A Familiar Feeling

*Warning – if you don’t have a burning desire (no pun intended) to learn all about my bladder, perhaps skip today’s post.  If however, you would like to read a review of our lovely health care system – read away… but don’t say I didn’t warn you.*

Alright ladies, raise your hands if you’ve ever had a UTI (Urinary Tract Infection).  Good.  Now raise them if you only get them at convenient hours of the day.  A time when you can easily call your family doctor, or stroll into a walk-in clinic.  Hmm…. you, with your hand up – you’re a punk and we’re in a fight.

I have a long and sorted history with UTIs and in order to save any squeamish boys from the deets  – let’s just say it’s like a vice grip on your bladder and it hurts. A lot. And I had the pleasure of getting one last night.  At approximately 12:30am.  Conveniently shortly after all walk-in clinics close.  And a good 9 hours before I would have any hope of seeing my doctor.  Awesome.

Here’s where the health care system comes in. My family doctor – awesome.  I love her.  She is super sweet, and has even been so kind as to take on the Boy as a new patient.  While we were in his first appointment with her months ago she explained the benefits of a multi-practitioner office.  Someone is always on call, and they are part of the Health Advisory Network.  It’s an effort to keep people that have family doctors out of Emergency Rooms and Walk-in Clinics, you can call a number tell them what you need and they can call the doctor on call, and get a prescription phoned in to your closest pharmacy.  Really?!  I had never heard this information (the downside of having been with the same practice since birth – they forget to share these little tidbits with you as you get older).  I had to ask, if I were to get a UTI (my most common ailment) could I get a prescription phoned in, especially since I have such a history with them (I KNOW when I have one)?  “Absolutely, they’ll probably just ask that you come in the next day for an appointment, but for immediate relief they can do it over the phone.”  AWESOME!

Last night, I got my first opportunity to try out this new fancy system.  Disaster.

First I called the wrong number (Telehealth Ontario is apparently not the same thing).  Then when I got the right number, described my symptoms I got this answer, “I’m recommending you go to Emergency.” WHAT?!  You want me to wait it out for several hours in an Emergency Room?  This isn’t an emergency it’s a @#&*in’ UTI!  I politely asked why that was her recommendation – why I couldn’t just get a prescription phoned in.  Her answer (with attitude I might add) “Because of your symptoms.”  Thanks lady.  My symptoms are UTI symptoms.  I could spot a UTI from here to Kalamazoo.  I’ve been to the Doctor for a UTI before it has even showed up on the test.  I know when I have one and all I need is a prescription so I can get out of my bathroom and go back to sleep!


So I called the Emergency Room. I explained the situation.  I got more attitude.  “If it’s bad enough, then you come in.” For the record, I firmly believe that I’m not a baby.  Whenever they ask is the pain mild, moderate or severe – I always say moderate.  I always figure – things could be worse. I’m not crippled with pain, I haven’t been shot and I’m not having a baby – these things are severe pain.  I have a UTI it’s @#&*in’ uncomfortable, and it hurts a lot, I have chills and tears running down my face – but it’s not an EMERGENCY.  I’m not going to die of the pain. It is bad enough that I don’t want to sit here for another 8 hours waiting for my Doctor’s office to open.  But Emergency?  That seems a little extreme.

I asked about the wait time.  Figuring, if I’m going to wait it out in Emergency for 6 hours I might as well wait here for the office to openwhere I’m more comfortable and not in a hospital.  The answer, “well it’s pretty slow right now – but we can’t guarantee anything.  It’s an Emergency room.”  Thanks Tips.

So I went.  I figured we live 3 minutes from the Hospital. I am exhausted, and if there’s any chance of getting relief before 9am then I should take it.

Turns out living in Northern Ontario has it’s benefits.  I have seen a completely empty Emergency Room in St. Mary’s (tiny town where the Boy is from), but in the GTA?  This is unheard of.  There were other patients once I got to the Yellow Zone, but I was triaged, and registered within minutes and by the time I was looking for a bathroom again I was seen by a nurse, and shortly afterward a doctor, followed by my first dose of antibiotic relief.  In and out within an hour. Unbelievable.

So even though my Doctor’s quick relief plan didn’t work.  And even though I cost our Universal Health Care System way more money than necessary.  I was in bed and asleep again by 4:30.  Pretty darn good.

Shout out thanks to Southlake Regional Health Centre – you guys were awesome.

Apology to the Boy for disrupting his sleep – although I’m pretty sure he slept through most of it.

Today – sick day.  I’m off to fill a prescription and talk to a man about a kettle.

Hot Wheels and High Heels – 2.0


I held out as long as possible.  I didn’t want to do it.  But now that I have, I must admit… it’s awesome!

Any guesses? Anyone? Anyone?

A Car.  I’m driving a car to work.  We are now a two car household.  I was determined to hold out as long as possible – but the Boy’s car has been making some concerning noises lately, and Mom and Dad recently purchased a lovely 2010 GMC Terrain, (silver for those who wanted to know).  What’s even better? They gave us their 2003 Toyota Camry. Sweet!

My first thoughts were – we’ll of course get rid of the Boy’s car and stay a one car household.  But the Boy had other ideas.  He brought up the excellent point that he’s going to be out several nights a week this winter and perhaps I will not want to be stuck in the suburbs sans vehicle.  Good point.  He also suggested that since our goal is to put off a car payment as long as possible – what if in a couple of months we get new jobs and both have to commute further than around the corner.  Won’t it seem silly to have just gotten rid of a second free car?  I knew I kept him around for a reason – so logical.

So I’m driving now.  And I’m really surprised just how fast I’ve gotten used to it.  In honour of my new status and saying goodbye to York Region Transit.  I give you my Top 5 reasons why driving is way better than bussing:

  1. When it rains it pours – Mother Nature has been making sure I’m SUPER grateful for my new status.  It’s been pouring rain during my regularly scheduled walk times.
  2. Goodbye sensible footwear.  I no longer need to think about whether or not I can walk a mile in my shoes.  I can pick any pair and off I go.  Yesterday heels, today wedges.  Awesome!
  3. Leaving on my timeline.  Helpful in the morning – even more so at night.  I don’t need to dash out of work at exactly the right time to ensure I don’t miss my bus, leaving me to wait 45 minutes for the next one.
  4. 15 extra minutes in the morning = AWESOME.
  5. My 4.5 km commute now takes a reasonable 5-7 minutes instead of 25.  Sweet.

I’m sure I’ll feel bad eventually about the environmental dammage added by one more car on the road, but for right now my shoes are cute and I’m lovin’ every minute!

Tweet Tweet – B is for Birdie!

HAVRE DE GRACE, MD - JUNE 06: Lorena Ochoa (ME...

Image via Wikipedia

The Boy and I were in Thamesford/London this weekend for family bonding and a little golf. The Boy golfed all weekend, I used my brain and decided golfing in the pouring rain is for fools – and went home.

On Sunday, the weather cooperated and we went out to play in the 5th(ish?) Boy’s family golf invitational. We split into teams 2 girls and 2 gentlemen on each team.  This year I told the Boy I was going to win it for my team.  He made some sort of snarky comment – no faith in my talent.

What did I do to show him?  First hole = BIRDIE, all on my own! That was my first Birdie ever! HURRAY!!! Better yet, in our best-ball 9-hole tournament where we use each person’s drive at least twice, we used mine 3 times!  That’s right carrying the team.  Turns out I should golf slightly hungover all the time (more on that another day).

How did you spend your 10 million dollar weekend?

YouTube Fridays?

I’ve been reading a lot of blogs lately and I’m noticing that a lot of them have one day a week where they have some sort of theme.  Bitch and Moan Mondays, or Random Musings Fridays.  I like ’em.  And I’ve been trying to think of some kind of theme day.  I spent a little time on YouTube this morning, and well… I’m thinking maybe YouTube Fridays. 

I’m toying with the idea of themed videos – as in 2 or 3 that share something in common.  Or maybe if I can find a video that reflects on my week in some way that would work too.  I’m seriously looking for suggestions though – what do you guys think?  Will it work? Is it interesting enough? Is this only going to showcase how behind the YouTube times I am? 

In my first attempt I’m going with the theme “Relationships” since this we’re still wrapped up in anniversary week, and because I when I searched Dempsters bread nothing very good came up.

So without further adieu, if I ever found myself in a break up situation, I think this would be a GREAT song to have on your iPod.  I had only heard the radio version which is “Forget You,” it’s pretty fun – but the original is hilarious.  I may have to download it tonight.

I shared this with my friend at work – you can find her over at ahandmadestory.  In turn she showed me this one, and I couldn’t agree more – it’s important in relationships that Boys have skills.

What do you think team? Did these start your weekend off with a smile?

Happy Friday!

Sacrificing Glee to Make New Friends

Does your mom ever try to set you up on play dates?  Does she meet people, misinform them on what you do and then suggest that you email them so you can correct the misinformation she has provided?  My mom does.  And you know what? Her intentions are good and as it turns out my play date was super awesome.

There was a small con which was I missed Glee – I know I can’t believe it either and my new friends… they couldn’t believe it either.  We were supposed to meet on Wednesday but we rescheduled for Tuesday night – Glee night, only they didn’t realize it was Glee night.  So we met, and first things first discussed our mutual love of all things Glee.

Then, on to business.  Martha and Dustin are a lovely couple that my family knows through our old church. They both work for VocaLinks.  They support people (specifically kids) with disabilities learn with assistive and interactive technology.  They are basically improving equity in access to education.  Hmm… who do I know who has a Masters Degree in that very topic.  Oh wait that’s ME!

I talked to them about what I’m doing at work (creating online modules) and that I’m still trying to figure out what my next steps are.  Well isn’t it nice to talk to people share similar passions and have figured out a way to get paid for it.

I really thought that the specifics of my MEd were never going to make an appearance in my life again – but here it is.  And you know what?  It’s awesome.  Even if nothing comes of it – it’s great to know the possibility exists.  That’s the thing about the twenties… it’s a big messy ball but the glimpses of light keep me plowing through.

BTW I thought I would catch Glee on time-shifting later last night – no dice.  Then I thought it would be on time-shifting tonight.  Nada.  Curses!


I got home last night and the worst had happened.  No, the Boy had not brought processed cheese slices home from the grocery store.  Worse than that.  Our cable was out.


No TV = Not a big deal; No Internet = A bit of a bigger deal, but if it was that alone – no big deal; No Phone = No big deal.  BUT No TV + No Internet + No Phone = Disaster!

I started using Rogers as an explitive and since the Boy had my cell phone I couldn’t even call for service because of course – my phone wasn’t working!  Brutal.

Anyway, today is the 8th anniversary of the night I met the Boy.  I was going to tell you the story of how we met, but that seems a bit long to do at work.  So you’ll have to wait until I am reunited with my Internet at home.

For now I will leave you with this video – It’s Premiere Week, and if Rogers can’t fix my cable for the premiere of Glee tonight I may just lose my mind.


365 Days Down

This week is anniversary week for the Boy and I.  Today – 1 year since we officially moved in together.  While we rented our apartment for September 1st, we didn’t actually spend the night until the 20th.  In honour of this anniversary I’ll tell you a little story about the Boy (everyone’s favourite topic) and how even after 365 days of practice – we’re still working out some kinks in living together.

The Boy is now assistant coaching for the Men’s Volleyball team at Durham College.  He’s really happy to be doing it, but he’s also still finishing up his baseball season (playoffs or something) so he’s been out almost every night of the week.  I’m okay with it – it leaves me with a sports free television and my knitting (bliss).

Last week I came home from work and the Boy tells me we’re all out of bread.  I thank him for the tip and tell him to pick some up on his way home – he has the car after all.  Boy is not terribly excited about this plan and leaves shortly afterward for volleyball.

10:00 – the phone rings, it’s the Boy – we exchange pleasantries.

Boy – Did you make anything for dinner?

Me – Obviously yes.

Boy – What did you make?

Me – (thinking why does it matter it’s better than McDonald’s which is why you’re asking me) Fish with salsa, rice and broccoli.

Boy – Did you make enough for me?

Me – Obviously yes.

Boy – And for lunch tomorrow?

Me – This is not my first time.

Boy – Okay.  I’ll be home shortly.

Me – Are you stopping to pick up bread?

Boy – Oh.  I don’t really want to.

Me – Too bad. It’ll take 5 seconds just pick some up.  Metro is open 24 hours.

Boy – Okay. Bye.

Time passes.  I decide I’m going to go read in bed I had a headache and my lungs hurt (someone thought it would be a good idea to melt the kettle earlier that day leading to much smoke inhalation).

10:20 – I hear the Boy come in.  He has a grocery bag.  He comes in and asks why I’m in bed – I tell him.  He says something about not feeling that way if I hadn’t set the kitchen on fire (such a drama queen).

I hear the bag rustling.  I hear a container of cookies being opened. Silence.  I hear a bag of chips being opened. Chewing.

I laugh to myself at the Boy’s inability to go into a grocery store on his own without coming out with a bunch of crap.

I go to sleep.

Next morning – I go to the kitchen to make breakfast.  I stop in my tracks.  He picked up “bread” I guess… Dempsters.  There is over-processed, third ingredient is Sucrose/Fructose, twenty ingredients I can’t pronounce, never goes moldy, Dempters bread.  I’ll give him some credit – at least he got whole wheat.  But Dempters? We haven’t had Dempters in our house in the ENTIRE year we’ve been living together.  We don’t buy processed bread.  We buy bread from the bakery with as many seeds and grains in it as possible.  That is our compromise – between the German dark rye bread that the Boy doesn’t like at all and Wonder White.

Brutal.  Here’s the best part in my opinion – the cookies he bought, are from the bakery section.  Probably sitting right across from the bread we buy! Sure no preservatives in your COOKIES!  Make up for them in your BREAD! 

Then it hits me.  I start to wonder. Does he do these things on purpose?  Do you think boys go into the grocery store grumpy that they’ve been sent there, and think “how can I make sure she never sends me in here again?”  Sure I can see boys being that manipulative.  But my Boy?  No.  Surely not.  He clearly just temporarily lost his mind.

I go to work.

I come home and ask him what is with the bread. His response? “That’s the bread I like – if you don’t like it, don’t send me in to get bread.” 


Happy Anniversary Boy.  I thought we were making progress.  FYI I will be picking up more bread tonight and making breadcrumbs out of your sugar bread.

Picture from here

Torture Device or God-send?

So Mom and I are at the Knitter’s Fair and we’re buying up all kinds of beautiful yarn, but many of our finds come in skeins.  Fo you non-knitters – well this post may not be that interesting, but nonetheless a skein is basically yarn that is not yet wound into a ball.  You can’t knit straight from the skein you have to wind it first you’ll find yourself with a HUGE mess.  I love undoing knots – but this is ridiculous.  Winding is a must.

So Mom is hmming and hawwing over buying a wool winder.  She’s decided that she definitely could use one and we set out to find the best price.  That’s the beauty of having 70 vendors in one spot – it makes for some quick and easy price comparisons.  Anyway, we find the best price – but wait.  Do you need an umbrella too (used to hold the skein, it spins while you wind the yarn)?  We ask the sales people.  They give us a song and dance about how it makes life much easier and while you could use one without the other, if you’re buying one why not buy both.

At this point I was thinking – wow you are good sales people.  All this thing does is hold the yarn, you could use anything.  A chair.  Another person’s arms.  You don’t need this umbrella contraption.  As I was thinking this a couple of women (leaning more to the hippie side of the spectrum) walked by, and said “Don’t listen to them, you don’t need it  – just use two straight back chairs or recruit a kid.  That’s what I do.”  Well, that’s what I was thinking.  But Mom said, I don’t really have straight back chairs and my kids are gone. Still debating when another knitter came up to the cash.  She looked to be about my mom’s age, and less of a hippie, and she said “Just get both, it will honestly change your life.  It’s so much easier that I’m buying my daughter her own – she’s moved away and we can’t share anymore, so I’m getting her one too. It’s worth the money.”  Sold.  Mom was convinced and I was leaning more towards well, (though life changing seemed a bit of a stretch) if it makes it easier why not.

We brought it home and set it up.  A new toy.  I’m telling you.  It. is. awesome! How did we survive before? It spins a ball in less than 5 minutes.  That takes a good hour when you do it by hand. Brilliant.  And it’s fun.  Well not best day ever fun, but enough fun that I volunteered to wind all of the skeins we had bought.

So for all of the knitters out there – it’s worth the investment (even more so if your Mom buys it and you can just use it whenever you need).

Voila Beautiful!

A Knitter’s Paradise

I heard about the Knitter’s Fair in Kitchener a few months ago, and I told my mom.  We set a date, to check it out – not really sure what to expect.  Could be terrible, in which case we’d find something else to do.  Could be awesome, in which case we will have stumbled upon a little piece of heaven.  All told, the worst that could happen – we’ll have driven to Kitchener to be disappointed.  Meh.  I’ll take the risk.

The Boy kept referring to it as my Knitting Conference.  “It’s not a conference, it’s a fair,” I would tell him.  He asked things like, “Do you think you’ll be the youngest person there by like 30 years?” or “Do you think it will only be full of dirty hippies?”  He’s all full of mockery when I’m not knitting for him. When I am, he’s all praise – “You do such a good job. That’s so nice. I love my sweater. When are you finishing my socks?”  Brutal. Either way he was having no part of the Knitter’s Fair and went off to partake in his hobbies, golf, beer and fantasy hockey draft at home.  That’s okay.  His bad-i-tude wasn’t invited.

So off I go with Mom.  We get there.  We’re trying to figure out where we’re supposed to go when I spot them – knitters.  We’ve found the right place, and at first glance it seems the Boy may have been right – hippies.  They’re everywhere.

Undeterred we go inside.  What do we find? Paradise.  It’s over 70 vendors of straight-up knitting, which we knew.  That’s what why we came after all.  But neither of us had full appreciation for what that actually meant.  Knitting and yarn stores from all over Ontario had moved what looked like their ENTIRE stores to Kitchener.  They were all in one place.  We were immediately overwhelmed and I knew instantly that all my Mom’s talk about how she has too much wool stashed all around the house, and all my thoughts about budgeting and not going overboard were going to go out the window.  We were in heaven.  And it was GLORIOUS!

We made our way around to every vendor.  We fell in love with new hand-dyed yarns, sock yarn, and shawl yarn, scarf yarn and sweater yarn.  We dug our hands into piles of it and debated back and forth as we tried to make decisions on which of the beauties we would take home.  People asked us if we were enjoying the fair.  Our response, “Absolutely, it’s our first time here.” That was received with the same response every time, “Oh! I remember my first time.  It’s so overwhelming and my budget was blown within the first half-hour.”  I hear you sister!

I bought some yarn for Christmas gifts, and of course a few things for me.  I had cleaned out my knitting box the week before and insisted on finishing a few projects so the Boy wouldn’t be able to say “You bought more! You haven’t even finished what you’ve started!”  Tricked you.

What I learned while at the Knitter’s fair was knitting is quickly becoming like reading for me. I love it, and I’m going to have stashes of yarn like stashes of books that I buy with full intention of using, (or reading) but don’t necessarily start it right away.  It’s a traight my mother taught me.  A traight the Boy shakes his head at in disbelief and mild frustration.  But one that I love her for!

I'd say we did pretty well...

We’ve booked it in our calendars for next year, complete with notes like Bring Lunch ($18 for two pieces of pizza and two bottles of water is just obsured) and Start Early.  And we made a decision.  If the Boy and I find ourselve considering dates for any major event *wink* it can’t be the 2nd Saturday in September.  I’m already booked for the Knitter’s Fair.

"OH! Look what they've got in here!!"

Where there’s smoke…

Do you ever have this experience.  You see the potential danger in a situation, register it, do what you can to eliminate that danger, then end up succumbing to it anyway?  Would it have happened if you hadn’t recognized its potential? For example, for about a year in my early twenties I seemed to be very susceptible to falling.  I’d trip and fall at least… once every couple weeks.  I’ll admit, sometimes alcohol was involved.  But other times perfectly sober walking down the street and BAM on my ass on the ground.  One night I was running from a cab to the door in the middle of the winter when the Boy shouts out “It’s icy there, be careful you’re going to fall.” I thought to myself, “He’s right I am going to fall, I should be careful,” slowed down and carefully started watching where I was stepping trying to avoid the ice.  BAM on my ass and twisted my knee.  I recognized the danger and still it found me.  Had I kept running I probably would have made it to the door without injury.

I had a very similar experience this morning, but with less falling and more fire.

The Boy wanted me to make him pasta salad to eat post-work, pre-volleyball, so he could put off eating dinner until he gets home post-volleyball.  No problem.  I may have gotten too wrapped up in my knitting last night and forgot to make it.  No problem, I’ll make it in the morning. I got up, I had a shower.  I came out of the bathroom to put on a pot of water so it would boil while I was getting dressed – timing is everything in the morning.  I stop.  I recognize the danger.  My plastic electric kettle is sitting on the stove.  HAZARD! I wrap the cord around the kettle and put it on the back burner, careful to ensure that nothing plastic is touching the element I am going to turn on.  Satisfied, I turn on the burner and go to get dressed.

I hear a crackling noise.  I think nothing of it – probably just the crap on the element that I spilled last time and didn’t clean up. I hear another few pops. Probably just water spurting out from the bottom of the pan.  It starts to smell a little funny.  I think to myself, “Did I just turn on the back burner?”  It smells a little more.  OH *&%@!

I run to the kitchen and see 12-18 inch flames engulfing the plastic kettle.  A fire extinguisher would be really handy right now… I don’t think we have one.  I fill a glass with water and throw it on the fire.  I throw another.  And another.  And another.  Flames are lower and I can turn off the stove. I grab the kettle and throw it in the sink and throw another couple of glasses on the still smoldering element.  That the smoke alarm is blaring at this point pretty much goes without saying.  Fire managed, I tackle the smoke alarm.  A shirt would be nice though as I’m going to have to open the doors to get the smoke out.  Good thinking.

As I’m on the chair taking down the smoke alarm, with the front door open and smoke billowing out the door, my neighbour from upstairs comes down to leave for work.

Him: “Are you okay?”

Me: “Yup, just trying to burn the house down.”

Him: “Okay, good luck with that.  You’re sure you’re okay?”

Me: “Yup, no problem”

Him: “Okay, have a good day!”

Me: “Thanks you too” (Thinking – well I’ve already had a small fire today and it’s only 7:45 how good can this day be?)

Let the clean up begin.  Who threw water all over the floor?! I called my boss to say I was going to be a bit late this morning – I had a small kitchen fire and was just in the process of cleaning up.  Now that immediate danger was out of the way, and I had given myself whatever time I needed to get cleaned up and ready – time to take pictures.

It was a little smokey

Do you know how hard it is to sop up water inside the stove?  It took a long time, and melted plastic aside… it was really dirty in there!

I don't think I can save it

Clean up complete, I moved on and made the pasta salad.

Missing an element but otherwise okay