Tuesday, November 29, 2011

What Not to Say to Someone With an Uncooperative Uterus

Or: Twelve Annoying Comments in One Short Conversation

disclaimer # 1: I have heard every single one of these comments at least once. Some of these comments are actually OK (and even funny), coming from a place of love or a sarcastic best friend. It all depends on context. And intent. And whether or not you’re a smug biddy.

disclaimer # 2: This post is meant to be funny, but I'm not sure that you'll find it amusing unless you can relate. So if it isn't funny, don't fret. I'll probably post something about falling on my face next week.












































Edited to add: I didn't really call Telehealth. I made that part up. A commenter on my other blog was right: Telehealth wouldn't have answered my question. They would have sent me to a doctor instead.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Woman vs Treadmill

The first time that I set foot on a treadmill, I was in teacher's college.




I walked confidently up to the gym doors, feeling all hard-core for being there at seven in the morning. A few days before, I had run outside with hat and mittens, and honestly? I hated being cold. At least the gym was warm. Besides, I was an adult now. Adults drink wine and clean the toilet before it gets gross and go to gyms.


I'm not going to lie. I felt intimidated by all of the fit people sweating profusely and running without actually going anywhere.

I stepped on the treadmill and looked at the controls. I tried to glance subtly at the people on either side of me to see which buttons they pressed first. Eventually I figured out that the green START button was probably a good place to start out.

At first, I felt awkward, but it didn't take me long to find my rhythm.


When I run, I retreat to a quiet space deep inside my own mind. After a few minutes of listening to my feet slap on the treadmill, I had slipped into that state of zen-like calm.


When all of a sudden...







(dramatic pause)


I quickly regained my feet, threw my arms up in the air and shouted out:


Which was a good thing.

Because it ensured that everyone in the crowded gym was looking at me, instead of just the people closest to me.

The next morning, I decided that running with a hat and mittens wasn't so bad after all.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Let's Make a Movie

Some people have suggested that I try stop-motion animation. Honestly, while I love watching stop-motion films, the amount of work and patience involved in making them is a bit beyond me. I think I'll stick to stories with still shots.

That said, I have tried my hand at stop-motion animation before, during a teacher's workshop on multi-media storytelling in the classroom. We spent so much time storyboarding and giggling uncontrollably that we ran out of time to take the actual photos; hence, the choppy animation.

In my only speaking part, I voiced the climax of the story: "Noooooooooo...". It's very raw and emotional.


Please note: I apologize for the spoiler. Youtube chose the shocking twist ending as a screen shot. Someone really should have a talk with their trained monkeys.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

My First Running Injury

It was a warm and sunny afternoon during the last week of school. I was outside with my second grade class, playing tag on the school yard.




note: I'm going to call her Lily. That isn't her real name. Also, her hair wasn't actually black. I changed her hair to protect her identity. And also because I didn't have any yellow plasticine left.

I reached out my hands, mere seconds away from tagging Lily...



...when all of a sudden, I felt myself trip over something.


Time seemed to slow down. I tried to regain my footing, but I knew that there was no way to stop myself from falling. My hands were just centimetres away from Lily, and I realized that I was about to pull her down with me and fall on top of her.


Instinctively, I pulled my hands behind my back...


...and crashed face-first into the pavement.


Some cliches are true: I saw stars. The world was spinning and my ears were ringing. I dragged myself to a sitting position and Lily sat down next to me.


My first running injury: a concussion and a black eye.


At least my principal was sympathetic while he was filling out the accident report form.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Can I Offer You a Sandwich?

The setting: family of five getting ready for a day trip. Mom and Dad are making a picnic with two different kinds of sandwiches: egg salad (with green onions) and peanut butter and jam.






At lunchtime, we headed to the picnic area and my parents spread the food out on a picnic table. My brother, my sister and I all reached for peanut butter sandwiches, despite Dad encouraging us to try egg salad instead. My dad has a serious love for egg salad sandwiches; he simply couldn’t understand why his children – his progeny – didn’t share it.

I remember him frowning, slightly annoyed at how we were all turning up our noses at his egg salad sandwiches.

And then...






I don't remember being afraid. At the time, it seemed normal for a large baboon to get loose from his enclosure and wander over towards us. I guess that so many strange things happen in a small child’s life that this didn’t even register on my radar. Looking back, I can only imagine how nervous my parents must have been.

My dad shouted at him, trying to scare him off, but the baboon bared his teeth at us.

Fact: baboons have very large teeth.


source: Ephraim Muller

He kept coming. Slowly, slowly, my parents took their three young kids by the hand and backed away from the table.


The baboon climbed up and sat in the middle of our picnic. None of us moved or spoke as he reached out a long, hairy arm and picked up a sandwich.


He took a bite of the egg salad sandwich and then, with a glare, he flung it to the ground.

He reached out again, this time grabbing a peanut butter sandwich.


And this time? He ate the whole thing. Every last peanut buttery bite.


I will never forget the look of shock and indignation on my father's face.

Egg salad sandwiches: not even fit for a baboon.

Epilogue: I don’t remember anything beyond the sandwich-throwing, but my mom told me that the zookeepers came within minutes to recapture the baboon. No one - including the baboon - was physically harmed, although our lunch was ruined and my dad was insulted by a giant monkey.

Author's note: my dad makes fantastic egg salad sandwiches. I like them now. Sorry it took me so long, Dad.

Author's other note: my mom told me that the baboon didn't have a red and blue nose. But really, what's the point of making a plasticine baboon if you can't give him a red and blue nose? Or maybe I should just cut the question short and ask: what's the point of making a plasticine baboon?


Author's other other note: if I ever complain that I'm too busy to do something, please point me to this post and remind me that I once spent nearly an hour making a baboon and miniature sandwiches out of plasticine. And then I drove to the dollar store to buy a piece of astroturf. And then I drove home and spent another hour taking, editing and uploading photos of said miniature plasticine sandwiches. So yeah...really not so busy.