Tag: worry

Dear Me,

It’s okay.  Go ahead – have a moment.  Hell, take three, because you deserve it.  I can’t think of anyone more deserving than you.  Of course I’m biased, but I’m sure everyone would agree with me.

So, you had a little meltdown last week, got drunk and bawled for 6 hours – it happens to everyone at some point.  No need to beat yourself up.  In fact, you should pat yourself on the back for keeping the whole affair relatively quiet – you didn’t do it in Wal-Mart did you?  You didn’t wear a T-Shirt with your full name and address on it, right?  See?  That’s something to think about.

And no one took videos, did they?  Yes, I know you had headphones on and your back to the room, so it would be almost impossible to be certain, but there was only The Viking and Junior around and The Viking wouldn’t take advantage, now would he?  Junior…..well, he does have a cell phone glued to his hand, but I can’t see him adding insults by posting your drama on Face Book.  Remember?  He loves you.

Yes, he does!  It just felt like you were alone in the world.  You have a ton of people who love you and care for you and are now looking at you like you’re a fucking lunatic.  How did I know what you were thinking?  Because you aren’t the only one who has dropped the burden momentarily and then had to face the people who have seen you at your absolute worst.  It’s an embarrassment but it won’t kill you.  In fact, those witnesses are now frantically scouring their brain trying to find a way to help you.  So, just let them fucking help you!  They feel like shit because they didn’t think they needed to pay attention as closely as they should have.

Small problems accumulate until they become overwhelming mountains that block out the sun.  You aren’t imagining anything that isn’t real.  It totally is real!  Stress changes the way your brain performs; neurons and electrons, hormones and proteins behave differently, your body functions at a slower rate – these things are out of your control.  All you can do is recognize the signs.

Did you just tell me to fuck off?!  I’m trying to help you and you tell me to fuck off?!  It’s not all bullshit.  Seriously?!  You think life would be less stressful in prison?  A convent?!  Do they even exist anymore?  And if they do exist don’t the nuns have to work all day and pray every 3 hours?  You have difficulties getting up for 9:00 in the morning.  Yes, you do.  Don’t shit a shitter.

Fine.  Prison it is.  You would get 3 meals a day and I suppose you might be able to spend the rest of your time with adult coloring books.  You won’t have to pay bills or make meals or run errands either.  There might even be a library and I would assume you could take online university courses.  Or not.  How the fuck would I know what you would be allowed to do?  Do I look like a hardened criminal to you?!  I think it’s safe to assume that you can’t pick your meals from a menu and they probably don’t have fizzy water on tap.  I don’t know if you can bring a TV from home or if cable is available in your cell.  And, it’s highly unlikely they would have a Nail Technician or a Beauty Consultant on staff.  No.  I’m not calling Martha Stewart.  Besides, she’s American and would have very little knowledge about the Canadian Penal System.

Speaking of which – how do you know that you won’t get assigned to kitchen duty anyway, with a big broad who makes shivs out of turnips?  What if they make you go out in the yard in the rain?  What if they make you eat tuna salad on enriched white bread?  What if there are no private showers?

You might even have a cellmate.  Well, I suppose you might be able to arrange Solitary Confinement – if it’s an actual thing here – but then you probably won’t be allowed to take your coloring book and pencils in case you decide to poke an eye out.  You might be lucky to get a beat-up copy of The Odyssey by Homer to keep you amused.

Yes…. you would get caught up on sleep but once you’ve accomplished that…..well, what then?  I suppose you could work out.  Maybe there would be a yard somewhere, full of weight machines that you can just start bench-pressing 350 pounds and sweat like…. like…. a dude bench-pressing 350 pounds.

Are you really certain that Prison life is for you?  True, you would have very few responsibilities and money wouldn’t be an issue because Conservatives love their prisons, but there is a lot of downsides, the least of which is the big broad that makes shivs out of turnips.  There is the problem of getting invited to prison as well; you can’t just show up and check yourself in.  That would be the Looney Bin.  I understand that the entry requirements are much less stringent, so there is that…..

They don’t make you have public showers and you might not have a cellmate in case someone decides to poke someone else’s eye out with a pencil.  Your art will have to be done with pastels and crayons while Nurse Ratchet fills a syringe with psychedelic drugs and critiques your work though.

So, after all of this, you are right back where you started from – a lunatic not yet in an asylum.  Just go to bed for a couple of days and ‘adult’ next week.

Also, thank The Gawds that you have The Viking and you aren’t sitting alone in your dark closet.  Okay….you might still be sitting alone in your closet, but at least The Viking will check on you occasionally.

Where in the Hell is My Machete?!

The mad scramble for Holidays has begun.  I’m sweating buckets as I run around gathering all the things on my list.  Half way through one task though, I think of another thing that didn’t make the list so I change directions and then forget what the hell I was looking for.

I’m doing a lot of starting and stopping and swearing, if I’m honest.  Sure, I could have done most of the packing ahead of time but that just means I’m lugging suitcases from one flat surface to another because I need that surface in the meantime.  Houses really should be built with a “Packing Room” that has long flat surfaces for the luggage and shelves for organizing.  That would be helpful.

Also, cats; they get into everything and that blouse you just packed will be covered in fur when you need it.  It’s safer in the closet on hangers until the last minute.

And I can’t find my Night Vision Goggles.  Or my machete.  I probably won’t have to slash my way through a steamy jungle on our way to Arizona but you just can’t be too careful.  The Night Vision Goggles are handy to have though.  I probably put both of them in the same spot so I wouldn’t lose them but I can’t remember where that spot could be.  I hate it when that happens.

So, I don’t have much time to write a post but I wanted everyone to know that I’m not dead.  I’m on holidays.  I might not have time to write much for the next 2 weeks and it seemed like the polite thing to do to explain why.

Unless I actually die while on vacation.  That would seriously suck and no one would be worrying because I just told you I’m on vacation.

Maybe I should stop and buy a couple epi-pens in case of Killer Bees and I really need to find that fucking machete and the Night Vision Goggles.

Where the Hell is My Machete?!

The mad scramble for Holidays has begun.  I’m sweating buckets as I run around gathering all the things on my list.  Half way through one task though, I think of another thing that didn’t make the list so I change directions and then forget what the hell I was looking for.

I’m doing a lot of starting and stopping and swearing, if I’m honest.  Sure, I could have done most of the packing ahead of time but that just means I’m lugging suitcases from one flat surface to another because I need that surface in the meantime.  Houses really should be built with a “Packing Room” that has long flat surfaces for the luggage and shelves for organizing.  That would be helpful.

Also, cats; they get into everything and that blouse you just packed will be covered in fur when you need it.  It’s safer in the closet on hangers until the last minute.

And I can’t find my Night Vision Goggles.  Or my machete.  I probably won’t have to slash my way through a steamy jungle on our way to Arizona but you just can’t be too careful.  The Night Vision Goggles are handy to have though.  I probably put both of them in the same spot so I wouldn’t lose them but I can’t remember where that spot could be.  I hate it when that happens.

So, I don’t have much time to write a post but I wanted everyone to know that I’m not dead.  I’m on holidays.  I might not have time to write much for the next 2 weeks and it seemed like the polite thing to do to explain why.

Unless I actually die while on vacation.  That would seriously suck and no one would be worrying because I just told you I’m on vacation.

Maybe I should stop and buy a couple epi-pens in case of Killer Bees and I really need to find that fucking machete and the Night Vision Goggles.

 

 

I Can’t Just Wing It!

April 2017

The Viking’s brother and his lovely partner Annette are coming for a visit from Denmark in July.  For three weeks.  And I’m not concerned at all.  Because I’m an adult and have two and a half months to prepare.  As a matter of fact, when I told The Viking that I was a little stressed, he said “You have two and a half months to prepare, for fucksakes!”

I shouldn’t be worried at all.  There should be absolutely zero stress involved.  I’ve been the Hostess with the Mostess before; it’s not like I’m a rookie.  I’ve had the Boss and his wife over for dinner.  It was nothing! Friends? Easy-peasy!  The kids?  No problem!  You know where the linens are, help yourself.  If the chicken was a little over-cooked, who cares, right?

This time it’s different.  This time it’s The Viking’s Brother, Erik!  And Annette!  They had the most amazing bed linens and meals that were perfect and hot buns and cheese and cold cuts in the morning and a beautiful home and everything was perfect!  Most importantly, no one was losing their fucking minds trying to be perfect.

I can’t just wing this!  I can’t procrastinate until 3 days before they arrive and then panic.

Today

So guess what I did?

That’s right.  I procrastinated my way to 16 days before their arrival.  And now I’m LIKE THIS!

I need to be fresh and relaxed so they will feel fresh and relaxed.  I can’t meet them at the airport in a full-blown hot flash, reeking of Windex and Bleach.

I should hire people.  Professional people.  Waiters and Chefs and Housekeepers and couriers and a Butler.  I wonder if Ramsay is busy?  No, scratch that!  I can’t have him telling people to fuck off and calling them donkey’s asses while I’m trying to be perfect.  Jamie Oliver then.  Yikes! What if he serves Squid Ink Pasta!  I’ve written an entire blog about my feelings involving Squid Ink Pasta!  If only Julia Child were alive and available.

A mature, experienced woman would start by creating lists to be completed in chronological order as the date of arrival approaches.  But I didn’t do that.  Sure, I scoured the internet until I found amazing linens but that is the extent of my preparations.  I still have so much to do!

  • Paint the family room
  • Hang family room pictures
  • Shampoo carpets
  • Re-Side the house
  • Re-Sod the front yard
  • Build professional flower beds and plant flowers
  • Re-plant flowers because the first ones died
  • Get a Pedi-cure and my nails done
  • Cut The Viking’s hair
  • Get MY hair done
  • Buy a designer water pitcher with matching glasses for the guest room
  • Transform the Office Cubby Thingy in the spare room into a Martha Fucking Stewart creation
  • Re-hang curtain rods in spare room because I fucked up the ones in there already
  • Get a complete make over
  • Make more Poo-Pourri – we only have one bathroom after all
  • Hang The Viking’s Battle Axe and Shield on a wall so he’s not tempted to use it on me
  • Lose 30 pounds
  • Hire a Look Alike so I can hide in a closet and have panic attacks
  • Get the car detailed
  • Buy a hand gun and shoot myself in the head
  • DON’T BUY A HAND GUN!

Crazy GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

There is a bat-shit crazy squirrel in my head playing every disastrous scenario possible.  What if they have allergies to my laundry detergent? What if I can’t think of anything to say?  What if I say the wrong thing? What if they notice my stress and hate being here?  What if they decide to go home early because I’m a mess?

Maybe I should get some Weed.  If I get stoned will I be like this…..

Apple GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

or like this?

Getting On GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

Probably this, because it’s me we’re talking about.  And this is also the reason we don’t have a big fountain in the house – I don’t need to be wasted to fall into it.

Maybe I’ll just try essential oils first.  Apparently lavender, rose, vetiver (whatever the fuck that is), ylang ylang, bergamot, chamomile and frankincense (I thought that was only for Jesus) are good for alleviating anxiety.

I can always go for the devil’s weed later if necessary.

 

 

A Primal Scream and Maple Brown Sugar Drop Cookies – Part 1

My website stopped working 3 days ago. I tried everything to get into my Admin site and it all failed. The only clue I had was this warning, “There was an error retrieving your site settings. Make sure your Jetpack is up to date”.  How can I update Jetpack if I can’t get into my site?

So I sent Jetpack Support the following message on their Support Form.

I get HTTP 500 Internal Server Error when I attempt to access my admin site.

When I go through Word Press and try to access I get this error:

There was an error retrieving your site settings. Make sure your

Jetpack is up to date.

 I can’t update my Jetpack because I can’t get into either the wp-admin site or the .com site.”

The Form said it could be anywhere from 24 to 48 hours before I heard back from Jetpack.  Moan.

The following day, just for shits and giggles, I tried logging into my site AND IT WORKED! I hadn’t done anything, it just healed itself! Wonderful, but how is this possible? It is working perfectly.

This morning I received this from Jetpack:

We’re sorry you’re experiencing an issue.

 We only see one site associated with your ******** WordPress.com account, your self-hosted, WordPress.org Jetpack site, www.mrs-completely.com.

 What is the address of the WordPress.com site you’re referring to?

 Also, if you are not able to access the Dashboard of your self-hosted, WordPress.org site, please reach out to your site host for assistance, as they should be able to help you regain access to the site.

Once we get some feedback, we can take the next troubleshooting step in resolving your issue.

 Best,

Paul C. | Happiness Engineer | WordPress.com

Brilliant. So I confused them AND I don’t need them anymore. I hate it when this happens and I have to write a reply that admits my incompetence. I wish I didn’t have to but I’m an adult so apparently I can’t just hope it all goes away without any input from me. So:

Hi Paul,

SIGH! So the next day I thought I would take a chance and the stupid site loaded without any problems at all! This is like taking my car to the mechanic because it makes a horrible squealing sound and then it won’t make the sound for the mechanic but as soon as I leave the shop it starts squealing again. Gawd! Of course, I have The Viking now so this is no longer an issue but still……. The truth is that I panicked, because I have no idea how all this stuff works together. The Internet Gawd pointed the finger at Jetpack and like a panicky beast with the Dumb I fired off a primal scream on your Support Form. I’m 50. And menopausal. And I may or may not have been in the middle of a hot flash when I hit ‘Submit’. That’s my excuse. It’s up to you whether you believe it or not.

However, we’ve both learned something in the past couple of days. I’ve learned that there is actually someone on the other end of the Jetpack Support Form. Too many online Support Forms are there only to give the illusion that someone gives a shit if you have a problem. Jetpack has Happiness Engineers though! That must be the best fucking job on the planet! Wait. You do get paid, don’t you? Because I’m a Happiness Engineer too except they call me a Wife or a Mother and I get nothing for wages. Or vacation. Or sick days. You probably aren’t paid enough either, are you?

You’ve learned that Menopausal Women who don’t understand how this shit works can panic in glitchy situations. We’ve survived child birth and shopping trips with 3 children under the age of 4 and our husband getting a vasectomy and horrible in-laws and a whole slew of other crap but when our blog goes down for a day we lose our shit. You might want to put a button on the Support Form for ‘Menopausal Women Who Don’t Understand How This Shit Works’. And the automated reply saying you’ve received our Primal Scream could say things like “It’s okay, have some booze.” OR “We understand this is the last fucking thing you need today so we will hurry to help you.” OR “You’re not stupid. Just confused. Here’s a hug.”

 Anyway, please accept my apologies for bothering you. I can send you Brownies as a consolation/apology gift if you’d like. I make amazing Brownies. Oh! Or Maple Brown Sugar Drop Cookies! They are delicious! Please ask for these so I have an excuse to make a double batch and eat half of them myself.

I can only hope that he accepts my apologies and that the next time I hurl the Primal Scream on the Jetpack Support Form he won’t reply with a Turd emoji.

turd-emoji

Toilet Paper, a Swiss Army Knife and a Massacre

Saturday was Viking Days at the Danish Canadian Museum. The Viking and I were…..well, not giddy exactly….but pretty excited. We’ve never attended a Viking Massacre before.  Now that I think about it though, perhaps The Viking didn’t think this whole plan through because maybe I shouldn’t be trusted with knowledge involving massacre-ing Vikings. I’m only human, after all, and not always in a good mood. But…..too late now! It’s not like I can un-learn it.

We stuffed the Goldwing with a blanket, Swiss Army Knife, food, water, sandals, a sweater each, next of kin notification in a fire-proof box, driver’s licenses, bear spray, antacids, matches in a water proof/fire proof container, Tylenol, first aid kit, night vision goggles, extra earphones, a jerry can full of gas, a machete, compass, toilet paper, bug spray and The Viking’s contribution – an extra set of helmets (Don’t even ask because I can’t explain it).

I was in charge of what to pack while The Viking was in charge of complaining about what I wanted to pack.

I shouldn’t have to explain this every single time we want to go somewhere but apparently I do. Things happen when you leave home:

  • We could be hit by a car because the driver was texting 911 as he was having a heart attack.
  • An abnormally large insect could smash through the windshield of the bike, through the mask on his helmet and lodge itself in his left eye causing us to careen out of control, over an embankment and blow up in a fiery explosion. Admittedly, Polysporin probably wouldn’t be much help in this instance but maybe we would survive and then it would come in handy.
  • One of the Vikings could go rogue and we’d be forced to fight for our lives with our bare hands until we could steal a battle axe and then we would have to flee into the woods and maybe get lost and have to spend the night huddled together for warmth under a tree.
  • One of us could get heartburn from our picnic lunch.
  • There could be an earthquake and we might be cut off from civilization for whole minutes where my cell phone won’t work and we’ll have to make a fire to send smoke signals to the kids that we’re okay and that we will find them one day soon.
  • My earphones may stop working which would be a disaster because all I will be able to listen to is muffled wind or worse…..The Viking’s choice of music.  Shudder.
  • We could run out of gas on one of those range roads and suddenly the movie ‘Deliverance’ could happen and we’d have to slog our way through steamy swamps to escape.
  • One of us may need to pee/poo while we’re on one of those range roads and squatting in the ditch behind a shrub might become necessary and we’ll hope this doesn’t coincide with the scenario above because that would be really embarrassing.
  • We could be attacked by a bear while we are stopped for a drink so we have to stand and fight it to the death.   Or hit it with bear spray.
  • What if we’re motorcycle-jacked and have to track the culprits down and take our revenge?
  • What if your tipping maneuver going around corners does what physics says it should do and we slide and I’m spit out by centrifugal force to land in a stranger’s car? I should probably pack a box of chocolates or something to say thanks for the great catch.
  • What if we break down and have to catch a ride in the back of a truck hauling 3 pigs and a goat? I should pack a big jug of Febreez.

The possibilities for catastrophe are infinite! The Viking might swear and grouch but if something ever did happen he’d be like “You are the best woman ever! So smart! Thank Gawd I have you or I’d be fucked!  I’m so sorry for yelling at you.  Can you ever forgive me?” Or something like that.

So, loaded up and dressed in my best facsimile of Biker Gear, we headed out. We met Mim and Darb part way, who then proceeded to make The Viking and I feel stupid by pointing out that Mim has a GPS on her phone and doesn’t need the 18 pages of directions we printed at home. Fuck.

We had to take one gravel road which is never fun on a motorcycle and it’s even less fun when you are following a vehicle. By the time we hit pavement again we looked like those sand creatures from Star Wars. Why didn’t I think to bring our Shark Vacuum?! I should have known we might need to vacuum ourselves off!  Instead, we had to spend 5 minutes smacking the shit out of each other to get most of the dust out of our clothes.

The weather was beautiful at the Museum and crowds were already gathering for the big Massacre. We found a great vantage point on a grassy knoll and sat down to wait for blood and gore.

Soon, a big guy decked out in chainmail, helmet, shield and sword strode into the impromptu arena and started declaring himself the best warrior ever. And then another guy came out and declared the first guy was ‘Full of Shit’ and a fight ensued where the second guy died and the ‘full of shit’ guy proved he actually wasn’t ‘full of shit’. A woman came out and declared that she was a Shield Maiden and would kick his warrior ass but instead, promptly died. Booooooo! Boooooo!!

Another 4 guys came out trying to prove the first guy was ‘full of shit’ but they all died too which left no one for him to kill.  The crowd shouted ‘MEAD’! and all the dead people came back to life so the first guy could kill them all over again. By then he was just being a bully.

The violence ended when an army of children arrived, armed with short pool noodles and massacred every Viking on the field. The crowd shouted ‘MEADE’! again and all the dead people came back to life so they could be massacred all over again. The death and violence was awesome and it was great to see all the kids dressed up for massacre-ing with their little helmets and shields. Good wholesome fun! I wish my parents had taken me massacre-ing when I was young. I would probably be a much better Viking now.

There were some very good artisans set up and we enjoyed browsing. The Viking bought me a beautiful set of amber ear rings (I hope we don’t get robbed on our way back to the bike because I left the machete in the side bag) and we found out where we can buy free-range pigs. That in itself was worth the admission fee.

The trip home was uneventful except for the Iced Maple Cappuccino we stopped for in Olds, which turned out not to be an event but delicious anyway. So we didn’t need the machete for sure. Or the night vision goggles and the water proof matches.

I’m sure that the next time we want to go somewhere The Viking will cite this one trip as evidence that we don’t need such things as Machetes or Night Vision Goggles. But he’s not in charge of what we pack. I am. He’s only in charge of The Complaints Department and the Putting It All In The Vehicle Department.

Because that’s what he’s good at.

 

A deep breath and a flourish…..

Since I’m new at this and this is my first blog post you might be here by mistake. Google has led you here instead of taking you to where you really wanted to go because Google is a jerk sometimes.  Or, you might be here just checking it out in which case I am nothing if not helpful so here is a short list of things you won’t find here:

Continue reading “A deep breath and a flourish…..”