Forever Tainted

Mom...


~*~



~*~



~*~



~*~



~*~



~*~

She won’t let me work. She’s on my lap, demanding attention. The more I try to push her away, the more demanding she gets. So I finally let her up. She’s not content to just sit on my lap, she needs me to be cuddling and caressing her between calls. She purrs and licks my chin until I pet her, and then she purrs some more. The cat’s tongue feels like sandpaper – must be nature’s way of helping her clean herself?

Her name is Diablo, but we call her SnowPus because when we had that really bad winter a few years back, we discovered she adores the snow. She was my mom’s ‘vacation cat’. As in, my mother came back to Canada for a two-month vacation from Dubai one year, and couldn’t stand living without a cat so bought this pure white kitten, and trusted my brother to look after her when mom went home. My brother did take care of her, and my mom moved back to Canada a year or so later, bringing a zoo of animals including 7 cats with her.

When mom died, she left behind SnowPus, and 4 of the 7 cats she’d come back from Dubai with (the other three died before mom did – and my mom cried her eyes out every time). She also left us Max, the rat-like Chihuahua. At this very moment, Max is cuddled in bed with Lars who is getting some much-needed rest; SnowPus is on my lap purring away and the other 4 cats are up stairs or out in the yard doing what cats do.

Exactly a year ago today, or rather midnight tonight, is the exact time my brother called me to tell me mom was on her way to the hospital again, by ambulance. Less than 5 hours later, around 4:30am on July 23rd, she suffered the last of 7 heart attacks she’d had that night and died. On July 23rd, just after 3pm, I sat next to the hospital bed that my mom’s body was laying on – and through my tears, wished her a happy 55th birthday.

We later learned that the cause of her heart attacks, the cause of her death was Septicaemia (otherwise known as blood poisoning). A week or so earlier, she was diagnosed with blood poisoning, caused by a cat-bite she’d gotten while trying to save SnowPus’s life from the grips of Wrinky; the three-legged cat that came home from Dubai with her. Wrinky bit into my mother hard. It’s safe to assume through my mother’s binge drinking, blacking out, and pure lack of self-concern, she didn’t take any prescribed medicines and if she did, she didn’t take them correctly.

My mom lived her whole life catering to cats. She collected cats – both live and those created artistically. Every ornament she ever bought had a cat on it, every shirt she ever wore, and every set of dishes the ever purchased with glee. She was so obsessive about cats; she used to joke about whom she was going to leave her cat collection to when she passed. We contemplated opening a cat museum, or a cattery for people to board cats in her care.

Wrinky bit into my mom, while my mom tried to save another of her cats from her. Wrinky herself, coincidently, had been saved by my mother’s pure heart years before, when my mom asked for her birthday gift only to be that Wrinky get the surgery that cost thousand’s of dollars and left her a leg short, after being hit by a car. The three-legged cat still lives with us today, but she’s kept separate from SnowPus at all times. And when in err the two do cross paths in the yard, they immediately start off where they left off - trying to kill each other.

I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of a greater irony. The very creature she’d spent the majority of her life trying to save helped induce my mom’s death...

If every month could be July, and every day be the 23rd, I’d wish that true so that everyone remember you… always. I miss you mom.

This month has been hard. Thoughts of you haunt me at night, when I go to bed. And I never see you healthy. I always seem to see the sick, disturbed, even deranged you. It keeps me awake. So I take pill… then another… and another. I’m certain Lars thinks I have a problem. Maybe he’s right. But I was disturbed before you died. And then I found your bottle. You’d recently been prescribed the same meds as I. I knew all along mom. If only your cunt of a mother hadn’t taught you shame… we’d have lived through this together. You’d not be dead.

So many things killed you. So many things to blame... So many little things that would have saved you… If just one of them wasn’t the way they were…

But time and time again, I blame another portion. The Canadian system, alcohol, your mother, the doctors, those who watched you die… Deep down I know, blame does no one any good. It was your time.

But it’s not mine. I’m not ready to mourn you. And it hurts today if it was yesterday. And I don’t care if today is not the 23rd. I miss you and am mourning you now damn it!

You should not be gone so soon. Lars and I are throwing around the idea of having a baby one day. How can I do that without you?

I wish every day could be like yesterday – minus the temper-tantrum I threw out of nowhere in the morning, and the missing dog we had to chase down in the evening. Both instances aside, and we had a brilliant day from start to finish.

We woke in the morning and played a game of Scrabble over coffee. I had a little fit (seriously am not sure when or how I became such a poor sport, but beat the shit outta myself immediately afterwards for it just in case!), he went to the store, we finished our game (he beat me by 3 points), and we both hopped in the shower. As I got ready, he packed us some snacks. I made a couple of protein shakes, packed a book, some Band-Aids (just in case), some water and the Yatzee and we took off through the trails in the mountain across the street.

We hiked for a few hours through the lush green bush, before we finally sat down to rest/snack. Along the way, we came across a very touching ‘Missing Dog’ poster and stopped to read the same. There were far less people on the trails than we expected to see. The day was hot, but cool in the shade of the trees. It made for a hike as good as any work out! Our very last stop among the trails were ‘Pickles Bluffs’, an outstanding lookout point near the top. And I tell you, the pictures below do this place no justice. There is no better place on earth than my very own backyard!

~*~

~*~

~*~

~*~

~*~

~*~

Anyway, we got home to learn the puppy was missing. I dislike most dogs. But this dog, he isn’t any dog. He’s my mom’s last companion, the last thing to make her smile. And a great reminder of what a compassionate person she was. As such, he’s become a piece of my heart. I was mortified. My brother had left the back door open – he’d been gone all day. My father assumed Lars and I’d taken him with us on our hike. There are a lot of places a 5lb Chihuahua could go in a place like this…

We were lucky enough to find him as we posted signs throughout the neighbourhood. Some lovely lady had picked him up earlier, from running down the middle of our street all on his own. She left a note in the bakery at the end of my street, so when I went in to leave my own sign, the lady shouted that he’d been found, ripped the note of her register and handed it to me. I don’t think I’ve been so relieved in my entire life. <3 He’s great little toy dog; weighing a whole 5lbs, cost my mother a fortune. We worried he may have been eaten by an owl or hawk, or he’d simply have been stolen. Thank good for decent people. And how ironic, Lars and I read about another puppy gone missing through the trails just a short while earlier. I hope she finds her way back home too.

1. We can fight and make friends and still manage to feel as close if not closer than we did before we fought.
2. You always remember to put the toilet seat down.
3. You cook and clean and help with all that domestic stuff, and that in turn makes everyone’s life easier.
4. I sleep better when you’re there to cuddle with.
5. We share similar dreams of building a future and living life for now.
6. You love to spoil me and want to learn to do it in a way I most understand.
7. You let me spoil you and understand that my way of spoiling may be different than yours.
8. You rub my shoulders when they ache.
9. You can fix almost anything I manage to break.
10. You love me for me, even when I’m rotten.
11. You want to grow with me as much as I want to grow with you and accept that growing pains can hurt.
12. I cannot imagine growing old without you.
13. You never let me feel unattractive.
14. You do your best to make sure I know I’m loved.
15. You make me feel safe.
16. You are quiet enough in the mornings that I don’t wake up before you go to work.
17. You leave secret love notes for me to find throughout the day.
18. You look deep into my eyes when you tell me you love me.
19. Even after three months, every kiss feels like the 1st one.
20. You almost never leave the room without kissing me goodbye.
21. You will cuddle with me any time of day or night, no matter how hot and/or sticky it is outside.
22. You try to show interest in the things I like, even if you’re not particularly interested.
23. Sometimes, you get completely intoxicated with me (and don’t laugh at me but with me).
24. You would give me the world if it were yours to give.
25. Your smile lights up my life.
26. You’re always looking for ways to make me smile.
27. Your family feels like my family.
28. I look prettiest when I’m beside you.
29. You get dirty with me.
30. I could write an endless list of little reasons, but for now, I’ll suffice it to say it’s because we were meant to be.

How long would it take for your dog to start gnawing off your decomposing limbs should you die in a car with your best K9 friend locked in with you? And would the amount of abuse you may or may not have forced your dog to endure alter the answer to that question? Apparently, the answer is less than 4 days, if the dog is owned by a complete asshole with no compassion for any life, let alone animal and was certainly abusive to his K9’s. This of course, is according to partially eaten remains of my father’s ex business partner, found last night in his vehicle. He had some sort of attack brought on by diabetes four days prior.

I have about as much compassion for him as he did his wife when she was given 6 months to live, and he decided then to divorce her. She’s still alive today. But then… she moved out of the house my mother fell ill and pretty much died in… Her health started to improve.

I hate that house. And though many believe it’s the supernatural that has created it’s history of insanity and bizarre illnesses, I simply believe it’s mould or bacteria from years of abuse, compiled with the combination of it being alternated from farm-type living space for poultry to a human’s home. Perhaps the dead rats mummified in the walls have something to do with it? But I digress…

John’s dead. I couldn’t care less that he no longer breathes. And I don’t believe in such bullshit as not speaking ill of the dead – sometimes, there really is nothing good you can say about a person. And why should I say nothing at all? I’m deeply disturbed by his death, the circumstances of it more than anything. And it has effected my entire day.

The man never offered condolences after my mother’s death, though he knew her, ate with her, and even laughed with her for years. My strongest memory of him was him chastising my brother for spilling a drink at dinner (as if my mother and father were not there), and then him spilling his own drink immediately after. I don’t recall a single good quality about him, and know he costs my father hundred’s of thousands of dollars if not millions due to his incompetence. He was a complete asshole to anyone and any thing – even bragged about killing his own dog, a Bull Mastiff, with a sledgehammer. The irony that another dog eat his remains is so very, VERY upsetting. It’s a bold show of true Karma. And a great reminder that it will kick you in the ass… Or in this case, consume your rotting corpse.

I wonder if he knew he was a horrible a person? Am I? Do you know if you are? And how long do you figure you would have to be dead before your most *loyal* friend started ripping chunks of flesh off your body to quench his thirst, or satiate his hunger?

I’m frustrated and annoyed with the world. Every little thing seems to bother me.

My UAE ATM card expired last month. I have spent the last 7 days trying to get them to courier me a new one. It’s meant more money on my phone bill than I have in their bank, and more frustration than the money is worth. I’d close the fucking account, only they’re the best in the UAE so I’ve been told (what a fucking joke), I’m not there to open an account with anyone else and I’ll need to deposit money there when I sell my apartment.

Though it seemed to be common procedure for them to courier cards to people, they have this stupid form they need filled out, that cannot be sent via email, but must be faxed – both to you and back to them once filled. Initially, they couldn’t seem to get the fax to me – it took three phone calls and countless minutes on hold. When I finally do get it, realize it’s asking very simple details, fill it out and try to send it back, I learn they’ve given me an incorrect fax number. So finally, I resort to emails via my online banking account. The response is absolutely absurd and so fucking common it’s expected when dealing with them.
~*~

To whom it may concern,

I have been trying to fax you all a 'Cardholder Request Form', your bank insists on having in order to send me a new ATM card as mine has expired, for the last 72 hours. The fax# you gave me 011-971-4-221-4839 does not work.

Are you not equipped to handle email? Can I email you scanned copies of the documentation? Or can I please just give you the information here, so that you can courier me my bankcard at my expense as agreed on the telephone (Service Request # XXXXXXXX).

Here is the information requested on your form:

Cardholder Name: XXXXXXX
Card #: XXXXXXX
Card Expiry Date: XXXXX
Branch: XXXXX

Residence tel: XXXXXXX
Fax: XXXXXXX
Mobile: XXXXXXX
Email: XXXXXXX

I need you to re-issue the card with a valid date, please and courier the same to me.

I have lived in Canada for the last 3 years and believe I have updated you guys on my current address in the past. It is very frustrating that I have to do this again now.

Please respond to this email as soon as possible.

Sincerely,

XXXXXXX

~*~

Dear Customer,

Kindly note that cards are only delivered to addresses within the UAE. Should you wish to have your card delivered abroad please confirm the following:

Complete address abroad ( with a po box no/pin code/zipcode mandatory)-
Complete contact details abroad:
Complete contact details (mobile and landline- abroad):
Please note that the courier company cannot ship without a po box no/pin code/zipcode .
Please confirm that you will be in your current location for more than 7-10 days and agree to bear the courier fees.

Once you agree to the above conditions and would like us to send your card abroad, kindly contact us on 009714 3160316 (available 24hours) to place your request.

Thank you for choosing EmiratesNBD.

Regards,
Mir
EmiratesNBD

~*~

Dear Mir (or whoever else responds to these emails),

Do you guys even read your emails before you reply? I have given you all the details requested in the 1st email I sent about this. And I'm only emailing you because the people who answer the phones at your customer service 04-3160316 are incompetent and useless. I have already made 3 phone calls to them without help. I have now spent more money on my phone bill calling your bank than I have holding in my bank account with you.

Please re-read my email, see that I have agreed to have my atm card couriered to me here in Canada, and see I have given you all required details, and then respond with something helpful, rather than waste anymore of my time. If you do not understand this, please have your supervisor read my emails and respond rather than trying yourself.

Sincerely,

XXXXXXX

Another note..

CONTACT your local courier, as you are mistaken. I work with one daily. A courier does NOT deliver to PO boxes, but only to street addresses! You should already have mine on file. But here it is again for the 15th time:

*********
*********
******

Thank you.

~*~
Yet again, one more reason I’m fucking glad I don’t live there anymore. When an economy depends on cheap labour. They tend to get and give cheap service across the board.

That’s not the only thing that’s annoying me. I meant it when I said everything is. It’s been forever since I’ve had the chance to get to the gym. Since Lars moved in, it feels like I’m constantly cleaning up, or cooking, or simply exhausted (from playing with him of course) or working on some other household project that I don’t get any real ‘me’ time. I need my fucking ‘me’ time. I’m annoyed because my garden hasn’t been built yet, and my compost worms aren’t multiplying fast enough. I’m annoyed because house suddenly feels too small for all this ‘stuff’ – I’m a minimalist and after my mom died I became the owner of countless cat trinkets and other ornaments. I’m annoyed because my brother has lost yet another job. I’m annoyed because I’m fucking annoyed. So I must be PMSing. I don’t have the patience for anything.

So despite there being dishes to be done, floors to be clean, and flowers to be tended to I’m going to finish my coffee, say ‘fuck it’, take a shower and head on out to the gym.

Exhausted…

I fell asleep on the couch last night. I woke at 3:45am to a text message that said, “Wake me… I love you. And wont wake you even though all I want is your touch… You need to sleep. Don’t leave without me!!! <3”

While falling asleep I wondered whether or not I’d wake him, knowing how exhausted he would be. He answered my questions for him. I curled into bed with him and whispered him awake. We got up, had coffee and protein shakes with my dad, and then got ourselves ready to go. We must’ve left the house just after 5am. We sold all sorts of crap at the flea market and are considering doing it all again next week… Despite it being a busy morning, it felt rather quiet. I suppose a huge part of that is how tired we both were (I took a few pills to help me sleep last night and he got home rather late).

We talked about learning from our arguments, and what we’ve learned about each other. I told him his yelling sounded more like whining, he told me he didn’t like to yell. We talked a little about our days – I’m glad to learn he had a blast with his family and there was even a live band at the park they’d decided to visit, out of the blue! And we spent a good portion of time just holding each other. One more step closer… Perhaps most surprising of it all was the fact that no army military goon showed up to kill him at his mom’s birthday party as promised….

Anyway, it’s about time we both go for a nap. How awesome would it be if we just slept right on through the night?

Some people will stay in a miserable relationship month after month, year after year; lying to themselves about matters of the heart when in reality they are simply afraid of change; afraid to be single. I’m not like that at all (anymore), which is why ill wishes from dumb whores like Lars’ ex, that he makes me miserable for the rest of my life, will never, ever be granted. I simply wouldn’t allow it. The minute I evaluate my relationship with him and realize I’m spending more time unhappy than happy, that’s the minute I walk away. And me NOT being co-dependant, like that dumb cunt is, I’d be perfectly ok with doing that, knowing it was for the best. For the most part, he and I have been pretty fucking happy together…

Today though… I’m miserable. In fact, I’m down right out pissed off at Lars – if not on the verge of tears. This morning, we actually yelled at each other for the very first time. Yelling doesn’t look good on him, in fact it came across as more a whine. (How ridiculous the accusation that he was ever capable of controlling/abusing some woman with serious daddy issues in his past!!!) A result of our fight was me choosing not to spend the day with him; sending him to the mainland on his own. In doing so, I sincerely hope he enjoys his day with his family and I find some way to enjoy my day without him. I regret not seeing his beautiful mom & sister, and that is really upsetting for me. Everything between him and I, I’m sure will pass.

But… I’m a strong woman, and there’s a lot of shit I won’t put up with that maybe he’s become accustomed to getting away with, in relationships with weaker women in his past…? For him and I, they’re growing pains. We’re learning where each other draws the line. And either we’ll grow into each other, or we’ll grow out of one another. Either way, neither one of us will be miserable permanently. We’re well-rounded grownups that way.

And though today is crap, yesterday he spent a good deal of time just showing me how much I really mean to him. The boy spoiled me rotten – to the point where I had to call his mom and ask her to help make him stop… While I was working, Lars went out of his way to buy me a few things that I needed, and a few more things that I just wanted, and then even some things that would just make me smile. It was actually, far too much and I almost got mad at him for the sheer irresponsibility of his spending. His financial stability is as important to me, as mine is.

Anyway, I’m off to get stuff ready for tomorrow’s Flea Market. Might as well make the best I possibly can of this day… till he comes home, we make up and snuggle up for the night.

I’m so glad I’m not a knuckle-dragging ass-wipe, but rather have a few brains.

‘NUNYA’ is Internet slang for ‘None of ya damn business’. And no, I didn’t mean ‘your’, but ‘ya’ – as those who use it tend to accept such slang as proper English. A little closer to home, Nunya can also be known as a US Military goon that’s attempted so very hard to threaten (ok, ok… make promises of bodily harm), us in the comments of earlier posts and private emails. I think my favourite sentence was, “Watch Your Back, You'll Know Not When We Come.” Having each word capitalized, and using language like ‘know not’ adds to my terror. Gotta love online warriors – like really bad horror movies, they’re full of entertainment.

I often wonder if people like this understand how transparent the internet is. Even more so, how revealing it could be. For example, Nunya could otherwise be known as Jason Conley, resident of Lancaster or maybe Bedford, NH, USA, possibly near Campbell Rd or Rolling Woods Drive, whose only higher education was acquired in the Military, as public school was for fools while he was growing up as a civilian... But hell, she could also be known as Big Bertha resident of Sesame Street, Cartoon Network, with a Cereal-Box Diploma in Sandbox Politics for all I’d know…

But blah… whatever…

We didn’t make it to the fireworks, or the live band last night. Instead, we went to The Keg for Lobster & Steak, and Billy Miner Pie. Seriously, if you don’t know what Billy Miner Pie is (as I didn’t before last night), you don’t know what heaven on earth tastes like!

~*~

~*~

~*~

~*~
Does the fact that I keep peering into the black backgrounds of these pictures for a commando US military guy aiming his gun at us make you smile as wide as it does me?
~*~
I’m such a bitch.
~*~

~*~

~*~

~*~

By the time we left, around 7:30pm, we were so full, the idea of wandering through the crowds downtown was way less appealing than cuddling up in bed in front of a good movie. So instead, we made a quick stop to buy a few DVD’s and made our way home.

Lars & I got naughty for a bit – for the first time in a year or so, my system got a little THC hit. A little brain vacation never did any harm. We giggled as we watched Alice in Wonderland in complete stupidity, then, totally satisfied, passed out in one another’s arms. It was a great way to spend Canada Day in BC…

~*~
Compliments of Lars to that special dumb bitch from his past...

This is the third Canada Day in a row that I’ve been back home. Three years. I don’t want to be anywhere else on earth.

Yesterday was a bit of a ride (in more ways than one). I asked my boss for a much-deserved raise. It’s not something I did with ease; as I sincerely feel she’s like a mother to me, and as such I dislike asking her for anything but rather trust that she will look out for my best interests on her own. I tend to forget that we work together in an office, and despite having such a wonderful friendship, when it comes to work our relationship, it is a professional one.

’Professional…’ I’m so glad I know the definition of that word, and spend a lot of my life acting it out…

I laughed a lot at an online war that took place on my blog. It’s been years since I’ve been drawn into such fun ‘n games. But it was on my blog, and my blog is where I can indulge in whatever whim I please at any given moment, I guess. I felt a lot of pity as well; pity for neglected children and a misguided delusional mother who should have been spayed like any stray dog years before conceiving. I felt pity for the fool of an obvious average intelligence level and an engrossed ego to match an impressive vocabulary, that’s been drawn into her toxic web. If only he saw through my eyes (or anyone else’s), he’d see the laughing stock she’s made of him and his empty threats (or ‘promises’ as he prefers we called them)…

This morning I decided to disable the comments on the post, as I believe Lars and I have wasted enough time on idiocy. And hell, since we already have the US Army after us, we should stop while we're still alive!

For now, I’ll ponder the ludicrous that she is, the spite that she holds on to, the insanity that she finds comfort in, the lies she tells, and the true love that we’ve gained from her loss.

Tonight, Lars and I will celebrate the birthday of this great nation. We’ve planned to pack a picnic and go down to the water, where we’ll listen to the live bands then finally watch the fireworks after the sun goes down.

In celebration of Canada, lets share a giggle:



I'm proud to be a Canadian
Pass me another beer
I'm proud to be a Canadian
Hold my seat while I take a piss

Our prime minister sucks dogshit through his nose
His ex-wife gets brown showers from Mick Jagger
The only reason we live in fucking igloos
Is our government makes a living licking shit holes

I'm proud to be a Canadian
Pass me another welfare check
I'm proud to be a Canadian
Hold my seat while I go out and cash it

I'm proud to be a Canadian
Pass me another Eskimo
I'm proud to be a Canadian
Hold my seat while I fuck her up the ass hole

Better? ...or in this particular case: sluttier, trashier, dirtier, soiled and classless, filthy little whores that need to talk army boys into sending big, scary, high school-like (worthless) threats based on lies to other people?

Get over it bitch. And if you care so much about your children, stop slutting yourself all over the net - being an online cum-dumpster does your children less favors than your ex has done (and will now stop doing because you're a thankless cunt who likes to cause shit let alone tell lies about him). Perhaps your friend with the big scary mouth will to pay your bills now. You should be ashamed of yourself.

P.S. I hope the reality of this post that is certainly directed RIGHT AT YOU - makes you laugh as much as it (and you in general actually) do me. Foolish, foolish little girl.

”Today, I interviewed my grandmother for part of a research paper I’m working on for my Psychology class. When I asked her to define success in her own words, she said, “Success is when you look back at your life and the memories make you smile.”

I read that quote today. It made me think…

While I was in Squamish this past week, I got up with my 7-year-old niece and her little friend and I jumped on the trampoline. My sister has a trampoline. Lars’ sister has a trampoline. And I had a trampoline in my back yard for the longest time before mom died. I never once before had the courage to do such a thing. I will remember jumping with the little ones, and I'll smile.

More than a decade in Dubai conditioned me to think that jumping on a trampoline, like biking, working out, running, or conducting any sort of physical activity was inappropriate, even rude for a girl to do. I’m so very thankful I’m not longer a part of that hell. I look back on so many years there with pain and frustration.

Here are a couple more reasons I’m glad I’m not there anymore: Reason One – Sex Crimes & Reason 2 – Cough Syrup.

I’m going to spend more time doing what I know will make me smile, and less time with the crap that makes me unhappy. Lars is going to smile with me… Looks like we may have a new member to the family pretty soon, too…

Leaving my house of out sheer frustration today, I found myself wandering down the beach side, and into a graveyard. I think it’s important to remember the dead, even if you never knew them while they lived. A visit to the graveyard helps remind you, that you a mere mortal…

I took photos along the way, as I often find its easier to express myself creatively, rather than talking. And the number of pain-killers and sedatives I’ve taken today make talking or typing a pretty big task.


Walking along the water, I found this bouquet in the tree. I can only assume it’s there to remind passer-by’s of a death that had occurred there. Such sights are not uncommon here.


~*~
Than I came across a place I felt belonged…



And though it didn’t look just like that while I was there, in my mind, that’s exactly what I saw.

~*~

Two things struck me at the graveyard:



The date of death on this was 1919. 91 Years ago. And there are fresh flowers on her tombstone today. It goes to show some people will not ever be forgotten. Who could have lived long enough ago to remember Agnes Roberts? And how old is this person now?

Some pains never die. And some people will always be loved, even in death.

~*~

In death, there was an abundance of life:



I sincerely hope my grave looks something like this when I’m gone.



~*~

As I made my way back to the path by the water… I found myself a peace.

Home should be a place where you’re comfortable, at peace, and able to relax. Let the world outside rush by, and worry about the busses being late, the weather being bad, and the stock markets crashing. Let the world outside deal with parking fees, the politicians, and the government’s mistakes. At home, you should be able to think of nothing but that which pleases you.

I’ve been home for 2 days now. Absolutely exhausted from this entire month, I’ve spent much of my time back sleeping. When I’m not sleeping, I find myself unhappy, uncomfortable, and even miserable. I cannot believe a huge piece of me is wishing I’d stayed in Squamish.

Maybe I’ve made a mistake? Maybe my heart has deceived me again? Or maybe, it’s just in the stars for this time and place? Maybe that anxiety I felt before I left had more to do with an emotional death than a physical one? Either way, the flags are up and I’m not going to have this, a permanent environment. That which is making me uncomfortable needs to be removed, or changed immediately.

How funny I actually feel relieved that I made it here... I really felt certain I wouldn't. I've always believed I'll die in an car wreck... I drive, and I do it well. But I also do it fast. I like speed. Before Lars, I was happiest when I was moving somewhere, in a car, on a highway. Now, I'm happiest in his arms.

Blah. I need to go to bed. I have to be up for 5 and it's going on 1 now. I wish I were in his arms, rather than here.
Sent from my BlackBerry® powered by Virgin Mobile.

June 21, 2010

Lars,

I have no idea what possesses me to write this, but I feel consumed with this deep sadness… Not for me. I’m at peace. My life with you is perfect. It’s a deep sorrow I feel for you.

I need you to know that I love you with all my heart. My life… Me… I am complete now. And I so hope I’m wrong, but as I pack to leave for Squamish, I can’t help but feel it’s the last time. And last night, last night I slept the perfect sleep wrapped in your love; like a perfect end.

Thank you. Thank you for being so: so very wonderful. And thank you for loving me.

If something should happen to me, know my only regret is the time I did not spend with you. This letter should serve as my Last Will & Testament. And legal or not, I wish that everything possible is done to make sure these simple requests are fulfilled:

Promise me you’ll stand by Martin and my brother Jesse long enough to know they are going to cope alright. Please help them be strong, as I know you will be. And hug Kelly Fouchier, tell her I love her with all my heart, but know she doesn’t need you as they do.

Promise me you won’t let either of those epitomes of evil, Sheila Fouchier or Eleanor Russell near my family, my estate or me or my remains. It was not possible for me to live as if I had never encountered either vile excuse for a woman, I wish to at the very lest, die as though neither of these things existed in my life.

Promise me that when my son is old enough to understand, you’ll let him know that I loved him with all my heart and made every choice I possibly could in his best interest.

And finally, perhaps most important of all, promise me you’ll find happiness in our past and your future. I love you, and that is my truest wish for you.

As for my estate… After my debts are paid, I leave everything I own (including but not limited to my apartment in Dubai, my 2006 Nissan Altima (here in Canada), my 2003 Nissan Maxima (in Dubai), any and all jewellery, including that which was left to me from my mother’s estate) to Martin Christopher Lee to divide among my loved ones or keep to him, as he desires. I do hope something profitable for you all, becomes of the little I have, eventually. Perhaps you could all build something together?

There are two groups of people mentioned in this letter. You are either one of the reasons my life was worth living and I thank you, or you were living proof that true evil does exist and have made me even more thankful for the latter in my life.

Much love…
Xx

There is a signed copy of this on the bottom part of our bedside table, babes. I hope I'm just consumed with emotion today, and confusing the fear of missing you for a week with the fear of never seeing you again. I hope you never, ever have to pull it out, but it's there if you need it and I'd much rather be safe than sorry. I love you.

It’s been one hell of a week. For the most of last week I was down with a terrible flu. Despite my minor bitching, people were good to me and I was taken care of. Then it was a weekend full of love and laughter. We had a BBQ and invited Lars side of the family to our home. His sister spent Saturday night, and she and I got up to no good, drinking way more than any two human beings should. Unfortunately that left her a little too ill to take part in all of our Sunday family plans. It gives us a great excuse to do it all again soon, though!

A few photos from the BBQ:

Absolutely terrible photo of me (so very glad my blog format cut me out!), but you have to love just about every other expression on a face in this photo. This was a Happy, Happy Meal!

~*~
My Sunshine and I:

~*~
Lars' mom, Jacquie and I:

I love this woman.
~*~
Mr. Lars & I again (I just love the photos of us best of all!)

~*~
Lars, his sister and myself:

~*~
And just for good measure:



I can’t think of a better way to spend the weekend. My only regret is that my sister didn’t make it out in time. But I will not complain too much, as I’m off to Squamish again today and get to spend a least a week with her and the kids. If things fall into place, I’ll only be in Squamish for a week, and I’ll be able to drag them back with me for a weekend. Perhaps we’ll even meet Lars on our way back and we can stop by the ex's and pick up the last of his crap… oh how convenient it wasn’t all there to be collected in one trip…

We talked a little about the ex over the weekend. And how truly positive and sincere the changes are in all their lives, now that she's gone. Some things were just never meant to be, and forcing them can tear lives & families apart. Things that were meant to be... they tend to feel more right for everyone involved. And even my step-father seems to feel this is all right! The truth be known, no matter how thankful they are for me, I believe I must feel double that for them. I needed people like them in my life. Especially after losing mom. And I've never felt more safe nor content than in Lars' arms.

I need to get on with my day. I’ve regretted not blogging more often, but I really just haven’t managed to find the time… Since I’ll be working mornings this week, maybe that’ll change.

I should probably complain more when I’m not feeling well. I’m sick. And I feel like death. And I’ve told people. But they don’t seem to get it. No one seems to get it.

Sunday Sun Rays…

Yesterday was beautiful. We woke early in the morning and went to the Flea Market with my father, and then just Lars and I went for a walk on the boardwalk and a swing on my all-time favourite swings in the afternoon. I’ve been swimming here since I was just a little girl and I adore the fact that I get to share this piece of my past with him now. We ate easy, and cuddled up early to watch Family Guy in bed. I realized as we lay down and the sun was still out – we really are getting old. But I’m ok with being old with him, so long as he’s ok with being old with me.



~*~



We’ve planned next weekend out to include a big BBQ on Sunday, invited his mom and sister and we’re all incredibly excited about getting together again then. I leave Monday for Squamish again, so it’s a bit tight, but will definitely be worth it.

It occurred to me this morning as I made Lars’ grandma’s Whipped Shortbread Cookie recipe, how truly happy I am. It occurred to me that perhaps I always could have been, had I only chosen to live this way. It occurred to me that so much more is in our control than we know… if only we knew it when we needed it most. I’d have been spared a lot of self-inflicted hurt.

Anyway, I’m off to pick up Lars from work, surprise cookies in hand. It’s another beautiful day around here. And I couldn’t possibly be happier about life in general.

So I’ve spent a few days fiddling with my blog and the widgets, trying to reward my fellow bloggers who choose to share their thoughts by adding CommentLuv to the posts, and if I’ve learned one thing between this and the awkward (to downright-out dysfunctional) management of uploads/downloads, Google Chrome is an inferior browser (even to IE – eek!) in every way excepting speed and interface – and that of course is a matter of opinion. Over the past few months I’ve grown rather fond of Chrome’s interface, but I’m afraid I’ll have to revert back to my trusty old Mozilla, because Chrome has managed to piss me off just that much. Dual monitors make it a bit easier for me to manage two different browsers, switching between the two as needed, and I was finally able to install CommentLuv properly, but I am not spending my time online fucking with that shit indefinitely! I do believe I am officially done with Chrome!

Now… Because I’ve been fucking with my blog settings, and depending on your browser or the time that you’re browsing/commenting, you may or may not have seen the changes, perhaps even thought your comments were deleted or unnoticed by me… I’ll point out that as always, I do in fact get emailed copies of every comment on my blog and have had the chance to read those I choose to, and reply to those I deem worthy of comment… If I haven’t commented by now, you don’t need to keep checking. I probably don’t intend to say anything back to you. I tend not to get into pissing battles with people talking (or thinking even, as some of my commenter’s are very delusional in a narcissistic way) out of their ass, as I’d rather not play in their shit.

But Jod’s finally got around to sending me the pics. And umm yes.. There were Bra Pics, though I won’t be posting any of those here…

You’ll just have to live with these non-bra photos…


The girls… Cause some of us really do just kick ass!

~*~

~*~
My baby and me... (And even Kell in the background)

~*~
And Jod’s and me… As she says, “So awesome, even the camera can’t stay still!”


It was an awesome, yet short trip. Looks like I’ll be heading back in just a few days again now… I love this time of year.

For now… I`m going to go bath the cat, then cuddle up with my man and my cat, and we’ll watch movies till we sleep. We have early morning Flee Market plans with my father – since Sundays are our only day off together in the week.

America... FUCK YA.
BOOKS...

I don’t get it…

I won’t go see neither my cat nor my python because my ex’s new girlfriend has moved in with him. Not only do I have no interest in seeing her. I don’t wish to cause him or her any discomfort with my presence.

You had to come out and see me when Lars picked up his stuff. You even had to get up close and get a good look at me. Did it hurt you to see me smile with him, to hear me laugh, to see my tattoo matching his slip out from under my sleeve? Were you comparing yourself to me? Where you wondering what I have that you don’t? The answer is very simple: ’nothing’ to some, and ’everything’ to the person that matters most to me.

I cannot imagine any of those things make you feel good. And you even take it further. You have to know what I’m thinking. You have to read my blog. Day after day, entry after entry… Here you are:



~*~


Why do you care what I have to say, think, or share here? I imagine it must kill you to read of us being happy. Are you reading word for word hoping he and I will fail together? Or are you hoping to learn something from me, from it all? Just what is it you think reading my blog is going to do for you? I am certain of one thing… it certainly isn’t healthy for you.

Do not misunderstand. It really makes no difference to me whether you read or not. It just confuses me that you do and even more so that you do it so persistently...

~*~

Now onto things I do get…

We had a late night last night, but it was totally worth it. I missed a 7am webinar I was scheduled to attend this morning, partially because I slept through it but mostly because I keep getting the days all fucked and didn’t bother to set my alarm. I’m not used to having an actual weekend day off. I’ve had Thursday’s and Friday’s off for the past two years till recently. Suddenly getting a weekend day (Sunday) off, is a treat, but fucking confusing; a shock to the system. Luckily, the 20-minute lecture on common training mistakes wasn’t something I really, REALLY needed to take part in. In fact, my colleague who did make it, assured me I didn’t miss anything at all, really.

I have to stop doing this though.

I’m starting to feel generally worn, slower than usual; like it’s about time I took a vacation or something. I don’t dare take one at this very moment as it feels like I may be requesting a long enough one to go to Dubai soon. Thankfully, my boss understands and when I mentioned felling a lot slower, even duller than usual this afternoon, she sympathized and noted the number of changes I’m going through right now, including weaving a man into my life. I was content single… I love being taken.

As exhausted as I’m starting to feel, I’m exceptionally thankful for my schedule changes. With Lars finally working in the mornings here and me working most nights until 11pm, it felt for a short while like we get little to no quality time together despite sleeping in the same bed each night. With the changes, I get off tonight at 8pm, and then tomorrow night at 6. Then it’s my weekend. It means a few extra hours of playtime for us. Maybe we’ll use tonight’s to go swimming, or for a hike or something…?

I added



(And I bite!)




So I woke up this morning next to our Voodooz doll and a message on my phone asking if he kept me warm. There were words of sweet-nothings on the coffee maker again. With him always finding a way to make me wake with a smile, even when he’s not here to wake with… I couldn’t help but think to myself, ‘What would Lars like to come home to tonight?’

He’s been working so hard at work and even at spoiling me, I feel as though it’s time to give something back. So this morning, I got a lot done.

I washed, perfumed and changed all the bedding so he has a nice, clean, fresh bed to sleep in tonight. I vacuumed the floors, did the dishes and cleaned the littler box so he has a nice tidy house to come home to. I made Arabic pasta, which waits on the stove so he has a nice home-cooked dinner to come home to. And finally, I took a long hot shower, made myself all pretty and sent him a few risky messages so he has a beautifully naughty woman to come home to.

May he always be happy to come home…

You see, I spoke to my father today. He has approved of Lars moving in and since Lars is still paying off his ex’s lease, he’s even being flexible on rent. I’m happy to know my home is now officially his home.

I love the life we’re building together. And even though that honeymoon period is slowly coming to an end, we communicate well. We listen to one another, and we respect one another’s thoughts and feelings. We’re still totally attracted to one another and we enjoy spending time together. We keep striving to find ways to make one another smile, and we still believe there isn’t a better match made on this planet.

Bullshit.

It occurred to me the other day that my mother paid into CPP (Canadian Pension Plan) her whole life. This payment isn’t a payment by choice, but by force. Employers take a percentage off every paycheck and submit to CPP (as well as a federal and provincial taxes AND employment insurance), before handing the checks over to the employee. Businesses get closed down if they fail to do this. Each payday I watch as about a quarter of the money I earned gets sent off into taxes or funds that I’ll most-likely never see again.

My mom’s dead. She doesn’t need a pension. She won’t get her CPP money back. Though she was forced to pay thousands upon thousands into this fund to ‘protect her future’ for her retirement. She won’t retire now, so you’d expect that money be returned to her estate, used to pay some of her burial fees, or even pay off her debts. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t go anywhere. The goddamned government gets to keep it.

Lovely. What's almost as lovely? She paid taxes on that CPP as she paid into it. Had she lived, and been paid a pension... She'd have to pay takes on the money CPP returns to her. Cock-sucking-robbers - taxed twice on the same funds!

The government got to murder my mother and they are robbing her for the last time. And only now, now that a drug addicted crazy man stabbed some unsuspecting 15-year-old down town, now are people standing up and saying, “HEY! BC’s neglect of the mentally instable and those with addictions (because those go hand in fucking hand assholes) is ruining lives and our society! SOMETHING MUST BE DONE ABOUT IT!”

Reminds me of a cry I made years ago – around the same time my mom was threatening to annihilate strangers because her ‘six sense’ told her that they were child molesters. Assholes. If we weren’t there, my mother may have been that same god-damned murderer! If you had listened to us, this poor 15-year-old may NOT be dead today. And my mother may still be alive.

But ranting does nothing. Begging does nothing. No one fucking cares until it affects him or her personally. The god-dammed public on this side of the planet is a bunch of thoughtless, lazy, inconsiderate, pansies that are too scared of change. They need to be sheep – need to be told what to do, even if that means doing nothing at all and watching people around them die. So what, if it isn’t you or your loved one?

But blah… I wonder why I’m so pissed. Aside from the fact that its an out-fucking-rageous situation to begin with. It could be the fact that I’m PMSing. Or the fact that this morning, I decided to go red:



Redheads are supposed to have tempers, aren’t they?

Way too much drinking takes place in Squamish. We got back last night. I’ve been to bed, then up and out and back to bed and I still feel exhausted. There is so very much still left to do around here… And I’ll go pick up Lars this afternoon as well, so there’s little time to do it. Guess he’ll have to help. Finally cleaned out the car, it was a fucking mess, especially after this trip. He picked up some of his things from his ex’s place, including a box full of tools, chains and stuff; she’d left out in the rain and thus was falling apart. Despite his best efforts, the rust from the chains made its way to the interior of my car. That was about at much dirt and grime as I could take.

I suppose I’m way ahead of myself though… For a quick trip, this one was packed.

There was family.

Both mine:


~*~

~*~

And his’:





~*~

There was animal love:


~*~

And even though this bunny peed on me, I love him so!

~*~

There was partying (probably more than there should have been):



(And though I don’t have photos to prove it, there was reggae and even a bon fire in the as well! I was told there are bra photos as well, though I only vaguely remember them being taken of myself and a few girlfriends… I won’t believe it until I see them myself!)

~*~

And of course there was training and time in the office:



Perhaps most importantly of all, there was laughter. Lots of laughter!


All in all, it was a really, REALLY full few days! I missed out on seeing a few people I’d intended to, but since I’m headed back in a few weeks, I’m sure we’ll be able to catch up then.

Lars came out on Saturday, to drive back with me on Sunday. I love the fact that no matter where we are, we can find a way to be together. We had the opportunity to have a hang over breakfast in Squish with my sister, then a great King Crab lunch with his family in Burnaby, and we were back home in our own bed on the island for midnight. Despite being exhausted, it was one of the best days I’ve had in a while.

And about now, I need to go pick him up from work…

I felt his lips on my cheek as I slept this morning. I heard him whisper, though I can’t recall what it was he was saying, they were certainly sweet–somethings. He slipped out of bed and into his work cloths long before I was ready to wake up at 9am. When I woke, the coffee was still warm and I the words “You’re My World” were carefully placed on top of the machine. I love his sweet reminders of how much I mean to him. I love how much he means to me. And I love that he met my father last night and they seem to get along just fine.

Much to the world’s dismay, I didn’t leave for Squamish, obviously. My sister went into my office at 4pm (knowing my shift starts at 3pm). My colleagues are harassing me about why I’m not there yet. And I think despite my boss knowing I’d be arriving tomorrow, she half hoped I’d show a day early (as I often do when scheduled to go, as a surprise). But if I go tomorrow, I get to spend one more night in his arms. And, it’ll be just one more sleep before I can pick up rice-crispy squares (I have been craving them for a week or so now!) from a very old school friend who recently purchased a house in Squamish, and promised me she’ll bring some to work on Friday for me! I really should just go to her house tomorrow before going to the office.

With my dad’s return comes stress. Money is a huge stressing factor in this house. We have renters that don’t pay rent, and assets like property and land that don’t make an income. We have my mother’s estate, the legal proceedings sucking out any reserves we may possibly have. And as we attempt to get rid of the renters, I contemplate selling my apartment in Dubai. I hate the idea of going back there – in fact; I have paranoid fears about it. What if I get caught at Customs and thrown in jail for some miniscule amount of marijuana found on my shoe because I accidentally stepped on someone’s roach here? Stranger things have happened. And I’m fairly certain it’s common for people to be busted at Dubai airport for ‘carrying’ un-useable amounts of drugs. What if my prescription drugs are illegal there, and I end up thrown in jail for them? Again, this is not an uncommon occurrence at Dubai airport.

I have other fears and anxieties about going back as well. I have fears about seeing my ex husband, fears about not wearing hijab anymore and what he’ll have to say about that when it comes to my son. I have fears about reversing all the healing I’ve managed to do since I’ve been back. The UAE is poison to me. It took 12 years to destroy who I was, who I am, and turn me into something really fucking ugly. It’s taken about 3 years, but I’m starting to fix all that. I’m putting the pieces back together and I’m able to finally live my life the way it was meant to be. That’s a huge thing to only be achieving as you approach 30-years-old. What if even a moment in Dubai tears that all down again?

I was walking dead by the time I left there. It’s a miracle I survived long enough to make it here.

Just thinking about it makes my stomach ache… And then I remember going back to Dubai would mean at least a month away from him. How to make a bad thought worse, or a little anxiety full-fledged anxiety attack! It would also mean seeing my baby boy. He alone would be worth the trip. If only I trusted it wouldn't kill me.

He’ll be home from work any time now. He’ll hug away my stresses. And perhaps point out that the chest pains I was feeling yesterday may have very well been stress and I need to stop thinking so much.

Tomorrow night, about 3 minutes to midnight marks 2 months. And it’s been a great two months – though it feels like it’s been a lot longer.

I woke at about 3am beside him last night in tears. Dreams of my mom, or rather of my mom being dead and me so very helpless without her woke me. I was in an antique store with this stupid blue cat toy in my arms. It was something like those Russian dolls that are just cases of smaller doll after smaller doll inside. I wanted it so very bad, and I knew that if my mother were alive she’d have bought it. But as I hugged it this woman walked by and told me she was going to buy it. I burst into tears, telling her how badly I wanted it and that I couldn’t afford to buy it. I woke, crying my little eyes out.

I miss her. I wish I could have just one dream of her being alive and healthy… Or even just happy, if she has to be dead.

It’s ten to 9am. I’ve dropped Lars off at work, put a phone call in to my son; he’s off to Thailand on the 10th of this month… If only his fucking dad would send him here instead…

Anyway, as soon as my Ipod charges I’m heading out to the gym. That always makes me feel better. My father comes home tonight. I think I’m leaving tomorrow morning for Squamish, though I’ve not yet fully decided. I’ll miss Lars and I’m not looking forward to leaving for that reason alone. Otherwise, I’m growing tired of this rock… My father’s ok with Lars being here while I’m gone. I’m ok with the two of them getting to know each other in my absence – hell he let me meet his mother and sister (bless them) for the first time without him.

Talking with him about the tattoo, we’ve thrown a few more ideas in there. Lars likes the idea of a voodoo doll. I like the idea of a pin-up doll – I mean a doll, literally pinned up to my back – bloody limbs and all. But then, I’m twisted that way.

We’ll see what we decide on when I’m back. In the meantime, I need to get the hell out of here. The gym is calling.