Themusingwell's Blog

January 19, 2010


Filed under: Uncategorized — WeeBanshee @ 5:19 pm

I’ve been watching the news – who hasn’t – and I leave my television, usually in tears, feeling utterly helpless.  Yes, Napoleon and I have sent money but I still feel helpless.  I want to be there.  I want to hold the hand of a crying child and offer a pair of warm, caring arms.  I want to hand out food and water.  I want to DO something besides write a check. 

If I were there, I have no doubt I’d be more of a hindrance than a help.  The sheer chaos of the place would freak me out.  I think of all the aid workers down there, risking their lives.  How do they cope?  Surely there are new people among the ranks who have joined up – probably without a second thought – and who are now under unbelievable stress and yet, still helping. 

I applaud everyone down there from the doctors, nurses, civil engineers, just plain people – who are giving it their all to help a people and a country that have long languished out of the spotlight.  Haiti cannot afford one more piece of bad luck.

I wonder about all of the tourist hot spots near by – Cuba is a winter getaway for all Canadians as is the Dominican Republic.  How can anyone lie on a beach, relaxed and utterly self-absorbed, while only a short haul flight away, there are bodies rotting in the streets and children wailing from hurt and hunger?  My sister-in-law and her boyfriend are on their way to Cuba right now and I wonder if they know how close they are? 

Should I denounce those who I know are fully capable both physically and financially of helping who don’t?  I’m torn.  Yes, everyone who works hard deserves a holiday but I wouldn’t sleep at night knowing  almost within sight of the island I was basking on was hell on earth and I could do something about it…

Maybe I just suffer from too much Catholic guilt.


January 13, 2010

Diary of a Day

Filed under: Uncategorized — WeeBanshee @ 6:56 pm

I try to live by the karma rule:  what you put out there comes back to you.  Or, something like that.  Anyway, I try to put good karma out there into the Universe in hopes that good karma will float back to me.  So, why am I greeted first thing in the morning with dog poo all over the floor?

Poor Boomer (see blog Boomer Cheats Dr. Death) – I know he doesn’t mean to do it.  He’s 13, recovering from major surgery, and probably doesn’t have the best muscle tone but seriously?  Really?

Napoleon leaves the house around 6 am which he somehow thinks absolves him from having to let Boomer out.  I stumble down the stairs at 7:30 and make lunches, rouse sleepy & reluctant children, feed them, feed myself and yes, I let the dog out.  I let him out bright and early and still I turn around after and there it is.  On my good rug, no less.

I have another universal question:  when throwing up or pooping, why is it children and animals go for the absolute hardest thing to clean?  Has anyone ever noticed that?  Boomer has had very few accidents over the years but he is something of a puker.  I have witnessed him actually veer off the hardwood or stone floor areas and aim for the carpets.  And, just for the record, he prefers the stair carpeting.  Don’t even get me started on the kids…

So, that’s how the day started.  Napoleon and I are on a post-holiday cleansing de-tox regime and I am literally, hungry all the time.  Of course I crave all that I’m not allowed to have.  Perhaps it’s affecting my karmic output.  I know it’s affecting all my other outputs, as it were.

Napoleon now leaves me little sticky notes in the a.m.  My own “honey do” list.  Thanks.  He’s afraid I’ll start renovating if I have nothing else on my plate…

My Grade 7 daughter called me at lunch time asking if she could go to a friend’s house after school.  When I replied yes, her reply was “Sick!” and she promptly hung up on me.  Is “sick” an expression of happiness?  Or sadness?  It’s hard to tell these days.  I sound like an old fogey.

I called a local retailer today as they had a “Help Wanted” sign in their window.  You really don’t see those types of signs too much at the moment.  Sadly, they want someone with an affinity for accounting – that is SO not me.  I have trouble with all numbers.  I was traumatized by a math teacher as a child…very sad stuff…will spare you.

So it is mid-afternoon and I sit, once again, contemplating what I should do with myself.  I could write a short story and send it off to someone.  I could finish one of the innumerable short stories sitting in my desk and on my hard drive and send it off to someone…I could forage in the cupboard for food that meets the stringent requirements of the Wild Rose Herbal De-tox regimen.  I could search or Kijiji for part-time jobs. 

I went for a walk, ran my errands, fed my dog…clearly as sense of purpose is missing from my life at the moment.

What I can do is relax a bit and savor the peace before the thundering hordes (aka children) return from school and demand snacks and all sorts of other things.  Sounds like a plan..Boomer is already on task, snoring away at my feet.

Lack of Focus?

Filed under: Uncategorized — WeeBanshee @ 2:27 pm


Ok, so you know this whole blogging thing is new to me and while it’s great to have an outlet for my little stream of consciousness rants, they’re pointless unless they have a point and someone reads them.

So, what is my point?

Good question.  I ask myself that daily.  I have a busy little brain but it tends to get off-topic quickly.  I was once diagnosed with ADD and it certainly seems plausible (although I laughed at the time).  All of my primary school report cards said the same thing, roughly:  “she tends to daydream, she doesn’t seem focused on her work, she is very smart but doesn’t apply herself…”  Yawn.

Perhaps this little focusing problem explains why I have about 150 short stories, would-be novels, and other assorted projects lying patiently in folders in my desk waiting for my focus to return.  Regularly, I go back and read stuff and think, “hey, this is pretty good…” I may start it up again but I get distracted shortly thereafter.

My point is this:  I need to focus on earning a living my way and my way is writing.  In order to do that, someone has to read what I write, publish it, pay me for it, etc. 

This blog, while fun for me to write, has no purpose other than being an outlet for my gazillion thought threads.  I need a blog that is at once entertaining and perhaps educational (?) or at least it’s a place where other peeps can come and read and feel, “Oh, yeah, I’ve experienced that or I’ve done that” and they connect with it.  And me.  And my writing…

Ideas:  blog on renovation/design, blog on writing (God, how many of those must be out there already?), blog on stay-at-home-motherhood-with-ancient-senile-dog?  I think its interesting that now, as my kids are entering their teens, is the time that I have the strongest desire to stay at home.  Most mothers are chomping at the bit to get out of the house when their kids reach this age…see here I go…tangent…hmmm…I’ll have to give this some thought.

After thinking, I must research (believe it or not I am an ADD personality who is pretty good at research) ways to get people to read my blog.  And, not just Napoleon.  Christ, even he hasn’t read it.  My best friend hasn’t read it…nobody loves me! 


January 12, 2010

Boomer Cheats Dr. Death

Filed under: Uncategorized — WeeBanshee @ 9:31 pm


See full size image

Our dog Boomer is 13 years old.  He’s had a few close calls in his day but none as close as the day the vet came to put him to sleep. 

We’d been told the sad news just after Christmas that Boomer had cancer.  There was a baseball sized tumor on his spleen; the vet thought his demise was imminent especially if the blood vessels surrounding the tumor ruptured.  We paid for test after test to see if the cancer had spread but everything came back inconclusive.  Given his age, no one thought he had much chance.

Sadly, Napoleon and I agreed that no heroics were going to save him and we simply were not in a financial position to afford both surgery and ongoing chemo the dog.  I am very firm in my belief that although pets are precious, going to fantastic lengths to save family pets is more for the humans involved than the pet.  I am not selfish.  Boomer has had an awesome life and been an incredible joy but if he had to go, I wanted him to go peacefully and with some dignity.

With heavy hearts, we agreed to have him put down after New Year’s Day.  Napoleon, tough little emperor though he may be, went through the next few days awash in tears.  So did I.  We were absolutely devastated but we didn’t want the dog to die in front of the kids from internal bleeding which the vet kept telling us was a distinct possibility. 

The Day of Reckoning for Boomer dawned chilly and snowy.  I sent the kids off to school without a word.  Napoleon came home early to be here with us when the vet came.  We took Boomer for one last walk along the snowy dog beach along his beloved Lake Ontario.  We walked and cried and reminisced while Boomer loped along the shoreline, oblivious to our breaking hearts.

We walked up the long hill to our house, our feet getting heavier with every step.  Boomer laboured up the hill but still looked positively perky…he did NOT look like a dog at the end of his days.  His tail and ears were up, there was a bounce in his step…he showed more sparkle on this day than he had in weeks. 

The few minutes we had left before the vet (now unkindly nicknamed Dr. Death)arrived passed slowly.  Napoleon decided, in view of the situation, that Boomer should eat whatever the hell he wanted.  Boomer’s tail thumped on the kitchen floor as my husband fed him:  Greek pork souvlaki, cheese, 2 dog biscuits, and assorted other goodies from the fridge.  The dog was going to leave this world with a world-class case of indigestion.

The vet knocked softly on our front door.  I’m sure this is not the favorite part of his job.  Boomer bounded to the front door to greet him.  “Wow.  He’s looking great,” said the vet.  “He has such…spirit…”  We all looked at each other and then the Great Debate began.

For half an hour, with Boomer lying at our feet, we debated his survival.  It was the most soul-wrenching, nerve-wracking conversation I’ve ever had with anyone ever.  We debated his age, the type of tumor we were most likely dealing with, every symptom, lymph nodes, toenails, you name it we covered it.  Finally, the Dr. D concluded that this dog was not ready for his maker.

As the vet left, we both got down on our knees and hugged the old guy.  A foul odor wafted up from his tail end. Napoleon looked at me and we started to laugh and cry at the same time.  “That Last Supper you gave him is going to haunt us for DAYS!” I said. 

Update:  Boomer had surgery to remove the offending tumor and his spleen.  He’s recovering nicely.  We await test results to see what type of tumor it was and what to do next.  Well done, Boomer!!!!

Too Much Time

Filed under: Uncategorized — WeeBanshee @ 9:08 pm


I sit in my little house.  It is quiet.  The husband and children are gone.  My gaze travels around our open concept living room/dining room.  


When we bought this house back in July, I’d seen it once.  I knew it was a good house even only seeing it briefly and through a throng of other prospective buyers during an open house.  It has good bones.  Small but perfectly formed.  However, even then I noticed some quirks (and some shortcomings – laundry room, I’m talkin’ to you) but I didn’t have time to make much of them.  Toronto was in the throngs of a hot seller’s market and we were going to be in a bidding war on any property we went for. 

Fast forward to October.  We moved in and realized very quickly that this house was t-i-n-y and our furniture is big.  Our last house was big.  The other thing I noticed fairly quickly is the house is dark.  We have an overhanging porch on the front (East) and our house is a semi-detached so we get no southern exposure.  The western sun is great but once it goes behind our maple, its gone.  The paint colours do nothing to lighten things up. 

Easiest solution?  Paint.  I love to paint; its like mindful meditation for me.  Colour doesn’t scare me.  But, I can’t find any of my paint brushes…and Napoleon got rid of my car…hmmm… 

 Another solution would be to knock down the weird wall between the dining room and kitchen.  Flanked on the left by a pseudo greek column (sounds worse than it is), the wall has a tiny 3 x 4 pass-thru opening that serves no function and just to the right of that is the weirdest configuration of glass block I’ve ever seen.  You have to wonder…were they drunk? 

If only I could find my sledgehammer…where the hell are my tools? 

If that wall came down, there’d be more light.  

Weird…I can’t find any of my implements of destruc…I mean renovation.  Something’s fishy here.  

Well, there’s no money in the bank anyway (not that no money’s ever stopped me before).  I could definitely make some improvements.  

Napoleon thinks the house is perfect, just the way it is.  I know better.  If we had more money, he’d be swinging his own sledgehammer right beside me… 

In our last house, we kept having incidents…let’s call them accidents.  Napoleon would come home and there’d be a tiny pile of tiles on the bathroom floor.  “I don’t know what happened…I was in the shower and they just popped off…” or he’d come home and there’d be a hole in the laundry room wall.  “Well, I guess the washing machine was out of balance and slammed into the…” Yeah, he didn’t buy it either.  It got to the point that whatever project I wanted to start, the demolition and re-construction had to all take place before Napoleon got home from work.  This worked fine when he commuted from Calgary to Chicago every week or when he traveled to Europe on business. 

Sadly, I have to face the lack of money in the bank account.  All projects have to wait.  Oh well, gives me time to find the sledgehammer…

Been Awhile…

Filed under: Uncategorized — WeeBanshee @ 9:03 pm


Usually I’m a very consistent writer but I have to admit, this holiday season and all of its accompanying chaos, got the better of me. 

When last I wrote…well, I can’t even remember…I believe Christmas was bearing down on me like a freight train.  Yes, I’m sure that was it…with all birthdays in December except Napoleon’s and the dog’s (not counting Jesus), things get a bit frenetic around here.  We had the usual out of town guests, last minute shopping extravaganzas and a very sick dog.  More on him in a later post… 

Also, the pressure to find “acceptable work” weighed on me as Christmas came and went.  Although the house in Calgary finally sold (yay!!), the price wasn’t enough to pay off both that mortgage and the line of credit we had to get to keep us afloat after we arrived in Toronto.  Thus, there is still more money going out than coming in.  I put acceptable work in quotations because good old Napoleon has his own ideas about what I should be doing from 9-5 not realizing (or perhaps just ignoring) that what I am doing at this very moment is exactly what I should be doing.  In fact, if I could write for a living, I would do it every chance I got and not just from 9-5.  

Alas, in the meantime, I must appease both Napoleon and the ever-dwindling bank account.  Jobs I’ve considered so far include:  real estate assistant (I used to be a Realtor so I figure I can do it), veterinary receptionist (I love, love, love animals), doggy day care worker (really? Is that what they’re called?)  A sad little list of things I would lower myself to do on a daily basis.  The list of what I will not do is much longer!  

I will not put up with stuck up, snooty, self-aggrandized jerks.  I have a wealth of experience dealing with such types on my resume, thank you very much.  I won’t work for anyone who has no intellectual curiousity (that actually eliminates most Realtors as does the first sentence).  Yes, I realize I’m severely limiting myself to anything but welfare-dependent hermit as a job.  Am I being too picky?  Napoleon would just roll his eyes…perhaps it’s best that I work with and for animals as opposed to humans! 

Is there a job out there for me???

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