A Cup Of Comfort

Yesterday did not start auspiciously. Unless auspicious means that it began with the jangling crash of heck(1) and went down hill from there.

It began in fact, by waking up 35 minutes before my alarm was due to go off, needing to visit the loo. I don't know about you, but at this point, an internal war begins. One side insists that I should simply get up, have a nice shower, drink a leisurely cup off coffee, and start my day off as a civilized person. The other side is equally sensible, but slightly more manipulative, insisting that it is cold in the house, and my flannel duvet cover is warm, and really, I am very tired.

Back to bed always wins, I find myself crawling back into warmth, dislodging cats who have taken over, and trying to fit my legs into the impossibly small space left me. I look at the time on my alarm clock and it is already too late, and I will myself back to sleep. When my alarm goes off, too soon! I insist that I am tired still, and I hit snooze more than I should.

When I finally dragged myself out of bed, Mr. Spit greeted me (back in the loo) with an empty coffee bean jar in his hands. There were, oh, as many as 30 coffee beans in the bottom of the jar, and that was not going to do it. I began my drive into work, satiated by a cup of mostly decaf coffee, with egg nog, the cream having met a similar destiny to the coffee beans.

The drive was chaotic and traffic-filled, and the news on the radio was all bad news, and I arrived to my office 10 minutes late, having been waylaid by construction, and a stalled, abandoned car in the middle of the busiest downtown street.

I was required to navigate the vicissitudes of office politics, with a focus on naming and blaming, and a minor in ridiculous and unreasonable expectations, all before 9:15 am, and with no coffee. Before 9:30 a colleague was earnestly requesting that I silently assassinate another department at my company, indeed a skill I have not been keeping hidden in my back pocket.

It was 9:45, and I was quite ready to consign this day to the rubbish heap, pleading with Phil, the denzien of heck, and also the prince of insufficient light, to make this day end.

But, a miracle did occur.

At 10:35 or so this morning, I was offered a new job. Well, a new title, reporting into a new division, with new responsibilities, for a one year secondment. No extra money, but henceforth, you may refer to me as Mrs. Spit, Business Analyst. (I'm actually quite firm on this, and have been making Mr. Spit call me this all night.)

Finally, I came home today, to a package (and if I have loved anything about blogging, it is the sending and receiving of packages). This one was full of love from Jen and Jamie. Filled with hot chocolate and gourmet marshmallows (who knew there was such a thing) and bubble bath. The spaces filled with love and care and concern, kindness and mercy and grace.

Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word happy would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. It is far better take things as they come along with patience and equanimity.
Carl Jung

(still working on that equanimity thing)
********
(1) I actually do believe in hell. I didn't start my morning there. Not even close.

For Funsies

I work with a bunch of fitness freaks. No seriously. We are talking people that come into the office after a work out and can't walk for days. We are talking about people who go mountain biking and come back covered with bruises and slashes and great bloody scabs.

We are talking about people who run 100KM DEATH races. Yes, you read that right, it has the word DEATH in it, and they did if for funsies. These are people who think that Iron man's are a stimulating day (It has the word Iron in it. People are NOT made of iron. I am sure of this.)

I am the only sane person around here.

I do yoga. Sometimes I take the stairs. Some times I even take the stairs to go up floors.

And really, that's about it.

And occasionally, these co-workers of mine, they comment that they hurt after a run, or a work out or a something. I universally tell them the same thing. . .

"Don't whine to me, I told you that exercise was going to kill you".

So, I'm not sure what it means, when I got this urge to start running again. Oh, I used to run in university. I'm not particularly good at it, and I never will be (it's the short, stubby legs), but I did it, and I enjoyed it.

I checked out the Running Room, and their course doesn't start until Jan (I've missed 3 weeks of the other course already, so that won't work). You prepare for the St. Patrick's Day Race.

Which means I'm asking you. I don't want to be the only person who can't manage to run 20 minutes at a stretch at the end of the clinic. Maybe I should start now. . .

Any suggestions on getting started?

It Quietly Snuck Past Me

My 600th post was last 2 weeks ago Wednesday. I meant to do something to mark it, but, it snuck* past me.

So, 600 posts.

____
Really, I didn't do anything to mark this, because I have just spent 30 minutes trying to decide if snuck is a real word, and if it is the past participle* of sneak, and if sneak has a past participle, and if I actually want to be using a past participle in this sentence.

Yes folks, I really am that cool.

____
*Because at least one of you would want to know, the OED indicates that snuck is an informal use of sneak, and the correct wording is "sneaked". Here indicates that sneaked/snuck are both the simple past and the past participle* form of the verb sneak, and I suspect, given that I am implying that the post snuck past me at a specific time last week, and does not continue to sneak past me now (although the post might be) I want the simple past, and not the past particle.

___
*And if you are still with me, and still interested, sneak a comment in the comments section, and I'll do a Wednesday's are for Grammar all about past tenses.

Let's Call That Done

Let's see what's behind door number one, shall we?

Ahh, that's much better. Next step, the desk.

(and for those of you who are wondering, it took an hour)

Public Humiliation

Because I thought you should see this. This is my bathroom cupboard. It's not that I'm a rotten housekeeper, it's that I've been procrastinating a bit. It's been a while since it was cleaned out. This became obvious when Mr. Spit was gushing blood on my kitchen floor, and I couldn't find him a band-aid. Not a single one. Not at all, at all.



I know, it's shocking. How bad does it have to be when you can't find the band-aids? Umm, about this bad.


So here's my request - someone, every day until I post a picture of a closet that doesn't look like Jimmy Hoffa might be buried in it, could you ask how I am doing at cleaning my closet?

Because things clearly have gotten out of control. Waaaay out of control.

Because I Always Follow Instructions

"Do not allow anyone to lick your piercing for 6-8 weeks."

Right then.

Race

It's the St. Paddy's day race.

It snowed last night.

Wish Kuri luck.

Happy Blogoversary to Me

Hit it Boys (and girls - we're about equal opportunity over here)

Happy Blogoversary, to me.

Happy Blogoversary, to me.

Happy Blogoversary Mrs. Spit

Happy Blogoversary to me. . .

1 year

407 Posts

9293 Readers (from May 30,08)

3717 Profile views

Thousands of comments, to make me feel loved.

Thanks for journeying with me.

Mr. Rob

This is Robbie.

He's having surgery today, to get a G tube, because he won't eat, and he's driving me his mummy crazy. Also, we are running out of moose here in Canada .

Would you please pray that he does well, and wakes up quickly, and doesn't have problems and that his tube goes well, and they can fix the hernia for once and all, and that his Mummy doesn't eat too many Iceee's doesn't worry too much.

And that everything goes well?

thanks,

Mrs. Spit

Chief Moose purveyor and sacrificer, Edmonton.

(hoping to be out of a job soon!)

Toby Awards

The History
Given to those who perform silent but heroic acts. Those that would never think of praising themselves. People who probably don't even realize how remarkable their actions are. Those who work hard to make the world a better kind of place, just by virtue of who they are and the decisions they make. For those much like brave sir Toby, shoving his brother off the counter, so that he can eat his breakfast.




The Nominee:
When I read her post this last week, it took my breath away. It stayed with me for the entire week, and I would take out those words and memories and turn them around. I had another nominee for this week, but these words so struck me.

Obviously, we would likely not be in a position to do so if we had our own
children's education to budget for. I consider it another silver lining in the
cloud of childless/free living...

The kindness and generosity and perhaps the incipient sadness took my breath away.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you would join me in raising your glasses in a toast. To Loribeth of the Road Less Travelled, who can find a silver lining in her sorrow, and who can give of what is hers, while the giving reminds her that things are not the way they should be. To LoriBeth, for kindness and generosity, even though there is pain in the offering.

To Lori Beth.

And one last toast.

To Katie, who is not here, but is the whole of her mum and dad's heart. Her memory lives on when we speak her name. As thankful as we are for her parent's generosity, we wish she was here.

To Katie.

Nominations:
Got someone who deserves a Toby? Send me an email explaining why - it can be short, and I'll happily write it up.

Scrawled on the Calendar

In Very Large Letters

Amelia's Surgery

(This is Amelia)

Could you please say prayers for her mum and her dad and her surgery? And her poor brother's Alex and Ben, who have had a lot to adust to.

Thanks

The Toby Awards

The History:

Given to those who perform silent but heroic acts. Those that would never think of praising themselves. People who probably don't even realize how remarkable their actions are. Those who work hard to make the world a better kind of place, just by virtue of who they are and the decisions they make. For those much like brave sir Toby, who beats up on the english mastiff, only when he is sitting on your lap.

The Nominees:

(I have another nominee, but she gets her own post, next week).

If you had to ask a dead baby mum what the hardest thing was, well, they would probably tell you, that after leaving the hospital with empty arms, it's the first time that you have to deal with a baby after yours has died. This is a particular type of hell, when that baby is the age that yours should have been. We all develop many coping mechanisms.

MLG joined our ranks just a few months ago. She's barely had time to get her feet under her. She's barely had time to find her voice, to remember how to breathe after this horrific hit to the solar plexus. It must have felt like the hits kept on coming. It must have felt like the pain would never go away.

True courage is not that we never feel overwhelmed, it's not that we are never frightened, it's just that we carry on, we treat others the way we want to be treated, even when the death of our child meant we didn't get treated the way we wanted to. MLG, lots of people in our world won't understand how much phoning your friend hurt. They won't get that this was real courage, and real care. But those of us out here, we know. We know how much it hurt, how hard it was. That noise you hear in the background, that's the standing ovation.

Ladies and Gentlemen, if you would join me, in not a toast, but a round of applause, if you would stand up and applaud, to MLG, who gave better than she got.

To MLG.

Nominee 2:

Debby's hair is growing back. Now, I know that this isn't the most exciting thing, but when you lost it because of chemo, and you have kept your chin up, and called yourself Uncle Fester, and made jokes about the time you save on shaving your legs, well, that's called making the best of a pretty darn rotten situation.

When you do it with a smile, when you show up to your daughter's university to speak about Cancer, when you work and struggle and love your kids and your husband, and when you still find time to think about the deeper meanings, and when you make more time for praise than protest, well that's fortitude.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you would join me in raising your glass, to Debbie's hair, and to the many things she's learned and shared in its absence. We are glad she had the lessons. We are gladder still that her hair has come back, and we wish her many more years with it, and never a single bad hair day.

To Debby.

And one final shout out, so to speak.

Dear Myles and Maddy, I know you both through your mummy's words and tears. I know you through your photo's. Through remembering. I know you in your mother's arms, waited for and beloved. And I will never know why you had to leave, and I would rather you were both here. But, I am glad for two little boys that can play together and a slightly older little girl, to torment the heck out of two little boys. Because they need that.

Nominations:
Got someone who deserves a Toby? Send me an email explaining why - it can be short, and I'll happily write it up.

The Toby Award

The History:

Given to those who perform silent but heroic acts. Those that would never think of praising themselves. People who probably don't even realize how remarkable their actions are. Those who work hard to make the world a better kind of place, just by virtue of who they are and the decisions they make. For those who are much like Sir Toby, always willing to beat up their brother around your feet, at 3 am.

The Nominee:

From Martha at a Sense of Humour is Essential, this week's nominee is Lori at Weebles Weblog.

I have to confess, I loved the term "adoption midwife". I thought that was such a profound way to express the passion that is close to Lori's heart. It takes a special kind of person to help a baby start growing in your heart and mind, and not just your body. There is no one I have met who is more passionate about adoption.

Martha also mentioned her Perfect Moment Monday's. I always check them out, I find it so, gratifying? to remember how much I have, and how lucky I am, and some days, especially Monday's, I think we can all use all the help we can get!

Ladies and gentlemen, if you would join me in raising your glass. Abundance is a state of mind, and Lori has it in spades. Out of that state of mind, she shares so much.

To Lori.

Nominations:

Got someone who deserves a Toby? Send me an email explaining why - it can be short, and I'll happily write it up.

The Toby Award

Given to those who perform silent but heroic acts. Those that would never think of praising themselves. People who probably don't even realize how remarkable their actions are. Those who work hard to make the world a better kind of place, just by virtue of who they are and the decisions they make. For those who are much like Sir Toby, shy and quiet, and always willing to come and lie on your chest and snuggle their furry head into your shoulder.

The Nominee:

I "met" this nominee when she was in the hospital with pre-eclampsia. And I hesitated to comment on her blog. I'm not the poster child for pre-e gone well. But finally did, and then I really got to know her, and I have come to enjoy her immensely. Trish at Fertile Hope is a great mum, and a wonderful human being.

There are 2 tendencies when you are the parent of a special child. You can either romanticize the challenges, or focus so much on the challenges that you never talk about the joy and wonder. Trish does neither. She does a brilliant job of talking about what it's like to be the mum of a little boy who struggles to eat. She talks about the hard parts, the frustrating parts, but she talks about the delight as well. Robbie truly is a remarkable little human.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you would join me in raising your glass. Albus Dumbledore was quite right, there are many varieties of courage. One type is to get up every morning, knowing that it is going to be hard.

To Trish.

Nominations:

Are always gratefully accepted and can be sent to the email on my profile page.

The Toby Award

Given to those who perform silent but heroic acts. Those that would never think of praising themselves. People who probably don't even realize how remarkable their actions are. Those who work hard to make the world a better kind of place, just by virtue of who they are and the decisions they make. For those who are much like Sir Toby, shy and quiet, and always willing to insert themselves between you and the last 20 pages of your murder mystery. You know, so that you take time to appreciate the little things in life.

The Nominee:

From Martha, at A Sense of Humour is Essential. (Except, being American, she spells it without the 'u'. She's wrong, but don't tell her, she might stop sending Delta chocolate, ok?) In her words:

I would like to nominate a bloggy buddy, Kalei for the Toby Award. Her blog is an extension of her "Ohana" the Hawaiian word that means family and is a source of caring and sharing. (just like Toby) This month, she organized a raffle to raise funds for a child with cancer. Currently, she is organizing an IRL and online blanket donation drive to aid homeless and animal shelters.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you would join me in raising your glasses. To Kalei, for her commitment and creativity to be a force for good.

To Kalei

Nominations
Are always gratefully accepted and can be sent to the email on my profile page.

Toby Awards

Sorry, not feeling well today.

Next Sunday.

Honest.

Welcome

Welcome Earthside Perseus.

Welcome home.

"When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies. And now when every new baby is born its first laugh becomes a fairy. So there ought to be one fairy for every boy or girl."

J.M. Barrie.

The Toby Awards

The Toby Awards

Given to those who perform silent but heroic acts. Those that would never think of praising themselves. People who probably don't even realize how remarkable their actions are. Those who work hard to make the world a better kind of place, just by virtue of who they are and the decisions they make. For those who are much like Sir Toby, shy and quiet, but is always willing to curl all 30 pounds of himself onto (mostly) your chest and purr at 3 a.m.

The Nominee's

Nominee 1
This week to Nikki who decided to add some meaning to her Christmas season. We would all understand if she chose to face this Christmas Season by crawling into a hole and pulling the ground over her, but she didn't. She chose to give back, to give of herself, to connect with gratitude.

Ladies and gentlemen if you would join me in raising your glasses. To Nikki, who found a need, and found a way to meet it, and made Christmas ever so much brighter for a young woman.

To Nikki

Nominee 2

To CLC. who demonstrated an extraordinary amount of grace and mercy under fire. We have all been the victim of drive by commenting. Those who believe that they simply must say something to make us feel better, rather than holding our hand in silence. Those who are unaware of how much careless words can leave wounds that are profoundly deep.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you would join me in raising your glasses to CLC, who showed class and decency and civility, and was able to accept the sentiment behind the words, while knowing the actual words themselves were utterly untrue. It takes courage to speak up, and sometimes it takes even more to stay silent.
To CLC.

Nominee 3:

At some point in our grieving we begin to realize the depth of hurt around us. We begin to realize how far from perfect the world is. We begin to see the silent and often hidden pain in those around us. We make time for the broken.

It is easy, in our world, to ignore the broken. To focus on the starving in Africa, and ignore the homeless in our cities. It is easy, when confronted with a need to decide that there must be a government program to serve the need, it must be someone else's job. It is much harder to decide that you should fill that need.

If losing a child is anything, it is utterly overwhelming and engrossing. And indeed, this last nominee has had a year that would have a lesser woman on her knees, sobbing for mercy. Instead, this last week, she was on her computer, organizing housing and household goods and money and movers for a single mum in dire need.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you would join me in raising your glasses to C. who has gone above and beyond, and made sure that a mum and her child will have a safe place to sleep tonight, and food and clothes and furniture. She organized and likely badgered, and went above and beyond, in the midst of serious pain.

To C.

Nominations

Are always gratefully accepted and can be sent to the email on my profile page.

The Toby Award

The Toby Awards
Given to those who perform silent but heroic acts. Those that would never think of praising themselves. Those who work hard to make the world a better kind of place, just by virtue of who they are and the decisions they make. For those who are much like Sir Toby, shy and quiet, but always available to purr.

The Nominee's.

Nominated by the lovely Martha at A Sense of Humour is Essential:

Two months ago, I was visiting a blog during International Comment Leaving Week. The blog, Building Heavenly Bridges, is from Cara, a mother of three daughters, including her firstborn, Emma born still eight years ago. Cara lives in Southern Vermont which has minimal resources for parents whose baby has died. In response to this need, Cara is establishing a chapter of Share in Southern Vermont. Share is an Infant Loss Bereavement and Support Group http://www.nationalshare.org/. She will be facilitating her first meeting next month in January, 2009.

Cara's passion and tireless efforts inspire me. It reminds me how important sensitivity and support are for healing. It also allowed me an opportunity to remember and honor my own lost little one from my miscarriage seventeen years ago.

Sorrow is like a precious treasure, shown only to friends.
African Proverb

Many of us will remember the person who stood in the breach for us. Those of us who are dead baby mum's will remember that person who ran our support group, who began a slow and gentle process of showing us how to put our lives back together.

Ladies and Gentlemen, if you would join me in raising your glasses, To Cara, who has given so much of her time to light the way for the rest of us.

To Cara.

Nominations:
Are always gratefully accepted and can be sent to the email on my profile page.

White Flag

What this thing that's on the ground behind me? I was waving it. Now I'm sitting at the computer, drinking bourbon.

Now, you see, when they offered me a choice of classes - I actually chose to take the grade nine's. I really like teenagers. No, really, I do. They can be a bit of a handful, but they are smart and have a great sense of justice, they like new ideas (but not change) and if you can get them interested, they care so much about the world.

They told me it was a class of 17, but 3 students were absent today. I thought that seemed really small.

They told me, as I was about to go into this class that they were "special ed". Actually they told me they were "K and E". I nodded dumbly. I didn't know what K and E might mean. I still don't. But I think I have a pretty good idea now.

I had 3 kids that fell asleep, but that was ok, since they couldn't hit, poke or talk to someone while they were sleeping. I didn't feel any urge to wake them up.

They promised me that there would always be an adult in the room. Their homeroom teacher told me "they were much better". They used to be much worse.

They didn't tell me that they were like overheated popcorn, liable to explode at any moment. They didn't tell me that "protection" was not a safe word to use with teenage boys. I knew about not talking about things that were even remotely sexual or related to undergarments, but protection? There's a problem talking about protection?

Oh, and did I mention about how they left me alone with them? In the gym? With basketballs and lacrosse sticks? yeah. . . . .

I'm going back to my drink.

Thanks for your prayers, they availed much. After all, I didn't swear.