I came across a couple of articles today, this one (sent to me by K.Lo) was amusing enough to get me out of the foul mood I found myself in after reading this article.

The Globe and Mail article had me absolutely astounded that this poor man had been brought to court and had served jail time and cost all Canadians money for four years of trial for having a wank in his own home. I was also deeply disturbed that no one found anything wrong with what his neighbours had done - shouldn't people peeping into someone else's home with binoculars and trying to video tape him be arrested for invasion of privacy? Good grief people, how fucking sexually disturbed are we?

It makes me grateful that I'm living in a hippie neighbourhood where no one seems to care that I walk around naked in my living room all the time. I'm also glad that when I have a wank in my living room I have the good sense to put a blanket over the offending area, it's better to be safe that sorry.

The cat is now on her way to a full recovery, though it has been a feeding-every-two-hours-waking-up-3-times-a-night-roo-has-major-cabin-fever kind of week which ended last night after I actually went out for a bit with a friend and came back to see that Katie had gotten well enough to try and rip the tube out of her neck and, though no stitches were broken, was still bleeding everywhere so a late night trip to the Shoppers for some polysporin and new bandages was in order. I realized this week yet another reason for my not wanting to have children: I can't handle this! It's been a week of getting excited over her bowel movements and spending 24/7 taking care of someone and I know this is basically what mom's do for many years and I'm exhausted after only a week.

Anyone feel like a humiliating roo story? Good.
On Saturdays I have registered for the two Lv4 belly dancing classes and am quite nervous about them. I guess this is why I wasn't quite as cautious as I normally am when making my morning breakfast shake. I put in the apple, banana etc into the blender and then the powdered "greens" and the hemp and flax. Now the powdered greens come with those little "freshness" packages called Silica - you find them in some jackets and shoes too (and as a little tip, if you pack up your belly dancing outfits with some of them after a big sweaty performance, it helps to take the moisture out of these uncleanable outfits). I had finished my prep and was happily drinking my shake when lo and behold I find that there is a piece of plastic in my mouth. I pull it out and it's white with picture of a little red circle with a human face eating something and a big red line through the circle, indicating of course "do not eat." I don't know how much of the stuff I consumed but I felt okay so I just hurried out to belly dancing.

While I was making shimmy, I noticed that my stomach was getting bigger. Man I feel fat today, I thought to myself. But then it became apparent by the extreme growth in size that I wasn't just having one of those "fat" days. After the class I told some of the girls about it and one of them kindly called poison control for me. Her conversation went something like this:

"I have a friend who ate some of one of those silica packages, is she going to be okay?"
"Yes, she'll be fine but as it absorbs moisture a reaction happens where her stomach will expand a bit"
"Thank you, she was a little nervous"
"How old is your friend?"
"She's 27."
"Oh...we usually get these cases with someone a little younger"
(starting to laugh)"Well, it's not like she ate it on a dare, it was a mistake."

At this point everyone at belly dancing is laughing with me and at me. Yes, though I am getting an MA, I am still the silliest person around. My tummy expanded a full four inches (which is quite a considerable amount to expand in a day) and I am almost back to normal now. So basically, don't eat the Silica packages, even if someone dares you.

So I say I'm blogging again and then I don't, however there is good reason. My kitty is recovering from major surgery and I just spent the most harrowing night of my life trying to get her to recover last night. Read the following knowing that this is me at my most exhausted, both emotionally and physically.

Let me say, if there are those of you wondering whether you should put a happy but not quite healthy older pet through any type of medical surgery or expensive and daily treatment, it's not worth it. Katie has a feeding tube in her esophagos right now and is it making her eat? Yes. Is she anywhere near as happy as she was before all this fiasco began? No. It's always a big question - quality vs quantity of life. I got bamboozled into thinking that I could get both for my kitty. Right now, I'm not so sure I did the right thing, maybe she'll get used to eating this way and she'll totally rebound, but for right now she seems pretty pissed and sad.

I'm usually not the type to go in for the major surgeries (I have extremely little trust in doctors and vets), but once you get into the vet they totally panic you into spending as much money as possible as quickly as possible. They make you feel guilty and on top of that, the fact that Katie isn't really "mine" and I feel a certain obligation towards her owner, and the fact that I adore this cat more than life itself...well all this combines to make me susceptible to bullshit. I hate feeling bamboozled and pressured, it makes me feel stupid. I also hate going against my instincts, which rarely lead me astray, because then when my instincts end up being right, I just kick myself all the harder for not listening to myself.

She'll be fine, though she hates me with a fiery, red hot passion she has never known before. But she's unhappy and under the bed and last night I believe I came pretty damn close to losing her. She's stable today, thank god. I'm exhausted and have to feed her through the tube every two hours so basically I won't be blogging for awhile. I would ask that if you have a little time, if you could please send a healing thought Katie's way, it would be much appreciated.

Well my dearests I have finally returned. Hope everyone is feeling well rested and loved. My vacation was much needed however it was not quite what I wanted it to be. I _did_ have an excellent time meeting up with friends and for the second year in a row I rang in my New Year with people I adore.

Pickle is here in Edmonton picking up some of his shit. It's been pretty good, but I tell you, the fates are against me. Meeting up with an ex for the first time is always a little awkward, but only when the gods are feeling cheeky do they combine this with major bathroom mishaps. We both arrived in Edmonton on the same day and met at the airport. As we walk into my apartment, the place is like a fucking sauna - the leak in the hot water tap in the tub had returned during my absence (I had it fixed only two weeks before I left dammit!) and so the hot water had been running in my tiny apartment for close to 3 weeks. The walls were dripping with humidity and I had to burn candles to get rid of the smell of wet wood. After much window opening and bathroom fanning, we were a bit chilly but the place was starting the feel normal. Pickle used the facilities. I then got up to use the facilities, and as I was sitting on the toilet realized that my socks were getting progressively wetter. Hmm... I thought. I got up and flushed the toilet and lo and behold there's a leak in the toilet. Yes folks, bathrooms can and do explode.

On a much better note, I'll be off to the land of the Scots this Sept to celebrate the marriage of my cherubs. The news of this event makes the whole New Year seem a little brighter.