I've had about 7 new posts waiting in the wings, just waiting to be sent into cyberspace to appear on this blog, but something stopped me posting them, for one reason or another. And, upon reflection, I am kinda glad I didn't post them. Amazing, that: not jumping into things without thinking.
Speaking of strange things, and ideas that are foreign to me...
Rub and Tug (urban dictionary definition):
A name for a massage parlour or place in which after the massage is given, it is ended with a Happy Ending.
A place or way in which a man can get 'relieved' and it not be considered cheating.
NOT considered cheating? Well, not only is it considered cheating by me, it's considered to be completely fucked up.
And yes, I am sure this is one of those posts that should be sitting with its friends in drafts, too.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Sahara
I'm feeling a bit... blah. For the past 3 years, I've had this constant, consuming fear of Sahara, my dog, hurting herself again, and have lain awake night after night wondering where that would leave us both. Now she's had her surgery for the exact thing I spent all that time worrying about, it's actually more acute fear than before. The first day was almost euphoric - I had my girl back, she didn't have any severe complications in surgery, she was alert and didn't seem in too much pain; all seemed well. As of this morning, she seems to have regressed and is refusing to put weight on her leg, and as usual, the first sign of anything wrong makes a cold hard lump of dread knot in my stomach. I called the vet clinic, but being Sunday, they only offer an emergency service, so I made a deal with myself I would wait a few hours to see if she shows any improvement before calling her specialist or surgeon on their emergency mobile numbers. I've dosed her with pain relief. I've given her more toys to play with, and some cheese to cheer her up. I've done all I can for now, but nothing takes away this awful feeling, like I'm being weighed down with worry.
I wonder why I keep doing this to myself - this was ultimately my decision, and one I thought long and hard about for weeks (if not months in the dark of night whilst I couldn't get off to sleep). I considered the other option - the only alternative being having her put down. As much as the very thought brought me instantly to tears, I had to consider it for her sake, as she was in pain and had very little quality of life for a few weeks there. But I know how resilient she is - heck, this is the girl who had a 90% rupture of her anterial cruciate ligament and presented, repeatedly, as less than a 10% tear, and who has flown through the previous surgeries with attitude and aplomb. It wasn't the surgery having an impact on her that really worried me; I knew she would be sore, stiff and restricted for movement for a few weeks, but I knew it was something she could handle. Here's the bad part...it was me that I was worried for. 8 weeks of not being able to leave the house for any period of time longer than to grab some milk from the corner store. No random trips to the shops to waste some time; no ability to enjoy daylight savings riding my horses into the sunset. No nights out with friends. No trips to see Harry Potter. A quiet, excitement free Christmas, and canceled weekends away i the weeks before. A special dog minder to take her when I leave for Africa, which I have meticulously planned her x-rays, surgery dates etc around, simply so I could go and not worry about how she was doing whilst I was away.
Yesterday was fine. I did things around the house, and spent all day with her, moving her bed around as I moved room to room. I got the downstairs room painted, a feat I had talked about for over a year. All in all, it was fine, her first full day out from surgery. But already, this morning, I am struggling a little. Sunday is my day to go to the market, go grab breakfast out, have a lazy day shopping or walking around garden centres or riding my horses. That's fine; a week or so off doesn't bother me at all, I'm quite happy my man and I are home to put in a whole irrigation system by ourselves and do the sorts of things we never seem to find time to do. But one look at Sahara's pinched and drawn face, one glance at her leg hanging limply, and I'm plunged into doom. What if she has done something to the pins in her leg? What if she needs surgery, at a cost of $5000 again tomorrow morning? Where does that leave me? And then, the overwhelming guilt - I had a few moments wishing I could duck to the shops for a coffee and mooch around the garden centre, but felt I couldn't leave her yet, and felt kind of pissed. Guilt for wanting to have a normal weekend, when I knew what I was getting myself into. Guilt for maybe a tiny bit wishing I didn't have this burden of looking after her, especially when I feel so utterly alone in doing so. Carrying her out to the toilet - all 36kg of her - at 2am in the cold, dark night while all I can hear are people my age screaming and shouting and singing drunkenly at parties...there was a split second of wondering why I chose this, and quite a bit of wondering why it is I feel so lonely in my choices.
My man backed this surgery financially, and I am eternally indebted to him for doing so, but emotionally... I feel completely unsupported. I have all these emotions running rampant, while I've got a sleepy dog dead weighted in my arms as I trudge around the garden to find a spot she'll wee in, and I feel I have no one to share them with. When he marvels I can hide 3 tablets in a single piece of cheese and get them down her throat in a second, or am elbow deep cleaning up the mess when she couldn't control her bowels due to her medication giving her problems, it makes me feel a bit shitty (no pun intended). Why is no one handing me the correct dosage of medication to hide into a sausage?Why doesn't he have her specialist, surgeon, local vet and 3 emergency vet clinics listed in his speed dial? Why am I told there's so much guilt I have to stay home with Sahara he's canceled all the plans I never knew he had, and have to be grateful to be second best?
And, as I carry her wiggly butt outside for another wee, spraining a muscle in my back in the process, it clicks. How can I be alone when I have this writhing mass of fur in my arms, looking at me with eyes so full of love that I'm so close to her warm little body? I've got my best friend not just by my side like most dogs, but right there in my arms, utterly reliant on me - and completely trusting - that I will make this all alright for her. I can quite honestly say she's never doubted me for a second the way I doubt myself, she doesn't mind we're not out chasing sticks or swimming in the ocean; she's just happy she's got me all to herself. And, like that, I realize this is going to be hard, and painful for us both at times, but we're both in the same boat here - we're both sacrificing things we love for her to get better, we're both feeling sorry for ourselves and wishing things were different, but we're also both lucky to have each other. And that's going to more than make up for all these other niggles - I've always said I'd die for my girl, but I guess now we both need to work on the living part, and enjoying the moments we've got together, not worrying about what's going to happen tomorrow, or next month, or next year. And as I was scrolling through pages on the dogs old blog last night, giggling at old photos and smiling at memories I'd forgotten, I came across this quote by Gene Hill, and it seemed a bit too much like an omen not to share...
"He is my other eyes that can see above the clouds; my other ears that hear above the winds.
He is the part of me that can reach out into the sea. He has told me a thousand times over that I am his reason for being; by the way he rests against my leg; by the way he thumps his tail at my smallest smile; by the way he shows his hurt when I leave without taking him. (I think it makes him sick with worry when he is not along to care for me.) When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive. When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile. When I am happy, he is joy unbounded. When I am a fool, he ignores it. When I succeed, he brags. Without him, I am only another man. With him, I am all-powerful. He is loyalty itself. He has taught me the meaning of devotion. With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. He has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant. His head on my knee can heal my human hurts. His presence by my side is protection against my fears of dark and unknown things. He has promised to wait for me... whenever... wherever - in case I need him. And I expect I will - as I always have. He is just my dog."
I wonder why I keep doing this to myself - this was ultimately my decision, and one I thought long and hard about for weeks (if not months in the dark of night whilst I couldn't get off to sleep). I considered the other option - the only alternative being having her put down. As much as the very thought brought me instantly to tears, I had to consider it for her sake, as she was in pain and had very little quality of life for a few weeks there. But I know how resilient she is - heck, this is the girl who had a 90% rupture of her anterial cruciate ligament and presented, repeatedly, as less than a 10% tear, and who has flown through the previous surgeries with attitude and aplomb. It wasn't the surgery having an impact on her that really worried me; I knew she would be sore, stiff and restricted for movement for a few weeks, but I knew it was something she could handle. Here's the bad part...it was me that I was worried for. 8 weeks of not being able to leave the house for any period of time longer than to grab some milk from the corner store. No random trips to the shops to waste some time; no ability to enjoy daylight savings riding my horses into the sunset. No nights out with friends. No trips to see Harry Potter. A quiet, excitement free Christmas, and canceled weekends away i the weeks before. A special dog minder to take her when I leave for Africa, which I have meticulously planned her x-rays, surgery dates etc around, simply so I could go and not worry about how she was doing whilst I was away.
Yesterday was fine. I did things around the house, and spent all day with her, moving her bed around as I moved room to room. I got the downstairs room painted, a feat I had talked about for over a year. All in all, it was fine, her first full day out from surgery. But already, this morning, I am struggling a little. Sunday is my day to go to the market, go grab breakfast out, have a lazy day shopping or walking around garden centres or riding my horses. That's fine; a week or so off doesn't bother me at all, I'm quite happy my man and I are home to put in a whole irrigation system by ourselves and do the sorts of things we never seem to find time to do. But one look at Sahara's pinched and drawn face, one glance at her leg hanging limply, and I'm plunged into doom. What if she has done something to the pins in her leg? What if she needs surgery, at a cost of $5000 again tomorrow morning? Where does that leave me? And then, the overwhelming guilt - I had a few moments wishing I could duck to the shops for a coffee and mooch around the garden centre, but felt I couldn't leave her yet, and felt kind of pissed. Guilt for wanting to have a normal weekend, when I knew what I was getting myself into. Guilt for maybe a tiny bit wishing I didn't have this burden of looking after her, especially when I feel so utterly alone in doing so. Carrying her out to the toilet - all 36kg of her - at 2am in the cold, dark night while all I can hear are people my age screaming and shouting and singing drunkenly at parties...there was a split second of wondering why I chose this, and quite a bit of wondering why it is I feel so lonely in my choices.
My man backed this surgery financially, and I am eternally indebted to him for doing so, but emotionally... I feel completely unsupported. I have all these emotions running rampant, while I've got a sleepy dog dead weighted in my arms as I trudge around the garden to find a spot she'll wee in, and I feel I have no one to share them with. When he marvels I can hide 3 tablets in a single piece of cheese and get them down her throat in a second, or am elbow deep cleaning up the mess when she couldn't control her bowels due to her medication giving her problems, it makes me feel a bit shitty (no pun intended). Why is no one handing me the correct dosage of medication to hide into a sausage?Why doesn't he have her specialist, surgeon, local vet and 3 emergency vet clinics listed in his speed dial? Why am I told there's so much guilt I have to stay home with Sahara he's canceled all the plans I never knew he had, and have to be grateful to be second best?
And, as I carry her wiggly butt outside for another wee, spraining a muscle in my back in the process, it clicks. How can I be alone when I have this writhing mass of fur in my arms, looking at me with eyes so full of love that I'm so close to her warm little body? I've got my best friend not just by my side like most dogs, but right there in my arms, utterly reliant on me - and completely trusting - that I will make this all alright for her. I can quite honestly say she's never doubted me for a second the way I doubt myself, she doesn't mind we're not out chasing sticks or swimming in the ocean; she's just happy she's got me all to herself. And, like that, I realize this is going to be hard, and painful for us both at times, but we're both in the same boat here - we're both sacrificing things we love for her to get better, we're both feeling sorry for ourselves and wishing things were different, but we're also both lucky to have each other. And that's going to more than make up for all these other niggles - I've always said I'd die for my girl, but I guess now we both need to work on the living part, and enjoying the moments we've got together, not worrying about what's going to happen tomorrow, or next month, or next year. And as I was scrolling through pages on the dogs old blog last night, giggling at old photos and smiling at memories I'd forgotten, I came across this quote by Gene Hill, and it seemed a bit too much like an omen not to share...
"He is my other eyes that can see above the clouds; my other ears that hear above the winds.
He is the part of me that can reach out into the sea. He has told me a thousand times over that I am his reason for being; by the way he rests against my leg; by the way he thumps his tail at my smallest smile; by the way he shows his hurt when I leave without taking him. (I think it makes him sick with worry when he is not along to care for me.) When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive. When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile. When I am happy, he is joy unbounded. When I am a fool, he ignores it. When I succeed, he brags. Without him, I am only another man. With him, I am all-powerful. He is loyalty itself. He has taught me the meaning of devotion. With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. He has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant. His head on my knee can heal my human hurts. His presence by my side is protection against my fears of dark and unknown things. He has promised to wait for me... whenever... wherever - in case I need him. And I expect I will - as I always have. He is just my dog."
Thursday, November 4, 2010
...I'm back!
After what feels like forever, I am BACK. I wasn't purposefully taking a break from blogging, it just kind of happened, and then once I stopped posting daily, or even weekly, it all seemed a bit too hard, or I simply didn't have time. Or, like recently, my lovely brand spanking new laptop fell under siege to the claw of my dog, and had been in Laptop Hospital having a new screen fitted...for four and a half weeks. Right at the time my iPhone died, and I was, thus, without any form of internet. How did I stay sane? you ask in horrified tones. I quite literally have no clue - all I recall from that hazy, horrible time was rather a lot of involuntary eye twitching any time I heard the word "google" uttered, and quite a bit of screaming, shouting and breaking of inanimate objects any time My Man dared speak of emails he had forwarded to me without thinking.
So, what has happened in these past few months? Well, where to begin!
I started working for a jewelry company, I cried when horse got cancer in his leg which I am still treating him for, I stopped working for a jewelry company when they weren't paying me, I held the trophy for two of Australia's biggest horse races and sat at the owners table for the worlds best racehorse, I did a lot of boring every day stuff, I planned and plotted (and still am) for my trip to Africa in January where I will be riding horses for a week then traveling to Botswana/Zambia...
wait. Surely I've done more than that? I'm adament there were all sorts of exciting things that have taken place recently...
guess not. Today will be spent running around like a madwoman preparing for my pup's return from the vet hospital - complete leg reconstruction number four took place yesterday, and bionic dog had to stay overnight - and making a large batch of bone shaped cookies for The Man to say a big thank you for giving my dog a brand new leg via his credit card. And maybe finding some lacy knickers that don't leave large indentations on my thighs with the weight I've gained recently...still, I'll work on those cookies first, I think. (can't tell why this added blubber is creeping up on me...)
So, I'm hoping to be back regularly with random updates. I find Facebook leaves me open to my great aunties second cousin - or, more worryingly, My Man's entire workplace - finding out about something I flippantly said in a status update 4 months ago after a gin and tonic or 9, and Twitter just isn't long enough for me to rant and rave... so blogging world, here I come!
So, what has happened in these past few months? Well, where to begin!
I started working for a jewelry company, I cried when horse got cancer in his leg which I am still treating him for, I stopped working for a jewelry company when they weren't paying me, I held the trophy for two of Australia's biggest horse races and sat at the owners table for the worlds best racehorse, I did a lot of boring every day stuff, I planned and plotted (and still am) for my trip to Africa in January where I will be riding horses for a week then traveling to Botswana/Zambia...
wait. Surely I've done more than that? I'm adament there were all sorts of exciting things that have taken place recently...
guess not. Today will be spent running around like a madwoman preparing for my pup's return from the vet hospital - complete leg reconstruction number four took place yesterday, and bionic dog had to stay overnight - and making a large batch of bone shaped cookies for The Man to say a big thank you for giving my dog a brand new leg via his credit card. And maybe finding some lacy knickers that don't leave large indentations on my thighs with the weight I've gained recently...still, I'll work on those cookies first, I think. (can't tell why this added blubber is creeping up on me...)
So, I'm hoping to be back regularly with random updates. I find Facebook leaves me open to my great aunties second cousin - or, more worryingly, My Man's entire workplace - finding out about something I flippantly said in a status update 4 months ago after a gin and tonic or 9, and Twitter just isn't long enough for me to rant and rave... so blogging world, here I come!
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Tattoo
So, I've been planning getting a tattoo for years, and have always had the same design in mind. However, recently, the thought of getting something smaller and more meaningful has been running through my mind, and now, thanks to a new friend of mine who is a completely brilliant artist, I have the exact design I will be getting inked on to my inner left wrist.
The 'B' is for not only my mother, but my brother, my uncle, my best friend and my nan's maiden name - handy they all have that in common, no? The wings, to me, represent drawing stregth from things or places I can't necessarily see, and also as a reminder of my uncle, who died a few years back and who I loved like a father.
The other tattoo - my 'main' one - will be inked across my shoulder blades, just above my bra, once I build the courage to get it done. I'm still modifying the design, but basically, it's the Sony Tristar pegasus!
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Another difficult decision
So, after what seems like an age of being a nagging bitch of a housewife, things have taken a turn for the surprising. I've been having a somewhat negative outlook on things at the moment, and as a result, have been blaming peope other than myself for things I really shouldn't. So it came as a bit of a shock this morning to be asked my opinion on something I have dreamed about for a long, long time...something I have nagged about; begged for, and generally longed for since the weather decided to settle somewhere near freezing*.
It involved the words 'holiday', and 'you choose'. You see my excitement?
Now, it's somewhat more structured than that - I have two choices, due to some incredible Winter Warmer deal thing going on that the boy managed to locate in a travel agency somewhere. They happen to be two places I've always wanted to see, one a lot more than the other, but purely on an aesthetic level rather than an exploring and adventure one. All morning, I have been googling like mad, putting together lists and bookmarking pages; copying and pasting exciting bits of info to send via email to the boy, and generally doing my research. Turns out, the boy is more swayed by the first option, I more so by the latter (the aesthetic!).
My two options are...
It involved the words 'holiday', and 'you choose'. You see my excitement?
Now, it's somewhat more structured than that - I have two choices, due to some incredible Winter Warmer deal thing going on that the boy managed to locate in a travel agency somewhere. They happen to be two places I've always wanted to see, one a lot more than the other, but purely on an aesthetic level rather than an exploring and adventure one. All morning, I have been googling like mad, putting together lists and bookmarking pages; copying and pasting exciting bits of info to send via email to the boy, and generally doing my research. Turns out, the boy is more swayed by the first option, I more so by the latter (the aesthetic!).
My two options are...
Denarau Island, Fiji, and...
Hamilton Island, off the coast of Queensland.
Pros for Fiji:
7 nights vs 5 at Hamilton Island
New country to explore with more local traiditions and cultural things to see
Horse riding (I plan on riding a horse in every country I visit)
The hotel is the best in Fiji, and the same chain we stayed at in Kulur Lumpur which was beyond amazing.
Day trips to many different islands and heaps of activities at the resort.
The day spa looks to die for!
The temperature is around 27c each day, so warmer than Hamilton for snorkelling and diving.
Pros for Hamilton:
The infinity edge pool is absolutely amazing - drops off into the ocean.
The resort is child free, and completely exclusive to members only, but we still have access to every other resort/amenity on the island.
There's about 5 pool bars. I'm seriously considering making this 1st on the list.
Sailing on a white yacht in the Whitsundays with beautiful azure water and bright white sand with endless snorkelling opportunities is on my Top 10 Things To Do. I can't think of anything in the world more romantic.
I won't even go into the cons - the only negative thing I can think of involves flying to either destination, and once I'm in the air, I don't really mind how much further the flight is, it's the takeoff that destroys my soul.
Ok, so I'm clearly leaning toward Hamilton Island, but having said that, it's based purely on what the websites have told me today - the sites for Fiji are fairly limited, and there isn't much information on day trips/things to see in the area online, but the boy has several brochures he's bringing home tonight with lots of info, so my decision can quite easily be swayed. I can honestly say, there is very few places I would rather go than actually to another country, and as we always find the most incredible experiences come from getting out and about on our own and exploring by making friends with other travelers and locals, rather than anything in a guide book, I can see Fiji being an absolutely blast.
Any one want to help sway my opinion one way or another for me? Leave me some comments!
*(or more realistically, around the 16c mark)
Sunday, May 16, 2010
(In?) Sanity.
So, I've been thinking about what this blog should be for quite some time. At first, I wanted an anonymous place to vent, then I wasn't so sure I didn't want my old blogging buddies not knowing about this after all, and now... well, I think it's just going to be a bit of a free for all.Take it as it comes, and, well, maybe cutting back on the bitching might not be such a bad idea...
I came out of surgery on my arm this morning and am feeling utterly woe-begone. I'm not supposed to do any of the things I spend my life doing - driving, riding, walking the dogs - or, in fact, anything at all. Worked out well as I had a class on injection techniques in guinea pigs today, but still. I split the previous scar open only a few hours after the stitches came out last Thursday from the first op, so I promised myself I would be a good girl this time around. But two more weeks? We'll see how long I last before I'm back in my car.
However, sitting on my ass wondering how to entertain myself (why didn't I pick up a weeks supply of chick flicks? InStyle? A new Jodie Picoult? Suduko, for goodness sake!) I read something rather interesting. Polar bears are left-paw dominant. And it got me thinking - animals have dominant paws? (Or limbs, hooves, you get the idea). I tried googling it, but could only find that dogs are 80% more dominant with their right paw. Then my thought process moved on to "well, I guess Panda's eat more bamboo with one hand than the other, and I suppose gibbons swing through the trees favoring one arm more..." and then I realized.
I am going to go completely insane over these next two weeks, so what better time to get this blog started? Please... if you've got anything of interest for me, any suggestions for what to google next, books to read, movies to watch... I beg you, leave me a comment and keep me sane!
I came out of surgery on my arm this morning and am feeling utterly woe-begone. I'm not supposed to do any of the things I spend my life doing - driving, riding, walking the dogs - or, in fact, anything at all. Worked out well as I had a class on injection techniques in guinea pigs today, but still. I split the previous scar open only a few hours after the stitches came out last Thursday from the first op, so I promised myself I would be a good girl this time around. But two more weeks? We'll see how long I last before I'm back in my car.
However, sitting on my ass wondering how to entertain myself (why didn't I pick up a weeks supply of chick flicks? InStyle? A new Jodie Picoult? Suduko, for goodness sake!) I read something rather interesting. Polar bears are left-paw dominant. And it got me thinking - animals have dominant paws? (Or limbs, hooves, you get the idea). I tried googling it, but could only find that dogs are 80% more dominant with their right paw. Then my thought process moved on to "well, I guess Panda's eat more bamboo with one hand than the other, and I suppose gibbons swing through the trees favoring one arm more..." and then I realized.
I am going to go completely insane over these next two weeks, so what better time to get this blog started? Please... if you've got anything of interest for me, any suggestions for what to google next, books to read, movies to watch... I beg you, leave me a comment and keep me sane!
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