivia contest.

Now I'm back out to the garden to vent my impotent rage at some grapevines.