the torture has begun ...

I look out the window at the trees being weighed down with snow and it echos how I feel.

I am a strong tree, but my branches can be weighed down at times.

No worries.

The snow will melt and I will feel light again.

The Uncle came from one of the nasty snowy areas of the country.

He was looking forward to coming here for nicer weather.

He didn't even bring his gloves or his toque.

Instead, he brought the snow.

It actually only stopped snowing about 30 minutes ago, which was pretty much right after I got home from the bus that got stuck 4 blocks away.

The bus was stuck and the bus driver yelled, "OK!  If everyone moves to the back of the bus, we might get traction!"  She then added in, "And if you are someone who asked for a white Christmas, why don't you just leave the bus right now!"

Buses and cars were stuck everywhere.  We can't handle the snow here in Vancouver.

I have my own struggles with snow.  Never mind vehicles being stuck.  My whole body gets stuck.

Anyway, it's The Uncle's fault that the snow is here.  He brought it.

He also brought his humour.

You see, when we were doing the Great DR Purge (not to be confused with The Great Sewage Flood Purge), I had given him my key for my piano, to be put into the safety deposit box.

There are not too many of these keys around.  My tuner gave it to me years ago.  He just happened to have one for my 1910 Heintzman.

I've held on to that key for years.  It's one of the few things I don't lose.  Why would I!?!?  It belongs to one of my most treasured items!!

Anyway, instead of bringing it to the bank, The Uncle took it all the way to his snowy city of Calgary.

That's when my fears started to set in.

What if he loses it?!?!?  What if he doesn't get the importance of my treasure?!?!

I asked him to mail it.

He didn't.

I almost threatened to come by plane and pick it up myself.  He finally said, "I'll just bring it with me when I come to visit."

Do you know how many months I had to wait?!

So, we picked him up yesterday.  He said to me, "Oh, here's your key!"  He handed me a nice tiny manila package.

Something was wrong.  It didn't feel as chunky as it should.

I opened and pulled out a key, but it wasn't my key!!!!

So I panicked and said, "This is NOT my KEY!!!!!"

I looked to Papi with demon eyes as if to say, "This is all YOUR fault!"  I don't know why it would be his fault, but I blamed him anyway.

Then it came.

The two of them together started giggling and The Uncle fessed up, "I wasn't going to play this joke on you but he said it would be ok," as he pointed his thumb toward the guilty party who was chuckling behind him.

"It's in our safe," Papi assured me.

The Uncle has arrived.

The tag team torture has begun.

i love challenges and embrace them

Jesus lives!!!

Ok.

I'm pretty sure Jesus is stalking me.

Let's back up for a sec.

Remember the sewage flood and The Great Sewage Flood Purge?

It's been a while since I've been to the attic to see what clothing I have.

Well, if I'm being honest, the brain injury didn't even allow me to know about all that existed up there.

I now have a brand new bunch of dresses to choose from!

The real reason I was up there was to find my winter puffy coat.

Found it!

And guess what I found in the pocket?

Seriously.

Of all the people that could receive this little gem, this agnostic verging on atheist is the last one to actually appreciate this gift.

I'm pretty sure that if I believed in 'God', I would be shouting from the mountain tops that he's sending me messages.

No.

It's just Jesus, and here is my gift:

I thought it was probably the Tranny Terrorist making a funny, but my love assured me he didn't do it.

Honestly.

Who's the one who keeps getting the zealots at the door?

Who's the one who incessantly has to explain to the G'ma that I don't believe in her 'God'?

Who's the agnostic verging on atheist who gets royally pissed when people try to push their beliefs on her?

And who's the one who has Jesus in their pocket?

Me.

I don't really get it.

It definitely wasn't G'ma who put this gem in my pocket.  G'ma can't get up the stairs.

g'ma has just left for 3 months!! my blood pressure has resumed normal levels ...

So, there's a mystery in the house, and I'm pretty sure I know who did it.

Yup, it's Jesus, and he's stalking me.

I don't deny that he existed, but I have a hard time believing that he's always hangin' around me.

Though I just have to wonder, who's the devil who keeps taunting me with all this!!??!?!

Hang on!!

Maybe it was the ghost of G'pa.  I occasionally feel him in the house, and apparently he was a real joker.

So there it is!  I just figured it out!!

G'pa has combined forces with Jesus and they're playing games with me.

Papi always says, "I wish you got to meet G'pa."

I have, Papi.

I have, and he's a cheeky bugger.

My Sperm Donor

Today I receive my beautiful 1910 Heintzman upright grand piano.

My fingers  have been waiting 5 months to play for my heart.  But, I have to be careful as to what I choose to play

Sometimes, it can pull me further into the pit of doom.  Sometimes, the most emotional of songs will reach that part of me that is aching, and those sound waves will whisper in my ear as if they are a living tortured soul, crying with me in empathy.

I've learned over the years as to which songs I should play for different feelings.  I am so sensitive to music, that when I'm feeling low, I can't listen to anything that would entice the demons to come for a visit.

When emotions are raw, I can only play classical music on those ebony and ivory keys.

These songs of intricate notes, filling the page, requiring every last bit of my attention will take my mind away from disaster and steer it into a more physical experience.

Once, I learned a song for my father.  He was a Supertramp fan, which means that I would be too.

anything to try to earn his attention ... it never worked

I learned 'Downstream' for him, because he liked it and had once said, "You should learn that one."

From that point forward, every time I played and sang that song, the tears would well up and I'd be crying through the words.

Last night, during The Great Sewage Flood Purge, I found a picture in it's frame that I've been hanging on to for about 12 years.  It was my reuniting with Dad.  I looked like a tiny child being held by her father, even though I was a grown woman.

I have hated the frame all this time.  It's ugly and dated, but I would hang on to it, because it's the only picture I have of Dad and I together.

I've seen him a couple of times since then, but it's still not the relationship that I needed so badly when I was a kid.

I finally took the photo out of the horrid frame and threw that bitch in the trash.  I put the depiction of falsity in a place with all the other photos Papi and I have found during our unpacking of mess.

It will go into a box with the rest of the forgotten images.

I feel as though the last ditch effort Dad could have made wasn't made at all, and he is now just as unimportant to me as I am to him.

Don't get me wrong.  I love Dad, because he's the sperm that brought me to this world, but I've never had a father.

I wanted Dad to be at my wedding and he and his lovely common-law wife said they couldn't make it down because of many reasons.  She has too much pain, they can't afford it ...

can't afford to come to my wedding, because they're too busy spending all their money on booze 'n smokes

... and the list goes on.

I understood the list.  I was a practising alcoholic/addict for years.  But what I couldn't forgive?  Not even so much as a congratulations, not a card, not a call, not a 'good luck'.

Nothing.

was it because it was a same sex marriage? 

Not sure what I was expecting from a dead-beat dad. 

andréa, haven't you learned? those damn expectations will get you every time.

The picture is being put away.  I hate that ugly fucking frame and I threw it in the trash with glee.

I will play my piano today for Papi and I.

I just might play Dad's song.  Somehow, I don't think I'll cry.

No.

Not anymore.

The game.

I don't know where it changed, or how it happened, but there is a strange shift that is arising.

While going through The Great Sewage Flood Purge, I have to let go of a lot of 'stuff'.  I'm very sentimental, which is part of a hoarder's mentality.

I keep little love notes.

this has always come in handy when relationships end, and i get to have the great bonfire of 'fuck you very much you slime sucking bitch', proving to me yet again, that you never know when you will need it!!!

I found one that would normally be kept on the fridge.  Papi had given it for no reason at all, other than to make my day brighter and more beautiful.  It was a love note written on a piece of paper that mi esposo had cut into the shape of a heart before penning.

It told me how much Papi loved me.  On the flip side, I wrote I love you so many times that it filled the little paper heart, and slipped it back to mi esposo.

When I found it in the bag of fridge magnets, I was charged with tingles of emotion.  When I read what it said at the bottom however, I was mildly confused.

It was signed, "Love, your girl."

My girl?

No that's just weird!  I had to turn it over and put the millions of 'I love you's face out so that it was still feeling right.

Mi esposo is not my girl.

I'm not ready to see my love as a male being, but Papi is not my girl, and I'm finding myself in this place of limbo.

Papi is just Papi.

When I realized that I had cringed after witnessing these 3 words, I found myself looking at how far I'd come in my healing of what was at first, the end of my world.

Something else I identified as healing happened yesterday.

I was trying to have a phone conversation with the 95 year old g'ma that we live with normally, ...

normally, but we shipped her off to calgary while they put the house back together

... and there I was yelling into the phone speaking as slowly and with as much enunciation as possible, and mi esposo was off tending to something.

Then g'ma asked for her voting number.  I bellowed at to Papi to get it.  I heard this extremely frustrated sigh, and then, "Really?  Right now?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my love leave the kitchen, pants halfway down as the trek up the stairs was about to begin.

I realized what was going on immediately.  I interrupted my love administering hormones.

Papi came back down with the pants up and number in hand, accompanied by a look that was pure embarrassment.

I was giggling the whole time this was happening.

When I was off the phone and got my speaking voice back after all the yelling, Papi said, "You know, your timing is fucked!  I try so hard to keep you from seeing this happening like you asked, and every fucking time something really fucked up happens and you know about my hormones!"

This made me laugh so hard and I felt like this was now a game.  Not the stress that was attached to it before, but a game of Papi trying to hide something from me, and I foil the plan every time.

But the most important part?

I laughed.

I didn't cry, I didn't feel nauseous, I didn't feel like the ground is opening up and swallowing me into the pit of doom.

Laugh.

Heal.

Grant me the serenity ...

Papi says it was all a joke.  "I sat there with it waiting for you to see what I'd done, but you never looked."

fair enough, i do get a little obsessed on the coffee shop, and i was overjoyed watching the baby eagles too ... so maybe it's the truth

"By the time you saw it, I'd forgotten I'd done it and would have gone to work like that.  But you freaked out and started doing my hair."

hell fucking yes i did!

I'm a little more calm about that now.

Yes.

Now I can focus on the other things that are testing my serenity.

testing? i don't think so ... you're already gone. weren't you plotting how to kill the cat?!

I googled some nice chicken purée soups and veggie smoothies, then promptly went out to buy the ingredients.  When I came home however, there wasn't a clear spot on the counter to make anything.

oh i'll make a spot ... i'll just shove all you bastards to one side! haha i win!! goddammit!! where'd the mother fucking knife go?!

We're still living in the mayhem of boxes.  The Great Sewage Flood Purge is taking a long time.  Papi's down for the count with a never ending, tooth extracted, bleeding gum, and I'm too tired to do anything from lack of nourishment.

or at least that's my excuse ...

Fucking boxes.

Everywhere.

I managed to make myself my very first, raw food, vegetable smoothie.  I did exactly what they instructed.  I really need to get my greens in, and they recommended stuffing as many leafy beauties into my new VitaMix as possible.

After I blended up the fruit, I stuffed in my gems.

And stuffed.

My anticipating eyes were thrilled as I added the luscious, lovely greens!  My waiting mouth was ecstatic that they would soon be entering my anemic blood stream.  I'd be feeling better in no time!

I took a sip.

uh-oh

Honestly, I had to nurse that fucker for 3 hours.  Oh, I consumed it, but I had to take itty bitty sips through my straw.  It fooled my stomach into believing that I was full.  That was a good thing.

But the flavour?

Um.  Dirt milkshake anyone?

I still have 2/3 of a blender to drink.  It's going to be strictly a labour of love for my blood stream to finish off this puppy.  My body better fucking well thank me for the suffering I'm about to endure.

After I finally finished my healthy, veggie smoothie that tasted like I'd eaten the lawn, I ate a smooth, chocolatey, sweeter than sweet, bucket of coconut ice cream.

Yup.

Reward.

 How do these raw food people do this?

Thank god I still get my coffee.  There would be a police situation in the house if I couldn't.  It just might have to be double coffee days until I can find the counters and chew food.

My hillbilly

I've had a great couple of days poking fun at Papi.

The Brace Face is epic, and now yesterday, my love had a front tooth extracted.  Now mi esposo looks like a rich hillbilly.

My love had a really hard time with all the bleeding and pain yesterday.  Papi always says, "I wouldn't have been able to go through what you did," in terms of my motorcycle accident pain and dealing with the brain injury.

I still say it's all relative.  Whatever pain you have right now is the worst pain ever.  Really.  Think about it.  When you get a paper cut, isn't it fucking awful?

Well, drooling and writhing in pain from a back and neck injury is terrible, yes, but now that the worst is over for me, my version of level 7 & 8 pain is much different.  I had it just the other day.  The searing affliction of a jolt to my already fragile back was enough to almost make me upchuck.

I know it was definitely not as bad as what I went through right after the accident.

So really.

It's all relative.

However, now it's my turn to have the fun poked at me.  At 9:15 a.m. today, i'll have braces as well.  I don't need a front tooth extracted, but in 9 months I'll have nasty jaw surgery and both upper wisdom teeth removed.

Oh I remember the suffering of the lower wisdom teeth removal.  Tooth pain is brutal!!

I have big plans on the 'ToDo' list, and Papi says, "Yeah, good luck with that, you're not going to feel like doing anything!"

My 'ToDo' list may be diminished to the Great Sewage Flood purge.

I haven't found my clothes yet.  Can you believe it?  Papi has everything and it seems that every box we open is another full of my love's t-shirts.  We've already gotten rid of 3 boxes full of mi esposo's cotton gems ...

now who's the hoarder?!?!

... but they just keep coming!

And I haven't found one pair of jeans.

Got my yoga mat though!  And the sleeps on our beautiful king size bed have been luscious.

This hoarder is slowly letting go of 'stuff'.  You want to know the funniest thing I've collected for the past couple of years?

Twist Ties.

Every time I get a new, fresh, deep green bouquet of black kale et al, I take the twist tie off and cut it in half, then put it into a little pencil box.

The box is so full that it can barely close.

I'm really not even sure what I'm gathering them for.

but wait!!! you'll never know when you need them!!!!!

Can't see them coming in handy for the Apocalypse the zealots go on about.

I listed them on 'FreeCycle' because I thought SOMEONE would want this amazing treasure, but noooooooooo.

Nobody wants them.

Alas, they're in the trash.