Meet Zee

This is Zee. We originally named him this because when we brought him home, and the kids were so anxious to play with him, all he really wanted was to sleep. Now, though, we know he is also:

Cray-Zee
Fuz-Zee
Clum-Zee (oop-Zee!)
No-Zee
Biz-Zee
and sometimes Lay-Zee.
Oh, and he bites. (Ow-Zee!)

Burning the pile

When I was a little girl growing up in the country, once a year or so, it came time to Burn the Pile. I live in suburbia now, and we don't set huge fires on purpose there. But it's nice to see that things haven't changed at home.

My Ta Da list

Throw out your To Do list, it's such a drag. Start something new. Start a TaDa! List. Celebrate your own effectiveness, be bold in your estimation of what you can accomplish - because You. Are. Fabulous.

Here's mine for today.

Answer the phone every time it rings
Go to the counter every time someone comes in
Receive, label and put away product (8 boxes so far. Who ordered this stuff??? Oh yeah, me)
Create and distribute e-flyer for April
Calculate real value of inventory (8 pages left, 45 lines per page)
Calculate EHF charges remittable for March
Calculate source deductions remittable for March
Calculate Worker's Comp remittable for March
Check, label and put away replacement procuct for three RMAs received two weeks ago
Find a wireless mouse in the shape of a pen that is readily available through my distribution channel
Change the ads on the mobile sign out front
Erase and update prices on the markerboards
Update prices on the website for cases, systems and video cards
Vacuum
Clean the windows
Clean the microwave
Take out the garbage
Order more product as required
Answer voicemail and email and endless questions (how do I make the "at" symbol?)
Eat
Pee (G)

At least, that's what I know about so far. And yes, it'll be a miracle if I get half of this done.

But nevermind.
I am FABULOUS.
TaDa!

Spring

It's spring, and I'm in the mood for some fresh beginnings. Aren't you? And since life is mostly made of the littlest moments and small personal choices, I will start by adding some Good Things to my life, right now.

Today I'm learning the words to The Rainbow Connection, so I can sing it to Pebbles at bedtime. Just FYI, she also likes:
Carolina on My Mind, James Taylor
Something in the Way She Moves, James Taylor
You've Got a Friend, Carole King
Rocket Girl, Doc Walker
Run for the Roses, Dan Fogelberg

Also, I am going to be more conscious of the things I am grateful for. A shadow on the ground, because it means the sun is out. Thick, dark chocolate pudding. Customers who love my store. Being able to see the ocean from work and home.

I will do the things I love. I will bake something delicious on the weekend - maybe colorful thumbprint or M&M cookies with the kids. We will dunk those cookies in tall glasses of fresh, cold milk - manners be damned. And we have a birthday party for Pebbles on Sunday - she's three, or maybe thirteen. Sometimes I can't tell.

Roo

Yesterday I took Roo back to the vet, and I did what I needed to do.

My heart hurts.

I'll spare you the details, and say only that in the end there were no more questions. It was Time.

I guess the heart knows after all.

We're hanging in there

Today a salt fog rolled over the city and knocked out the power for three hours. And no, I didn't know that could happen either. While it was dark in here I dusted, I put some papers in alphabetical order and I checked over my cable inventory. Confirmation: it's in a sorry state.

Uncle is somewhat stable for someone whose heart has failed. He's on a pump that moves his blood for him through massive tubes sewn to his heart that pass through the front of his chest. He is heavily sedated but my Mom can still make him grin. His body looks a lot different but he's definitely in there somewhere.

Pebbles says he has a broken heart.

His first heart attack was 19 years ago, and they figured he had 5 years to live. There have been many technological advancements in this past decade - there are smaller versions of the pump that he's presently on that can be inserted right into the chest. There is a slight possibility of a transplant. We have hope.

Also hanging in there, my cat Roo. My husband says it's like caring for an infant - he feeds her many times a day, coaxing her to eat and drink, keeping her clean and carrying her to the litter. We laugh and call it Kitty Rehab. He makes her get up and walk around, and he has some medicine he's been giving her. She still wants to be close to us and she seems to be gaining weight and strength, so we hope that a few weeks more will make a big difference. I don't know what we'll do if she doesn't improve. I'm not thinking about that yet.

The sneaky bum.

We're driving home in the car, Pebbles and me. It's dark, it's shitty weather (surprise!) I'm listening to the radio, and hoping that she won't fall asleep on the way.

A little voice came from the backseat: "Mom, my bum is sneaking out."

I turned down the radio. "Um. Your what?"

"My bum!"

I glance over my shoulder. She's strapped in to her five-point carseat, just like I thought she would be. "Oh, well. We can fix that when we get home."

"It's a long way, Mummy."

"Yes, that's true I guess." I turned up the radio, hoping she'd get interested in the music and forget about her little problem.

"Mummy, I need HELP!"

"Allrightallrightallright." I pulled over, went around the back of the car, skidding and slipping on the icy shoulder, went back to the driver's seat to unlock the doors, and finally managed to get where I needed to be. I tucked my hands down on either side of her little self, and sure enough, a soft warm tiny bottom. I tugged up her tights and got back in the car.

"Thank you Mummy.

"You're welcome. No more sneaky bum?"

"No more sneaky bum."

Un-depressing post, as promised

The Call

Found out today that a family member is in intensive care, in a coma, his heart failing. As I listened to the details, this song was playing on my computer. I thought it rather poignant, beautiful in the most painful of ways.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HUO0gd7cr9o

Enough with the dreary stuff! Happy posts coming.

thanks guys!

The next long weekend is WHEN?

At some point earlier this week it occurred to me that the next time I have two days off in one week will be Easter weekend. In freaking April. This realization made my steps slow and heavy, and all my enthusiasm crept away to hide somewhere warm. I started scowling at the phone when it rang, instead of picking it up with a smile. I started leaning on my desk, face smooshed in my palm. I felt completely overwhelmed.

You have to figure this out, I told myself as I drove home through yet another snowstorm. You can't just give up and hire someone. You have a plan. You have to do this yourself. Make it work, dammit.

Susan talked the other day about things we have to keep learning in life, and I know one of mine is the importance of regular exercise. I know I always feel better when I'm active.

But I don't want to, I thought at 11:04 pm as I sat on the edge of the bed, contemplating the alarm clock. I know it will probably help, but I don't want to get up early to work out. (Yes, it was that whiny.)

And so I didn't.

But then school was cancelled, which meant I didn't have to make BamBam's lunch or be on hand to harass him through the Getting Ready process. I put my body on the elliptical trainer and said: Now. Go.

Partway through my workout, I realized that DH had awoken and was just laying there, watching my behind.

Showered and dressed, I made my way to the kitchen, to find said husband putting the finishing touches on a monster-sized salad for my lunch. And that's when it hit me.

I'm not doing this on my own. I haven't been. There's this man, who works in the rec room at night, who takes care of the house and the kids, who puts gas and windshield fluid in my car, who cooks my dinner and loves me from the most unflattering angles. And makes me a salad, because it's good for me and because I look like I might be on a health kick today.

The exercise helped, but so did the reminder that I do have him. He really is a treasure. We're doing this together, and we're going to be fine. We're going to make it work. And, he reminds me, there's nothing stopping me from closing the store on a Saturday - Just Because.

So my cat just looks like shit.

The verdict is in. For the price of two week's groceries, we are assured that our cat is stubborn. I am giddy. I am so relieved, so grateful.

There is no evidence of liver, kidney or thyroid malfunction. No obvious tumors, no diabetes. No heart trouble. The vet says she's surprised how healthy Roo is, considering how she looks.

She is dehydrated and underweight. (15 lbs down to 7.8) Apparently, she hates her food and simply won't eat it. And because both cats eat from the same bowl, we didn't clue in that she was starving.

I've just got to say, this would never happen to me. (S)

Her muscles have deteriorated to the point that she is working very hard to move around, and that is why she pants so heavily. Poor old girl. We'll stock up on the extra-stinky, extra-gooey canned yuck that she seems to prefer.

Thank you for commiserating with me on this. I really thought we were losing her, and your comments were a really big comfort.

...and Roo goes to the Vet

The nose knows, I thought to myself this morning as I carried Pebbles up the hall to the kitchen. We both blinked in the light, and I put the kettle on for my coffee. And so does the heart.

There it was, right by the back door. Pee, again. I cleaned it up with a rag, some bleach cleaner and a heavy heart.

Before I left the house, I kneeled beside a cardboard box tucked beneath an end table. Inside it, curled up on a green towel, my sixteen-year-old cat watched me with sunken but adoring eyes. She's lost a lot of weight just lately, her legs and paws are painfully bony, and her sides heave with the force of her purring.

"I love you, Roo."

Soon, I will have a call from my husband with The News. I'm hoping for a bladder infection. Have you ever hoped for one of those? Me, neither.

In the meantime, in that place deep in my chest where Truth lives, I think I know otherwise.

I'm afraid it may be Time.

Time for a break?

Ah, the Christmas Season. Brings out the best in folk. At least, I believed that right up until I started working in retail and computer repair. So it's been busy.

Yesterday I went into the shop to heat up my lunch and review the current workload with the technician. I strolled around the room, pointing to things and ticking them off in my mind.
"So...this one's got drive controller issues...this is one of the Gray machines, almost finished? The tower in the corner is scanning, new build here and here, hard drive diags on that laptop, this one's updating. Good. But what's beeping for God's sake?"
The technician said "Uh, that would be the microwave."

A reminder

Embedding is disabled, so please click.

Paper Angels, by Jimmy Wayne

Oh, hi!

This might be the longest pause I've ever had between posts.

I'm working. Constantly, nonstop, and squeezing in extra time here and there. Christmas and year end are coming and I'm just really, really no-kidding-busy.

Susan blogged a bit about escaping into books, and I must say I've been lucky there. A few weeks ago I had a pile of half-read books collecting dust on my dresser:

Roots, Alex Haley
The Alexandria Link, Steve Berry
In Still and Silent Waters, Reah Tannahill
Angels and Demons, Dan Brown
The Seventh Son, Reah Tannahill
Russka, Edward Rutherfurd

I think I might even be forgetting one or two. I don't know what it was, I just couldn't settle into these books. I don't mean that they weren't any good (though one of them was kind of awful and you can probably tell which one. (G)) I was just restless and feeling a little lost. So I was reading Outlander, because that's where I go when I can't get comfortable anywhere else.

Then my fourteen-year-old sister dropped a stack of books in my lap:

A Great and Terrible Beauty, Libba Bray
Rebel Angels, Libba Bray
The Sweet Far Thing, Libba Bray
Ink Exchange, Melissa Marr
Wicked Lovely, Melissa Marr

(Yes, she's all sorts of Awesome)

And I bought myself a copy of My Lord and Spymaster.

So no more problems in that area.

Listen, if you know Claire from the Forum - or even if you don't - say a prayer for her and her new daughter Sophie. There were complications during the birth, but things are looking pretty good.

The weekend - in point form

So, I didn't get to Surrey. I don't know that I ever will. And it's all right, I wouldn't have wanted to miss this weekend at home, anyway.

After work Saturday, went to the local Farmer Clem's with DH and Pebbles and bought some Honey Crisp apples (yum) and a big fat pumpkin.

Went from there to a local hobby farm, to pick up BamBam from a birthday party. The kids both had pony rides, and we spent a while hanging out in the petting pen with some baby goats, a turkey and a couple of Llamas. Also had some interesting face time with a pot-bellied pig. He was cool.

Went home, and took some pictures of the kids playing in the leaves.

Ate pork roast rubbed with garlic, rosemary and pepper, and then glazed with a honey-soya marmalade mix. Mashed potatoes with mayo and green onion, too.

Made sugar cookies with the kids - we made a helluva mess but it was worth it.

Sunday, carved the pumpkin. Played play-dough. Made cream of broccoli soup for lunch, it was really good.

1 medium onion
2T butter
2c finely chopped fresh broccoli (I had about 1" pieces)
2 1/2 cups milk
2T chicken oxo
1c shredded cheddar cheese
3-4 drops hot pepper sauce

Melt the butter in a saucepan, add onion and cook until tender. Add broccoli, stir and cook 2-3 more minutes. Add milk, OXO powder and hot sauce, stir occasionally until broccoli is tender. Add cheese, stir until melted. Serve.

Went to bed early in fresh sheets, and slept like a log.

Peel my banana - it's comportant!!!

I love living with a toddler. Pebbles says the most incredible things these days, and at not quite two-and-a-half, we are suitably impressed.

Me: "Eat your spaghetties, Pebbles."
Pebbles: (long-suffering sigh) "It's spaghetti, Mom. Only one."

I guess she has my grammar thing. She also has my sweet tooth:

Pebbles: "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Me: "I don't know. What are you thinking?"
Pebbles: "I'm thinking....cookie."

Speaking of cookies, this week has been really crummy as far as customers and work goes (ok, except for the bread and honey. That was incredible.) And if anyone ever says to you that mercury is in retrograde, don't laugh. I tell you: people lose their minds, and nothing goes right for two weeks solid. I work in retail, just trust me.

I did make my wordcount goal the other day, and I've been developing the habit of writing a page or two in bed at night. It's working!

The Good, the Bad, and the Yummy

And this is what happens. Make fun of some guy, and the Universe promptly smacks me on the Proverbial.

Remember Angry Customer from the last post? Well, she called me yesterday. She wanted her money back from the one hour labour she paid for our assessment of her computer (including the part where we said Duh, lady there's no freakin' fan in here) and the 8 viruses that we did, in fact remove, because we have Skills. Secret Ninja-Computer-Technician Mind Tricks, indeed. And a set of screwdrivers.

Her argument seemed to revolve around the fact that our assessment didn't jive with what the Other Guy said (yes, the one who called me - He of No Skills or Secret Ninja Tricks.) And since she didn't know which one of us to believe, someone must be Fibbing Big Time, and she didn't want to pay anybody any money until she got to the bottom of it. She would take it farther, she assured me. As in, to court.

This is Canada. To us, this qualifies as Truly Bizarre Behaviour.

So we replied that our charges were fair and honest, and being Without A Clue does not entitle one to a refund. If it did, I'd be waaay out of business. My husband had a long talk with her, during which he explained that we did the work that we were hired to do, to the greatest extent possible. We did not take her fan, (she was not accusing us of doing so) and hence we were not responsible - morally or financially - for any distress she may be experiencing. He welcomed her to find any person, anywhere, with grounds to suggest that we had ever been dishonest in our dealings.

At the end of the conversation, she said "So, I'm not getting my money back?"

Um, no. You're not.

And thankyouverymuch, Universe, for the reminder.

In other news, a week or so ago, an older lady came in and said she had all kinds of porn on her computer. (Put there by viruses, I assure you!) She was just the tiniest little bit upset and embarassed, so I leaned across the counter, touched her on the wrist and said...

"That's a very bad habit, you know."

She laughed. And yesterday when her computer was fixed, she brought me some lovely fresh bread - rustic and crunchy - from her daughter's bakery.

Today, another customer brought us some fresh honey from his very own bees. I'm thinking the two are going to be very tasty together. Aren't we lucky, to be so blessed with thoughtful, appreciative and caring customers?

This is a very funny world we live in.

Now, who makes fresh butter?

On working with boys

A few weeks ago, a woman brought us a laptop for repair. In addition to a smattering of viruses, it seemed to have a heat issue, so my technician flipped it over, opened it up and found...no fan. The whole cpu/heatsink assembly was missing. Gone.

Of course the customer had no idea where the fan went. She said the thing had nevah evah been taken apart since she bought it from a store down on the South Shore last Christmas.

I had my doubts as to whether the thing could actually go that long without a fan, but I hestitated over telling her that either a) she was wrong or b) someone in the house is lying or c) both.

(Aside: The thing is pink. It's been spray-painted pink, and the guy who sold it to her is the one who painted it. Professional, hunh?)

So Angry Customer now called the original vendor to complain about lack of fan, and he offered - right then, sight unseen - to go ahead and install the $130 fan for her. (Ok, buddy, it's your money.)

So this guy called me on the phone today. Right away, he had The Tone. The "I'm about to make you look stupid" tone. He was probably aggravated by the fact that he was out a sizeable chunk of green, and looking - and feeling - kinda dumb himself.

"It says here on your invoice that you charged her for an hour's labour, which was supposed to include virus scanning and removing 8 viruses from her data?"

"Yes, that's right." wait for it.....

"Well, I'm just curious, how could you POSSIBLY scan this thing in the two minutes it takes for it to overheat and shut down?" TaDAAA!

"Well, we took the drive out of the laptop and scanned it in our shop machine. We do that to prevent the viruses loading into memory so we can clean them properly." How the heck do YOU do a virus scan?

"Oh."

This sort of pissing contest happens, because this is an industry mainly operated by boys. I can't help but feel a little smug when one of them slips in his own piddle. I know it's wrong. It's just so....fun.

Plans for today

In the interest of making myself accountable, I thought I'd pop in here and think out loud for a few minutes.

There are work things that need doing today - the usual customer care - be it telephone, counter or email - plus reconciling the transac account, finishing my October Mailout and getting that gone, and following up on the last month of repairs. (Thassa lotta phone calls!) I need to find out what happened to the renewal of my Trend license, and pay some bills.

In betwixt all this most excellent computer-store-lady behaviour, I am also determined to get down a scene that has been hanging around for a few days now. It's actually a rewrite of a section that I knew was wrong, and now I know how to fix it. I've given Carrie my horsey background, and this actually will help to cement the bond between her and Luke-the sexy-veterinarian. I'd like to see seven hundred words of that today. And I need to update my word meter, too!

So, off I go. First things first, though - coffee!