Hella Stella

The good news: I may have found a house that is not being used to sell vast quantities of drugs. I'm not going to freak out yet, because I need an inspection to be sure. I'm trying to stay level headed - I know inspections can go terribly wrong. But I'd really like it to go well, you know? Send good thoughts my way if you have some to spare, Internet. Tuesday is the day of reckoning. I'm actually pretty nervous.

The bad news: I somehow managed to bag myself in the cooch this morning. It was super fast, super painful and I just rolled into a ball and cried. And cried. And cried. Then it occurred to me that maybe I'm a little stressed and that my vag is probably okay.* I eventually got up off the kitchen floor.

(Maybe I am a little stressed, but it really hurt. That's one of my favourite bits of anatomy.)

*My stress levels are also causing me to cry at the following: bobsled competitions, figure skating, women's hockey, making dinner, ruining dinner, being hungry, wet snow, bad music, fire alarms, Morty making a cute face, hot tea. This coming from a general non-crier. I need a good night's sleep.

Internet, I've got a confession.

I've been writing a lot about my long, crappy overtime shifts at my day job. You all know that my brain is on a pretty dangly string. But something else has been adding to the crazy. Something BIG.

On my brief lunch breaks, I've sometimes wandered outside my office, hopped into my realtor's car, and gone to look at houses.

!!!

Yeah, I'm actually shopping for a house during what is arguably the busiest time of my young life.

Now, I'm not necessarily of the belief that I'll actually find the house I want. My BH and I have a very specific list of requirements, and so far nothing has fit the bill. Maybe nothing will, and maybe we'll put it off for a year or two. It certainly hasn't been promising so far.

But I wanted to tell you about this crazy adventure because occasionally, out on my lunch break, something very bloggable happens. I want you to know what I'm up to because real estate crazies? They are fucking hilarious. Especially when they are trying to sell their crack houses. Given the fact that I am not rich, crack houses are definitely in my price bracket.

Like today, for example. The place sounded like a crack house. It looked vaguely like a crack house. But it was in the neighbourhood I wanted within the price range I could manage. What could go wrong? The worst thing that could happen is that someone would try to sell me crack, and I would politely decline, since I am more of a beer and fries kinda girl.

Upon pulling up to the curb, I noticed that the roof wasn't completely attached to the house itself.

Not the best way to start the viewing.

Then I noticed that the "porch" was hanging to the siding by one lonely nail.

Hmmm. That's a... Unique way of marrying gravity and rotten wood. Forever the optimist!

My realtor and I quickly realized that the owner, bless her heart, had forgotten to leave us a key.

I was mentally preparing to run away screaming when I noticed a sign pinned to the door. I leaned in for a closer look.

It read like this, typos and all:

THIS HOUSE IS BEING WATCHED BY POLICE. THE POLICE ARE WATCHING THIS HOUSE. DO NOT ENTER. SMILE, YOUR ON CAMRA.

And then we decided to leave.

My darling internet... At least life is never dull around here.

The end is in sight! I'll have a day off in... Two weeks. Hey, that's better than nothing.

Today was both good and bad. Good because I got a chance to clean the house as well as rack up some much-needed hangout time with my guy. Bad because my co-worker was kind enough to drop me off at home and we got rear-ended on the way there. We're both okay, but the car is a little bruised. I feel like a jerk, but I guess it's really the fault of the jackass with bad brakes who drove into us at a red light.

Now I'm just unwinding by watching figure skating. Funny, because I turned on the TV to watch curling, but I think I just got distracted. By BH is passed out on the couch, recovering from a very grueling 12-hour shift. Morty is hanging out between his feet, perhaps waiting to ruin our future chances at having children.

I think I'll do another load of laundry and call it a night. When I'm done these crazy shifts, I plan to drink myself into a crawl. At least you'll get a juicy post out of that, hey? Drunken revelry! Doesn't get any more blogworthy.

I know, two posts in one day. But since I have a minute, I thought I would share an experience I had this afternoon.

In my day job (the one I can't really go into detail about), I hear the news quickly. I heard reports that Gordon Lightfoot died within a few minutes of the story hitting the internet.

I read the headline, processed the rumour, and started to cry. I started to cry so much that I actually had to leave my desk, walk quickly to the bathroom, lock myself in a stall, and have a good long sob.

You may know by now that the story turned out to be a hoax. What kind of a sick person spreads a rumour like that? I hope never to meet them.

I'm telling you this because I've had similar reactions to other songwriters dying. Nina Simone, Elliott Smith, Kate McGarrigle, to name a few. When I hear the news, my heart does a quick run-through of what their music has made me feel. Sadness, elation, extreme happiness, anger, panic.... It all shoots through my system and I can't help but cry. That songwriter will write no longer. It just feels so tragic to me.

I'm thrilled, clearly, that Mr. Lightfoot is still with us. His writing is some of the best, and we're lucky to call him ours. I guess the whole thing reminded me to be thankful for all that song he's given to the world.

Here's my very favourite Gordon Lightfoot song, covered by Peter Paul and Mary. I love this version.

Moral of the story: Hug a songwriter today! Somebody may spread a rumour about their death tomorrow.

The shifts are starting to take a toll on me mentally. My body is okay, but my brain is a little shaky.

Some examples:

Yesterday, I got news that my workload would triple near the end of my shift. I started to sing a little song to myself at my desk. The lyrics are as follows: "Fuck fuck fuckity fuck, fuckballs." Then I cried a bit on the inside.

My back hurt so I lay down on the floor and rolled around for a while. A new coworker chose that moment to walk by. I waved at him and kept on rolling.

My desk is a disaster, but I get stressed out thinking about cleaning it, so it stays the way it is.

I actually growl when I open bad e-mails. I growl like Morty does when he's trying to protect me from something. Since my "office" is in the middle of a big open room, most of the folks on my floor can hear me. I've stopped caring.

At least the month is halfway done, and that means my long shifts will end soon. I plan to treat myself to some new clothes when I'm finished. Lord knows I'll be getting a bit extra on that overtime cheque.

How are you doing, Internet folks? Tell me some good news. PLEASE.

Hey! The shifts are balancing out. I work 10 hours a day, every day.

Yup.

Ways I am coping:

1. Packing good, giant lunches. Making sure they contain both chocolate and... Chocolate. I will not lie. My veins are full of the stuff.

2. Ordering small, beautiful items off Etsy. I'm far from breaking the bank, but looking at pretty art and buying the odd piece (usually under $15) makes me feel sane. Also, I can daydream about decorating my house with said items. A brain break, for sure.

3. Planning the Japan trip. Okay, so I'm more just thinking about seeing our host, M-A, and eating amazing food. Eventually my plans will become more specific. I should really buy a ticket soon.

4. Snuggling my puppy at night. My BH is working a lot of overnight shifts, so Morty gets the bulk of my affection these days. Hopefully my BH won't have grown a beard by the time I see him next.

5. Booking gigs. I've got a bunch I'll post to my music web site soon - they're good ones, folks! It will be a fun spring.

xo
Stella

Today was a challenging day for a variety of reasons. Instead of growling about them here, as tempting as that is, I will tell you about my one funny phone call of the day.

BH: (out of breath)

Me: Everything okay?

BH: Yeah, it's just that I was asleep on the couch.... And I was on my back.... And Morty was asleep between my feet...

Me: Yeah?

BH: And then Morty decided to stretch out with all his strength...

Me: Yeah?

BH: And he crushed my nuts.

Me: (trying to breathe through the laughter)

BH: And then...

Me: THERE'S MORE?

BH: While I was recovering, he crawled up my torso...

Me: Yeah?

BH: And sneezed in my face.

Me: (losing my shit)


Ladies and gents, it's been that sort of day.

Hello Internet.

Wow, It's Saturday! Time sure flies when you live at the office.

I guess that makes tomorrow Valentine's Day... ? It's a good thing my BH and I don't really celebrate it. Otherwise we'd be up shit creek without a bouquet of roses.

I suspect that Valentine's Day would be really fun if we had kids. But as it stands, my guy makes me chocolate desserts every other week, and I leave him cheesy love notes every other day. No hard feelings, Valentine's Day.

Although, seeing as how I'll be spending tomorrow with my co-workers, perhaps I'll bring in something baked and chocolaty after all. Nothing says "You're my co-worker!" like a fudge cake and a plate of cookies. Incidentally, those two things also say "I'm going to make myself chubbier, and I'm going to have a fun time doing it!"

I'm holding up okay with the crazy shift work. My back is sore from sitting and typing, but it could be worse. I did have the misfortune of watching the news when Nodar Kumaritashvili was thrown off his sled, and to my surprise, the network replayed the accident several times before they realized that he actually died. Nothing brings down your day like watching a young guy get killed on national television. I still feel nauseous thinking about it.

In more cheerful news, I received an unexpected deposit from SOCAN full of delicious songwriting royalties. The amount was far higher than I was expected, maybe from the Vinyl Cafe broadcast. I'm thrilled. It's going into the Japan fund.

Signing off for now....
Stella

I have a minute or two to write, so I'm gonna.

Bangs:

I like them, and I don't.

I like the way they look... I've been sporting the non-bang cut for ages, and it's fun to try something different. That being said, I am a total whiner about having to actually STYLE anything on my head, other than a quick brush and a splash of anti-frizz goo. Megan is an angel and she's lent me her flat iron, but y'know.... That means I have to actually do stuff to my hair. Jury's out.

Funeral:

That funeral I went to was a bit of a freak show.

I went to support a friend of mine - it was her mother's funeral. We haven't seen each other in a decade actually, but we were good friends in high school. I knew she was estranged from her mother on and off over the years. I expected some drama. What I wasn't expecting was the level of drama. Grown ups acting like children, name calling, her family basically pretending she didn't exist, sibling bullshit. I'm glad I went, because other than myself and another girl from high school, she had nobody there for her.

It made me glad that my family is not drastically dysfunctional. We're just weird.

It also made me realize how comfortable I am around old friends. People who have known me for a long time already know my quirks and my sense of humour. It's surprisingly relaxing to know that I'm not going to accidentally offend someone who's expecting me to be different than I am. I suppose I didn't really realize that I get stressed out about such things.

Work:

Typing for 10+ hours a day is already ruining my body - shoulder muscles in particular. It's only the beginning of Crazy Month. I'd better get used to it, and fast.

Music:

Last week, I wrote a long-ish letter to a songwriter who I really admire. We've shared a gig in the past, so I'm not a total stranger to her, but we haven't been in touch in years. I just wanted her to know how much I love her work. She wrote back, and she said some really lovely stuff - particularly things about how songwriters keep writing and recording when everything seems to be falling through. I think her letter has made me more patient.

It also made me realize that part of my songwriting battle stems from a lack of inspiration. I've got nothing going on that I want to write about. My love life is wicked awesome. I have a steady job. My friends are wonderful. But writing about cheerful things bores my socks off. This gives me even more reason to spend a week or so in Montreal this summer - that city gives me the creative creeps.

The End!

Tonight, my BH and my puppy are at a Superbowl party in the boons. That means I am home alone. THIS NEVER HAPPENS.

So far I have:

boiled two bags of beets
taken a shower
eaten bread for dinner
played some guitar and written two crappy songs that I proceeded to erase from my mind

Shit, I have a boring-ass life. What's wrong with me? I should be drinking a bottle of wine and watching bad television. Why am I boiling beets on my night off?

Honestly, I'm just tired. And those beets would have gone bad had I not turned them into a salad. I'll just have to have an exciting life in the spring when I'm not spending all my time at work.

A few thoughts about working at an office on the weekends:

It's so quiet. SO QUIET. Disturbingly quiet. I actually find it distracting.

Some people come to work expecting an empty office and then have a heart attack when they realize someone else is there too. The second time I heard someone walk through the door, I typed especially loud so they wouldn't jump out of their skin when they saw me.

I'm damn lucky I love my co-workers. They're working most weekends with me, and if we didn't like each other, I'd pull out my hair. And theirs.

Anyway.... I still need to pack two lunches (tomorrow will be a long shift) so I will say goodnight to you all. Thanks for keeping me sane, Internet!

Things are puttering along here. My BH and I are slowly figuring out how to manage his weird overnight shifts with my overtime.

We're both a little out of it though; I already have a sore throat, and he accidentally put bulghur in his tea instead of sugar. I think he only noticed as the tea got thicker and thicker....

Now that I think about it, that's actually pretty funny.

The benefit of having a partner who works nights is when you have a nightmare at 4am, you can text them and they'll be awake and quick to respond. Last night I kept dreaming that an evil corporation was trying to poison me. My BH calmly wrote that nobody is trying to poison me. Sometimes when you're fresh out of a nightmare, you just need someone to point out the obvious.

Today I'm going to a funeral for my friend's mom. I've never been to a funeral that wasn't related to a member of my family - I wonder how it will go. Funerals are strange beasts.

In more cheerful news, my stylist gave me bangs and I don't hate them. I may, however, need to purchase a flat iron. The shorter my hair gets, the more it emulates Shirley Temple. I do not have the patience to "style" anything on my head, but maybe I can commit to a quick iron in the morning.

Hope you are all having a lovely weekend. Tomorrow, I work! Boooo.

Dudes, I am so tired.

My crazy month of overtime wasn't supposed to start until this weekend, but I've already had to stay late several times this week and last. I can't imagine a month of this. Ugh.

I'm just checking in before I go to sleep. It's been a while since I've talked about my BH's adorable sleep-talking, so here's a new installment. He's passed out next to me on the couch, and roused himself for a second to say, "You're cute." When I asked for clarification (to determine if he was really awake) he said "mustard saaaaauce."

So.

I'm cute like mustard sauce. Good to know. As an enthusiastic home cook, I think I'm actually a bit pleased by this.

Morty is also talking in his sleep, passed out on my BH's legs, but I can't tell you what he's saying. It sounds like a bulldog muttering loudly with his lips closed. Basically. You know the sound?

I just made a killer pizza with homemade dough, and a kick-ass banana bread that I spiked with pumpkin. Probably the best banana bread I've made, ever.

And.... That's all I've got.

Off to dream land, bloggy folks.

Love,
Mustard