Probably Not, But Maybe Still...

We are in baby-making limbo. We aren't trying, but we aren't preventing. To be trying is to have made a firm decision, which is something my husband isn't good at for life's bigger issues. He didn't agree to make a baby the first time. A doctor in a lab coat tinkered with my "parts", then told us to go home and have sex three times a week. We weren't actually at the doctor's office to get pregnant per se, but we wanted it to be possible to do when we decided to start trying. Nonetheless, we followed the doctor's orders, and three weeks later, we were expecting. Anyhow, since we needed a bit of assistance getting pregnant last time, I don't expect to get pregnant by simply not preventing. Infrequent ovulation was the actual problem but my body has changed a bit since I carried Pumpkin, so there is always the possibility that we will be able to do it on our own. It is that possibility that messes with my head throughout each day. Last week, while I was having a sugar craving, my thoughts led me to wanting a Vachon Passion Flakie. The sugar craving is not interesting for me, but the Flakie is. I only ate those when I was pregnant. I tried one after Pumpkin was born, but didn't really enjoy it like I did when I was "eating for two". Incidentally, if I ever do get pregnant again, I will refrain from buying Flakies by the box. They are 270 calories each, and eating four in one sitting is probably not advisable, no matter how many people I might be eating for. Anyhow, when I had the craving, I had to ask myself if this was a pregnancy-thing, or just a regular sugar-thing? Now, throughout the day I try to imagine myself eating a Flakie, just to see if I really want one. If I do, does that mean I'm pregnant? Then I move on to other signs. Are my breasts sensitive? They were last time. (Give myself a squeeze) Hmmm, is that regular sensitivity or pregnancy sensitivity. Now they hurt. Is that because I'm pregnant or because I just mutilated myself? I DO feel nauseous! Is that because I'm pregnant or is it because I ate cold mac & cheese for dinner last night? I have cramp! I had those at the beginning of my last pregnancy! Am I pregnant or do I just have gas? Could I have gas because I'm pregnant? I don't remember! Is this headache/backache because I'm pregnant or does it have to do with daily activities with a toddler? Am I horny because I'm pregnant or is it just because my husbands bad back has kept us from having fun all week? Do I have an aversion to lunch right now because I'm pregnant or is it that my food options are not so good? It goes on and on. Fortunately for my husband, this is all internal dialogue. I have no clue what my point is, except that this unprotected-sex-thing is messing with my head.

Nothing Earth Shattering

While I sit around, anxiously awaiting someone at VH1 to upload the highlights from today's episode of Scott Baio is 45 and Single, I figured I'd recap my day. My friend who lives in Sarnia came for a visit with her 2-1/2-year-old, which is always amazing because I don't see them very often. Of my high school friends, there are only two with children, and neither of them live close by, which really sucks. My Sarnia-friend's daughter and Pumpkin play very nicely together, and at the end of play-time, they were hugging and kissing each other. I am still waiting for Pumpkin to voluntarily kiss me, but for now I will enjoy the fact that she has developed the social skills to at least kiss her friend.

At some point this morning, my dog managed to get a huge gash on his back, the kind of gash that you just know is going to cost no less than $150, but possibly more. I think my other dog is the one who gave him his injury, as she is always jumping all over him, sometimes using him as a spring-board to get to wherever she is going. I guess it's time to cut her nails. We got back from the vet just a few hours ago, a little poorer, but have 5 staples to show for it. The dog is a trooper though. It didn't impede his attempts to steal our food at all.

I got a call from the guy who is supposed to build us a new patio. He told me that he is starting tomorrow and that he will have it done by Friday. Note that nothing around here ever gets done, despite our attempts to actually pay contractors to do the work. We hired the patio guy in May, and although patio season is coming to a close, I'm still overjoyed that he is coming. It's one less thing to be annoyed about. Incidentally, last year a different contractor told me that he was going to build us a deck as a present to my husband who has been so good to him over the years. He told me that my FIL actually gave him the money to buy the wood, and that he was going to build it over the course of a week in May of 2006. I stopped waiting for him by August of last year. In the big picture, this isn't a real problem, but like I said, once it's done it will be one less thing to be annoyed about. Don't get me started on the family room reno.

In the Dog House

On Friday, I took my dog to the groomer's. The usual groomer who I was expecting was no longer working there, so I dealt with a new girl, who I assumed had experience in the dog grooming field. My dog is a mix of something, but if I were to guess, I would say that he is part Australian Shepherd, part Collie. Those breeds have a pretty standard hair style, which is the look that we have been going with.

It has been warm lately and he has been shedding A LOT, so I asked the girl to go a little shorter so he doesn't get so hot. I even added, "but not so short that he looks stupid". I guess when it comes to these things, it is better to bring in a picture, or say exactly how much hair you want cut off. Leaving things up to interpretation may get you something you didn't quite want. She totally buzzed him! He looks like a fuzzy pit-bull with a big head. When I picked him up, I was kind of in shock, but didn't see the point in getting upset because a) I was somewhat amused, b) there will be fewer hair balls floating around my house, c) he will be cooler for the rest of the summer, and d) I've always wondered what he would look like shaved. My only concern was the reaction from my husband since his dogs are his first love, and he would see no silver lining here. (I really do believe that he loves me and Pumpkin more, but the dogs still get a good portion of his affection) I would say that upon bringing the dog home on Friday afternoon, my husband yelled at me for maybe the 2nd or 3rd time in our 11 years together. He kind-of got over being angry at me, but he is still fuming and wants to give the groomer a piece of his mind. I doubt he will, but he is quite pissed. As for how the dog feels about his new look...

I'll Shut Up Now

I took Pumpkin to her music class yesterday. It was a cool, windy day, and not very August-like. Everyone looked sad, and tired, and of course they started to complain about the weather. When the weather-talk died down, we moved on to how tired we all were. Incidentally, I have no business being tired. My kid sleeps from 8:30 to 8 everyday, and also takes a 3 hour nap every afternoon. If I could lay blame anywhere for my "fatigue", it would be on Jay Leno, not the fact that I am a mother of a two-year-old. That does not negate the fact that I do feel exhausted, it's just that I don't have a good excuse for feeling this way. Nonetheless, in this room full of moms, I wanted to bond with them in sleepless-ness. I turned to the one sitting next to me and rhetorically asked, "am I ever going to feel well rested again?"
"Not for a long time", was the reply with a chuckle. She continued, "I'm still breastfeeding this one, and he still gets me up for it in the night." (her child is at least two-years old). She went on to explain, "My other kids are older and don't need me 24/7, but this one requires my full attention, all the time."
"How many kids do you have?", I inquired.
"Six."
...and that is the last time you will hear me complain to another mom that I am tired.

Doll Abuse

I used to hang my dolls. I didn't realize the implications of hanging, but I just wasn't into dolls and it seemed like a reasonable thing to do with them at the time. I know I was no older than six, but probably younger. All the belts in the house were gathered up for this purpose, and were wrapped around the dolls, then attached to the banister that overlooked our front door, and was directly over the stairs leading to the basement. It was always a treat to hit one's head on hanging dolls on the way up from the basement. My parents thought it odd but funny, while the babysitter didn't see any humour in this at all. As I mentioned earlier, I wasn't trying to "kill" them. I don't think I knew anything about hanging as a means to kill. I just didn't want to play with dolls really, but since people periodically gave them to me as presents, I hung them. What can I tell you? My mom still likes to get mileage out of this story when she is talking to my in laws, along with the story about how I used to use fridge magnets to spell out the F-word. (Thanks mom). My daughter, on the other hand, loves dolls. I'm kind of glad for this because in the current era of political correctness, she would probably be kicked out of pre-school if word of any doll hangings were to surface. She is cute when she plays with dolls. She hugs them tightly, and says, "Awwwww, nice hug!" If she drops one, she picks it up and says, "Sorry, sorry...you're ok." I'm not too fond of when she throws them and tells them that they're ok, but I assure you that this is not a reflection of anything she has experienced here. Dolls have even saved bath-time around here as it has been a nightmare trying to get Pumpkin into the tub these days. It occurred to me that I should toss a plastic doll into the tub to lure her in. Now I can't get her out of the tub. This has to be innate. If I were to shape a child with my own ideas, she'd be a total tomboy. She is a real girl, who asks to wear her dresses, plays with dolls, and pretend to drink tea. I don't know where she came from.

Toronto Harbour

Yesterday I did something new in my own city and couldn't believe that I had never experienced it before. We went to hang out with some relatives of ours who belong to a yacht club on Centre Island. Actually, it was one of the islands near Centre Island but I don't know its name. It was so weird to be so close to downtown yet feel like I was in Muskoka. I kind of likened it to a trailer park, based on my own trailer park experiences (thanks, Dad). There was a club-house for adults, a club-house for kids, a playground with arts and crafts, a pool, and a population of floating "trailers". It was definitely a throw-back to my own childhood where my parents did their own thing, and the kids ran about on their own and were not worried about. We went out for a spin in the harbour, and toured a land that I almost didn't recognize. To my right was the city as I know it. To my left was the island, looking almost serene, and not part of this city that I have lived in since I was seven. I enjoyed switching my focus back and forth to juxtapose the two scenes, wondering how come I never even bothered to take a tour of the harbour that has been at my doorstep all these years. As for Pumpkin, well, we kept her up too long. She was in overtired mode, which kept me hopping around the boat making sure that she didn't jump overboard. Despite her delirium, I think she enjoyed her day. It always makes me feel mom-like to provide her with new events and experiences.

Just as an aside, the other day I took Pumpkin to the Beach, where she felt that she had to approach every dog owner on the boardwalk. One owner stopped to talk to us, and said to Pumpkin, "How are you?" Pumpkin replied, "I make poo poo!" Unfortunate for me, but at least the dog owner had a good chuckle.

Self Indulgence

So today was a pretty good day for me. It began with a shopping trip to buy "Mister Right" in-a-bottle. Yes, this product is available, although may be disappointing to some when they find out that it is just a hair product. Incidentally, if you have curly hair and are having a difficult time with it like I did for, oh, 30 years or so, this product line is amazing. I managed to lose the Roseanne Roseannadanna-look in favour of something, well, nicer. I'm not trying to sell anything - I'm just hoping to spread a little happiness in the curly hair world. Anyhow, while I was mid-town, I finally managed to remember the gift certificates that I've been carrying around for the past five years for Sporting Life. I probably wouldn't have remembered them if it weren't for my revealing the contents of my purse the other day, when stumbled upon these certificates for the umpteenth time. They went towards a casual, linen jacket that fits me the way that Stacey and Clinton would want it to.

Later in the day, I left Pumpkin with my mom and went for a physio-therapy appointment, which I am starting to prefer to an actual massage. I've had issues in my neck and arms since Pumpkin came along, and I always get relief for this when I go to physio. I especially enjoy having electrodes attached to my neck, forcing my head to jerk around involuntarily for a good 10 minutes. I'm not kidding. I really like it.

When I got home from physio, my husband called to say that he was going out with "the boys", so he wouldn't be home for dinner. This is a dangerous thing to happen to me. The pressure to prepare a decent meal is not there when I'm eating by myself. Pumpkin eats stuff that I wouldn't eat, and vice versa, so it's not like I have to consider her when it comes to feeding myself. That led me to the white cupcakes, iced with canned vanilla icing, that I made the other day. I LOVE crappy, white cake. Don't feed me anything fancy for dessert - just refined sugar and flour please! I don't normally keep these in the house, but I had a visit with a good friend of mine yesterday, and crappy, white cake is just the thing we like to bond over. I decide that I really need to eat something more nutritious, so I simply had a spoon of the left-over icing, then prepared a plate of fruit and cottage cheese. I thought of having another spoon of icing for dessert, then thought better of it and had an actual cupcake - followed by another spoon of icing. Yup, it's been a good day!

Toddler Pin-Ball

Our basement is pretty much a toy room. We keep all the big toys down there, along with my husbands toy, his pinball machine. I don't really like hanging out in the basement, especially on a nice, sunny day, so Pumpkin views it as a real treat to go down there. One would hope that it would have something to do with the slide, or the mini-kitchen, or the play dough, or the drawing supplies, but it doesn't. All she wants to do is make me play pinball so she can watch. Toddler pinball is a little different than what you are used to. You either have to sit on a bar stool with your child standing up right in front of you on the same stool, or if you are tall enough, you can stand behind the bar stool. Either way, it's hard to see. It kind of turns it into a bit of a sport. Visibility is the biggest issue, especially when she leans forward to bang on the glass, obscuring total view of the flippers. Then you have to wrestle a bit over the flipper buttons, all the while trying not to breath because of that which lurks in the diaper before you. I got up to 13,000,000 points today! Does anyone want to challenge me?

So I'm still the only one I know who is watching, Scott Baio is 45 and Single, and I'm kind of sad about that. I have no one to talk to at the hypothetical water cooler about it. I'm still watching it on line since we don't get the channel on cable. It is soooooo frickin' funny. Part of Scott Baio's "therapy" this week was for him to attend a "cuddle party", to engage in intimate, yet non-sexual contact. I'm not going to get into what happened on the actual show, but I would really like to address the topic of cuddle parties? WHY WHY WHY WHY would anyone want to go to one? It's a bunch of strangers, coming together to spoon each other! WHY WHY WHY? Just so you know where I am coming from, I have a rather large space cushion. Very few people are allowed in my space. To be honest, the only people I want touching me are my husband and daughter. I don't particularly like hugging my parents, and I really really really hate it when my dad grabs my face and plants a wet kiss on my cheek. He doesn't get me, and continues to do that every time I see him. My friend once tried to join me and another friend on a love seat and I had to jump off. We could all fit on it, but I cannot sit while touching thighs with other people. I can't say for sure where this "problem" of mine comes from, but I do recall swatting off my parents friends when they all wanted to hug and kiss me when I was small enough to appear huggable and kissable. I don't think I have had any REAL episodes of unwanted touching in my life, aside from the odd octopus-of-a-guy I may have dated, and who wanted to see what he could get away with. I think I would have a real anxiety attack if forced to participate in a cuddle party. Does anyone think this isn't creepy?

Week-End Wrap-up

Ok, it turns out the song playing in my head each morning is just residual of whatever I heard on the radio in the car that day, and since I listen to a crappy radio station due to lack of better options, I'm not bothering to mention it again. I am actually in need of musical help. When I was in school, I had the influence of my friends to introduce me to new songs/bands. Either I'd hear new stuff in a dorm, or a club or someplace social. When I had a far enough drive to work, I listened to The Edge, which was ok, but kind of repetitive, and now too hard for my aging ears and two-year-old passenger. Nowadays, new music consists of The Doodle Bops, Wiggles, and whatever else Pumpkin requests. This leaves me stuck in the '90s, listening to Oasis, Our Lady Peace, Cranberries, etc. for my own pleasure. I want to maintain some sort of musical identity, but I don't know how to keep current, except for top 40 pop, which is starting to drive me crazy. Any suggestions on where to listen?

This was one busy-ass week-end. Every time Pumpkin woke up from whatever, I was stuffing her in the car to race her off to somewhere. I spent my entire week-end on the 407 and 404. On Saturday morning, I went to my friend's open house, for the purpose of meeting his 18-month-old daughter that he and his wife just adopted from Russia. It is beyond amazing just how quickly they all became family. There is as much love in that family as there is in my own, and there are just as many toys taking over their house too. It's a beautiful thing. It did get me comparing their adoption experience to that of my other friend who adopted a baby two years ago. My other friend got her newborn son through a private adoption. She knew a doctor who had a patient who didn't want to keep her baby, and 6 weeks later, it was all arranged. In contrast, my friend from Saturday had a nine-month ordeal with the Russian adoption agency, lots of travel, lots of waiting, lots of uncertainty, and lots of tears. I don't know what to make of this disparity of processes, but it is completely messed up. The end of the story is the same for both couples, which I guess is what counts, but I dunno. Like everything, we need a better system.

STOP THE MUSIC!!!

The running-through-my-head song of the day was planted by Motherbumper with her post about Poison's Unskinny Bop, and her subsequent mention of it being contagious. Although she did manage to pass on the Unskinny Bop virus, there has been a mutation. My memory of the song is screwy, and it keeps morphing into Neutron Dance by the Pointer Sisters. It kind of goes "unskinny bop , and the rent is due I've got no place to stay". Naturally I don't know any other lyrics, so I get to enjoy those ones, over and over.....It's not good. I'm a little miffed that Neutron Dance is actually occupying any of my memory cells when I can't remember to water my plants! Wouldn't it be cool in an Eternal-Sunshine-of-the-Spotless-Mind sort-of way to have all useless memories deleted, just for the purpose of freeing up some space? Would the space even be re-usable? It's a little difficult for me to contemplate for long with the GODDAMN POISON SISTERS RUNNING THROUGH MY HEAD!!! Thanks MB.

Time Well Wasted

I'm so glad I left my job so I could have the opportunity to do this in the middle of the day. I like the game that I stumbled onto at Mother Bumpers' and at Her Bad Mother's so I figured I'd join in instead of cleaning the kitchen, or brushing the dogs, or vacuuming up the crushed crackers and Cheerios out of my car, or.......you get the picture. Behold, the contents of my purse, bag, or whatever you want to call it:



1. Mac lipstic, Midimauve. I never wear it, and it isn't a good colour for me, but I keep it on hand for no reason whatsoever.
2. Two tampons. I don't need 'em today, but you never know...
3. Free dental floss from my last check-up. I forgot about it until now, but I suppose it's a good thing to carry around.
4. $30 in gift certificates for Sporting Life. I got them for my 30th birthday (I'll be 35 soon). I've even shopped there recently but forgot to use them.
5. Gift cards - I traded in aeroplan points for shopping money. Although I got way less value out of my points vs. airline tickets, I ain't goin' anywhere soon, so why not shop instead.
6. A Starbucks gift card with $1 on it. I suppose I'll be carrying that around until the end of time.
7. A Town Shoes club card. It was stamped 3 times in one shot last year, and nothing since. No expiry date though!
8. Lotto 649 and Super 7 lottery tickets. I've played the same numbers for the past 17 years.
9. Benadryl, in case you invite me over and have a cat, bunny, horse, or hampster.
10. Links removed from a bracelet, and from a watch. My wrists must be shrinking
11. Coupons for diapers. I'll probably forget to use them
12. Loose change
13. A free drink voucher from Starbucks, given to me to compensate for lousy service. I didn't even think the service was bad, but they insisted.
14. Cell phone
15. Hand cream
16. Wallet
17. Keys
18. An unfinished Sudoku puzzle that I started in the waiting room at the doctors office . It's not finished because I forgot about it, not because it's too hard. I swear.

If you happen to know what all this says about me, feel free to send over an analysis.

Diaper Fun

First things first: I want to set up a blog roll but really have no clue how. I need someone to speak to me like I'm four. If you think you can do it, feel free to pass on some wisdom, otherwise I will continue to have only 3 links to other blogs on my page.

Pumpkin and I went to Canada's Wonderland this morning, which was a nice time. It's good to go with just Pumpkin, rather than a group of people, for it seems less likely that I will purchase a funnel cake when no other adults are there to encourage me. My husband's office is nearby, so when the crowds got too big for my liking, we left and met my husband for lunch. We ended up at McDonalds, which makes me think I may as well have had the funnel cake, but whatever. During our meal, Pumpkin said "pee pee potty", which means, "my diaper needs changing and I'm never going to pee on the potty so stop getting your hopes up". I picked her up and noticed that her pants were damp. Her diaper was dry before getting into the restaurant, so she must have been holding it all morning to let 'er rip while we were trying to eat. So I pull off her pants, toss them in the bag, and pull off her Pull-Up diaper. Since I figured we were just dealing with pee, I just yanked away the diaper from under her while she was standing. I guess it is always a good thing to check the contents of a diaper before removing it this way. Needless to say, I don't recommend walking around in bare feet in the washroom at McDonalds at Hwy 400 and Steeles. Looking at my daughters poo that had been flung onto the floor, I was reminded of "sky dumping", a favourite past-time of some of the guys in high school. If you ever participated in his activity, "What the hell is the matter with you???" That aside, I cleaned up the floor as much as I could with only toilette paper and wet-wipes as cleaning supplies. Pretty gross.

Lost Cause

It's official. I cannot get my daughter to look at a vegetable. I am now open to all suggestions on how to hide vegetables in toddler-friendly food. Since she doesn't eat fresh fruit either, I've been giving her what my husband refers to as, "Franken-juice". It's juice that tastes mostly like fruit juice, but is made from both fruits and vegetables. President's Choice has a line of it, as does Sun-Rype. One cup of it contains 2 servings of fruits and veggies. Just this past week, I was reading that if you don't get your kids eating fruits and vegetables by age two, you are not likely to ever get them eating them. I kind of think that's a bit of an exaggeration, but I am pretty sure that my daughter is destined to be like me, eating fruits and veggies as a duty, rather than a pleasure. I don't actually think that she has ever actually tried a fresh fruit or vegetable. She puts them in her mouth, looks at me as if to say, "hee hee", then flings the offending produce at one of the dogs. My dogs eat more fruits and veggies than my daughter. Bribery does not seem to be an option at this stage, but maybe by age three I'll be able to coerce her to eat something good for her. Until then, does anyone know how to stuff macaroni noodles with broccoli?

Junk TV & Junk Food

I had a major crush on Scott Baio when I was in grade 4. I used to buy Teen Beat Magazine, cut out pictures of Scott with Heather Locklear, and replace her face with a picture of my own face. Lame, but I was only 10, so give me a break. So when I heard that he was launching his own reality show, "Scott Baio is 45 and Single", I couldn't resist. I watch it on-line since I don't get the actual channel. Check it out if you are at all curious. The show centers around Scott Baio hiring a life-coach to help him figure out why he can't settle down and get married. I've become an addict! I don't even care if Scott Baio gets married any more than I care if The Bachelor and his chosen woman get married. It's crap! Major crap, and I love it! Help!

You know those candies that have romantic-ish sayings on them? I can't remember what they're called, but they say things like, "Wild Thing", and "Bad Boy", and "Forever", etc. The candies are round but they have hearts on them surrounding the saying. Are they supposed be fizzy? A friend of mine won about 800 of them in a contest, and then plunked them down on my counter as a gift to me. I've been eating them by the fistful, but I'm not really enjoying the after-effects. I guess I swallow them before all the fizz has dissipated, so consequently I belch like crazy afterwards. I'm wondering if they are a bad batch of Rolaids, disguised as candy, just to get them off the shelf. At least my calcium level will be good.

Partying with the Old Gang

...and the song playing over and over in my head today is.....Sweet Caroline! Naturally, the only words I know are, "Sweet Caroline, buh buh baa....", and that's it. I was at a wedding last night, complete with a DJ that played all the usual wedding tunes, Neil Diamond's included. It was for one of my friends from my high-school crowd, and the gang was all there. The wedding itself was ok, but my group decided that we had to make it fun as a duty to the bride. We all drank just enough to be silly, and that got us all dancing on the sparsely populated dance floor. All but one of us had our spouses in tow, and the guys socialized well considering none of them are especially close. We all had a blast! I was close to being as goofy and emotional with everyone last night as I was the first time I got drunk with them when I was 16. Oh those many years ago, I was all mushy-gushy, and sloppily telling them how much I loved them. I was under better control last night.... I hope. If not, I'm sure some embarrassing pictures are coming my way on facebook.

Broken Record

I seem to always wake up with a song stuck in my head. I've decided to record each day's song just to see if there is any sort of pattern. Earlier in the week, I woke up to "Rubber Duckie", and another day I woke up to "Mellow Yellow", and today I woke to "Always on My Mind" by the Pet Shop Boys. It seems I don't need to actually hear the song to get it stuck in my head, which means that a memory of the song is being triggered by some other event in the day. I think the Pet Shop Boys were implanted in my brain by this post, which doesn't even reference the group, but mentions other "new wave" groups of the '80s. Unfortunately, I never know the words to any songs, so I am stuck repeating one line of the chorus over and over and over and over...

Cheating

Psssst. Yeah, it's me. I'm cheating on my resignation from blogging. I'm feeling a little motivated to write again, although I don't have anything particular in mind at this present moment. I guess I could yammer about my new career as a SAHM, and tell you that I am soooooooooooooooooo happy with my decision to leave my job to spend all my time with my two-year-old daughter. It's a lot different than when I was on maternity leave with a newborn. Now when I go to a play-group or something of the sorts, I am not in it for my own socialization and sanity. Everything I do is for Pumpkin, and I'm not "out there" trying to pick up moms anymore. I even re-joined a music group that I used to belong to, where most of the moms there are ultra religious. (I am not) They are not likely to become my best friends or anything, but Pumpkin really likes that class. Some of my SAHM friends are putting their 2-year-olds in pre-school starting September, just to give themselves a break for a few mornings a week. Not me. I'm hanging on to mine to make up for the past year where I was Pumpkin-deprived three days a week. It really didn't sound like a lot, you know, working three days a week, but when it was coupled with giving up time with my daughter, it became unbearable. It has been a month since I left my job, and I am finding more and more joy in that decision every time I get up in the morning. This is the happiest I have been since, well, I can't remember. Life is good. Life is grand. Sorry if I'm making you ill with this syrup, but I'm in a syrupy-kind-of-mood.