shiz.ca

They call it a sleep-in because you SLEEP. IN.

The whole point of having a husband who doesn't have to get up early is to say, "Well, at least he's sleeping in for both of us," which totally DOES NOT WORK if he chooses to get up at six thirty because he has "things to do."

His waking up early is SO UNFAIR to ME.

Snow

In Vancouver. Today. In November.

This is rare. And we're still boiling our drinking water (tho I personally stopped caring about using bottled water for teeth-brushing days ago; no one's going to get typhoid).

Normal high for today: 8°C (46°F)
Normal low for today: 2°C (36°F)
Current temperature: 0°C (32°F)
Current wind chill: -6°C (21°F)

We're expecting up to a foot of snow by Monday. And Tuesday is meant to be minus seven (19°F). Brr.

We get about as much snow as the state of New Mexico,* so we don't dress for it and can't drive in it, and the city's annual snow-removal budget is a dollar ninety-five. It snows 0-3 times per year here, and most often melts in 12 hours. For snow to last for more than a few days is unusual.

That said? It's pretty.

Oddly, I had premonition a week ago that I should buy salt for the sidewalk--the front steps of our building are slick even without snow. And did I buy salt? Hell no.

*Maybe.**

**Actually, I made that up, but it sounds right.

iTunes Download Suggestion

Title: Different When it Comes to You
Artist: Bruce Cockburn
Album: Life Short Call Now
Song sample at Amazon.com

We love Bruce.

On piglets and olive trees

Please consider giving a goat or a piglet to someone in need this year.

My husband has been able to see what this organization can do first-hand, and he's impressed. In fact, one of our sponsor kids belongs to a village that is "graduating" early; her community is self-sustaining after seven years instead of fifteen -- sustainability being one of the goals of World Vision. It shows me that the situation for those in need is not hopeless; it's not a bottomless pit of need.

Lego heist at knifepoint

Florida police are looking for a ten year old girl who tried to steal Lego from a local Wal-Mart armed with a ten-inch carving knife. Upon being talked out of the heist by an employee, the girl is said to have ridden away on her bicycle. She then proceeded to knock over a liquor store and unload twenty kilograms of cocaine before her afternoon tea party with Mister Giggles.

Proudliest

The husband, he has posted some pics from his trip to Malawi/DR Congo. Enjoy. Photo number 5 is of an HIV-infected woman and her child; the woman and her husband both have HIV, but thanks to meds, their children do not.

D told a great story from the trip. Upon arriving at a school, he noticed a line of about fifty 7-9 year-old boys, all excited, so he asked what the boys were lined up for.

"Oh, they're going on a field trip."

"Really? Where are they going?" D asked.

"To the health clinic."

"Really. What are they going to do at the health clinic?"

"They're getting circumcized."

D's expression made them all laugh. "But they're SMILING. Wait, they don't KNOW they're getting circumsized, do they?"

"Oh no. We tell them when they get there."

Those boys will never go on a field trip again.

On trolling

Someone I care about has had an internet troll, an obnoxious, closed-minded man intent on forcing his worldview on everyone else. So these words comfort me.

From A King & A Kingdom by Derek Webb

There are two great lies that I’ve heard: ... that Jesus Christ was a white, middle-class republican and ... you have to learn to be like him

But nothing unifies like a common enemy and we’ve got one, sure as hell: He may be living in your house; He may be raising up your kids; He may be sleeping with your wife; Oh no, he may not look like you think ...

This unnamed troll really deserves a Bite Me Award:

Also? He can suck it.

Telling people to suck it is one of the tenets of my faith.

But why is the man gone?

The husband, he is on his way to Toronto right now, to return on Sunday. A nice 48-hour-ish trip to go be funny for some people who will pay him for it. It's only 48 hours. It's no big deal. Harmless! And I get the bed to myself! Again!

But why is the man gone?

Does he have to be gone?

I like him.

I like him here.

[Pout.]

16 by 32

From 16 by 32 by the Decemberists:

Sixteen military wives; thirty-two softly focused, brightly colored eyes; staring at the natural tan of thirty-two gently clenching, wrinkled, little hands

Seventeen company men out of which only twelve will make it back again; seargeant sent a letter to five military wives; his tears drip down to ten little eyes

Cheer them on to their rivals!
Cause America can! And America can't say no!
And America does! If America says it's so, it's so!

Water, water ...

Boil water alert issued: "people should not even be using the water to brush their teeth."

My bathtub:

Time for my bath. Really.

Addenda: I bathed in that. I really did.

I predicted it

Remember my complaint about the holiday music in a local drugstore?

They said this:

... Thank you for yada yada yada ... our sincere apologies yada yada yada ... it is certainly not our intent to yada yada yada ... [etc.]

Regards,
Shoppers Drug Mart Customer Service

I hope they all laughed.

Also? I think I'm kind-of an ass.

fuct

8:54 AM:

So depressed/sad/angry/mad/confused/sad/hurty/bad I want to CRAWL INTO A HOLE AND NEVER COME OUT, EVER. Not even for FOOD. Or KITTIES. Or SEX.

Ok, maybe the kitties can cuddle me in the deep, dark hole.

9:59 AM:

I'm SO HAPPY! SO FUCKING HAPPY! My eyes even have a TWINKLE in them. I'm all TWINKLY!

CONCLUSION:

The body, it be fuct.

Vómito de Gato

A response to (RED)

I Lied

Sometimes, when the mood strikes, I'm a sucker for Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas is You." *

I do reserve the right to be NOT in the mood and to bitch and moan about it at that time.

* This, mind you, is coming for someone who loves -- of all things -- Sesame Street Fever, especially Oscar the Grouch singing "Trash (I Love It)." Damn. So good.

I might not be the best judge of musical talent.

Mrs. Not-So Humanitarian

My husband was a children's entertainer when I met him, a comedian that did private shows primarily for family audiences. I admired what he did for a living and could appreciate the hard work he put into it, and his profession was not something I had any problem with. I never worried about what I would look like compared with him, how his profession would affect the way the two of us related or how it would affect our future lives. We decided that his travel would not be a problem; in most cases his trips were for three or fewer days.

My husband was also a man of faith when I met him, something I specifically wanted because I have beliefs that are important to me also. We agreed on all the major faith questions and I never imagined that we would have issues along the lines of "This thing that is very important to you is something I strongly disagree with," or vice versa. I never imagined we would be pulled in different directions faith-wise. We agreed, and wasn't that the proof in the pudding? (I do not believe I was not totally naive here; I tended towards an attitude of "Since our core values are the same, we will not have disturbing questions in some of these areas the way others might if they did not agree to begin with.")

Three years later my husband is well on his way to being an in-demand humanitarian photographer who's jetting all over the world for trips from 14-21 days in length. Take now, for instance; he is home just last week from sub-Saharan Africa and is set to complete five more major trips between January and mid-June (three and a half without me; one and a half with me), all for at least two weeks in length.

I am proud of my husband. I gush about him to anybody that will listen. I'm thrilled for his success, his notariety, and the attention he's getting. My husband is incredibly talented and he fits this new direction like a peg in its' appropriately-shaped hole. What I did not anticipate coming into marriage was his vocational change and the stress it would bring -- the stress of him traveling, of worrying for his well-being, of our being apart, of his witnessing heartbreaking world events while I stay in Canada to coallate and staple, of watching his faith be challenged by the earth's injustice while my own is challenged because I hate stapling so much, of feeling like a shmuck for kinda wanting to stay at home and watch YouTube while he is making a difference -- while I am not making a difference, not really, out here coallating and stapling. In Canada. In my rich, white world.

And do I dream of being noble? Of holding orphans and comforting widows? Of playing with African chiildren or of teaching English to the uneducated? At times yes, but often no. I dream of North American success, of accolades and pats on the back, of people falling all over themselves to tell me how great I am, encouraging me and loving me. I have issues; I'm insecure and deeply crave affirmation. I want rich and powerful and noteable white men to bestow on me their respect. And then my husband tells a story about a beautiful HIV-positive couple and their children, and he cries. And I cry. But also I feel like a loser.

I assumed that D & I would remain as we were when we married. That he would be the comedian guy and be home a lot and we'd have kids and he'd always be around and I'd someday get that dream job I'd been hoping for and working towards, probably working from home, and we'd give to the poor and we'd and take some foreign trips to help others and we'd love and help people but that we'd do it all together. And we'd take the kids to see what life was like in southeast Asia and spend some time with them in Africa and parts unknown. And we'd keep our strong mutual faith and be challenged and grow together and have some similar experiences and be happy happy happy and work like that well-oiled marriage machine that is just what we were meant to be. (Again, I don't think I was naive here. I knew there would be changes and compromise in our lives, but I was also certain that we were committed to working things out. What I did not count on was a major life/circumstance/vocation change for one of us and not for the other, and I did not anticipate a change for him that had the potential to make me feel terrible while he felt great.)

And it's not happening that way. I am having major life experiences that he is not having, he is having major life experiences that I am not having. He's in a refreshing career and I'm kind-of not (for the moment; I have no illusions that the new job is a dream come true in a life-long sense, tho it is in the short-term "need a good job" sense). He's seeing hope and humanity while I call a man on the bus a bastard because he won't let me get out. He's away when I want and need him, and I am not there when he wants and needs me, and we miss each other. And sometimes I feel like we are on very different roads. And when I think of joining him full-time, were it possible, the thought doesn't often appeal to me, nor does the thought of asking him to stay home away from what he clearly loves to be doing, is driven to do, and is awfully damn good at.

He's heard me say all these things, and I've thought and pondered and wept and been confused, feeling like he was going on ahead without me (not on purpose, mind you), or that God was playing some sick joke on us by sending him out and keeping me home to watch the clock and feed the kittens.

But now I've had a very very tiny revelation:

Why do I have to know what our lives will look like? And why am I assuming that these differences in the way we live are bad things? And have I been seeing problems where there really aren't any? It looks like we're apart, but are we? What makes this new direction a bad thing? Why don't I relax and enjoy the ride? Can't it still be us, him and I, on this adventure?

I'm nervous. I'm afraid this will hurt. I have unanswered questions. But this is our marriage, our lives and our family. And I'm going to enjoy it, even if I don't know where in Holy Living Heck we are going.

The New Job

So I won't go into detail, but here's what I can tell you about the new job:

• Great benefits that begin immediately
• Brand spanking new building; all is clean and light
• Gorgeous city view
• Moderate privacy at my desk - which I do not currently have and I miss greatly (Yea, verily, so greatly)
• Very nice people; co-workers and supervisors seem awesome
• A job I will probably enjoy and be very good at
• A new position I can tailor somewhat to my personality
• When I tell people what I do it sounds important
• Shorter commute; can walk on nice days
• Better hours; off a half hour earlier
• They REALLY want me; did I mention that they offered me the job within 4 hours of my interview?
• Current job OFFERED that I take a week vacation before I go; I have 3.5 days left, THEN a week off!
• Dressy casual attire as opposed to anything super-corporate looking

I start the 27th. Yippie!

An open letter to Shoppers Drug Mart

Dear Shoppers Drug Mart, in particular, your West End Vancouver locations:

I was in one of your Vancouver stores on Friday, November the 10th. I typically enjoy your store and have no problem with it, other than the lack of Cepacol and Close Up, which I go elsewhere for. But I live. Your pharmacy is great and you keep me in epsom salts to detoxify my messed up body. So congrats. I like you. I may even love you sometimes.

But. BUT.

You were playing Christmas music. On NOVEMBER TENTH.

Correction: You were playin BAD Christmas music. On NOVEMBER TENTH.

Shopping at SDM is typically a nice experience for me. So nice that, sometimes I go to SDM for FUN, when I'm BORED, and come out with $60 worth of goods we technically NEEDED but I never would have otherwise gotten around to purchasing. But the Christmas music? The BAD Christmas music? It makes me want to kill people.

It makes me want to leave your store and never return. It makes me want to run screaming from the premesis. It makes me want to run to the earplug section and find the best damn earplugs you have and use them right away, IN the store.

Now, I like Christmas music. And I don't so much mind it early. I kind of expect it. But the bad Christmas music? It sucks. Just because a song is technically a Christmas song does NOT make it acceptable to play. (Have you HEARD the worst Christmas song ever? Dan Fogelberg's Same Old Lang Syne? Second worst? Suzy Snowflake.)

I thought I'd give you examples of what is acceptable and unacceptable to play.

ACCEPTABLE:

• Harlem Boys' Choir
• James Taylor
• Ralph Materie's "Dig that Crazy Santa Claus"
• Mormon Tabernacle Choir
• Anything from Starbucks/produced by HearMusic
• Any great jazz, for instance, Billie Holiday; Same with big band greats
• Christmas with the Rat Pack and/or Sinatra CDs
• A Muppet Christmas Carol EXCEPT the song "When Love Is Gone"; also good is the Muppets' "We Wish You a Merry Christmas"
• Diana Krall
• A Charlie Brown Christmas
• Tim Burton's Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack
• Sesame Street
• Bruce Cockburn (SOOOO GOOOOOD)
• Harry Connick Jr. in limited doses
• The Nutcracker
• Also in limited doses, novelty songs like "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" (Gayla Peavey) and the Elmer Fudd version of "I'll have Bl-Bl-Bl-Bl-Blueee Christmas Without You" (not the real Elmer Fudd, apparently)
• That AWESOME sexy version of Zooey Deschanel signing "Baby it's Cold Outside" with Leon Redbone
• Also? The occasional NOT Christmas song, so we don't get exhausted from Xmas Overload. Let's say 30-50% should be non-Christmas. PLEASE

UNACCEPTABLE:

• Cindi Lauper's "Christmas Conga"
• Elvis
• Manheim Steamroller
• Yanni
• Chicago. Yes I said it
• That Amy Grant CD that is technically not bad, but we've heard it a million hillion jillion times
• Mariah Carey
• Meloncholy "I can't live without you/You're all I want for Christmas"-type songs. GAG
• Andy Williams
• Although I haven't heard it, I imagine Celtic Woman: A Christmas Celebration makes the list
• "When Love Is Gone" from a Muppet Christmas Carol
• Anything NOW or WOW
• The Boston Pops
• The Three Tenors
• Anything from a CD in the $5 bin
• Acapella
• David Foster
• Nana Mouskouri
• Anything by people we typically hate: Rod Stewart, Bruce Springsteen, etc.
• Hard rockers doing Christmas
• "Grandma (New Kids) Got Run Over by a Reindeer"
• "Six White Boomers (Snow White Boomers)" Leave it alone
• As mentioned above, Dan Fogelberg's "Same Old Lang Syne" and the song "Suzy Snowflake"
• Raffi

Are you listening? Seriously. YOU NEED TO LISTEN. As a bonus, good music will calm the crazy Christmas shoppers, rather than aggravate the already-stressed-out patrons.

Sincerely,

Shiz

Shiz.ca postscript: I actually sent this to them.

For a week, they played no radio at work.

Now they're making up for it with an AC/DC CLASSIC ROCK WEEKEND.

Kill me. Kill me now.

The farmer's wife had better watch her back. And hide that carving knife.

Seriously.

I must have shown them my BOOBS

TWO GOOD:

1. The husband, he came HOME
2. The Shiz, she was offered a goood job.

ONE NOT-SO-MUCH

1. Dyspepsia. I have it. It hoits. Call the WAH-mbulance.

A Spears Addenda

This article about the Spears split contains the following gem:

But the previous week, [Kevin] admitted that, because of his touring schedule, "I'm not going to see my family as much as I want to, but I mean, those are the sacrifices you make as an artist."

That's KEVIN FEDERLINE, artist.

Just as my last post did NOTHING to prove that I am embittered, this one will also do nothing to prove that I am CRAZY.

A few minutes ago, there was a girl here where I work waiting for an interview, and she was sitting right across from me. I suddenly slipped into daydream world, and in that world, I turned to her, made a gesture, and whispered, "Show them your BOOBS." As in, Psst! Here's my secret tip to you: SHOW YOUR BOOBS. THAT will SO get you hired.

I think these things without trying, by the way.

Am. Crazy

Announcing a new honor in the Shiz.ca roster

THE BITE ME AWARDS

AND THE WINNERS ARE ...

ONE:

The woman from the placement agency who called me today, asking that I call her back. When I called, she chose to:

- Say that she couldn't help me at all
- Nit pick about my resumé in a condescending way

She went out of her way to call me and nit-pick.

Woman from the agency, bite me:

TWO:

The woman at Yellow Cab (remember this for later) that I called for a client pick-up today. Instead of saying that I wanted a pick-up now, the words "schedule a pick-up" came out. When she found out I wanted a cab right away she became snarky and said, "You want a PICK-UP. When you SCHEDULE a pick-up, it means you're CALLING AHEAD for a pick-up at a LATER TIME."

Note also that this happened 60 seconds after Bite Me circumstance number one. Would EVERYONE like to talk down to me? At the same time?

Woman at Yellow Cab, you -- yes you -- can bite me:

THREE:

The woman at the OTHER placement place, who called to tell me that, "applying for work here is actually a competitive process, we don't hire just anybody," and also told me that they were not hiring anyone at all.

Um? So apparently I'm completely worthless -- but it doesn't really matter because they aren't hiring ANYBODY anyway. Not even the scum of the earth.

I happen to think I'm talented scum.

Woman, pleeeeease, for your kindness, you can bite me:

FOUR:

The dryers in our laundry room. Today, after TWO HOURS of drying a SMALL load, the clothes came out of right-hand machine completely wet. Warm, but wet. They're hanging all over my apartment now, trying to dry.

And in cahoots with the right-hand dryer is -- you guessed it -- the left-hand dryer, which somehow, mysteriously, ate large holes in one of my shirts and left everything else intact.

Right-hand dryer? Left-hand dryer? You can bite me:

FIVE:

My driver from Yellow Cab on Saturday night.

On my way to a theatre event -- where I was volunteering -- he took me on a 3-minute ride and held me hostage afterward for six minutes because his credit card machine was missing, yet he refused to return my card. He was obnoxious, insisting that I had to pay the $7 fare -- which I am all for, but it is not my fault the machine was missing. I tried to reason with him, but he was -- how can I put this delicately? -- not nice.

His people skills were terrible, he was belligerent, he argued with me, and he really, really got my dander up.

CAB DRIVER? You can bite me.

That is all.

A new direction for SPAM

In the inbox this morning:

"A simple way to get an electric wheelchair."

Apparently there are no more body parts to exploit for internet wealth.

Cell Phone Company, I hate you

Since when if calling overseas a "feature" that I have to call customer service to have ADDED? Don't you know that I have a limited window to call my husband in Africa?

And I love it that your rep had never HEARD of the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

Also? FOUR DOLLARS A MINUTE? I hate you.

Here's a THOUGHT

If my boss does not return your phone calls or emails, and is not in the office and not answering his cell, then there probably isn't ANYTHING I CAN DO to help you.

Seriously. I wish he'd called you back. Or responded to your email. But he DIDN'T. THAT'S THE WAY HE IS.

Stats

It's official.

Days the husband has been away: 10
Days left till he's home: 8
Distance between us, miles: 9,354
Distance between us, km: 15,052
Hubby's Loaction: Lubumbashi
My location: Canada
My current emotional state: MISS HIM MISS HIM MISS HIM
What I'm going to do about it: Much whining to everyone I meet, including to strangers via the internet
How I feel about that: I'm ok with that