food is good

Well, we survived our move at work from the old crappy building to the fancy new one. However, in the process, I was reminded that I get low blood sugar and that entering into that state does funny things to me. After a rather hectic, and therefore breakfastless, morning, I rushed into work early to greet the impending move. All was well and the movers were organised, so my low energy levels didn't really bother anyone (I did have a coffee candy - a little condensed coffee/sugar thing from Indonesia...but that's another story). I was, perhaps, a wee bit spacy, but no more. By the time I arrived at the new building, though, events had transpired to cause my poor little under-sugared brain to twist up and start issuing rather abrupt commands. This, of course, flipped the switch from Spacy to Bitchy.

I subsequently apologised for any bitchy behaviour and blamed it squarely on my pancreatic inadequacies. I really have to teach my organs to manage better under starve mode.

Round about 11am, the opportunity for coffee break - and my first food (because you can't really count a coffee candy) finally arose. Here, those around me were able to witness the dramatic alteration in my person as Bitchy became Whiny. I gratingly wheedled that Coffee Break should indeed be rethought of as Early Lunch Break. Fortunately, everyone agreed - although likely only in an effort to shut me up. Hey, we all benefited.

Much improved after inhaling two cups of strong coffee with sugar, a chicken quesadilla and fries, I was able to resume my day and attend to the looming lengthy afternoon in front of me. We all, I believe, survived.

Tomorrow promises to be another early morning leading into a day of constant re-organisation as we unpack. The difference will be that I will start my day with tea and toast. Hardly the breakfast of champions, but at least the breakfast of the mentally stable (ish).

further deterioration

I went to the dentist Thursday morning. I'm not one of those people who's terrified of the dentist; my dentists and I have, over the years, had fairly amicable relationships. I keep my teeth reasonably healthy and they don't perform any nasty, painful procedures on me. I haven't grown any wisdom teeth (that may mean something...), I haven't had any cavities and I've only ever had reluctant baby teeth pulled. We've had a good understanding.

During the past week or so, however, my first molar in the upper-right side of my mouth has been out of sorts. It's been sensitive to heat and cold, and a little discomfited with the idea of being used for chewing. I was only concerned enough to mention this, in passing, to my husband: no more. He, though, was more concerned. As a person more familiar with the full range of dental procedures, he advised me that these new sensations, however apparently minor, could indeed be symptomatic of a larger problem. I scoffed. He insisted. I made an appointment.

By the time I arrived at the clinic, early, with brushed and flossed teeth, and hungry (who eats before going to the dentist??), I was more than a little concerned. Even once inside, there was no comfort; everyone began preparing me for the worst. X-rays were taken and my teeth were tapped, poked and stressed to check for cracks. Hums were hawed and caveats were issued. My clean dental record was working in my favour, but there is a first time for everything.

In the end, I received a cavity-free verdict. No abscesses or stress cracks, either. I was hit with the decision that this trauma to the teeth is the result of my nighttime grinding - something I've done religiously since growing my first two teeth to grind together. This grinding has now worn down my teeth so that new, previously unaffected teeth, are feeling the pinch. This is putting stress and strain on the surrounding ligaments and can be akin to spraining an ankle or injuring the tendons.

Wait a minute - what???

I've been dealing with tendonitis in my ankles for the past six months. I'm nearly healed and hitting only a few potholes on the road to recovery. So, what - now that my ankles are getting better, my teeth ligaments find it necessary to get put out? I've become command central for the connective tissue insurrection?? Have I been such a horrible host for the past thirty years that all my body parts now wish to partake in acts of treason?

I'm really not sure what to make of this. I must be doing something wrong. Or, at least, not doing something right. I hope I have a while to figure it out. My body seems to be taking some sort of rotating strike action for the moment, but who knows how long it'll be before the situation escalates into work stoppages, blockades or an all out war. Wish me luck - and lots of time.

cat attack

My cat, who can be seen by following the link above, insists on commandeering my abdomen anytime I am sleeping, trying to sleep in or nap. Not my husband's, mine. I'm not quite sure why. She rarely sits on laps and she doesn't particularily like to be picked up. However, the stomach-stealing form of human contact seems to be, not only acceptable, but desirable to the point of becoming damned annoying.

At night, she'll stay perched over my belly button for ten to fifteen minutes before going to settle in at the end of the bed. Okay, I can handle that. But often she'll come back later in the night, or in the morning as I'm trying to get up, and settle in for the long haul. I'm sure she'd stay there hours on end, if I let her. She refuses to repond to the subtleties of prodding her back, shifting the covers, tapping her head or the lure of toys and freedom can only be gained by forcibe removal. As a result, I am glared at and muttered at for a length of time (I've never stuck around long enough to hear the whole complaint).

Maybe this is a cat "thing". She is the first cat I've ever had and has surprised me with several previously unknown cat "things". Perhaps, like those, she is simply enlightening me to the ways of being owned by a cat. I could certainly see her stoically taking on this belly battle just to prove a point. If so, I suppose she is being kind - a sort martyr for cats everywhere, while breaking in one more human to create an appropriate cat companion.

She still seems to get the better deal out of it.

snow in February???

Yes, it actually snowed on the Canadian west coast yesterday - six days into February. It's not like it stayed (as if!) but there was definitely snow falling. I've become a complete and total wimp since moving to Lotus Land a few years back. I used to stoically weather -40 degrees (that's in Celsius, folks) with great regularity while spending winters in northern BC, Edmonton and Yellowknife. I just dressed accordingly, warmed my truck up for at least 15 minutes before driving and survived quite well. Now, if the temperature dips toward the freezing mark, I can barely handle it. No number of sweaters suffice (I don't own that many, anymore) and I am simply chilled to the bone.

I'm sure it must be a different kind of cold. Really. It's a damp cold, not the dry cold that I'd been accustomed to. I don't know that humidity alone can account for a 40 degree difference, but let's stick to that theory. The only other theory is that a person's skin can thin out so much in so short a time, and there must be medical papers out there somewhere that dispute that.

Fortunately, winter is almost, if not entirely, over. The days are getting longer, blooms are out and the grass is turning various shades of green. I haven't seen anyone mowing lawns yet, but there have been lots of people running around in shorts. Soon, I'll be able to lament my lack of air conditioning.

upon reflection

I think I have to rethink my quasi-whining of the last post. Apparently there are lots of U2 fan club members who weren't even able to get tickets during the presale (an unfortunate occurrence which is in the process of being rectified, or at least compensated, according to website and email information).

So, the fact that I got two tickets at all should seem rather gratifying. Alright then. I'm fairly over the mediocrity of the seats. I'm still going to check in tomorrow morning at Ticketmaster anyway... I'll be over it more once I am unable to get my hands on anything better.

the day Bono is scheduled to come to town (and Larry and Adam and the Edge)

Well, I bought my U2 tickets today - it was the fan club presale, so I thought I'd be getting in early on a piece of the action. I guess I did.

I didn't want floor seats (and I use the term loosely - it's all general admission/no chairs) as I'm just getting too old for that. I'm also unable to line up all day to make sure that I get a good spot. So, why bother? I was more than willing to shell out the bucks for (good) side seats.

I got side seats. They're, really, not bad. I have had worse. I have happily had worse. They're just not as good as I'd thought they'd be. I now have to wait for the tickets to go on sale to the general public and see what kind of availability there is. Perhaps the pre-sale tickets really sold out that fast. Or, the pre-sale tickets were limited to some so-so tickets (two of which I got). It may be impossible for me to get anything better and, if that's the case, I'll pay my visa bill and be very happy. However, if I am able to locate better seats on Saturday morning, I will then have a dilemma: spend another whack-load of cash on better seats and try and offer my mediocre (yet just as pricey) pre-sale seats to friends, or let it lie and go buy a pair of binoculars.

It's just going to be unsettled for the next couple of days. I have tickets. I will still get to see Bono in Vancouver on their only Canadian date scheduled so far. I will still probably buy a t-shirt or, at least, another key chain. I will still relentlessly listen to How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb and, closer to the date, all previous U2 albums to the point of driving my husband insane and questioning his will to attend the concert with me.

But I probably won't renew my subscription for the next great pre-sale offer.