...and sometimes why

Don't be such a boob

2009-06-05T00:45:00.020-05:00

I've been trying to write about this for a while now but it's difficult. It's difficult because I'd rather write a good news story where the worry turns out to be nothing and in retrospect, we can all learn blah blah blah. It's difficult because it still doesn't seem real. It's difficult because facts like "Only 4 of 10 people who get cancer are expected to be alive five years after diagnosis" are floating around out there, scaring the shit out of me. Granted, that's a figure for all types of cancer, but it's still a scary number.

I suppose I'll start at the beginning. I found a lump. I wasn't particularly looking for one, but I found it nonetheless. I told myself that it was probably nothing, and that if it was something, I'd rather not know. If it was going to kill me anyway, I'd rather not go through the pain and drama of dealing with it. It would be much easier to let it take its course.

But it was probably nothing. I'm young. I'm not on any sort of hormone therapy or even the Pill. There's no history of cancer, breast or otherwise, in my family except for one great uncle.

After a bit of time spent ignoring the goddamned lump, I drunkenly and off-handedly confessed its existence to a friend. (Hey, look at that - alcohol may have saved my life!) This friend has had too much experience with cancer to let my admission slide, so the next thing I knew she booked me in to see her doctor. My appointment was for April 7.

After poking at my boob for a while, the doctor tried to offer comfort. She told me not to worry until I had something to worry about, but I heard her instruct her assistant that she wanted me in for an ultrasound as quickly as possible.

That day after I went back to work, I told my manager that I was going through something medical that may or may not turn out to be something. I let him know that I may have to leave for appointments without much warning. He was wonderful and told me to do what I needed to do, no questions asked.

At home that night I threatened the lump that it better fucking well be nothing. I yelled for a while at Righty and told her that she might just be out of the will. I told Lefty that she was now officially my favourite.

On April 17, I went for an ultrasound and a mammogram, and 3 days later I was back at the doctor's office. She told me that they couldn't tell yet if the lump was cancerous or benign. She told me I needed a biopsy done and that the cancer centre would contact me with a date. I read the words possibly cancerous lesion on my chart while she was busy filling out another form and decided to walk the 3 km back to work, silently freaking out the whole way.

On April 27, I went to the cancer centre for my biopsy. I wasn't particularly worried about the procedure, but rather the possible results, so I waited calmly and patiently. An older woman in the waiting room entertained me, griping about the awful hospital gowns they make us wear, the pain of having to drive into town for these procedures, the awfulness of the MRI. I told her I hadn't had an MRI yet and she told me I was lucky. During the procedure, I stared at the upper left corner of the room and took deep breaths. The biopsy was unexpectedly painful, and the bumpy bus ride home didn't help. I called my boss to let him know I was taking the rest of the day off. The people at the cancer centre said I should have my results in 5-7 business days.

The next day I had an appointment with yet another doctor. I wasn't sure what it was about or who he was, but I went anyway. The appointment was in the medical offices wing of the hospital just across the alley from where I live, so I walked over. After a short wait, the doctor called me into his examining room and poked at my boob. He told me I could put my shirt back on and then he said that their goal with a breast cancer diagnosis is to have the patient in for surgery within 3 weeks.

My heart stopped. What? Did he just tell me I have cancer? He must have seen the shock on my face because he stammered a bit and said that he didn't need to wait for the biopsy results. Because of the location, size, shape, and feel of the lump, they can tell it's not benign.

I immediately started to cry. He offered me tissues and asked if anyone was there with me that we could call into the room. I told him that I hadn't told anyone because I didn't want them to worry if it was nothing. He was very kind and patient and advised that I should tell at least my family so that I have some support. He told me his wife was also 33 when she was diagnosed with breast cancer and they just celebrated her 53rd birthday. He said she had been cancer-free for almost 20 years and that these days, a diagnosis is not necessarily a death sentence.

He then pulled out a booklet that provided information about my options: mastectomy vs lumpectomy, axillary dissection vs sentinel node biopsy, post-surgery treatments.

Before I continue, I'm going to give a little crash course in breast cancer surgery. A mastectomy is where they remove most or all of the breast. A lumpectomy is where they remove the tumor and a surrounding margin of breast tissue. A lumpectomy is also called breast conservation surgery.

Axillary dissection is where they remove most or all of the lymph nodes under the arm. This is done because if the cancer has spread, it spreads to the lymph system first. They examine the nodes for cancer cells. If there aren't any, then the nodes were removed for no reason. If there are cancer cells, good thing they got all the lymph nodes.

A sentinel node biopsy is where they remove only the first 1-3 lymph nodes. Radioactive fluid is injected into the breast the morning of the surgery and it travels along the lymph system. They use a special camera to detect first few nodes and the surgeon removes those. The sentinel nodes are examined for cancer cells. If they are clear, excellent - no further surgery is needed. If they find cancer cells, another operation is required to remove the rest of the lymph nodes.

There are benefits and drawbacks to both options. It takes longer to recover from axillary dissection than a sentinel node biopsy and there is a greater chance of lymphedema. However, with the sentinel node biopsy there is always the chance that a second operation is needed, and there is a 5% chance that even though the first node is clean, a lymph node farther up might be cancerous.

End of lesson.

The doctor advised me that I should probably make decision right there and then so that I could get on the waiting list for my surgery. He explained the difference between the lymph node surgeries and told me that I was a good candidate for a lumpectomy because of the size and location of the tumor.

Tumor. It wasn't a lump anymore. Now it was a tumor. I hardly heard anything else he said, but managed to agree to a lumpectomy and the axillary dissection. I signed a consent form and slowly walked back home.

I spent that night sobbing on my couch. The next morning my eyes were so swollen that it looked like I was on the losing end of a fight. I desperately wanted my mom to know, but I dreaded telling her. How could I tell my favourite person on the planet that I have a potentially life-threatening disease? Before I knew anything I had decided that until I had confirmation, I wouldn't tell her. Except now that I had that confirmation, I discovered too late that it would have been easier to tell her that I might have breast cancer than to tell her I do. Ah, hindsight.

Three long days after my appointment with the surgeon, I finally told my mom. There were tears and hugs. I told jokes. There were more tears. We told my step dad and my sister. There were more tears. It was a rough week. I told the rest of my family, my boss at work, and all my friends.

Everyone was wonderful to me and then next thing I knew, it was May 5 and I had an appointment for an MRI. They wanted to make sure it was only one tumor and they wanted to get a clearer picture of its size and shape. I was taken into a room and a nurse told me she was going to give me an IV so they could inject dye into my system for the procedure. I had to sign a consent form that advised me of all the 834 possible side effects of the dye, including death. I could die from dye? That seemed ridiculous. At the bottom of the form, it said that despite all these side effects, they believed the benefits from the procedure outweighed the risks. Easy for them to say. But I signed the form. The nurse came at me with a needle and I told her I wasn't going to watch. She laughed and said that was okay, she would watch. I smiled and told her that was a good way to do things.

The MRI wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I think that was because instead of being on my back, they had me face down on the table. My head rested on an opening, much like you'd find in a massage table, and my boobs dangled out of two holes. I couldn't even tell I was in a small claustrophobic area. The machine was incredibly loud, even with the ear plugs they gave me. The radiologist spoke to me throughout the 45 minute procedure, letting me know when one series of images was finished and when the next one was beginning. Halfway through they injected the dye and a cold, awful feeling washed over my arm. Before I could panic too much, I pictured diving into a cool, refreshing pool and after 30 seconds or so the cold feeling went away.

On May 7, two days before my 34th birthday, my surgeon phoned to let me know I was booked for surgery on May 14. If you're keeping track of all these dates, that's 1 month and 1 week after my initial doctor's visit. I've heard horror stories of the Canadian medical system - of people waiting months for diagnoses and years for surgery dates. For me, things were moving so quickly I didn't even have time to think.

I did, however, have time to do some reading. I learned more about lumpectomies and mastectomies and was satisfied with my decision. I also learned more about axillary dissections and sentinel node biopsies and began to doubt my decision to have the former. I advised my surgeon that I had changed my mind and he said that unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to get in for the radioactive fluid injections the morning of my surgery. I either had to stick with my original decision and have all my lymph nodes removed or receive a later surgery date and have the new operation. I decided to wait and was given another surgery date of May 21. One month and 2 weeks after my initial doctor's visit.

That weekend I had a birthday bash where I got as hammered as I could with 30 of my closest friends and family members.

At 9:00 on the morning of my surgery, my mom picked me up and we walked over to the hospital. My first stop was the oh-so-scary-sounding Nuclear Medicine. A lovely nurse applied numbing cream to my nipple and surrounding area and answered my silly questions with a laugh. After the injection, will I glow in the dark? (No.) Will I be worth more radioactive? (No.) If I get bit by a spider, will I turn into Spider Woman? (Not that she knows of, but I should call her and let her know if it happens.) Then a doctor came and poked me with 4 needles right around my nipple. It was insanely painful - not the actual needle, but rather the fluid. It burned and stung for 10 minutes after the injections. After that I went for photos which I thought would be quick, but ended up taking about an hour. Two of the photos lasted 20 minutes each and 4 lasted 5 minutes each. Like the MRI, I had to be completely still.

After the photos were finished, my mom and I were whisked off to pre-surgery. The nurses there were wonderful and funny and gentle with me. They inserted the IV and talked me through what was going to happen. They asked me questions and then asked me the same questions again. They checked my blood pressure and oxygen levels and offered me warmed blankets and slippers for my feet. I asked them to please let the anaesthesiologist know that I didn't want to be inadvertently turned into a vegetable. They laughed and told me they try to avoid that - too much paperwork.

Then, all too soon, it was time to go to the operating room. My mom hugged me. She told me she was going to get some lunch and she'd see me before I knew it. I was wheeled into a small room with bright lights. I told the person transporting me that it didn't look anything like it does on ER and he laughed. The anaesthesiologist came over and introduced herself. She said they were going to administer the anaesthetic through the IV and that I would feel a little like I was drunk. Not 3 seconds after she said that I felt like I had just done 12 tequila shots and then there was nothing. No counting backwards, no slow descent into sleep, not even darkness. Just nothing.

And then? Garfield! That was the first thing I saw when I came to again. The hospital has ceiling tiles painted with various pictures throughout the corridors and rooms and the tile above my bed was Garfield snuggling Pooky. A nurse welcomed me back to the world of the conscious and told me to rest. That wasn't a problem, since I seemed to be able to fall asleep while blinking. There was more taking of my blood pressure and oxygen levels. There was morphine. Then I was wheeled back to the pre-surgery area and my mom was at my side. She asked how I was and I told her I was fine. I asked her how lunch was and she laughed. For me, she went to get lunch half an hour earlier but for her it was more like 3 hours.

By 9:00 that night I had met the three requirements to be sent home: I had walked, I had peed, and I had kept food down. I was officially discharged and Mom took me to her place. She and my step dad had set up the guest room so that I could stay there as long as I needed. I staggered into the house and immediately went to bed. Over the next 4 or 5 days, I did a lot of sleeping. I also received dozens of phone calls, flowers, and visitors.

I've had doubts in my past whether people really like me or if they merely put up with me, but cancer has silenced those doubts. I feel so incredibly loved that I get tears in my eyes if I think about it for too long.

This week I found out that the tumor was 2.5 cm and the margins (ie, the extra tissue the surgeon removed surrounding the tumor) are clear of cancer cells. This means that the we can feel optimistic that my surgeon got it all. Also, I found out that the sentinel lymph node is clear as well. This means that the cancer hadn't yet spread and that I don't need any more operations! That would put my cancer at stage IIA. It's not stage I, but I'll take it.

I have one more week of recovering to do and then I'll be back to work...at least until Step 2: the dreaded chemotherapy.

Cancer is more common than I ever imagined. Everyone I talk to knows someone who died from it or who is going through treatment or who is in remission. It's so prevalent that it's almost blasé. Yet my life was changed so completely by my diagnosis that I almost expected my news to be the headline in the local paper. But no, life goes on bit by bit.

One of the first things I did when I emerged out of my post-surgery grogginess was go for walk and take some photos. My mom lives two houses down from a creek that runs through the city and I walked along the bank on a beautiful spring day. During that walk I realized that I had been wrong - not knowing isn't better than knowing. Not knowing only has one end, and at least now I have a chance to delay that ending.

Seems logical

2009-05-11T23:01:00.000-05:00

I saw this on someone's Facebook page and it was too good not to steal.

10 Reasons Why Gay Marriage Is Wrong

Being gay is not natural. Real people always reject unnatural things like eyeglasses, polyester, and air conditioning.
Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay, in the same way that hanging around tall people will make you tall.
Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage contract.
Straight marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all; women are still property, blacks still can't marry whites, and divorce is still illegal.
Straight marriage will be less meaningful if gay marriage were allowed; the sanctity of Brittany Spears' 55-hour just-for-fun marriage would be destroyed.
Straight marriages are valid because they produce children. Gay couples, infertile couples, and old people shouldn't be allowed to marry because our orphanages aren't full yet, and the world needs more children.
Obviously gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.
Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That's why we have only one religion in the world.
Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That's why we as a society expressly forbid single parents to raise children.
Gay marriage will change the foundation of society; we could never adapt to new social norms. Just like we haven't adapted to cars, the service-sector economy, or longer life spans.

Down with April

2009-05-08T01:00:00.004-05:00

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.

- from The Wasteland by T.S. Eliot

T.S. didn't like April much. Me neither. I will now remember it as the month in which I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

Good thing it's May now. Can we just skip April next year?

STRIKE!

2009-03-08T19:04:00.010-05:00

Are you kidding me? A windchill of -30? In March? That's it. I quit.

I have never been more ready for spring. Usually, I try not to complain about the weather. What do I expect? I live in Saskatchewan where it's stupidly cold in the winter, freakishly hot in the summer, and spring and autumn are lovely and last 2 weeks each.

But this past month at work has sucked big time. I've had to sit and watch wonderful co-workers and dear friends get laid off, and every day I wonder anxiously when I'm next.

I'm SO ready for one of the coldest winters in 30 years to end. My whole body is aching for above 0 temperatures. I want to shrug off this parka and kick off these Sorels and run free in the muddy, flooded streets!

I want to gulp down too many pints of Grasshopper on the patio of my favourite watering hole!

I want to see the trees and shrubs blush green again!

I feel like a 3-year-old having a temper tantrum in the middle of the cereal aisle at the grocery store but I don't care. I'm on strike against the weather - who's in?

(Yes, I just wrote a whole post about the weather. So? If I was in an elevator with you, I'd ask if it was cold enough for you, too. Deal.)

Yes, I am alive

2009-03-05T20:44:00.003-06:00

I've been hibernating the past couple of months and being a bad, bad blogger.

Thanks to those of you who check back from time to time to see if there's anything new. And thanks to those followers who remain followers. Love you! Here. Have this delightful video as my apology. I'll be back soon.

Oren Lavie - Her Morning Elegance
Uploaded by IgnitionVM

Everybody dance!

2009-01-26T21:27:00.001-06:00

The Brighton Port Authority - Toe Jam

Miscellany

2009-01-11T17:20:00.000-06:00

A world economy that completely depends on continuous growth in a finite world can't be good. Can it?
I have none of these so-called core muscles. The only things that keep me upright are my spine and sheer force of will. Quit telling me to strengthen my core!
Choose-something-from-your-cubicle gift exchanges at work are fun, but at the end of the day you're left with a used coffee mug filled with breath mints and an old issue of People.
I always forget Suriname is in South America and, instead, think it's in Africa. Half a million Surinamese are not impressed, I'm sure.
When did I let "need" creep in and substitute "want" in my vocabulary? I do not need the following things:
- a haircut because I think my hair is doing wonky things
- more groceries when the overflowing shelves of my kitchen do not inspire me
- a new camera, just because my old one broke
- a beer after a tough day at work
(Okay, maybe that last one.)
I think everyone should read "Lullabies for Little Criminals" by Heather O'Neill. It's an amazing book that will break your heart, but in a good way.
Even though I live in an apartment, I can completely sympathize with homeowners who are tired of shoveling all the snow we've had this winter. I mean, when I'm trying to sleep until noon, and the building managers start with the scraping and the shoveling at TEN? How annoying!

Hi ho

2009-01-05T18:29:00.006-06:00

I've been dreading this day for a week. Today was the first day back to work after a delicious, restful TWO WEEK holiday! Work makes me sad and stressed and tired and for sixteen whole days I didn't have to worry about it at all. Instead I slept and read and ate and drank and talked and slept some more. And then ate more. Oh, and I don't think I really stopped drinking.

Nevertheless, I managed to haul my ass out of bed this morning (after pressing snooze a mere 5 times!) and I walked through the freezing cold to face reality — unless I want to sell my body on the streets, I need to work. Sigh.

But (surprise) it wasn't that bad! I got to chat with people I haven't seen in a while and hear about their family drama and falling-down Christmas trees. And what made it all worth while is that I got to have the following two conversations.

Conversation #1

The scene: Nat and her friend Brett are discussing what they did on their ~~summer~~ Christmas vacation.

Brett: I saw Doubt during the holidays. It's a pretty good film. You can tell it's been adapted from a play because it's very dialogue-oriented, but the pacing was good.

Nat: I saw Marley and Me. It was light but it sure made me cry. A lot. Not that that's tough to do.

Brett: But you're a cat person!

Nat: That's why I was crying. When Owen gave Jen a puppy I was thinking, "A dog? Noooooo! Think of the cats! Think! Of! The! Cats!

Brett: Sounds terrifying.

Nat: It was.

Conversation #2

And then there was this double-entendre-laden conversation about our upcoming bonuses, which brings us full circle back to the title of today's post. Some days I think I'm pretty clever.

Nat: "Pay For Performance"? Sounds...interesting.

Steve: I don't think it means what you're thinking.

Nat: Too bad. Betchya I'd make around...$1.50!

Steve: Oh, at least. I'd probably owe someone some change.

Nat: Don't sell yourself short. I imagine you'd get at least 98¢.

Steve: Hey now — quit exaggerating.

Nat: Okay, then. 93¢.

Steve: Maybe.

(What makes these conversations even better is that they both happened over our internal online, for-work-only chat program. This means that they are recorded and stored FOREVER! Or however long companies store techie stuff.)

Who knew?

2009-01-04T01:03:00.003-06:00

A friend on Facebook tagged me to do this meme and I thought I'd bring it over to the blogosphere. After all, someone out there may have made a New Year's resolution to read more wallowy blogs with too many cat pictures, and they're going to need a fast way to get to know me. So welcome, new friends! Here are

25 Miscellaneous Facts about Nat

Lucy, my cat, used to be owned by a woman who had 6 other cats. Then the woman killed herself.
My grandma taught me how to knit 2 years ago but I'm only able to knit flat, rectangular things like dishcloths or scarves.
I hate touching or tasting food off of new wooden spoons. The feel of the rough wood makes me cringe and shudder. Once they've been broken in and are nice and smooth, they're fine though.
The only radio station I listen to is CBC Radio 1.
One of my favourite bits on CBC Radio 1 is the National Research Council's official time signal, "where the beginning of the long dash followed by 10 seconds of silence indicates exactly twelve o'clock noon." I don't set my clocks to it, I just enjoy that my country actually airs this.
I'm a wonderful procrastinator. Almost every paper I ever wrote for university was done the night before it was due. I'm convinced that I could have received quite good marks if only I had tried harder.
I went to university full time for 7 years and then took 2 additional classes the following year.
I only have bachelor degrees.
I have terra cotta-coloured walls in my living room and bedroom.
I had my first burger from McDonalds this October. I was part of my friend's wedding party and we were between photos and the reception. We were all very hungry at the time and it was delicious.
I don't have a favourite colour. Who can choose with so many lovely ones out there?
Earlier this week I bought a Holga camera on the internet and I CAN'T WAIT until it arrives!
I love Clean Sheet Night, especially when the sheets were hung to dry on the clothesline strung across my courtyard.
I'm a sucker for Shopper's Drug Mart and I could spend hundreds of dollars there on potions and lotions and whatnot. It's dangerous that I live two blocks away from one.
I sleep until something external wakes me up. I seem to be missing an internal clock or that mechanism that says, "Okay, you've had enough sleep. Time to get up!" I have slept for 14 or more hours in one night. I didn't mean to - it's just that nothing woke me up!
I really dislike being by myself.
When I was very little, I wanted to grow up and be a cat. I still don't really know what I want to be when I grow up.
I love the smell of old dusty basements, musty books, and dimly-lit garages. If it hasn't seen the light of day in decades, I'll probably swoon at the scent.
I usually only clean my apartment when I know people are coming over, which sometimes isn't very frequent.
Despite point #19, I don't mind washing dishes.
Daisies are my favourite flower.
I have no patience for people who constantly trash the city in which they live. Either move or learn to love it!
I haven't rented a movie in almost 3 years.
I've had a headache since I was 5 years old. Every. Day.
I love when it's super cold outside and that first breath of air kind of makes my lungs feel like they're collapsing and for a second I can't breathe. Just for fun, I went out about an hour ago and inhaled deeply. Here's a snapshot of the conditions in which I survived:

-45°C with the windchill? Motherfucker!
I think I'm also supposed to tag people but I don't want to put that kind of pressure on anyone. If you read this and want to do one of your own, yay! If not, meh.

Conversation with my grandma - What a painful movie!

2009-01-03T12:13:00.000-06:00

Grandma: We should go see a movie while I'm in town.

Nat: Sure! What do you want to see?

Grandma: Not that movie with that Smith man. Oh I don't like him!

Nat: How about Doubt with Meryl Steep and Philip Seymour Hoffman?

Grandma: [looking confused] Gout? I don't think I want to see that. It doesn't sound very good.

Everything's going to get lighter

2009-01-02T03:06:00.002-06:00

I know that I tend to wallow here so here are reasons why 2008 didn't totally suck.

My sister and her boyfriend broke up. That's not the great part - he was a nice guy and she was talking about moving in with him. No, the great part was that in her grief, she turned to me for comfort and advice and someone to talk to. I'm fairly certain that's never happened before. I adore my sister but neither of us talk much with each other about our feelings. Her sadness brought us closer.
I joined 2 musical groups! I forgot how great I feel when I get to make music with other people. I joined a singing group that was putting on an autumn fundraiser. It was delicious. I got to experience that whole-body-vibration thing that happens when I loudly sing one note in a powerful and interesting chord. I was sad when it was over, but I also joined an adult concert band that practices once a week for 10 months of the year. Even though the loudest tenor saxophone player in the world sits directly behind me, even though the oboe player beside me assured me that he wasn't "a sex maniac or anything" when he offered to drive me home, and even though we have 1 French horn and 6 tubas, I love it. One week I was contemplating not going because I had a crappy day at work and I was tired and grouchy and my temples had their own pulse. Despite my resolve to ditch, I went anyway and on my way home I discovered that I was humming "Chimes of Liberty" [sound warning], headache-free and with a big goofy grin.
My mom continued to be wonderful. She is quite simply my favourite person in the world. She makes me laugh and cry and she loves me. This year she took me on endless trips to the grocery store to get heavy things that I didn't want to walk to get. She ate sushi and East Indian and Thai with me. She treated me to a glorious day at the spa with a manicure and pedicure and facial. When she ate meals I prepared for her, she made me feel like the greatest gourmet chef that ever was. She raved about the photographs I took, and showed up to my band Christmas concert. My mom, she is awesome.
I made some fantastic friends. A lot of times it takes a while to become good friends with people, but these new friends and I clicked right away. How can I NOT instantly love the coolest person I've ever met? How can I have a slow get-to-know-you period with someone who drunkenly confesses dark secrets to me the first time we go out for drinks and then introduces me to their whole gang of friends who instantly welcome me? And anyone who greets me at the door with a large glass of red wine and a cheerful "Hola!" is aces in my book. I have been lonely a lot this past year but you, my new friends, have made my heart warm.
I decided to not apply for a job with my company as a trainer in Winnipeg. On the surface, it seemed ideal. I have been so lonely and unhappy the last while here. I dislike my current job and would love to be in the Learning Services department. I already have friends and family living in that city, and I even know some of the people that work in our Winnipeg location. However, as I contemplated leaving I realized how much I have here. Not only did I have some fabulous new friends, but I have so many amazing people that I've been friends with for years. We may not see each other often but I know I can count on them for anything. I may not like my job, but the group of people I work with are awfully fun. This is home and it comforted me to realize that.
I received 3 mix CDs in the mail from someone I've never met! I love mix CDs! I also discovered a whack of new and new-to-me music that made me smile and dance and sing (sound warning for all links).

Here's to more non-suckiness for all of us in 2009!

Let's take a cup of kindness

2009-01-01T02:55:00.003-06:00

Happy New Year to you all!

My resolution? Guess!

Yeah, that's right - more blogging.

How about you? Any resolutions?

He expresses my loss for words

2008-11-17T18:44:00.003-06:00

I'd like to be happier that Obama won, but I'm not. However, I am happy that people like this exist.

A narrowly-avoided catastrophe

2008-11-16T19:28:00.000-06:00

I live in a fantastic old apartment building and I share a little 5'x8' balcony with my across-the-hall neighbour. This balcony represents Lucy's wildest dreams. Before I inherited her, she was an indoor/outdoor cat and she believes I am the most evil person in the entire world because I won't let her be out there! with all the bugs! and the grass! and the flying things! and the big metal animals that honk and run over cats!

I'm such a meanie.

A few weeks ago, Lucy was looking out the living room window to the balcony and meowing so mournfully that I decided to take her out there and let her explore. I've taken her onto the balcony in the past, but she heads straight for my neighbour's flowers like she has just discovered the casino's new breakfast buffet. I've had to explain to Lucy that I had no interest in her becoming my neighbour's new cat-skin rug and, therefore, we had to go back inside.

But! My neighbour was away for a few weeks and winter's a-comin' - those flowers did not have long for this world. So Lucy and I headed out to the balcony and, as anticipated, the first thing she did was make a beeline for the flowers.

Delicious!
That proved unsatisfying after a while, so she started exploring. OF COURSE this meant that she walked through the bars onto the wrong side of the railing, because apparently Lucy's main goal in life is to give me a heart attack. I lured her back through to the safe side of the bars but she would just hop back out again.

Then she decided this particular form of owner torture was boring and she walked out onto my neighbour's very narrow living room window ledge. She sauntered easily enough to the end but then discovered there was nowhere else to go but back.

I don't know if you know this but cats do not back up.

Lucy ended up reaching up, clawing the screen, and somehow pivoting herself around so that she was facing the balcony again. And like any good cat owner, I grabbed my camera.

Ah feck
After I was done snapping photos and giggling, I reached over and rescued her. I could feel her little heart fluttering in her chest as she dug her claws into my shoulder and purred in relief. I felt a teeny bit bad.

"I'm sorry, Lucy," I told her as I scratched her neck. "That was just payback for hiding 800 containers of lip balm somewhere in my apartment." Lucy licked my cheek to let me know she forgave me.

Powerful

2008-09-16T01:17:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I get caught up in the crap of life. And then I listen to this song.

It's not especially new and it's totally mainstream, so I'm definitely losing coolness points. But it fills me with so much orange and red and warmth and power and it makes me tingle from my neck down to the small of my back. Much flailing and singing ensues.

I hope it brings you some much-needed joy, too.

(Best listened to loudly. No, seriously, LOUDER!)

Coldplay - Viva La Vida

Due to popular demand

2008-08-31T16:37:00.005-05:00

Behold - my "different" hair

That went well

2008-08-27T19:06:00.004-05:00

I recently went for lunch with some friends and we were talking about how a huge age difference in a relationship doesn't always matter. A person might be 45 years old but act 10 years younger, so it's okay if they're dating someone who's 35.

One friend said that sometimes, though, it's just gross. She has an uncle who's in his late 40s who regularly picks up 18- or 19-year olds, and it causes her some discomfort to think about it.

"You think THAT'S creepy," I said. "When I was 12 and I would go stay with my dad, I'd have to go with him to the beer parlour and everyone would ask if I was his girlfriend."

My chuckle was met with a horrified silence.

I thought I was telling an amusing little story. Apparently I was wrong.

Conversation with a cat, pt 2

2008-08-20T19:40:00.006-05:00

Nat: I'm having people over in a couple of days, Lucy. I want you to be on your best behaviour, okay?

Lucy: People? Yay! I love people! I'm going to tell them all about how you torture me so they'll feel sorry for me and pet me and pay attention to me.

Nat: Don't bother. I've already warned them that you lie.

Lucy: I'm going to tell them about the beatings!

Nat: They won't believe it. They know I adore you.

Lucy: I'll tell them you send me to the dungeon when you leave.

Nat: Lucy, they know I live in an apartment.

Lucy: Well then I'll tell them how you lock me up while you're away.

Nat: If, by "lock you up" you mean "let you have free reign of the entire apartment except my bedroom," then sure - tell them.

Lucy: What about the water torture? You can't deny THAT actually happened!

Nat: I'll let them know it was because you decided to climb up the chimney and got yourself covered in soot. I think they'll be on my side.

Lucy: Um...what if I just purr and tilt my head a bit. Do you think they'll pet me then?

Nat: Oh definitely.

On the inside, looking out

New soul

2008-08-18T10:39:00.002-05:00

Last weekend the best event all year in this city occurred - our folk festival. There are people who live here who have never attended the festival, even though they're music-lovers who would enjoy many, if not all, of the acts that perform. I don't understand these people. I've been going since high school and I don't remember missing any years. I love everything about the weekend, and I look forward to it all year. The moment the snow on the ground starts melting, I count down the days. Why? Well, I'll tell you...

Reasons why I love going to the RFF:

1. Music: Over THIRTY HOURS of awesome music! Where else am I going to get to see Jill Barber, Pascale Picard, Final Fantasy, Rupa and the April Fishes, Weakerthans, Broken Social Scene, Great Lake Swimmers, Kathleen Edwards, Suzanne Vega, Jully Black, and Michael Franti all in one weekend? Where else can I see Jully Black and Final Fantasy do a workshop where they sing songs about love lost and found or Ramblin' Jack Elliott and Old Man Luedecke singing about the road not taken? Nowhere, that's where!

"Broken Prairie Scene" workshop where I discovered
a bunch of awesome local bands

"Un Monde Fou Entre Nous" workship with I fell in love with
Kathleen Edwards, Rupa from Rupa & the April Fishes,
Ndidi Onukwulu, and Pascale Picard

2. Nature: Music just sounds better when you're sitting on lush, green grass, there's a cloudless blue sky above you, and you can feel the sun sizzling your SPF-40-protected skin. And even though it rained the final day of the festival, it didn't wreck the weekend. In fact, as my friends and I were huddled under Walter, our gigantic tarp (he's big and cumbersome but when you need him, he comes through for you), we were cozy and together and having fun. And when a band I'd never heard of called Bellowhead came on and the music was SO! MUCH! FUN! that everyone was dancing and jumping and twirling in the rain, it felt absolutely right.

The Saturday evening sky

Sunday evening before the main stage show started

3. Peeps, pt 1: I live in a small prairie city. We have a conservative provincial government and a conservative federal government. There are a lot of conservative people that live here. Very nice, very generous conservative people, to be sure, but not really "my people." Once a year the vegans and dreadlocks and pot-heads and treehuggers and bicycle warriors and feminists and non-straights and socialists and old hippies congregate in the park for three days and even though I hardly know anyone there, I don't feel lonely. Where ARE you people the rest of the year?

4. Peeps, pt 2: The friends that accompany me to the festival are some of the best people on the planet. I love them all dearly and relish the fact that we get to hang out together for three whole days.

5. Peeps, pt 3: A family attends the folk festival. There's Mom and Dad and four younger, 20-somethings - two sons, one daughter, and the daughter's sig fig. By coincidence, I have sat near this family for the past four years and seeing them interact makes me very happy. They are so nice to each other. One person will go for food and offer to bring things back for everyone. People buy each other gifts. They joke and chat and have fun with each other. Whenever I see this family, I want to run up to them and greet them like long lost relatives. This year the oldest brother was working on a cross stitch, but I couldn't quite make out what it was. Good stalkerish paparazzi photos are more difficult to take than I thought!

What does it look like to you?

6. Size: It's a small folk festival. I believe the main stage host for Sunday night called it a "perfect little elf festival." Because of its size, the festival has a different feel - it's more intimate, more personal. You see the performers wandering around, checking out each other's daytime shows and chatting to fans. You end up being 20 feet from the stage during the daytime shows. Small means it can take place in Victoria Park, which is right smack downtown. It feels good to hang out in the middle of the city at midnight and not be scared. Once I stake my claim on my patch of grass at the main stage, I feel absolutely comfortable leaving my gear on the tarp and wandering around. In all the years I've attended the festival, I've NEVER had anything taken from me.

The Saturday evening main stage crowd

7. Food: Oh, the food! This year we have our choice of African, East Indian, Thai, and Afghan. Everything from organic to super-bad-for-you. I shall have my fill of smoothies, butter chicken, and mini donuts.

Mini donuts, where have you been all year?
I've written before about how I feel quite lonely and isolated, how I don't feel many connections in my life. In a lot of ways, the rest of the year slowly chips away at my "me" - at my essence. But this weekend is the one where my soul gets built up whole again.

How odd

2008-08-06T21:42:00.004-05:00

I have different hair. It's not completely crazy, but it's also not a cut I've seen often. I have eyebrow-length bangs, longer-than-chin-length pieces that frame my face, and the rest is pretty short. I call it the Reverse Mullet because it's a party in the front and business in the back.

It's the kind of hair that made my grandma say, "Did the hairdresser MEAN to do that?" And then she booked an appointment for me to get my hair set (whatever that means) and took me out to buy a nice blouse and pair of slacks. Gotta love grandmas!

Oh, did I also mention that I FREAKING LOVE MY HAIR? Cause I do.

The other day I was at a pub with a friend and he commented on our server's hair, calling it "odd." It was a bit unusual - short, pixieish, bleached blond with electric blue chunks - but I liked it and told my friend I thought it was funky.

"Of course you think that. Your hair's odd, too."

I was instantly reminded of a dream I had the night before. For some reason I had to break into a fancy hotel room and steal something. I don't remember what I had to steal and I don't remember the reason behind the caper. I don't even remember who gave the order. I do remember thinking how if I got caught, I would undoubtedly be fired from my job.

So I clumsily broke into the hotel room and before I could exit the hotel, an alarm was sounded and everyone was on the look-out for me. As I crept past a security guard, I saw a description of me on his clipboard. Under hair it said "Layered and strange."

I told my friend about the dream and he laughed.

"See! Even YOU think your hair's odd!"

I think I might set him up with my grandma.

All about meme

2008-08-04T17:43:00.001-05:00

Even though I wasn't tagged to do this meme, I stole it from Madam Diva. You should read her list because her answers are fun and thoughtful and interesting.

I am: super excited for the folk festival! Only 4 more sleeps.
I think: in my next life I'd like to be a duck.
I know: things aren't as bad as I always think they are.
I have: a clean fridge! I finally cleaned it for the first time in, oh, let's just say YEARS!
I wish: plane tickets weren't so bloody expensive.
I hate: when you try and pop a zit and it doesn't pop and you end up making it a hundred times bigger and deeper.
I miss: my sister. Why do you have to live away?
I fear: being unliked.
I hear: the wind rustling the leaves on the trees, someone using a band saw, and the ever-present hum of the hospital's heating and cooling system.
I smell: deliciously like Lush's Flying Fox body wash.
I crave: sushi!
I search: eternally for the perfect t-shirt - one that fits well, makes my boobs look good, and has the perfect picture or saying on it that lets everyone know how awesome I am.
I wonder: where I'll be in twenty years.
I regret: not taking biology in high school because I thought the teacher was a tool.
I love: easily.
I ache: to go on a big trip.
I am not: good with money.
I believe: that children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way. I also believe that this season of So You Think You Can Dance is rigged.
I dance: badly but with abandon.
I sing: all the freaking time!
I cry: WAY too easily about anything and everything.
I fight: my urges to live off nothing but Diet Coke and salt and vinegar Pringles dipped in hummus.
I win: the fight to eat well...most of the time.
I lose: that fight approximately once a month.
I never: burped until that one summer I stayed with my dad and step-mom for a month and everything we ate was either deep fried or chocolate because FRUIT AND VEGETABLES GIVE THEM HEARTBURN!
I always: put on a mix CD of my favourite happy music and sing when I'm doing dishes.
I confuse: everyone when I try to tell a story after drinking 4 pints of beer.
I listen: to my music loudly - too loudly, considering I live in an apartment.
I can usually be found: at lunchtime reading a book and eating my sandwich on a bench in Victoria Park.
I am scared: of taking the bus to visit my family in Winnipeg after that HORRIFYING murder.
I need: to get laid.
I am happy about: the Roughriders' season so far - 6 and 0!
I imagine: that won't last long due to the 8000 injuries on the team. I also imagine there are a few people reading this who are surprised I like CFL football since I say quite regularly that sports are evil. What can I say? I'm a hypocrite!

Mom: 2 Nat: 0

2008-07-29T20:57:00.000-05:00

The scene: Nat is trying on dresses for a wedding and her mom is helping. Nat tries on a strapless dress.

Mom: This one's my favourite so far.

Nat: Mine too, I think.

Mom: But if you buy it, you might want to think about getting some colour on your skin.

Nat: I have colour!

Mom: Nat, translucent is not a colour.

A matter of perspective

2008-07-28T21:25:00.008-05:00

I have a friend who possess an uncanny knack for pointing out truths, even if we don't want to hear them. He recently made a very wise observation that got me thinking. A co-worker had been talking about how busy she is at work. She mentioned how she was already working a ton of overtime but people kept piling more and more demands on her. At the same time, there was someone else in the same position in another area of the company who seemed to not have as much to occupy her time. Our co-worker was going to go to her manager to say she couldn't handle any more tasks, and to suggest a good portion of her work be handed off to the less-busy colleague because "she just sits and plays computer games all day, anyways."

Clearly, our co-worker was overworked and very frustrated and needed some help. However, as my friend pointed out, she didn't need to bring down the colleague when she asked for help. She could say that she had too much to do, yes. She could request help, sure. Hell, she could even suggest that the colleague might be able to take on some of the work. But pointing out that the colleague was just sitting there playing games helps no one out in the situation. In fact, it just might make circumstances much worse for the colleague.

And who knows what's really happening? Perhaps the colleague plays the games on her scheduled breaks and that's when our co-worker walked by. Perhaps she was playing the game in a rare down-time moment between meetings. Or perhaps she was playing them because she didn't have enough to do at work and would welcome an increased workload. My friend pointed out that we had no way of knowing the whole situation, so why even get into it?

Why bring other people down when the problem is with ourselves?

I realized today that I do this all the time when I read blogs or when I talk to friends about their problems. I'll read about a man who suffers from depression and he'll talk about his wife and how wonderful she is and how she helps him through the dark days. And instead of thinking, "How awful for him," I'll think, "What's he complaining for? At least he has someone!" Or I'll read about a woman who has postpartum depression and I'll think, "How can she be depressed? She has a husband with a good job, lots of money, and a baby! What more could a person ask for?" Or I'll talk to a friend who has issues with people and I'll think, "Gawd! I'd LOVE to have all the people she has around her constantly! I'd love living with 2 friends and having very little Me Time. Sounds like heaven! Why is she so upset?"

Because of my friend's comment to our co-worker, I can see now how I'm doing exactly what she did. I'm having some issues with my own life and I bring others down with me. I look at their lives and see how they have all the things I want and I conclude that they're just not appreciative enough, that they just don't know how good they've got it.

Yet I have a lot of things other people would want, and I take these things entirely for granted.

For example, I got home from work today, watched Arrested Development, had a nap, ate cheese, crackers, and a cold leftover hamburger patty for supper, and wrote this blog entry - all without pants on. I didn't HAVE to cook or clean anything for anyone. The only demand made on me was Lucy's incessant "Pay attention to me" bleating, and I shut her up with a handful of kitty treats and a comfy lap to nap on.

What did I do this weekend? Friday night I went drinking beer for so many hours that by the end of the night I had to close one eye to see properly. Saturday I slept until noon and then hung out with my mom. Sunday I went for brunch with friends, hung out at a public pool, and went to another friend's house to watch the football game.

My life isn't horrible. In fact, it probably is the envy of at least ONE person out there. Right now someone feels trapped in a marriage to a person he doesn't like. Someone else is being disowned by her entire family because she just came out to them. An introvert is being forced to attend yet another dinner party. I'm saying none of this to take away from how I feel about my life - my feelings are very real and entirely legitimate - but, rather, to give myself some perspective.

I realize that I'm lucky to have someone like my friend to help me see things differently. Some people may not even have that much.

Clear skies in the distance

Mom: 1 Nat: 0

2008-07-13T22:35:00.000-05:00

The scene: Nat is over at her mom and step-dad's for a Sunday barbeque

Nat: You two should get a dog. I like other people's dogs.

Mom: Well, I like other people's kids. You should have a baby.

Nat: Umm...touché.

That's all I've got today so I'll leave you with this song that I'm currently in love with. It woke me up one morning on the radio and I was happy for the rest of the day.

Jason Mraz - I'm Yours

Weighty issue

2008-07-10T19:56:00.002-05:00

So Facebook totally thinks I'm fat and I don't know why. Well, besides the obvious "because I am." But how does it *know*?

The reason I know Facebook thinks this is because there are always little ads on the left-hand side of the page saying things like, "33 and overweight? Special study of an ancient asian root allows a safe loss of up to 30 lbs over a three month period!" or "Are you in your 30s and want to lose weight?" with a picture of some hideously obese woman.

I know why they know I'm a woman and I know why they know I'm 33 but HOW DO THEY KNOW I'M FAT?

Speaking of losing weight, ever since Earth Day (April 22), I have set my alarm earlier than necessary and hauled my ass out of bed. I've thrown on sweats or shorts, a t-shirt, and a hat. I've slurped down some yogurt and then laced up my runners and gone either for a 5 kilometre walk around the lake in my city or I've gone to the gym and ellipticalled until I can't elliptical any more.

I'm doing this for a very dumb reason. In fact, it's so dumb that I'm not going to get into it here. Let's just leave it at I want to prove a friend wrong. But, if a side benefit of all this dumbness is that I'm a healthier person, who cares how dumb the reason is, right? Whatever gets me out of bed in the morning!

The walk itself is extremely beautiful. Yes, it's a man-made lake and yes, none of the trees are here because of nature, but it's still really really pretty! Don't believe me? Here are some pictures.

Map of the park

The fountain they added to provide some water circulation
and our legislative building in the background

Always with the geese

There was some sort of rowing thing on the lake

Who cares if they're hand-planted - they're still pretty!

Did anyone actually think fishing in this lake was a good idea?

Wait a minute - that's not lake water, is it?

I wonder, though, how much weight I'll have to lose before morons stop shouting things out their car windows at me. Things like, "Hey fattie!" or " Wide load!" or "Look out! Earthquake!" or other equally encouraging comments. Sometimes I really dislike people.