My Melting Bathroom and the Home Reno Show

My bathroom is leaking again. You’d have to be a long-time reader here to know what this means, so for those who aren’t caught up: my G.D. Mother-frakkin’ bathroom is the bane of my existence and consistently makes me fantasize about burning down my house. 

The only one who really uses the tub.

Two and a half years ago, I purchased this house with my then-husband. There was a leak in the bathroom that was slowly seeping into the ceiling of the dining room below, so my husband and my dad decided to fix it themselves. When they went to do that, though, they ended up finding that the bathroom walls were made of the wrong kind of drywall, and that someone had stuffed newspaper into the walls instead of insulation. So what was meant to be a minor plumbing repair turned into a full bathroom reno.

Trouble is, plumbing is a tricky business, and despite their best amateur efforts, the leaking continued. Months later, when I was single again and on my own, I hired a contractor and a plumber to fix things, and it really did seem as if they had.

That is, until my best friend/housemate MJ went to step into the shower this week, and found her foot sunk deep into the vinyl floor beside the bathtub.

MJ told me the news in the best way possible: she found the problem, then immediately called her contractor father, and had a list of steps and solutions for me. Unfortunately, there was no way to stop the tears of frustration that came to my eyes. This stupid bathroom felt like a metaphor for my entire life: repair after repair, and nowhere nearer solid ground. (Quite literally, as I pushed on the floor and found the subfloor had turned into a fibrous pudding.)

So it’s good timing that The Home Renovations Show is coming up here in Ottawa at the EY Centre on Jan 23-25. I’m holding out hope that they’ll have a booth for a business called something like, “Reliable Rentable Handy-Spouses” there, where I can hire myself a temporary husband or wife with contractor skills who can make this bathroom reno the real LAST one I ever do here.

And lucky for me and you, the organizers are sweethearts and sent me free tickets. If you’d like a pair, I’ve got two to give away. Just comment on this post with some details about what you’re looking to reno, and I’ll pick a winner by January 20^th. You can also go to this site and use promo code OHR15PC to get a discount on your own tickets, if you don’t want to gamble on the free pairs.

Godspeed to you and your renos. And if you see me at the show, feel free to offer me tequila shots. Or the loan of your handy-spouse.

Sharks in Pools: Who's Crazy Now?

Okay okay okay. So I had to share this with you all. Because us anxiety disorder sufferers spend so much of our time feeling like nutbars, and yes we can be...but sometimes we're not.

Last month I wrote a post here about how my brain tries to convince me there's going to be a shark in the swimming pool when I go to the gym. I wrote about telling myself how insane that was, and trying to get over the fear. And then yesterday, THIS popped up on my facebook newsfeed:

It's like the time I saw a psychologist for a while to talk about my phobias, and I told her at the start of the sessions that I was pretty sure spiders are literally out to get me and she told me I was being irrational...but then, in our last session, after hearing all about my encounters with them, she said (I kid you not): "You know, Jordan, you may actually be right that these spiders are out to get you." She wasn't even kidding.

Sometimes we're crazies, yes; but sometimes we're just way ahead of the curve.

This Christmas Isn't Even About the Giving.

Usually for me, I think Christmas is all about the gift-giving, because I love giving gifts.

Not this year. This year, it's all about what I've received.

Christmas stands as a marker of the passage of time. It's like a cairn in the great journey, and it reorients me to where I am--both in time and space. Each Christmas season I reflect on the twelve months that have passed, and this year, I'm overwhelmed by the people.

There are the rotten ones, the ones that I've weeded out. I found a quote last January that read, "Let go of what doesn't grow", and I spent this year trying to do just that. That means I let go of some people, gently and with great care. At the time I often felt miserable about these partings, but now I see what's managed to grow in the spaces these people were previously occupying...and strangely, I now feel gratitude for those who were weeded out. Thank you for saving that space for the next thing; thank you for going away when it was time.

There are the wonderful people in much greater numbers, though. Old friends who I've reconnected with, and old friends who I've barely seen, but who I love to have as friends even at a distance. New friends who have become permanent fixtures in my life, bringing with them fresh new joys never before experienced. And new loves, bringing with them all the heartrending treats and tribulations, the sweet stinging pain of human affection.

I have been gifted this year with support at home from my best friend, MJ. I count myself blessed to have someone I love so much be so close at hand.

My work has been made more rewarding by the friendship and mentorship of my business partner, someone I so much enjoy working with--but probably even more enjoy making laugh.

My dog trainer, who has become a cherished friend and has quickly become one of the first people I think of when I need to ask myself, "What would someone wiser than me do in this situation?"

My CapitalGeekGirls.com co-editor, Pepper, who has no earthly idea how much I appreciate her for her skill and her patience.

My boss at the school where I teach, who has helped me realize my dream of teaching and who is so marvelously supportive and encouraging.

There are so many more, some of whom have touched my life in such personal ways that I can't bring myself to explain them here.

This year Christmas isn't about the gift-giving for me, because there is absolutely no way I can possibly express my admiration, adoration, and gratitude to my people. It's overwhelming. I've faced some serious trials of late, but all these wondrous people have softened the blows and sweetened the victories. I cannot possibly say 'thank you' with little things wrapped in paper. There is nothing on earth I can give them that would equate to the gifts they give me. I am in awe.

I feel like I got to open new presents every day this year, all of them on two legs. Oh, and sometimes four...can't forget the pup.

Best of: Crafty Geeky Christmas on Girl, Crafted. Stockings!

I love making stuff by hand for Christmas, especially when people have very particular tastes that cannot be satisfied by store-bought, mass-produced things. A couple Christmases ago, I shared this DIY geeky stocking tutorial when I made three stockings for three special friends. I thought you should know that I, too, go back and revisit my old posts, use the tutorials, follow the recipes, etc. So this year for a new friend who also didn't have a stocking (poor deprived children!), I made a very special archery-themed one.


This is much less sparkly and colourful than my personal taste. It's quiet understated for a holiday decoration. BUT, it is perfect for the recipient, and indeed when I asked him if I could add just a little glitter, he gave me an emphatic 'NO'. So he can keep his understated stocking as-is, which is still pretty great quite frankly.


If you'd like to try your hand at a stocking, here's the original tutorial. Once you've got the basic jist, you can make any type of stocking you might want. And these actually make great Christmas gifts, because you can personalize them so much and they'll be using them year after year.

Fifteen days 'til Christmas...keep calm and craft on!

Be Broken. Be Open. Be Okay with Chaos.

I read two really great articles recently that spoke to me, and I think they may speak to you.

The first one was called “Why Lying Broken In a Pile On Your Bedroom Floor is a Good Idea” by JC Peters. The second was a piece called “Time To Get Honest About Being Disabled”, published in Disabled Magazine and written by a man named David A Grant who’s a traumatic brain injury survivor.

These two articles on their own are amazing and powerful, but reading them both in one week has sort of blown my mind.

THE GODDESS WHO'S ALWAYS BROKEN

Julie Peters explains in her article that there’s a goddess named Akhilanda, whose name basically means “Never Not Broken”. Peters (and Akhi herself) sort of suggest the idea that being broken is part of growth, part of change; so instead of looking at ourselves and saying, “Whyyyy am I so broken? I suck because I’m broken,” we can say, “I am broken because I am growing.”

I am broken because that’s how things grow. So being broken (physically or mentally, whatever you’re dealing with) isn’t weakness, and it’s not the endgame; it’s the start of the new you. And if you’re like me and you crave constant growth, then you’ve got to expect—and embrace—constant breakage. I come undone because I am always undone. I am never finished. I am an agent of change.

THE WASTEFUL PURSUIT OF PERCEIVED PERFECTION

This obviously paired really beautifully with Grant’s article, which talked about how much time we all spend trying to appear ‘normal’ or ‘healthy’. God, we expend a lot of energy trying to pretend we’re OK. And for what? Grant points out that those of us with invisible ‘broken parts’ can become isolated by our own perfect acting. Instead of burning ourselves out pretending we’re fine, why can’t we just accept ourselves as imperfect creatures? If we all did this, unabashedly and with a sense of pride for our individualized strengths, wouldn’t we find out that normal isn’t the norm at all?

CHAOS IS A FRIEND OF MINE

I read these two articles the same week that I saw Bob, my psycho-spiritual mechanic (my counsellor, in layman’s terms) and he suggested that I need to start working on better embracing chaos when it hits. I’m not a chaos fan. I like things to fit neatly into little boxes, to start when they’re supposed to start and end when they’re supposed to end. I like things quiet unless it’s an orderly noise. I like it when the dog stops shedding for the season. I like it when my house is clean.

This week I stopped trying to keep away the chaos. I started by giving up on my house cleaning. I never really get on top of it anyway, what with teaching and running a start-up company; why stress about what I can’t currently control anyway? That drove me a bit batty, but I managed and I figured that would be what I told Bob I did this week—yay, me. Instead, the goddess Akhilanda decided I needed to be pushed a little further. So on Wednesday morning my car wouldn’t start, and after four days of driving around a loaner while we diagnosed the problem, the loaner blew a tire, leaving me stranded in a Chapters parking lot.

LEARNING GAINS MOMENTUM 

It’s a funny thing, personal growth. When you decide to start down a road of self-discovery and self-acceptance, momentum can start to pick up. One learning opportunity after another will start to happen, sometimes faster and faster until you can’t tell where one ends and the next begins. As I stood beside my loaner car waiting for help, I called MJ and laughed with all my heart at the ridiculous chaos of my life. I didn’t freak out. I just laughed, bought myself a banana loaf inside, and waited for help.

So I guess, if I package up all my learning this week for you to also benefit from, I’d have to say this to you:

Be forever broken.

Embrace it, inside and out.

And don’t fear the chaos, because it’s part of the eternal breaking/mending cycle.

Two days later, my car is fixed, I’ve scored some major victories in my work, and I’m sitting in my chair now, listening to MJ sing as she bakes while Corben sheds relentlessly all over my feet and my unwashed hardwood floors. And I’m pretty content, actually.

Some Tuesdays are Mondays.

Tuesday went like this.

I got up at 5:30am.

I fought with the doors on my car that had frozen shut, then drove past the school I teach at as I forgot where I was going; pulled a U-turn down the street and actually drove to the school instead of past it this time.

Ran with my dog Corben to the building as his feet started burning from salt, and I realized I can't carry him now that he's 53lbs. Taught class. Got call from MJ back at the house: she's ill.

I drove home on class break, made her tea, checked temperature, and gathered crackers. Drove back to school, taught another class with angry students this time (long story). 

Drove to a client's for a troubleshooting thing, then to the grocery store for sick MJ food. Drove home, made MJ sweet potato slices in the oven (a compromise, as she wanted tater tots DESPITE STOMACH FLU).

Found that dog had dragged the mug we use to scoop sidewalk sand into the house and onto my bed, where the snow it contained had melted.

I put dog outside for a pee, then brought him in even though he brought a big rock into the house to chew on. Took rock away from dog, discovered rock was actually his own frozen poop. Cleaned hands, floor, etc.

Took dog to THREE PET STORES looking for boots, found nothing his size. Came home, sat down for the first time in 14 hours.

Ate leftovers, stared blankly at my to-do list until bedtime while watching MJ scroll through thinkgeek.com. Eventually dragged yoga mat into her room so I could try stretching out my screaming sore back.

So yeah, pretty normal day.

Only Good Girls Keep Diaries

I haven't been blogging. There's a couple reasons for this.

ONE: I'M SO STRESSED I'M SEEING SHARKS.

One: I'm so overworked that I can barely remember how to put on pants. I'm not joking. The other morning I went out for a smoke and instead stuck my pen in my mouth, and it took me several minutes to realize it wasn't a cigarette.

credit: morguefile

When I get stressed, I sleep poorly, and when I sleep poorly, my nerves get shot, and then my imagination takes off, and then I'm doomed. I went for a swim last week and midway through, I had the pool to myself. This should have been nice but instead my imagination said, "Hey...what if there's a shark in here?" This is something my head used to whisper to me when I was a kid at the lake, and it boggles my mind that it still whispers this today when I'm an adult--an adult swimming in a pool. Yes, it's a saltwater pool; no, I don't think it can sustain marine life. I asked my head, Why are you doing this? How the hell do you think a shark would get in here? And my head said, Someone brought it in.

After a moment of stunned silence, I said, Are you seriously suggesting that some nutjob somehow,
a. Acquired a live shark large enough to eat a human,
b. Figured out a way to safely transport this six-foot fanged monster to the gym,
c. Slipped the shark past security,
d. Somehow grabbed the shark around its middle, heaved the thousand-pound, toothy beast along the pool deck, then slipped it into the water, where it has managed to hide, somehow camouflaged into the light-blue paint, waiting for ME to get into the water so it could eat me?

My head seemed to ponder the mental image I had created, then said, I'm not suggesting, exactly. I'm just wondering.

My swim was completely ruined. Other people fear monsters in the basement. My imagination eschews the dark and silent spaces, and instead injects nightmares into brightly-lit public pools where pop music blares over the speakers.

TWO: PRIVACY MATTERS.

My second reason for not blogging lately is that some things are developing. My love life, for one. I've surmised that I'm loathe to share this with the great invisible public because sharing such intimate details in the past has been hard. When my first blog, the wedding blog, went viral, it was weird for me. Well, beyond weird. Being recognized on the street can be cool but also uncomfortable. When my marriage ended, I faced not only the usual judgement that all failing couples deal with from friends and family, but also the judgement of anonymous strangers from all corners of the world. There are literally message boards discussing my divorce. After my boyfriend Alan and I broke up, I tried to keep that really quiet, but I felt critical eyes on me again, made more painful because I now had had two breakups from two different relationships that I'd felt confident were 'the one'(s).

I know, internally, that these things happen. It takes time to find a permanent mate, and maybe some of us never do. I also know that if you follow any thirty-something bloggess for 5+ years (as you may have done with me), relationship starts and stops will be part of the narrative. But for a short time here, I have been silent on my blog because I needed a break. I needed some time for this new relationship to grow some roots and take hold. And I needed that relationship to be made up of just two people, not two people + the peanut gallery. I also know, though, that being a writer means writing from the heart. It's a double-edged sword, this burning compulsion to narrate life.

THE REST OF MY REASONS: 

Oh, and reasons 3, 4, 5 for not blogging lately:
-My career is going through a growth-spurt that has me up at 5:30am and in bed at midnight;
-My dog training is in its final stages and requires a great deal of time and energy;
-I've been out living life rather than writing about it.

There's a quote: "Only good girls keep diaries. Bad girls don't have the time." That's basically me right now, except not so much 'Sex & the City' and more, 'Liz Lemon in 30 Rock'.