My Go-To Feel Good Place

Happy Sunday, dear reader. I trust you had a good weekend. Mine was mostly pretty good!

After a two week hiatus due to the weather, my good friend and I got up early Saturday morning and went for our weekly three hour hike in Mont. St.Hilaire. We logged in a total of about 10K. Not too bad for a couple gals who were huffing and puffing on the ascent from the parking lot at the beginning of the season! I don’t want to brag, BUT, my friend is 10 years younger than me and she was doing most of the huffing and puffing.

There is something about being in the mountains that is so very soothing for the soul. I had a miserable week due to sciatica (at least I hope that’s all it is) and the usual Friday night zinger from my boss, a.k.a. She Who Rides The Broom. No matter how well I have done all week, she will find SOMETHING to criticize. Miserable So and So.

Wishing five minutes of being there though, it all dissapeared. I was instantly in a good mood. The birds were singing, the sun reflected off the lake, the smell of freshness in the air, the sound of leaving swishing back and forth whenever a cool breeze would blow through. My Mecca.

There’s something pretty awesome about the hiking community. Save the occasional rude asshole on the trail that follows you so closely that you can practically feel their breath on your neck (it’s a Francophone Quebec thing), folks are pretty cool. I’ve had so many interesting little snippets of conversations here and there with total strangers.

There was a group of four men in their late 20’s, early 30’s training for a what we assumed was a Spartan race. One guy was having a bit of a time of it. Huffing and puffing and making all sorts of painful noises. He scared the hell out of us. When I saw him coming, I thought he was one of THOSE guys. You know the type. They’re at the gym and have to make a big noise to show everyone how hard you’re working. Dude, if you have to scream with every lift, you’re lifting too heavy.

Then another thought occurred to me….”OMG there’s a bear chasing him!!” So this is how it will end, we will be re-enacting a scene from the movie Revenant and get mauled to death by Yogi , Boo Boo and Smokey. Cue the blood bath. Nope (there are no bears in that region but I’m still terrified I will run into one some day. Well crap, now I have just put that out in the universe and have jinxed myself. It’s inevitable now).

Aaaanywaaay….about an hour later, close to summit, we ran into the loud dude, minus his three buddies. He was sitting on the side of the trail, looking a little bewildered. He asked us how well we knew the trail. He was debating if he should finish this trail or head back down. I was like, “Oh you will be fine. You only have about 30 minutes of climb and then it starts to even out”. My friend, who is the more compassionate and realistic one, advised him to head back down.

We chatted with him a little, and yup, he is training for the Spartan race. He started hyper ventilating and got scared. He admitted that he hadn’t trained in 6 weeks and hit a wall today. Perfectly understandable. It was crazy humid yesterday. We’ve all been there at some point. I joked that he had bad friends, leaving him behind like that. He said he was ok, just his pride was a little banged up. We told him he was doing a great job and that we had remarked as much when he first past us. Hopefully it gave him a big of encouragement and that his buddies were not too hard on him when they met up again.

So that was my day. Sciatica, humidity, pain. My calves are paying the price today for the over compensation in an effort to not strain my back and legs, but it was worth it. There was still no where else in the world I would rather have been. I hope to always be able to do this.

08 January 2021

Well so much for writing Every. Single. Day. That lasted a whole hot minute, didn’t it? I am grateful to still have a job during this pandemic but boy does it get in the way of savoring every little minute of life. The rat race stinks.

My first week back was not too bad. We are swamped and overloaded, but I managed to keep my cool and take everything in stride. We’ve got a mock FDA inspection in a week’s time and documents to be filed are just coming out of the wood work, left right and center. Aaaaaaand where were these documents hiding all this time, exactly? Sigh…this industry never changes in that regard. Semi-retirement, I am counting the days.

My boss was actually nice this week. Fingers, toes and eyes crossed that it will last.

In other news, how about those animals storming senate in Washington this week….I have no words. I will say this, though. The likelihood that these shit disturbers care a lick about politics is highly unlikely. Any excuse to wreak havoc and make trouble is the agenda, I’m sure.

Closer to (my) home – we are officially under lockdown curfew starting tomorrow night. Did I go to sleep and wake up in the middle of Europe during World War II? What the hell…

Don’t get me started about how the Quebec government is handling this. Ten months into a pandemic and they are driving us nuts with the constant flip flop back and forth of rules. Everybody stay home and businesses are closed, but kids are allowed back in school.

Oh yeah, this won’t be ending any time soon.

Thanks for stopping by.

04 January 2020

Today was my first day back to the grind. I am pooped. Everybody was really nice, but the place is still a disorganized train wreck. I had to pop an Atavan minutes before a meeting. I hate the meetings that last more than an hour because it gives the people more time to spin themselves and the rest of us in a vortex of confusion and never ending what ifs scenarios. Given a choice of living another year with this pandemic or continuing on this particular project, COVID wins, hands down.

The prodigal came over yesterday and I was helping him fill out his passport application. Then he started talking to me about his live in girlfriend. He sure can pick ’em is all I have to say. She is a nice enough girl, but they all seem to have some issue or another. Sigh….

Anyhoo, I’m too pooped to write anymore, so it’s nighty night for me.

Thanks for stopping by, see you tomorrow.

It’s Not Going To Work Out Between Us And Here’s Why. Scenario 1.

So, as if 2020 hasn’t been enough of a shit show, yours truly has been pretty much actively dating her way through this cluster-fuck pandemic.

I haven’t had this many outdoor play dates since the 3rd grade.  Yes, I’m being careful-ish. Except for the time I was not….

Geez, Where do I begin? More importantly, why on earth would I date during a pandemic. Because why the hell not.  I figured this is a time when I will see people for who they really are.

You know that old saying “careful what you wish for”…..hooboy…

Let’s start with the first one.  We’ll call him “jailbird”, partly for shits ‘n giggles, but mostly because it’s the freaking truth.

We met online and were texting and IM’ing back and for for about 2 weeks. He was a blue collar type, well, not really.  More like a work horse in a shit job with a matching salary.  What the heck, at least he is working, right?

When I got there, I parked my car in a lot and as my fingers were hovering over the parking pay station, I was trying to decide…hmm…15 minutes….30 minutes.  I know the drill by now, these meet and greets are usually a reminder that I could be sitting at home on my deck sipping a cold one and reading a good book. This time though, I figured, Meh, what the hell.  I hit “max” and thought whomever shows up here after I leave just got freebie parking.  You’re welcome,

Surprisingly, things went really well.  He was charming, good conversationalist, interesting chemistry.  It was the best first date I’ve had in a while.

He said he was in the military when he was younger.  He also said that he had been “inside”.  Oh.  Apparently he found out the son of a former girlfriend had abused his then six year old son.  Long story short, he was arrested for beating the tar out of the guy.  Not ideal, but as a parent, I can totally understand.  God help anyone who would have dared touch my child inappropriately.

He had biked to our meeting spot straight from work and had a backpack with him.  He pulled an extra t-shirt out of it, sprayed it with his cologne and gave it to me so that I could hang on to it until I see him next.  Kinda corny but cute, right?

So the next time I saw him, I had to go pick him up because….well….his bike is his only means of transportation.  Uhm…what?  I can understand living in the city, but we’re in the ‘burbs, folks.  Crap, looks like I’m doing all the driving.  What a drag.

He gave me some story about having an operation on his arm when overseas and now the Canadian version of the DMV will not issue him a driver’s license unless he has a specialized steering wheel in his non-existent car.  Sorry, what was that?  I was distracted by the red flags that were starting to pop up in my peripheral vision.

I digress.  When I got to the address he gave me, it took him forever to come out.  I was about to drive back home when I see him walking towards my car from down the street. WTF?  He saw the look on my face and explained it away by saying he was at a friend’s house down the street.

As we were pulling away, he says, and I quote “Oh, did I tell you I’m still on probation?”

WHAAAAAATTT????!!!!

I pulled the car over to the side of the road and just stared at him.  He had a shit eating grin on his face and gestured for me to keep driving.  Woah woah woah.

Apparently he still has one year to go and then he’s free!

How the fuck did this slip his mind when we met earlier this week?  I assumed this arrest was from many many many years ago.  After all, his son is 24 now and this happened when he was six years of age.

Oh boy.  I had a sinking feeling that I was getting a very watered down version of what the deal really was.

So what did I do?  I acted like nothing happened.  Why?  I have no idea.  I was paralyzed with fear.  He asked me to stop at the drugstore on our way.  I waited for him in the parking lot, catatonic.  My gut was screaming “Drive like the wind, asshole, and get out of there!”  Instead, the polite Canadian in me stayed, because he was so sweet and gentle when we met.

I know, I’m an idiot, no need to remind me.  All that was racing through my head was “so this is how I’m going to die”.

I also learned that at one point he went “off the grid”and was living in a container.  Oh, is that what we are calling running from the law now? These are assumptions on my part, but I’m pretty sure I’m not far off the mark.  I know of a friend’s daughter and her boyfriend did that for a while, so it did not scare me off.

I called things off.  Probably not as quickly as I should have, but I called them off nevertheless.   I did my best to be open minded, but with each passing day, he would serve up another little nugget of his train wreck of a life.

How can it get worse?  In the span of two weeks;

  • he got fired.
  • he got notice that his “bitch” parole officer falsely claimed he missing a meeting and he is now in violation. He might have to finish his sentence on the inside.
  • he can’t use his friend as witness that he did not miss his meeting because surprise surprise, he has a criminal record too.
  • he all of a sudden had to move, actually rent a room because he can’t sign a lease. No I did not ask why because I’m really not sure how much more I can handle hearing before someone has to call the medics to resuscitate me.

What the living hell was I thinking?  I am chalking it up to pandemic isolation brain.  Have I gotten so desperate for company that I would seriously entertain having this clown in my life?  I guess I was.  Thank God, I listened to my gut, which would churn and I would start physically gagging each time I received a text from him.

Besides, I don’t know how to bake a cake with a file in it, and conjugal visits just aren’t my thing.

Next!

 

Hey Shawty It’s Your Birthday

Hola Peeps and Peep-ettes! This week I celebrated my 55th year on this earth. Wow, 55…where has the time gone?  I can hardly believe that number. I had to double check on my driver’s license to make sure I got it right.

On my birthday, I like to steal away and carve out some me-centered, selfish, indulgent time all to myself.  I don’t need to be surrounded by tons of people.  Even if I needed that, I highly doubt that many people would turn up.

I went shopping for a little birthday bling and then spent a couple days at the day spa.  When I told the receptionist at what my plans were, she felt sorry for me.  I was like….huh? Why?  She said that it’s not right to spend it alone.  Au contraire, my friend. I choose to celebrate me all on my own.  It feels amazing!

The way I look at it is this way; I have a couple of really good close friends who always send me birthday greetings or take me out for a meal.  I appreciate it but never take it as a given that people will spend their time with me just because my mother popped me out on this day 55 years ago.

So this is me, 55 years young.  This year will not soon be forgotten.  2020….bizarre, heartbreaking, depressing, frightening.  So much has happened.  I’ve lost a childhood friendship over a man she barely knows. My prodigal has been giving me a hard time. My mother has bailed on me to spend time with my half sister on my birthday. Don’t ask…

I’m still standing, a little battered, but I’m still here.  These are crazy times and I’m all of a sudden more sensitive than usual, I feel vulnerable for the first time in my life.  This all sucks, this 2020 year of the pandemic, doesn’t it?

So, this is what 55 looks like.  I’m ok with it so far.  Will I still be ok with what I see in the mirror on my 65th birthday?  Some days I wonder what the future holds for me. Am I ever going to meet someone or will I end my days alone?  What will I do when I finally retire?

55

I have to admit, getting older scares me.  There are days when I feel exhausted from the smallest effort.  Is it age?  Or is it just mental fatigue caused by this never ending pandemic?  I just want my life back.  I mean, I’m grateful for all I have and that I am still working, but I miss people.  I miss the freedom we all took for granted not too long ago.

Apparently the second wave is a sure thing.  I cannot imagine what that will look like this Winter.

All I can do is take it one day at a time and make the best of each day, right?

Victim Much?

Hola Peeps and Peepettes.  OMG will we ever get back to a normal life?  I’m so very very done with this pandemic. I have officially reached the I-Just-Want-To-Punch-Everyone-In- The-Throat phase and watch all my bridges burn to the ground.

2020 has been one fucked up year so far, one I won’t soon forget.  Maneuvering through the stress of housing shortage whilst buying my very first home, job uncertainty, working from home in complete isolation, attempting dating and keeping social distancing (oh I have posts on this one coming soon) and if all that weren’t enough, I had a falling out with my best friend of over 45 years.

Karen and I had not really spoken much in the past 14 years.  Just a little word here and there on Facebook.  It was always cordial.  Ours was the kind of friendship where years could pass and we could pick up right where we left off. We shared so many laughs and a quirky sense of humor that nobody else understood.

We’ve had our share of ups and downs, arguments and mending fences over the years.  This time though, I think we’re done.   She went rogue on the golden rule of friendships: Sisters Before Misters.  Yup, at our age, she is still doing that.

Once upon a time, I grudgingly let that stuff slide. Now though, I feel very strongly about how friends should not take one another for granted.  Long story short, we were supposed to meet in Ottawa this month.  She kept stalling on committing to a date.

I can understand finances being a little tight, weekend with shared custody daughter, time with family.  All good, right?

How about not locking down a date with your childhood bestie because the guy you JUST met is going away at the end of July and will be persona non grata for three months?  For you romantics out there, let me add, this charmer also stood her up on their first date.  Not cancelled, just flat out stood her up. She also started whining from the get go that he was kind of “dull”, never complimented her (Oh don’t get me started on this. She needs to be put on a pedestal at all times, regardless of it being warranted or not).

Still not lighting a fire under you butt?  How about this…

“Listen, I love you This may or may not be my last hurrah. How flexible are you if he and I part ways?  We can just pick up and go, right?”

Gee whiz Skippy, if I had zero self respect and you were boinking Denzel Washington, I might be ok with this half hearted attempt at friendship you’re throwing my way.  Ooooh, the chance to be your last option if your flavor of the week doesn’t pan out is oh so tempting, but I think I will pass.

So, I did what I do.  I stonewall until I am ready to come back to the table and discuss.  She knows I do this, yet never gives me the space I need.  She nags and nags until I blow up. Which of course, happened.

Cue the two hour drama fest of texting back and forth.  She wailed about me not speaking to her directly, then when I hit the little camera to face time, she didn’t answer. Well, that is mature.

So she went on and on about how she likes herself, and feels she would have to change who she is and bla bla bla bla. She is the poor victim and I’m the big bad wolf. As usual.

The next day she came back and wrote this

I’m sorry you are hurt. Not sure today what the future looks like, but I am not going to dwell on the past. Have a good day!!

And then she blocked me.  Typical Karen.  She’s not dwelling on the past because that would entail being accountable and actually offering up a sincere apology.

So, this pandemic has been especially brutal in my world.  It has allowed me to be very direct about what I will and will not accept from other people. The response to that has been met with hostility.  That’s fine.  We all need to know where we stand with people. If our friendship can’t handle honesty, then it is on shaky foundations to begin with. I forgive her, but I don’t feel the need to continue a semblance of friendship with her because she lacks depth.

Am I hurt? Of course.  Even though I am very direct and speak my mind, I am still sensitive.  That’s the part people forget.  Strong people aren’t unbreakable. We can weather many storms, but also have feelings and are not immune to the careless gestures of someone we call friend.

I’ve got a lot to catch you up on.  One post at a time, though. I’m feeling especially drained when retelling these things.

Stay safe, dear readers, and I appreciate you taking the time to read my post.

Blessings,

Chrissie

 

 

:

but she came out and said that this new guy she met is leaving for three months

 

First Night In The New Condo

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…it was the night I realized my cat is a master at war time sleep deprivation techniques. Where he learned this, I have no idea. He’s sneaky that way.

As mentioned in my previous post, moving during a pandemic sucks big time.  I had finally walked in for the night at around 11:30 p.m.  The kitties were in hiding in the bedroom closet and I was able to slowly coax them out by laying the box spring and the mattress on the floor.  Assembling the headboard and foot-board would have to wait until the morning.

I found the sheets and pillows and was ready to settle in for the night.  In the dark, I heard movement from the closet.  My little furballs were starting to feel safe enough to come out.   Angus McKitten quickly claimed his spot at the foot of the bed.  Pacino, though, made my life a living hell from midnight to 4:00 a.m.

How so? How can one little cat have such a profound effect on my sense of sanity?  Glad you asked.  It went something like this, and I quote; “meow? meow? meow. MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW…….MEEEEOOOOOOWWWW MEOW MEOW.”

All. Fucking. Night.

I got out of bed, picked him up and walked around the condo with him in my arms as one would an inconsolable infant. He wanted to be picked up, then he wanted to be put down. Make your mind up, you bi-polar fuzzball.

Each time I was on the brink of falling asleep, it would start again.  MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW. At one point I yelled “Pacino! Shut the fuck up!” Seriously? Yelling at a cat. Nice.  Here’s how exhausted and desperate I was for some sleep…..the thought of choking my beloved little booper actually sounded like a viable option. My brain on no sleep is a dark, dark place my friends.

I think even he got fed up of his antics and finally conceded to knock it off.  He usually sleeps at the foot of the bed with Angus. Not tonight.  He instead crawled right under the covers and I basically spooned the freaking cat all night. He was trembling, poor thing.

We all finally fell asleep and in the morning, I woke up, startled.  Where is he? Then I remembered he was right there, next to me.  He wasn’t moving and i thought…oh crap. Did he die? Maybe his little kitty heart gave out.  This is all my fault. I’m a cat killer. I never should have moved.  Look at what I did to these poor animals. I hate this place. The cats hate it. I should have stayed in renter’s hell, where I belong.  Who am  I fooling?  I’m no home owner.  What have I done?  I want my mommy! Waaaahhhh…!

My mom had called at about 8:00 a.m. to see how the move went. I was still in bed, hiding under the covers. That’s when the buyer’s remorse made its grand entrance. If it could talk, it would have said something like this; “Here ye, here ye. I have an announcement, people. I hereby proclaim that Chrissie B has made a monumental faux pas.  I speak on behalf of her feline companions when I say that it would have been a far better choice for all involved to have stayed in aforementioned renter’s hell and have her throw her money away until the day she retires…nay! until the day she dies, rather than make a sound investment choice.  Clearly her cats are miserable with the extra square footage and overall better quality of life!  I sentence her to public flogging in the town square!”

My mom’s reaction was….”uhm, dear, I really think you’re just over tired and stressed.  This has been a lot to do, all by yourself. Get some rest and I’ll call you later.”

She was right.  Best. Decision. Ever.  Oh, and the kitties are happy too, little shits that they are.

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This guy…..good thing he’s cute.

It’s Over

It’s over, and I’m kind of sad.  It was a wonderful way to pass the time, but all good things come to an end.  It had twists and turns and so much drama.  There’s nothing left.

I’m not talking about the end of a relationship.  I’m talking about the end of something I’ve been immersing myself in  – old t.v. series from ages ago that I have reintroduced myself to.

Do you remember watching “Desperate Housewives”?  If you are too young to remember this, I highly recommend it.  It streams on Amazon Prime.  Last weekend I watched the final episode of Season 8.

As far as endings go, it wasn’t too bad.  The one thing that drove me completely bonkers is how some of the main antagonists just disappeared and were never heard from again. What happened to Kayla Scavo?  When and how did Orson Hodge kill himself? How and when did Paul Young die? What happened to Susan’s beau who got deported? What did Julie end up naming her baby?  Did Porter keep up his end of the bargain and help with the baby?  So many questions, no answers to be had. Ever.

Speaking of Susan ..does it make me a bad person that every time something bad happened to her, I was happy.  That broad got on my last nerves. So much drama, so self centered.  Such a willing victim.  What she needed was a good punch in the throat.  If I were her neighbor, I would have handed her her ass a looooong time ago and tell her to stop whining and crying over every little thing.  I would have been the “dangerous housewife”. Ha.

Some of the story lines were actually pretty good, but accountability was ZERO for the housewives.  There was always someone swooping in to save the day.

Set someone’s house on fire in a fit of jealous rage?  No problem! Bury someone in your backyard? Pfft…child’s play.  So long as we gals stick together, the world is a wonderful place where we remain beautiful and live happily ever after.  We live in big houses and get married over and over again. Life’s grand!

desperatehousewives

 

 

Talking to Strangers – Part 18

Hola Peeps!  I’m baaaaa-aack!  I know, I know, “tomorrow” turned into three months.  Are you still interested in what happened with my online love? It’s been a while, so in case you forgot, you can catch up here.

What if I told you that we met, fell in love, and he’s planning on moving to Canada? What would you think of that?

Well…..it didn’t happen, of course.  “Sven” came up with yet another emergency and needed more money.  Seems a big opportunity came up to buy into a security business and of course he was short on cash. Why why why won’t I help him on this?

Come and pry it out of my cold dead hands, sweetheart.

Needless to say, we “broke up” lol.

Not long after that “SherylAnne” of Saskatchewan entered the picture.  Apprently she gave him the money AND flew out to South Africa.  All that in the span of about three weeks.  Wow, that SherlyAnne sure is a trooper.  How about that Sven though?  He sure moves fast.

He did his best to make me jealous by saying that when they first “made love” (eeeww) he had issues because he couldn’t get me out of his head and kept imagining my face on her.

Once again…eeeewww.

SherylAnne, being the saint she is, helped him through it and then apparently he couldn’t get enough of her. He’s apparently going to Saskatchewan in December to visit her….suuure you are.

While I was texting with him on Google Hangouts, he said “it’s time I see him” and he actually hit video call.

I didn’t answer.  I could care less and I’m sure it was not going to be the face in the pics he has posted.

He expressed regret and never having had the opportunity to “make deep love to me”. Oh man, seriously?

He said he would consider seeing me if once I was in Italy, made the treck to South Africa to spend time with him, because he would not spend a dime of his money to come to me.

Probably because you don’t have two of them to rub together you scheming arsehole.  I passed, being kidnapped and possibly thrown into human trafficking was not high on my list of plans while going on the trip of my dreams.

So, my dear friends. My online fake love affair has come to an end.

What do you think?  Should I do this again if the opportunity arises? Give me your thoughts.