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Today was a day off for me.
I thought my bro was bringing his wee terrier over to be puppy-sat by my 13 year old, because today was an inservice day, therefore no school.
So I didn't luxuriate in bed, sleeping in as I might otherwise.
Puppy is coming Saturday morning instead. Bro's 12 hour shifts must be hell!
Oh, well. Nice to be up alone in the quiet morning. Meditate. Try to think about what I am on the planet for, and why I am in the situation I am.
Saw my counsellor. I feel that our discussions are drawing to an inevitable conclusion. I need to talk to more people to get some balance.
Got a haircut from a student stylist. Didn't get to see the very special person I wanted to. She'd have done a fine job, I think. I'd love to wait, but my hair was in my eyes. I like it now. The woman who did it was a very nice aboriginal, a new student, a little shy and very gentle. We started talking about pets and family, and life in general. I hope that I get to see her again.
I should retouch the colour soon. ROOTS are SHOWWWING.
Strayed into a used bookshop. I am a total sucker for old books. Like some people with shoes or yardsales, I guess.
I found a few books in the "$4 ea or 3/$10" stack that interested me.
One was an overview of influential Medieval writings. Although they may have been too early to be printed, many works were transcribed by hand by secular and monastic Scriptoriums, "factories" which used human hands and eyes to reproduce pages one at a time. Some short works which could be single pages were reproduced via woodcuts. Books had great value then, and were covered in cases that locked, which sometimes were encrusted with jewels. Early libraries, almost always private, chained books to oaken lecturns to prevent theft.
Another was a biography of a remarkable European Rabbi translated from Yiddish to English. It was in excellent condition.
Yet another was the novel Ramona, about an aboriginal girl and her struggles with prejudices. It was similar to Uncle Tom's Cabin, and seemed also to be written in the 1800's.
But it is vital to conserve money, and I didn't BUY any of these temptations.
I also visited a thrift store, and found something I'd been looking for for almost 20 years.
A drafting chair to go with my drafting table.
And cheap!
Obsolete today, the drafting table with it's pale green covering of self-healing Bork was a must when I studied graphic arts.
Those were the pre-computer, pre-Quark days of PMTs, lettraset and T-squares.
My son has my table now, and uses it as a desk of handsome proportions. Now he will have the chair, too.
I also got a bathing suit, because we need to expose ourselves a little more for our next massage class, when we start to work on the muscles of our backs.
I have a bathing suit already, which is in itself a guarantee that my body will certainly be found in case of drowning.
And that my family will never acknowledge me at a beach or swimming pool.
It is BRIGHT yellow with big, bright, blobby flowers and a cute little skirt.
Hubbie hates it, and, while I kinda like it, I chose something more conservative for his sake.
Red beans and rice with pulled pork sandwiches for supper. Hub made the pork on Thurs. - with homemade french fries. Delicious, of course, but I can't eat it or I suffer from the GERD. Actually he suffered, too. We have to start eating old people's food, or we'll crisp out from heartburn.
Money troubles are always there. They resurfaced today. I simply don't make enough. It's Mr. Macawber's receipe for misery. However, there is some interest in the downstairs room we offered to homestay programs. One of them called back to schedule an inspection. We could also offer the 18er's room, or the main floor bedroom, if we move back upstairs.
I am hoping for something certain before October.

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Sunday today. Our message at church had to do with the glory of God covering the whole earth, and our part is to abide in Him.
John ch. 15.

My oldest son and his friend came home for lunch today, and my FIL moved out to join my MIL in their new place.
It's only my youngest son and I at home now, as my first and second have gone with their friend to play soccer, and to a worship service.

There is a constant low-grade ringing in my ears which gets worse when the sprain tightens up. It's there in the background while my hearing itself remains good.

I'm thinking about the message, and I want to feel released from the things that are holding me back from living an effective, non-angry life:
FEAR & COWARDICE
ANGER (the biggie)
BITTERNESS
SHAME
RESENTMENT
VENGEFULNESS
SELFISHNESS (so easily styled "self-care", "self-preservation" and "self-love")

Today's message was intended to remind us that we ARE set free from these and more, but I need to find a way whereby I feel it, somehow.

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Helped my MIL to unpack in their out of town bungalow condo today. At least 45 min. drive from our driveway. She's moved in, mostly, with FIL staying here until the dust has settled. Why subject him to the stress?
Mostly she was re-moving things already put away from one cupboard to put into another. I know it takes time to get settled, and what seemed right one day, is impractical upon more thought.
I also got her some groceries. The shopping opportunities in this small town are slim pickings compared to what she is used to in the city.
I hope this move will work out for them.
Back at home, I am treated to the sounds of newspaper pages flipping from 5:15 to 6:40. No other sound, not even a radio.
I have a VERY late lunch. There is a store-bought BBQ chicken in the fridge and two tubs of store-made salad for dinner.
Both my husband and my FIL are now sleeping, and my son is reading his tutorial for his newly purchased game of Warcraft III.

It is so very quiet in this three-level, 5-bedroom home we bought in only 2000 because our family was so big.

My keystrokes are the biggest sound around.

I grew up in a home where there were at least two TV's going, as well as a radio in every bedroom, AND the kitchen, on high volume, it seemed, from 7am to 11pm daily. Six people who talked, fought, debated, used the phone, made deals, and generally pushed their weight around AND read the newspaper.

From BOOM to tomb.

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Today, I have just one client left, it's PAYDAY and tomorrow is my weekend off. YIPEEEEEeeee!

The IL's are moving in to their new place. I will help them today and tomorrow. I know already that I will miss my FIL. He has a sweet and constant outlook on life that I am sure pleases God. Although I may have blown off steam about the housekeeping details my MIL employs which make me feel so inferior, I know we will all miss her constant cleaning, hymn-humming, and her being there when the kids get home.

This "someone being there" is really a problem for us. My Blog title is really a misnomer. I can hardly be called a housewife, not because I am an outrageous slob, but because I am home so little. I log lots of overtime, and my split shifts cause me to be in other peoples' homes at waking, ready-for-bed and meal times. Still, I am glad to have a job. I am hoping that my husband will find something soon. I have also applied for another job within my company that is related to duties I performed successfully elsewhere. The pay is a little better, and I would be working office hours. I hope I will be considered, and that the HR people will call me soon.

Ron and I have had our fight and made our present peace.

I have a dark side. I am constantly trying to suppress it. I became a Christian to drown it. It is full of fear and anxiety, guilt, shame and blame. Toxic to happiness and trust. I know. I grew up in circumstances that showcased this darkness as a powerful tool.

Think of it as an evil, poisoned sword, like from Mordor.

Circumstances honed this darkness and gave me skill in wielding it. I had plenty of practise putting others down, including my siblings, friends and even, at times, my parents, husband and children. And some of them became used to it enough to learn to fight back. Some of them even learned to like it.

What is the result of such "swordplay"?

Fear instead of love, for one thing.

I may pick up a good sword 29 days out of thirty, and fight the good fight. But I find myself with the poisoned blade in my hands, stabbing someone right in their self-esteem on one awful day, and all the 29 good days are as nothing to me, or my victim.

Can I change this, or will I have to fight forever? I live in hope that I can change.

Change takes effort, committment and constant vigilance. I have committed myself to change often, I am capable of any effort, but my vigilance sometimes slips.

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I didn't write about massage class yet.

It was the reason I had to leave before the pie and custards were baked yesterday.

My husband has a herniated disk in his spine, and I have regular strain on my neck and shoulders from work.
I saw a course on Masage for Couples and Caregivers and thought, "Here we go! Maybe we can help each other."
The first class was yesterday. I thought it was quite good. The instructor is a petite blond woman who is unafraid to get up on chairs to get leverage! We learned about the history of massage, and what we can expect from our course, and we learned to do chair massage on each other.
It's kind of romantic. I saw two smooches and observed one whispered promise that made the promisee's ear turn bright, bright red.
The instructor advised Ron to ice his spine after massage to prevent inflamation, and found my trapezius very hard and tight.

Today, I had physio, at last. At first, my appointment was cancelled, but I called them and reminded them how long I'd been waiting, and they got me in with another therapist. He was impressed with my flexibility and range of motion, although it was clear that I was in pain. Keeping my clients moving is what has helped me keep moving. When he saw how hard and tight my neck and shoulders were, and how much pain I was in, he showed great compassion and consideration. When he applied pressure to the knots of muscle at the base of my skull, it hurt A LOT, but it did release the tightness, and slowly my terrible headache began ebbing away. After that I went to see the Dr., who found my muscles tighter than they were the first visit. This is partially because I went off the relaxants for 24 hrs before seeing the therapist, so they could assess the actual extent of my injury. Partially because I have been working with an injury. He gave me a referral for footcare because of the heavy callouses that have developed on my heels, the balls of my feet and my big toes.
He suffers from callouses, too, so he gave me some really good tips from his personal experience.

I made Three-Rices and Chicken with Oriental Vegs with the 17 year old for supper. I also served the pumpkin custard!

I read what my husband blogged about my oldest son and I. If I am such an emotional, embarrassing person, why do I have a good, loving relationship with my two other sons? I had a strong drive to leave my parents when I was a teenager. I believe it is part of growing up. Dad and Mom seemed foolish to me then, but now that I have been a parent, I see that they were only doing the best they could.

I called for Dad today. Spoke with my brother. All is well.

I emailed my cousin who is getting married. His wedding is part of the reason Mom is overseas.

I emailed the Prime Minister about the bill which would allow same-sex marriages with my point of view. I think redefining marriage is a mistake. Through all of written, oral and pictoral history, it's always been man/woman. Why should a temporal government attempt to change something so time-honoured?

Nor does it make economic sense. By including non-man/woman unions in government benefits, it will become too expensive to last, because these unions presently do not produce as many new taxpayers as hetero unions, which are needed to sustain the benefits. Adopting does not create new taxpayers - it only renames existing children. What methods will be used to create the neccesary new children? Will they be viable, productive taxpaying citizens or cloned "Dollys", destined to adult afflictions from birth and a premature death?

This bill threatens to change children and taxpayers themselves into a kind of commodity.

Immediatly, this benefits will produce terrible pressures on the tax base, because most of the homo couples are older (soon to collect benefits) and childless (haven't replaced themselves with new taxpayers). Insurance premiums will also have to rise, because of a new influx of risk, which will have to be spread out among all insured persons. It isn't legal to discriminate against homo lifestyle, though it may be proven to incur more risk of mental and physical disease and early death. Our only hope to bear the costs will be to attract immigrants, and what sort of immigrants will we attract? People of all creeds who don't approve of Canadian moral conditions will not have to deliver speeches from a soapbox. Some citizens will move away and some immigrants will not move in, and the ones who remain will work on changing the laws.

Bad goverment cannot stand the test of time.
Governments who don't trust their people, don't keep power.

Machiavelli knew that.

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Guess what, my husband found my blog! He even made a link to it from his, but not on the first screen.

Oh, no. You have to dig a little deeper to find "She said".

He didn't say a thing, just linked me on.

Gee, I'm flattered.

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I worked from 9 to 5:15 yesterday, only making it home through rush hour traffic at 5:30, and found husband, son and inlaws griping in a discontented knot.

Why?

Because I had asked the 13 year old to make a hamburger helper supper, and he hadn't come home yet, and they were all hungry.

"Besides," whined my husband - whose only item on his calender was to have lunch with somebody - "we don't have the right KIND of Hambuger Helper!"

I didn't even have time to take off my jacket.

I pulled out a box of rotini, a can of mushroom soup, two tins of tuna and 2 cups of frozen veggies.

My son had arrived at 5:45, and I showed him what to do.

Put water on to boil, measure your pasta & vegs. Open the cans while you wait for the water to boil. Cook the pasta & vegs together until they are done, then drain. Put the soup and the tuna in the pot and whisk til blended. Fold in the drained noodles and veg. Add milk til the casserole is just right, reheat a touch and serve with pride at 6:15.

PS I made a pumpkin pie from pastry leftovers while he made the casserole. I deliberately made extra filling for Pumpkin Custard, something that my FIL can eat, as it is a low cholesterol alternative to pie. It's just the filling baked in a dish instead of a pie shell.

As I had to leave for massage class at 6:45, I told my MIL how great it would be for FIL to have the custard instead of the pie. I left three bakable dishes beside the remaining filling, and the pie in the oven with instructions from the cookbook.

When I got back, the pie was out, but untouched. The custard and dishes remained unbaked.

She said she didn't know what my plans for these items were.

"Did you think I would make dessert for us and not for you?"
"Didn't I tell you about the Pumpkin Custard?"

Shrug, shrug, look away, go to room and close door.

Good night.

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I came in from working today's supper calls, which means I missed my own supper, and found the MIL and FIL sitting down for a cozy gossip session with MIL's sister and her husband. From the way that my entrance affected their conversation (blushing and guilty silence), I could tell they'd been chatting about me. I am naturally the scapegoat for the fact that Ron flunked his exam. He had his text in November, and didn't start to study until May, when his course was almost over. So I sat in on their little party until they left, polite as you please. I poured coffee, I passed them the dainties, I gave them a nice flower out of my vase full of baby pink carnations (which I gave myself because I'm worth it) as they went out the door. I hope the flowers smell pretty and keep fresh for a long time to remind them of me, and whatever they were blushing about.

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Yesterday my worday stretched from 7:30 AM to after 10PM, on the split shift.

Today, with the breaks from two cancelled calls, I will have a slightly lighter day.

I feel tired from the cold wet weather. I'd love to snooze under my duvet.

Cannot find server

Came home from my split shift (7 to 1PM) and found towels all neatly folded - the wrong way for them to fit into my linen closet. My MIL was very nice to do the folding, but I don't want to be the one to tell her that it's not going to fit into the shelf, AGAIN. I do it over again, secretly, myself.

I got my 13 year old to do his weekly chore of vaccuming the top floor by telling him he couldn't go out and see his friends til he did. It still works.

Husband is out for a walk with a blister on his foot. Why?
Still no job. He's been working on a side job quote all week.

Saw my Dad today. Still alive. My brother was making him an elaborate breakfast - just the way he likes. I wish I could get service like that! But I don't like how he gets it - tantrums and terrible curses on those who fail to measure up. Right now, I am one of those who don't measure up on his personal yardstick. He doesn't like what I do.

I am a certified nurses assistant. What can I say? It was a practical choice at the time. I make enough for the FIVE of us to manage, and I sometimes do extra work on evenings, nights, days off and weekends. It's more dependable than Sales, and better for my health than a desk job.

For him, though, I should be a nurse, no, make that a Dr., no, make that a professor, no - not enough... How about PRIME MINISTER!!!?

However, when it was time to sign my student loan application for the University where I was accepted, he refused. Thanks for your support, Dad.

(Don't worry - I put myself through with my husband's help later. Though he became unemployed at the start of the second year, and I had to leave school early to get a job. It was a blessing in disguise, as I had the jump on all the graduates. Some of them NEVER got started in a career)

Husband returned. He was on his bike, actually, ridding himself of toxins by having a really GOOD workout. He saw some people fishing at the riverside. Someone pulled out a two-foot sturgeon. This is an ancient and endangered species of fish. Supposed to taste good smoked, but few will find out unless thay make a comeback.

I work from 4 to 10 tonight. Gee, it's a long and tedious day.

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Today is a day off for me. I spent an hour with a counsellor talking about my frustrating life. Later, I will see a herbalist to help me with my health.

I have GERD - Gastro-Intestinal Reflux Disease. It's a product of stress.
Bad stress is when you can't do something about your stressors, either to take flight or to fight.
All the adrenaline poisons the system, causing heartburn and digestive problems.
Mine percolated right up my throat to change my voice (the acid scarred my vocal cords),
right up into the eustachian tube to harm my middle ears (acid scars again), all at night.

I am controlling it. First I used an elevated sleeping position. I altered my diet and stopped eating after 8:00PM. I took a beta blocker for a while, and now I am on herbs. Healing has begun, but I think my hearing and my voice are spoiled forever. I used to sing in a choir.

My MIL is cleaning up in anticipation of the cleaning lady who comes once a week, a benefit for my FIL.

She put the dishes in the dishwasher, a job my 13 year old was supposed to do, because she "wanted something to do". I know who will be expected to be picking up the pieces of tasks that the boys will begin to leave for "someone else" to do.

But I'm not going to fall into that trap!

I think I'll get that cleaning lady's card and get her to do the kid's chores, and give THEM the bill instead of their allowance!

Dust me!

I did a GOOGLE search on angry housewives, and found a lot of nasty sites. Jut to let anyone who might be reading....I'm NOT that kind of angry housewife!

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Just got the news that the MIL & FIL's new home will be ready for them soon.
This is bittersweet news, as I have enjoyed their visit for much of the time, except for the "I'm a better ______ (fill in the blank with most domestic or female functions) that you can ever hope to be" one-upping from the MIL.

Yesterday I assigned my 17 year old son to make dinner while I went to work. He CAN do it, he HAS done it in the past, but this time he just slid the responsibility over to grandma, and "helped" her. She made a Sunday dinner on a Wednesday, but her Sunday dinners are like Thanksgiving.

Bite me.

How can I ever return my family to realistic expectations after her pampering?

Why does it have to be, that in order to feel like a somebody, another person has to be made a nobody? Coz I feel like a big nothing around her when my husband and the kids lap up her pampering. Although I know I am much more than that. I do much more than that. All the other good things about me are nothing to them compared to a big fat fancy hot meal. Are their priorities all wrong, or are mine?

A counsellor my husband and I once saw warned Ron not to expect a woman of today to perform like his Mother did.

So, what happens? She moved in!!

I feel depressed. I feel like calling Dr. Phil.

My dad is locked in the past. I hope I don't get like that, o please spare me...
All these old stories of offense and anger, retold again and again, like reruns of All In The Family...

I have a claim for my injury from Friday at work. I don't want time off. I just want physio for the stiffness and the pain.
My MIL is cooking some fantastic dish with a kilo of chicken breasts. This is intended to be very nice, but is also sure to make my family think my cooking looks rather poor and stingy ( we are poor and stingy just now) with the meat thereby so prove the MIL's superiority in all matters domestic.

I couldn't find my slacks or my hand embroidered linen tablecloth from the laundry which she had bumped to make room for her wash while I was out at work. It turns out she had hung them up (with the care normally reserved for works of art) in a closet.
Very kind not to just leave them in a pile, but at 6:30 AM, I can't conduct detailed searches into the little used nooks and crannies of my home to find my daily clothing.

My FIL is off his feed. His meds kill his appetite, and he doesn't eat much anyway - few sedintary seniors do. I brought home from the library cookbooks of healthy Heart Smart receipes. One is titled "Deliciously Low" - I like that title!

My own mother is off on a trip to Europe until mid-October. I am just now checking on my own Dad - who has a full tirade of complaints to air. My brother lives with them, and can do nothing right or well for my dad, it appears. Today, anyhow. My bro has a bad back, and I have a new foam pad for him to use for sleeping on the floor.