My pre-fall cleaning continues apace.  I have fallen into something of a routine: after my breakfast, I put on a program to watch - we have this clever little set up with an old x-box and some wireless technology that allows us to get shows stored on the hard drive in the office to play on the TV in the living room.  I like something that doesn’t really need to be watched so much as heard - documentaries are good, as is House and Law and Order.  Murder mysteries are right out!  I always miss the significant glance between the two conspirators which identifies them as the conspirators, and then the rest of the show doesn’t make any sense.

Anyway, I get a little something showing and the first thing I do is the maintenance in the main living areas of the house.  My living and dining rooms were thoroughly cleaned over the last couple of days and now I just need to keep the swell of miscellaneous papers and other debris down.  I tidy relentlessly.  Next is the kitchen - washing up the breakfast dishes, wiping everything down, and so on.  Plants that need it are watered, surfaces are dusted, and so on.  Because things are more or less in order this doesn’t take too long, maybe half an hour.

Next I pick a fall-cleaning project: a closet to empty out, or, bigger still, the office, which you may recall is a black hole of piles of papers.  It’s seriously a jungle in there.  I have decided to set aside one hour a day to work on it until it’s clean - I started last night and it will probably take a few more days.  Last night alone I carried out five Safeway bags of shredding, and the shred pile is not diminished for it (Husband is a fanatic for shredding: anything with our names or address or - gasp - both is not thrown away or recycled until it is in tiny cross-cut bits).  Anyway, I settle in to this next project.

And there are of course the usual chores: laundry and bathrooms mostly.  I’m trying to keep the house running on schedule as I do this massive clean.  The overall goal is to clean every surface in the house, organize every space with stuff in it, and otherwise make the place sparkling for the lead in to fall.  I’m spending about half a day or so on this work every day until it’s done, which should be only a few more days.

As Cheryl Mendelson writes,

“Spring cleaning still has a place for anyone who can find the time for it or who rather likes the feeling of renewal that follows the major upheaval of turning your home inside out.  Try it once before you rule it out.  It is delightful to begin the new season with a home that has been scoured top to bottom, every drawer emptied, every piece of china washed, every bit of metal polished, every fabric washed, every square inch of all surfaces washed, polished, scoured, waxed, or otherwise brought to its finest state.  This helps you feel motivated to keep things as pleasant as they are after the spring cleaning.

Those new to housekeeping may find themselves wondering if doing all thsi will really make their homes homey.  The answer is that it will take you, in my personal estimation, three-quarters of the way there.  Housework in the seven basic areas outlined in this book is the source of most of the good things that make a place homelike - fresh sheets, good meals, airy, clean, orderly rooms, and so forth.”

Mendelson, C. (2005) Home comforts: The art and science of keeping house. New York: Scribner.

Today was my first day back with my personal trainer.  Oh god that sounded bourgeois.  Well there you have it, I live to squash minorities while eating mountains of bacon and peering at the investment section of the paper with my monocle.

Anyway, I am officially dead.  Literally dead, even.  There are three stairs leading from the door of the gym place to the sidewalk, and I nearly collapsed walking down them after the workout.  Which was only a half hour in duration.  I shit you not, that’s how out of shape I am.  Half an hour and my legs are jell-o.

But oh it feels good!  Prepare to scoff, Puck: Husband and I have been further fine tuning our vegan diet to remove even more bad stuff, so now we pretty much only eat whole food that comes out of the earth and next to none of its processed derivatives, we’re going to meditation classes on Wednesdays (Husband is an old hand meditator but I’m new to the practice), and shit, while I’m at it, why not start going to the gym too?  We’re totally revamping our lifestyles.  Good bye TV, hello productive and contemplative lifestyle.

Of course I’m still totally hardcore.  I’ll still drink rye and watch Law and Order.  But I’m not going to keep wasting my life!  Step one: get fit!  Attack!

Thank you for the thoughtful comments.

Last night I presented one of my cases to my supervisor at school, and a lot of those issues came up for discussion.  I feel much better now, having focused more on doing what I can in the moment without tormenting myself about what might be.  I guess part of my problem is that I’m hoping for a dramatic change - I’m hoping for these kids to suddenly become little enlightened beings who are impervious to negative influences.  Talk about setting yourself up for disappointment!  I am in the process of thinking on the topic and reorienting myself to value smaller changes, even invisible ones.

This is in no small part influence by a book I’m reading - one of those classics of psychology that everyone knows they should read but often don’t get around to.  Kind of like Moby Dick (which I have not finished, I confess).  The book is Man’s Search For Meaning by Victor Frankl, who was a Viennese psychoanalyst and Jew who was imprisoned in Nazi concentration camps during the war.  His book is primarily a series of reflections upon that time, and an exploration of why some people survived while others didn’t.  One of the factors he observed was meaning - those who managed to find meaning in their existence in the camps, or meaning in survival, seemed to have a better chance (understanding of course that in general your life was not under your own control; Frankl does not suggest that meaning could save you from murder if you were selected for gassing).  Anyway, that’s a major simplification and I don’t pretend to have a full understanding of even this little book, nevermind logotherapy in total - but it has me thinking about how I draw meaning from my life, how I create it.  I’m still sifting it in my mind so I don’t have too much to say right now but I will say I’m finding this helpful for my work worries.

And in other news, I am refocusing on veganism.  So far I’ve been pretty slack about it.  If I find myself at a restaurant with nothing vegan, I’ll eat things with cheese, say.  Or if I’m at someone’s house I’ll eat what they serve as long as it’s vegetarian.  At the last poker night Jim brought Clodhoppers, which are delicious, and though they contain something like five different types of dairy product I still had a couple clusters.  At home I’m a total vegan (Jim’s Clodhoppers aside), but I am still eating more junk food than I should (pretzels are vegan).  So my nutrition could be better.  Husband is, as usual, an inhuman robot who cares not for personal needs, and is a total vegan everywhere and at all times… so if he can do it, I can certainly improve.  My knowledge of its benefits and intention to be vegan has not changed, it’s just a matter of sticking to my goals more closely.

My plan now is to really work at staying vegan and eating, as much as possible, whole foods.  Plus condiments.  God knows I won’t give up on hot sauce.  My major exception is, as you know, caesars, which include clams and anchovies.  I also still intent to partake of celebratory vegetarian sweets at places like family parties (pumpkin pie at thanksgiving, birthday cake, butter tarts at christmas).  And when a guest at someone’s home, I will do my best but allow some flexibility because in addition to concern for my health, I have deep respect and value for the meaning of hosting and feeding others.  I would never turn up my nose at a meal in someone’s home just because it has some milk in it.

My hard line is still meat - I don’t eat meat products and am perfectly comfortable sticking to that.  But feeding vegans is hard for most people and part of my life task is to not make veganism look atrocious and strict and nasty.  It does the movement no good to have its representatives behave like superior weenies.  So, a small amount of flex for what are, to me, well thought out reasons, is acceptable.

Now I will work on the whole foods thing.  Today got off to a good start: I had a smoothie made of soy milk, blueberries, a little sugar, and some ground flax meal.  The flax made it a bit gritty but it’s a good source of omega-3, which is tricky for vegans to get without planning.  Also fiber.  Fiber is still my hero, as I have not forgotten my years and years of chronic constipation.  I have things to do today so lunch will probably be purchased, but I’ll get a Subway foot long veggie (hold the cheese) with lots of mustard and hot sauce.  Big, filling, full of nutrients, and clocking in at about 450 calories.  I’ll have some nuts and seeds for snacks today if I get hungry, and I still have a couple tomatoes to grill.  Dinner will be an ambitious affair, as I am going to make a Thai vegan spread including coconut tofu soup, mushroom fried rice, and a vegetable tofu curry.  Husband is bringing home the Singha.

And now it’s time for Law and Order, which I watch on weekday mornings at 10 to entertain me while I clean the house and get ready for the day.

You can tell because I never update my blog. I’ve been too busy being consumed with jealousy that SOME people get to have dogs but I DO NOT. I have friends who have this zany little Boston Terrier, which I would slice up, dip into ice cream, and eat if I weren’t a vegetarian, because he’s too cute for words. Even though he has serious bug eyes and a partially missing penis sheath, which means you can often see and/or feel his actual weiner. Okay. Why do these people deserve a dog more than I do? How can I persuade my landlord to let me get a dog? Preferable a big one… with lots of hair for trapping dirt and water from outside… yes, I begin to see why my efforts at persuasion have failed so far.

So, other than obsessively researching dog breeds (even though I generally as a rule disapprove of breed-ism for the ill health effects and would probably buy a mutt), I’ve been doing some school stuff… but only a little. I registered for next term today and, by the end of the summer? All my classes will be DONE. HOLY FUCKING CRAP. Then it’ll just be eight months of practicum and an exam and I’ll officially be a Master, which is how you can all address me at that time.

I’ve been doing next to no cooking, mainly because it’s hard to get motivated to shop when I’ll be in Chilliwack half the week and I never know if Husband will eat at home or out in my absence.  Tonight though I’m making a cauliflower and lentil curry, as well as asparagus and artichoke pasta for dinner.  Yum!

The house is a shambles and though it is sort of tidy, it is grimy and dirty underneath all that tidiness. Kudos here to Husband, who has been noting my despair at the mess and has been doing dishes for me unasked. It makes all the difference sometimes to just have at least one room that isn’t gross.

Speaking of Chilliwack, one of the great things about scoring the fall practicum is I can end my current Chilliwack practicum early. It’s a good site and I’m learning just butt-loads of stuff there, but it’s kind of crappy doing the commute. It’s strange because I like all parts of the process: the quiet early morning drive, the practicum itself, the time to visit with my family, the opportunity to miss my husband and enjoy our reunions. But somehow all those nice things combine to produce stress and discomfort and I will miss it, but not miss it at all. The Chilliwack stuff ends at the end of May.

I’ve been doing a little reading, in particular a work of moral philosophy about animal rights. Say what you will about animals, those philosophers can sure construct an argument! I’m loving the careful, logical, comprehensive way the author does it. One gets the impression that very few stones have been left unturned, and those that are are plainly identified. It’s honourable arguing. This is my first foray into philosophy (undergrad logic classes aside) and I am very impressed.

I’m also rewatching one of my favourite crime drama series, The Wire in the Blood. It’s about a psychologist and his involvement with an English police department. Unlike most portrayals of psychologists/psychiatrists in media, this one does not make me and Husband immediately vomit over the gross inaccuracies (another reasonable one is Dr Wong on Law & Order SVU). And it’s quite grisly, which I always enjoy. I have to get my gristle somewhere now that I don’t eat meat. And speaking of psychologists, I’m also rewatching Cracker, which I deeply love. Shows like these give me hope in this day and era where you can see that paltry excuse for crime drama CSI on TV at any hour.

And finally, this coming Thursday I get to go for the first of my nerve problem tests, a sleep deprived EEG.  I’m not really sure what is involved except the instructions I got were at great pains to reinforce that must have clean hair.  Apparently they’ll be attaching things to my scalp and measuring… something.  “Brain waves” let’s call them.  Anyway, I’m supposed to get no more than four hours sleep the night before, but since I’m an overachiever I’ll try to stay up all night.  Anyone want to come over and watch movies and help keep me up?  I’m total suck at that, and usually hit the sack by 11.  It takes hard work and dedication to stay up all night.  I’m not sure I can go it alone.

So far this morning I have stubbed my toe, dropped my breakfast on the floor, and missed the opening of Law and Order.

Might as well go back to bed.

Not much is happening around here these days.  I just got home from another week in Chilliwack.  Now I’m puttering around cleaning up while watching Law and Order, and thinking about the groceries I’ll go pick up after.  The house is nice and clean after last weekend’s spring clean-style blitz, and I’m enjoying the ease of the work.  I’m also enjoying being home, which is so nice after a few days away!

I do the billing for Husband’s work.  This means that every day, around 6pm, we go through the following routine:

Husband walks in the door.  I get excited, get up off the couch where I am reading, and dash over for hugs.

Husband: Hi!

Blogo: Hi!

Smooching.  Much joy.  I proudly announce what we’re having for dinner and Husband dutifully looks thrilled about it.

Husband: And here’s my day sheet!  Check out how many people I saw - I made a bag of money today!

I inspect the daysheet.  It is five miles long.  I mentally calculate how long it will take me to do the data entry, and part of me dies inside.  

Blogo (in a flat voice): Oh good.

I used to be a data entry clerk for a couple years, and let me tell you, in case you’ve never done it, IT SUCKS.  It sucks so hard you wouldn’t believe it.  It sucks so hard I have a lingering wrist injury that, when it flares up, prevents me from doing all kinds of things that normal people do like holding a can of soup in one hand.  So just imagine the crazy conflict of emotions I have when I see that daysheet - I’m all, “Oh look, we get to keep eating” but also “PLEASE JESUS SAVE ME FROM THE DATA ENTRY!”

To make it better, I play little games with myself.  I say, I’ll see how fast I can do it.  If I can enter all this data before the end of Law and Order, I win!  Win what, you ask?  Well, nothing.  This particular game is kind of lame, but strangely, it motivates me.  I also play, I Won’t Check The Total Until It’s All Entered, which kind of makes me giddy.  Imagine - the suspense!  The anticipation!  The almost unbearable tension!

I also get over-involved in the minutia of the work.  When a bill is refused because of something like a transposed number, I feel personally offended and get really mad.  When the person who provides Husband with some of the information on the day sheet gets it wrong, I indulge in elaborate fantasies about phoning their wife to say I know about an affair.  When Husband’s penmanship is a little dodgy, I contemplate divorce.  Wouldn’t you?  Clearly, he is fucking with me!

You know how they say, You laugh or you cry?  This is one of those situations.

I told you it was pathetic.

So… I guess I’m not totally ready to throw in the towel yet, because I just have to tell you all about the horrible meeting I went to today.  I know, I know… everyone who is actually a contributing member of society already knows meetings suck, and for the record, I have in fact been employed in the past and went to my share of meetings, so I too already knew they suck.  Here is something I wasn’t prepared for: a three year break from the ass-ness of work meetings has not increased my tolerance for them at all.

You don’t need a description to know what it was like.  All the usual suspects were present… slow talking administrator, aggressive lady who disagrees with everything, Little Miss Compromise (in sunny coloured clothes), halogen lights, TimBits (Americans: these are doughnut holes.  Sorry, donut holes.).  Plus me, stuffing down my urge to run screaming from the room, leaving a Blogosaurus-shaped hole in the wall.  I think I kept it down to just fidgeting a lot and refusing to laugh at the stupid jokes.  Oh my god, I forgot about the stupid office meeting jokes.  How many therapists does it take to change a light bulb, one, but the light bulb has to want to change har har har.  *vomits*

Also, I have decided to hire a maid.  Shock!  It’s true.  I am officially giving up all pretense at being a good household manager.  I have no time.  Work, commuting and staying in another city, full course load, studying, and all that Law and Order that just won’t watch itself.  Last night Husband and I were talking and I said, “Moof” (this is what I call him, isn’t it great?  Don’t you wish you had someone to call you Moof?) “Moof, I need some help around the house.  There’s no way I can get everything done and not turn into a seething maniac who poisons dinner.  I think you should take back some of the paperwork I do for your work, and pick up some cleaning duties.”  His brain immediately got to spinning because if there’s one thing Husband hates, it’s doing his own billing or, for that matter, housework (and, unlike me and meetings, over the last few years he has not forgotten how bad it would be for him to again endure cleaning toilets).  He paused, and said: “We’re hiring a maid.”  Voila!

The only trouble is some white middle class guilt - you know, slavery and all that.  Hiring people who are getting paid crap and no benefits from some evil agency to do the lowest status work around while I lounge by the pool being fed peeled grapes and imperiously refusing to grant stays of execution.  All because I prefer to keep my quality of living at a certain level.  Which costs someone else’s quality of living (I know of what I speak: I was a maid for many years back way back).

What I really need is a recommendation from someone to a maid who is self employed and I can pay directly - and pay a reasonable wage.  Here is the scandal of maid services: you pay about 125 bucks an hour for three women to come in and earn minimum wage or close to it to clean badly.  Nearly all the cash goes to the company as profit (some excepted for the cleaning supplies they bring, but this is spurious convenience.  Most companies have these waterless systems that do not clean, in my opinion.  They make your place look clean but it’s not actually clean.)  Better option?  Hire an independent operator for $40 bucks an hour, provide the supplies you want used, get far better work, know the money goes right to the person who earned it.  Same cost, same amount of man-hours, better product, less guilt.  Okay, who knows someone like this who wants to work for me?

FINISHED!

I just got home from dropping off the last of my assignments at school.  I am officially on vacation for about three weeks.  From this moment on, if I’m loafing around doing nothing, I’m not skeeving, I’m just ENJOYING MY HOLIDAY!

Holy shit!

So far I have: Christmas shopped for Husband, finished another christmas tree skirt, gone out for fried rice and veggies (and a little piece of beef that snuck in to my meal), had a Coke Zero, bought wrapping ribbons, mailed in my consent to be an organ donor, and watched Law and Order.  Tonight I’ll pick up Husband from work and we’ll drive to Chilliwack for pizza and tree decorating at my dad’s house.  Life is glorious!

So now I have to finish removing the chalk lines from my quilt, wrap it up, and perhaps run around the apartment like a maniac for the sheer joy of having NO pending assignments, NO upcoming work, NO mandatory readings, NO classes to sit through, NO nothing unless I want it.  Aaaaahhhhhh!  Can you feel the relaxation and contentment?  I can!  Joy!

Okay, I finally got some batteries and took pictures of my trees. I have two: Mr Castlegar, decorated in traditional colour barf manner, and the auxiliary tree, which has exclusively bird ornaments. You don’t get a sense of the glowiness of these babies in the pictures, but anyway, here they are:

Mr Castlegar:

The bird tree, with Law and Order on to the left:

LEON:

Some of my many squid and octopus toys/ornaments:

The tree skirt that I sewed myself making (and now have a lightly infected finger which may require antibiotics… currently I wait and watch to see if it gets redder and more painful):