Tonight, while doing the dinner dishes (the last of my pseudo-fried-rice....rice, fried up with an egg, some zucchini, broccoli, green onion, ginger, garlic, spinach, soy sauce, hot chili flakes and a bit of peanut butter--YUM) I turned on the garbuerator.
And it made a noise like a screaming rodent being hit with a golf club, and ejected liquid and solid groditude* all over the sink, the counter, the dishcloth, and of course me, and my favouritest t-shirt (the teen girl squad one that says "I have a crush on ever y boy!" on the back--it is grotesquely snug, but I love it so). When I managed to stop the garbuerator and pull out the spoon that was in there being mangled and chomped. it occurred to me that that is pretty much just the kind of day I had (aside: ew, my roommate** just came out of her room with her flavour of the week, clad only in his man-gonch, and they went to the freezer where they proceeded to apply mini-freezies to his nipples and saunter back bedroomward. Ahhh! Mes yeux, mes yeux!). I am glad it is (well past) bedtime.
Tomorrow after work I head off to Vancouver to attend the heart clinic with my parents and find out more about my mom's heart. It is a sobering thought that this one fist-sized, fragile, fluttering thing, like a baby bird tucked away inside the person I love best in the world, is in danger, and is responsible for my mother living or dying. One day she could just stop...like a wind-up toy suddenly slowing and freezing in mid-motion. And that day, suddenly, realistically, could be not so far away.
Please, please cross your fingers for good news. I'm a bit scared.
Back in a few days.
xox
*groditude noun: that which is grody. Pertaining to grode.
**Only......*whips off shoes*....25 more sleeps til bye-bye roommate !
And it made a noise like a screaming rodent being hit with a golf club, and ejected liquid and solid groditude* all over the sink, the counter, the dishcloth, and of course me, and my favouritest t-shirt (the teen girl squad one that says "I have a crush on ever y boy!" on the back--it is grotesquely snug, but I love it so). When I managed to stop the garbuerator and pull out the spoon that was in there being mangled and chomped. it occurred to me that that is pretty much just the kind of day I had (aside: ew, my roommate** just came out of her room with her flavour of the week, clad only in his man-gonch, and they went to the freezer where they proceeded to apply mini-freezies to his nipples and saunter back bedroomward. Ahhh! Mes yeux, mes yeux!). I am glad it is (well past) bedtime.
Tomorrow after work I head off to Vancouver to attend the heart clinic with my parents and find out more about my mom's heart. It is a sobering thought that this one fist-sized, fragile, fluttering thing, like a baby bird tucked away inside the person I love best in the world, is in danger, and is responsible for my mother living or dying. One day she could just stop...like a wind-up toy suddenly slowing and freezing in mid-motion. And that day, suddenly, realistically, could be not so far away.
Please, please cross your fingers for good news. I'm a bit scared.
Back in a few days.
xox
*groditude noun: that which is grody. Pertaining to grode.
**Only......*whips off shoes*....25 more sleeps til bye-bye roommate !