Everything’s coming up roses…

I went into my Friday meeting with one question to ask. Was the move in date still December 1st? The answer to that was yes but there was more. The team manager had gone to the construction site and introduced herself. They gave her a hard hat and took her on a tour of the building. She described it as amazing, luxurious, and gorgeous. Apparently every unit has high ceilings and, since there are no balconies, there’s going to be a sitting room with lots of windows on the first floor. It sounds wonderful and I’m counting down the days until I move.

new apartmentToday I went back to the neighbourhood with my Mom and had lunch at the pub across the street. I also registered all five cats at the vet clinic and took a picture of the building. It’s so close to completion but obviously still needs a fair bit of work. I’m assuming those tenants want patio doors and not plywood.

I’m looking so forward to moving. I love Colin dearly but we have so little in common. Right now we’re bonding over anime, which is not my thing. He talks to himself on a regular basis, watches videos on YouTube which irritate the hell out of me, and stays up past midnight. I go to bed between 8 and 9pm, tend to be quiet, watch videos like The Dodo, and talk to the cats. It’s hard to find common ground. I’ll miss Colin, of course, but I’m looking forward to the quiet and having it just be me (and the cats).

This move has gone well so far, other than the inevitable construction delays, and I can’t wait until I’m settled in. Only 97 days to go!

 

100 days of anxiety…

I move in exactly 100 more days, unless the move in date is changed again, and Colin still doesn’t have a place. When we started looking, I figured we’d find a cheap little apartment and everything would be fine. No such luck. Even bachelor apartments are $900 to $1000/m. I read an article recently that says Oshawa is the top third city in Canada for highest rents and I can certainly believe that. It makes finding a home for Colin almost impossible… almost.

I started looking at apartments in houses and Colin turned them all down, claiming they were all basement apartments… even the main floor ones. Alrighty then. So I started looking at rooms for rent and Colin turned those down too. He’s getting rent and moving expenses reduced through CHCH but they won’t help if he moves into a room. It has to be an apartment. He finally asked me not to help, he was going to do it himself, and with the agencies he’s involved with.

Right now he’s getting help through CHCH, John Howard Society, CMHA, Kerry’s Place, and DSO. Hopefully one of them will find a place for him soon. We’d really hoped it would have been yesterday. Colin had a meeting with CMHA and DSO and we all were hoping that meant DSO had a place for him. Sadly there was a family emergency and they couldn’t make it.

So now we wait and hope that one of the agencies finds Colin a place to live soon.

Kathleen Creates…

63One thing I’ve been working on for months now is getting back into my much loved hobbies. Reading, writing, and scrapbooking. Of the three, I’ve found scrapbooking to be the easiest. This isn’t my best layout but I a) didn’t want anyone else in the shot and b) most had already been converted to 8×10 for printing. An aside, I love that picture from Dollarama and can’t wait until I unpack it again and find the perfect spot.

I recently bought a friend’s book and read it from cover to cover in one evening, just like I used to read. It helped that the book was well written and interesting. Then I went to the library with friends and am now enjoying curling up on my swing chair with a book.

Reading has rekindled my love of writing and I have a finished book called Small Dreams that just needs a read over. And I’m doing just that. It’s the first book I ever wrote, I started it in 1995 when Kait was a baby. Back then I started it in a diary format then decided it was too clunky. Then I made everything too perfect for the couple. For example, they’re looking for an apartment and stumble across a sign. The apartment turned out to be a grandparents’ house in the backyard, complete with leaded windows and their own little backyard, redolent of lilacs. It was too perfect and I ended up tucking it away for a few years. It was gutted and rewritten so many times but, finally, I think it’s almost good to go. I’m looking forward to when it’s done and I have people reading it! I hope they like it as much as I do.

And finally, I’ve started a Facebook page where people can keep up with what I’m working on and get chucked interesting memes on a regular basis. The webpage is Kathleen Creates, feel free to click the link and like the page. As always, when you click on a link here, it opens in a new page so you can come back.

And, with that, it’s time for me to go work on Small Dreams again.

Kathleen Creates

The weight loss merry-go-round…

I was so hopeful on October 3rd. I had just found out that I was going on a Caribbean vacation the following March and I was going to lose weight. I was aiming for ten to 20lbs with an emphasis on the twenty. I even made a weight loss journal on my computer as an incentive. I figured I would track my weight loss journey, instead I watched as I gained and lost the same five pounds over and over (and over). The trip came and went with me still losing and regaining those same pounds.

Then I saw my psychiatrist last month and admitted that while my depression was mostly under control, my anxiety wasn’t. My lithium and abilify were increased along with my weight and it has. not. budged. My anxiety’s only a minute bit better.

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t struggle, depriving myself of treats, panicking because I didn’t get out for a walk this one day or that my walk wasn’t long enough. I can’t keep feeling like a failure, that if I just walked a little more… ate a little less… I’d do so much better. It’s not working.

From now on I’m only weighing myself once a month, not once a day, and I’m not going to panic if I don’t get 10 thousand steps every single day. I will eat healthy but allow room for some treats. Mmm mini vegan peanut butter cups!

I don’t own a crystal ball. I have no idea how this is going to turn out, but it’s got to be better than what I’m doing.

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Even with being overweight, I must be doing something right

Isn’t it ironic…

flat-blackieI was watching Blackie lie on my unmade bed today and marvelled at how flat she looked, as if she’d melded with the bed in some way. Then my mind wandered to an article I’d watched yesterday about a senior dog getting abandoned. I was on Facebook at the time, I scrolled once and there was another article about a 17 year old dog being abandoned because he was “too old”.

Pardon me but what the fuck?!?

I could write for a while about all the things pets do for us and it would all be true, but it’s not the important part. The important part is they’re our family and we don’t throw away family!

I know elderly pets aren’t always “convenient”. Blackie has accidents that have to be wiped up. She’s also lost a lot of weight so I’ve got her on wet food (another expense) and feed her when she’s hungry. Hello 3am.

Oreo’s getting senile. He’ll start howling on occasion, lost in his own apartment. Which means I have to go find him and carry him to my bed to sleep. He isn’t always sure when he’s done pooping and will leave the box too early. This means I’ll find a trail of poop from the box.. sometimes leading right to a peacefully sleeping Oreo, poop lying right beside his butt. He’s not exactly subtle. He’s also started wetting on the floor, I’m assuming because he’s temporarily forgotten where the litter box is.

Angel, the oldest, is doing the best. She has sore hips, which has me checking every cannabis store for CBD oil. So far I haven’t had any luck. So I make sure she has plenty of soft spaces… and she lies on Colin’s bed anyway. She’s Colin’s cat, she loves him dearly. He used to wear her draped around his shoulders like a scarf and she’d lie there, happy as can be.

Sure, there’s incontinence, anxiety, pain, and senility (and who the heck is throwing up) but there’s also joy and comfort. They don’t want to race around the apartment anymore. They’re not up on my bookcase knocking down the decorations (I see you Smudge) or crying because they’re stuck in the bathroom cabinet (I see you again Smudge). They are lap cats, content just to lie there and purr while occasionally licking your hand. They’re bed cats, content to snuggle against you for the whole night or, in Blackie’s case, snuggle under the covers. She likes the cave experience.

They are our family and, more importantly, we’re theirs. They expect, with the certainty of belonging, that they’ll be here forever. This is their home, their beds, their fuzzy carpets, their cat tree. No one say love was perfect or accident free. Love, in all it’s shapes, can be messy, glorious, painful, and poignant.

And it you’re dropping your senior pet off at a shelter, you have no idea what love is.