Thursday, October 31, 2013

Happy Halloween

What's a monster's favorite bean?
Answer: A human bean.

A photographer goes to a haunted castle determined to get a picture of a ghost. The ghost he encounters turns out to be friendly and poses for a snapshot. The happy photographer dashes to his studio, develops the film and…learns that the photos are underexposed and completely blank.
Moral of the story: The spirit is willing, but the flash is weak.

Why can't the boy ghost have babies?
Answer: Because he has a Hallo-weenie.

Two monsters went to a party. Suddenly one said to the other, 
“A lady just rolled her eyes at me. What should I do?”
“Be a gentleman and roll them back to her.”


Happy Halloween!


Wednesday, October 30, 2013

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

On the way into work this morning I dropped my doughnut on the sidewalk. You read about these things, but never think it'll happen to you.

via

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

A Very Special Message

Dear Mom,

Happy Birthday! You don’t look a day over 40, and you get even more beautiful with each passing year. You are truly the most loving, thoughtful, selfless, compassionate, caring, giving, amazing woman that this world has ever seen. You make me want to be a better woman. You constantly amaze me in the ways that you care for others before yourself.

Because I don’t tell you "thank you" enough, I wanted to list a few of the things for which I am so grateful...

For sticking with me through those hellacious teenage years that I was horrible to you. For forgiving me in all the ways I hurt you and for not holding them against me. For believing in me and encouraging me when no one else did. For believing the best in me, even when I was at my worst. For supporting my “crazy” dreams, and not just standing behind me in my decisions, but standing beside me, holding my hand every step of the way. For bearing with me through all of the times I thought I knew better. For helping pay my bills when all hope seemed lost. For always putting others before yourself. For standing up for us when people hurt us. For treating Adam as your own son, and loving him just as much. For dropping whatever you are doing no matter how important- if one of us needs you.  Always thinking of ways to make me happy. For telling me I am beautiful. For believing that I am beautiful.

For everything you do for me and mine, thank you. I love you so very much. Words cannot adequately even begin to touch it. I respect you, admire you, look up to you, and adore you. I am so very grateful you are my mother, and I love you deeply.

Happiest of birthdays...may this year be your best one yet.


Love,
your daughter Janet
xoxo

Mother and Daughters

Unaccustomed & A Bright Spot

Unaccustomed - adjective - not familiar or usual; out of the ordinary. That's how I feel about 'good news'. I'm so used to being on the receiving end of bad news that I must admit...I've become very unaccustomed to that magical thing called 'good news' so when I headed to my fertility clinic yesterday afternoon, I was trying to prepare myself for what I was sure was going to be 'bad news'.

Bad news is what I know when it comes to the state of my hostile uterus. The last three years plus seem like one big bundle of bad news (interspersed with a spot of two of good - but mostly bad). I shed a tear (or two) in the car on my way to the clinic and I was a bundle of nerves by the time they called me back. It was awful. I wanted to run far, far away from the clinic as fast as I could. I wished with every fiber of my being to be anywhere else but there even as the rational part of my mind told me I needed to be here. This needed to happen. 

I walked back quietly, head down, softly responding "I'm good thanks" to her friendly question of "How are you today?". They set up, I changed and we were ready to go. 

I never once gave my usual pep talk to myself about how things were going to be fine. I was resigned for the bad. Just hit me with it. Let's get this over so I can go about my day. 

*sigh*

To my utter surprise I was met with a spot of good news...
Uterus - looks fantastic. 
Right tube - open. 
Left tube - open.

I started to cry and I cried a little more when the doctor pulled up a chair, put his hand on my shoulder and offered a few words of encouragement. 

I'm not broken. This can happen. 






Monday, October 28, 2013

Cornucopia

I didn't sleep well last night. I blame the appointment I have this afternoon at my fertility clinic for an Hystero Contrast Sonography. This will tell us if my tubes are still open and I hope with every fiber of my being that they are. The alternative makes me sick to my stomach. 

In honor of this "sick to my stomach" feeling...let's talk about vomit. I've got a whole cornucopia of options at my disposal.

Here’s my ranking of some common names for throwing up, determined by assessing grossness, clarity, creativity, and general usability.

Lose your lunch - This is about as coy as you can get when talking about vomit. Probably if you were hand-painting a tiny, delicate floral pattern onto some china and threw up, this is how you would describe it.

Toss your cookies - It always seems depressing to associate delicious cookies with vomit, but this is your only word choice option if you happen to be someone’s wacky aunt.

Hurl - It's is a pretty aggressive choice.

Puke - It seems like one of the more accepted terms among cool people and binge drinkers, especially when it comes to the concept of “puke and rally.” Though widely accepted, there’s just something inherently gross about how it sounds.

Up chuck - This one is insane. And it sounds way too much like “woodchuck.” If you know someone who uses this term on the reg, be wary.

Drive the porcelain bus/Kneel before the porcelain throne - This is trying way too hard. We get it, you’re talking about a toilet. If you’re someone who is way, way wacky, then maybe you can get away with this, but proceed with extreme caution.

Barf - It should be applauded for delicately walking the line between slang and crassness. It allows you to have fun without being too graphic. Fun fact...'Barf' as a term for vomiting originated in the 1940s, as did the term “barf city.”


Yak - It's lighthearted with an edge. Slightly more sophisticated than “barf,” but still not something you’d say to your grandmother. It loses clarity points for sharing its name with an animal.

Throwing up - It's simple and classic like a little black dress. It’s not too clinical and what it lacks in creativity it makes up for with no-frills appeal, which is what you want if you just threw up. While “throwing up” wins, it can still be problematic: for example, the overuse of “I just threw up inside my mouth a little.” Maybe try throwing up outside your mouth for once.

Retch - It can refer to both vomiting and attempted vomiting. Versatile.

Gagging - It's a good way to vomit with contempt, but it loses clarity points for its multiple definitions.

Blow chunks - This is by far the worst. The imagery, dear god, the imagery.


Which ones do you think are the least terrible?


Thursday, October 24, 2013

Persimmmmmmmmmm

Dear Persimmons,

Hi. This is awkward because I don’t actually know anything about you but here is my ode to you even though I think you could maybe be a yellow pepper. Are you a yellow pepper?

No seriously, what is a persimmon? I think you are an apple but maybe also a tomato? So I guess you are a fruit. And are you related to the pomegranate? (The pomegranate is a fruit, right? I just think of it as a juice or something that stains everything or like something this weird girl I knew in elementary school used to eat everyday when no one would be eating pomegranate because what elementary school-aged child is willingly eating fruit on a regular basis?). Do you taste like a pomegranate because those are okay. Very messy.

I feel like the persimmon is one of those old timey ancient fruits that people in Greece would eat to improve fertility or make someone fall in love with them or give them the ability to shoot lightning bolts from their hands or to make friends with tiny baby angels (my understanding of Ancient Greece is that it was just like that one segment of Fantasia with the centaurs and the cherubs — you know, Beethoven’s “Pastoral Symphony?”) or like the kind of food item that the scary dude in Lord of the Rings would bite into whilst a hobbit sang a song about wars and death and stuff and the persimmon juice would just run all down his chin while everyone else stayed hungry. 


And persimmons maybe also a seasonal fruit because it’s the fall season right now and I just thought of the seasonal things we eat and drink this time of year and for some reason you popped into my head because you are orange. But that is maybe because you are also one of my favorite colors right now and I would very much enjoy a persimmon colored cable knit sweater...please and thank you.

Warm regards,
Janet Off Kilter



Wednesday, October 23, 2013

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

So we're just gonna walk around pretending it's not weird that one of our hands is just worse at everything?


Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Why?

Why do people look at you strangely when you start talking to yourself?

I think the best conversations I have are with myself. I get so much sorted out. Like deciding whether to go completely naked or to wear just two tassels hanging from my nipples as I run around the shopping centre screaming “The mother ship has landed!”. 

But I think it’s important to keep people guessing. Will you or won’t you snap and go completely nuts today? But it’s difficult when I start to argue with myself. There is no escaping me. 

That’s it! I am off...Where do you think you are going? I am not finished yet...I don’t want to talk you anymore. Get your arse back here! No...you can finish this blog by yourself…Yeah, well we all know that I am the brains of this operation. Fine, see if I care cause I can write a perfectly...um, witty eh, thing here...so, excuse me I need to get my...I will be right back.

On second thought.


Monday, October 21, 2013

Frozen

In the past, I've always come here to honestly vent my feelings. Something about wrangling my thoughts into concise sentences has always made them feel more real, more tangible, and thus more manageable. It's the cheapest form of therapy, really.

But lately, I've felt paralyzed. Frozen. The overarching issue currently is the state of my uterus...which while empty, is in no way doomed. Trying to conceive is a private, personal thing; almost impossible to accurately portray to a third party without over sharing.

And so I'm left unsure of how to handle this little space of mine on the internet. Somehow, posting entirely silly stories, pictures and my Funny Face Friday's; seem shallow and fake, as though I'm trying to maintain a 'perfect' facade by not divulging the full context of my life. And yet I still want to share those things. They're a form of therapy as well; small instances of creativity and creation amid what could be a very sad chapter in my life.

So can I simply ask that you know and understand this.

That things are both hard and exquisitely wonderful right now. That my moments of despair are always followed by experiences of comfort, love and hope. That this too shall pass, but that that knowledge doesn't entirely negate the agony of the challenge

That I miss writing to the ether and feeling validated and stronger for it. That I'll try to be more present, sharing the joys in my life without feeling false, because I know you understand the melancholy of my life as well. That as difficult as this is, I'm grateful for my life and grateful that I have places to turn to for comfort.

Having said that...I'll see you soon ☺

Frozen Pond No. 25 by Lipstick Graphics via Etsy

Friday, October 18, 2013

Silence

I think I'm starting to be afraid of being happy because whenever I do get too happy; something bad always happens.

I just don't have words at the moment so I will let the silence speak when words can't.

by Promopocket via Etsy


Thursday, October 17, 2013

Thigh Of The Tiger

I'm in a slump...it's been an incredibly long, confusing and frustrating week (I'll fill you in as soon as I have some answers) but in the meantime...

You know how, when you're wearing a skirt on a fall day (and not a particularly warm one at that I might add) and your thighs get kind of swollen (due to heat) and sticky (ditto)? And then they kind of smack together when you walk, making you feel very, very big? Well, as I've just recently discovered, the most depressing thing in the world is when you trip over your own thighs.

That is all.


Via

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

For The Love Of French Fries

It's lunch time. I'm hungry. I did not bring a lunch today. There is fry truck around the corner. Here are some things I could do with my french fries I am about to go and get...

  • Eat them like a French poodle.
  • Tape them under your nose, so that you look French.
  • Make the Eiffel Tower out of them.
  • Play 52 Pick Up.
  • Toss them at mimes.
  • Have a sword-fight.
  • Dip them in wine.
  • Put an abnormally large amount of French Fries in your mouth and attempt to say "Bonjour!"
  • Use them as band-aids and put them on boo boos. 
  • Paint a picture of the Louvre using a french fry as a paintbrush.
  • Use them for acupuncture.
  • See how long you can have a French Fry in your nose before you get tempted to eat it.
  • Hand them out to French artists in the park.
  • Use them as darts and throw them at a target.
  • Make a French robot.
  • Disguise them as French bread.
  • Wear them on your head like a beret.

If you have any other brilliant ideas of ludicrous things to do with French Fries, or would just like someone to talk to, feel free to comment below. 




Thursday, October 10, 2013

I Wished I Was Her

Most of the time I bring a lunch to work (most of the time) but today was not one of those times. It’s a beautiful day out, unusually warm and sunny for this time of the year, so I decided to walk to Tim Horton’s up the road for a sandwich.

As I neared the front of the coffee shop, I noticed a man sitting on the curb…he was unkept, shoulders slumped with a frown on his face. It was pretty clear to me that this was a man who was down on his luck. There were a few people in front of me heading to the front door, who I’m pretty sure noticed the same thing about him that I did. They were very clearly trying to avoid looking at him, even more so when he meekly asked if they had any spare change for food. Not one of those people in front of me acknowledged his presence, let alone made eye contact with and answered him.

Unlike the people in front of me, I didn't look away. I answered him.

I told him that I did not have spare change but I did have my Tim Horton’s card with me and if he would like to come in with me, I would buy him a coffee and something to eat. I was struck by the genuine surprise on his face as I answered him.

Yes…yes he would like to come and get a coffee and something to eat very much.

I opened the door and in we went.

I immediately noticed her…a woman about my age, wearing something similar to what I was wearing and a very round, very pregnant belly and I immediately wish I was her! Oh how I very much, in that moment, wanted to be her. Pregnant.

I placed my order and handed him his coffee and bagel, he gave a quiet ‘thank you’ and was on his way. I stood at the counter waiting for my sandwich and that pregnant lady, who I wished I was, tapped me on the shoulder and asked me…

 “Do you know him?”

I replied “No, no I don’t know him.”

“Then why did you bring him in here and buy him something? He’s dirty, ugly and smells and now you've spoiled my lunch. I’m pregnant. I can’t be around gross people like that. Please do not bring him in here again. What’s wrong with you?”

I have to admit, I was stunned into silence. I couldn't for the life of me understand why this woman was upset that I bought a stranger a coffee and something to eat. Was he less deserving than her and I because he was (according to her) “dirty, ugly and smelly”?

I told her that everyone deserved a little kindness, grabbed my sandwich and was on my way…and in that moment I was so very, very thankful that I wasn't her.

Illustration by Michael Leunig



If Only I Had Super Powers...

There are times when I wish I were a superhero. I'm guessing a lot of people feel that way sometimes. I mean come on, the ability to fly, shoot lasers from your eyes or run at the speed of light would be pretty epic. What if one day you had the ability to chose one super power that you could have for the rest of your life? But unlike most, I have no delusions that it could ever work out. Not because superheroes don't exist. Instead, because I'm an idiot.

I've read the comic books, watched the shows and cartoons, and even seen the movies which were adapted from cartoons which were adapted from shows which were adapted from comic books. I've seen every super power ever dreamed up, and I've witnessed the awesome and formidable power those powers have conferred to various do-gooding dandies.

And I know just exactly how I'd accidentally muck each one up. Observe, fair citizens...

Flying - Let’s start with flying, this one would be a popular choice of many. It would be cool, but there are already other things that fly, like planes and birds. I fear that I would hit into a bird on my way to beat down some evil villain. 

Laser beams - The kind that Cyclops from X-Men has. Laser beams are pretty awesome and would definitely be useful if you would have to fight some evil villains. What if an evil villain had non-breakable metal suit? Never thought of that did you, exactly. I don’t think that would be the best choice.

Super Speed - See, here's the thing about super speed...nothing else around you is super speedy, just you. So waiting for coffee to brew, or sitting in traffic, or zipping through a bunch of PVRed commercials is just going to seem to take that much longer. I've always thought super speed was the undersized runt of the super power litter, for just that reason. In a pinch, you can whisk someone out of a burning building, or dash halfway across the world to deliver a message. But all that scurrying still takes effort, and how many shoes would you go through careening around all willy nilly like that? I ain't got money to keep buying shoes when I wear mine out from super speeding all around.

Invisibility - No chance. My record for being completely naked and staying entirely quiet is roughly seven seconds. There's no way in hey balls I could tiptoe around au naturel without arousing suspicion, bumping into someone, or making a ruckus.

Telekinesis - I'm lazy enough as it is. If I could actually control the forces of nature such that objects would come to me, it would only get worse. Forget never leaving the house...I'd never get my arse out of bed again. Within a week, I'd be stuck in the sack, four hundred pounds and growing, with the television hovering over the foot of the bed and bags of Skittles slowly emptying themselves into my mouth. 

It's likely best that I remain my average self. I guess being a superhero in my world isn't as easy as it looks.




Wednesday, October 9, 2013

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Hate when I eat the last bite and didn't notice it was the last bite so I couldn't mentally prepare myself and get any closure.

via edibleperspective.com


Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Be Afraid

So, I'm afraid of a lot of weird things.

But...

Let's just say that I've gotten over most of my bizarre phobias. Of course, for every one that I conquer, two or three more slither in to take its place. I'm doing my best, but my brain is hard-wired to worry, and I'm losing the battle. I couldn't possibly make it through the whole list of things that keep me up at night, but I thought that sharing one might help you understand the screaming willies that I'm always just that close to having.

One woman's bundle of nightmares is everyone else's evening entertainment, right?

In any case, here is one thing that I worry about on a daily basis, submitted for your snorting pleasure. I've given it a name, to help us talk clearly about it. (Or to help you describe my various forms of dementia to the men in the white coats when the time comes. It's all good.) Anyway...enjoy. 


Nasofolliculophobia - I've stared, transfixed and powerless to look away, at plenty of people's dangly nose hairs. Far more than I'd care to count, in fact. So I know, in my heart of hearts, that if my nostril locks were to be caught protruding from my proboscis, I wouldn't be alone. It happens all the time. Such things are tolerated, if not downright overlooked.

However. If you've ever been caught, as I have, like a deer in headlights, gazing at someone else's nose fuzz, then you know that you'd never want to subject someone else to that ungodly sight. Which means, if you're again like me, that every itch and tickle...any sensation at all, really in the vicinity of your nose throws you into a panic of doubt about your nostrillary appearance. Is there a hair showing? Or worse, several? Could there be a whole thicket of the things poking out to say hello and wave at passersby? Is there a nose hair jailbreak going on that I don't know about?

All of these questions and more run through my head, leading me to do the only thing I think may ease my mind ...I assign my fingers to perform 'perimeter checks', as discreetly as possible, to see whether there's anything poking out of my nose. I don't venture up the nostrils, but I do rub along the holes as best I can, hoping to find any rogue follicles in need of trimming. Or worse yet, pulling. Ouch!

Of course, all that checking just wiggles everything around a little more, and the itching and tickling continues, and so I have to check again. And again, and again, each time making certain that the last bit of action didn't sproing loose a hair into the open. It's a vicious circle, and the only way out is to find a mirror, do a no-touch visual check, and hope that the thing doesn't itch any more. But the alternative is to be 'that girl', walking around with jungle foliage sprouting out of my nose, and I'm not going there. And if it takes an irrational, obsessive fear to make sure it doesn't happen, then so be it. I'll take (another) one for the team, so you don't have to look at that.

So, there you have it...just a small taste of one of the things that keep me awake at night. Hopefully, if nothing else, this has helped to show you how reasonable and well adjusted you are, by comparison. And if not...if you share this same ridiculous fears, or...gasp...have even worse phobias, then...well, you've got even more to worry about now. 


You're as screwed up as I am, or even screweder.


 


Monday, October 7, 2013

Lemony Snicket

Crying (also called sobbing, weeping, wailing, whimpering, bawling, or blubbering) is the shedding of tears in response to an emotional state in humans. The act of crying has been defined as "a complex secretomotor phenomenon characterized by the shedding of tears from the lacrimal apparatus, without any irritation of the ocular structures". A related medical term is lacrimation, which also refers to non-emotional shedding of tears.

Frequency of crying - According to the German Society of Ophthalmology, which has collated different scientific studies on crying, women cry on average between 30 and 64 times a year, and men cry on average between 6 and 17 times per year. Men tend to cry for between two and four minutes, and women cry for about six minutes. Crying turns into sobbing for women in 65% of cases, compared to just 6% for men. Until adolescence, however, no difference between the sexes was found.

30 to 64 times a year...it feels like I've cried that in a week!

How many times I, Janet Off Kilter, have cried in the past 7 days...


  1. In the washroom at my fertility clinic while peeing in a cup to be screened (again) for STIs I know I do not have, before I can proceed with my Hystero Contrast Sonography.
  2. In my car after leaving my fertility clinic.
  3. In the waiting room of the lab while waiting to have my blood drawn to recheck me TSH and liver enzymes while staring at pamphlets for umbilical cord blood banking and Maternal and Fetal Testing (wondering if I'll ever have to consider this).
  4. At the pay station for parking at the lab upon realizing they only accept credit cards and that my credit card was in my desk at work because I had used it to order books from Amazon.
  5. In my car after a stranger paid my three dollar parking fee so I could leave the lot.
  6. In the shower (usually my crying haven).
  7. Sunday afternoon when I got a call that I had to go to see my doctor first thing Monday morning (downtown, through construction) to review my abnormal blood results.
  8. At the thought of yet more tests and obstacles in my way to becoming pregnant.
  9. In my kitchen when the weight of the world felt like it was pressing down on me.
  10. Over cookies...yes, over cookies. True story.

...you know that a good, long session of weeping can often make you feel better, even if your circumstances have not changed one bit.” 

Thursday, October 3, 2013

Funsies, Rants & Surviving

Just for funsies, somebody please explain to me why there's Christmas stuff in stores and it isn't Halloween yet. And for even more funsies, somebody please explain why I bought an advent calendar from one of those Christmas displays, while simultaneously appalled that it was out in the first place and yet so smitten with this particular wooden calendar I had to buy it, thereby inadvertently answering my own question regarding the presence of those displays...they are out because asshats like me buy things from them, in October, if they're cute enough (the things, not the asshats). 
*I don't even like advent calendars*

I have a rant (about something...that I'll tell you about soon) that’s gonna knock your socks off. What a stupid cliché. I mean who wants their socks knocked off? How does that even work? Maybe a hat. Or a cardigan. But socks? Everybody knows socks require pulling down and over the heel, so by definition they can’t be "knocked off." Oh wait. Maybe that’s the point. Weird.

People, I'm losing it, and not because of haphazard advent calendar purchasing or sock removal questions. I'm in the middle of an insane period at work, infertility is on my mind and seriously messing with my heart and soul, I've committed to more social gatherings than I should have and it's become abundantly clear that I bit off more than I can chew...so I guess I'm more "choking" than "losing it" but why get caught up in details?. 


Every day feels like a small miracle because I survived. I'll take it (for now) but what I really want...





Wednesday, October 2, 2013

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

I was watching Animal Planet this morning while eating breakfast, and get this...hippos don't really eat marbles!




Tuesday, October 1, 2013

A Little Note For You (Me)

I believe that sometimes it can actually be a good sign if you are going a little bit crazy. It means you are really being involved in life. It means you are part of the action. It means, in short, that you are...and that is quite an important thing to be.

Then there are other times when it is a bad sort of crazy.

When you are facing problems that look down on you from a giant`s perspective, and try to bring you down. When everything that is good and right in your world will not work. These are the times that show what a girl is made of. You need to have guts to wade through the mires of life and come out on the other side, if not triumphant, then certainly changed and honed so that all the characteristics that make you you are clearer than ever before.


It is in those troubling times that one finds them self, and treasures who they are all the more.

I just wanted to leave a note for you, oh troubled soul. I wanted to let you know that, though they may not proclaim their intentions from the roof tops, there are those who love and care about you. They really do care. Proof of this arrived in my mailbox....

Thank you, Thank you, Thank you Maria and Piper (Steve too) for this sweet & very thoughtful gift. It arrived just when I needed it most and for that I'm incredibly grateful. xoxox

So I encourage you to continue to talk to someone who has been good at lending an ear in the past, and pour out some of your troubles to them.  Good things happen when you open up to people. You don't have to dredge up everything that has broken your heart since the day of your birth, but you can give them a short of summary of what's going on.

Ask them for a hug, if you need it.

Then go out and do something amazingly fun and lighthearted, because you and I both know you've been avoiding that sort of thing lately. Have a fancy dinner on the good china, just because you need a little pick me up. Have a cupcake, too, if that will cheer you up. Instead of shoveling it down as you let out your worries, savor and enjoy each little lick you take of that amazing butter cream icing. Take the time to smile over each bite, each breath of fresh air, each second spent enjoying your chosen 'have fun' activity.

Then let it go.

It will leave a mark on you, perhaps, that this event ever took place, but I think it's past time you decided to live in the here and now, and stop wasting your energy worrying about the actions of others, and the events that befall you. You'll just go insane that way.

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