Year of the Dog

Last New Year's Eve wasn't a particularly happy one. I had just returned from a nice Christmas with my parents but brought an awful cold home with me. I therefore decided to stay in that night rather than infect anyone else (not that I had massive New Year's plans anyway, truth be told).

I didn't feel like I had a whole lot to look forward to in the New Year. I was weeks away from handing over all my money to someone who had betrayed me, all in order to keep the home that *I* had bought. I was stewing over the unfairness of it all; the consequence he faced for breaking our vows was walking away richer. But mostly, I felt like a moron for ever trusting him in the first place. I should have known. I should have never bailed him out of trouble those times. I should have insisted on a pre-nup. I should have dumped him when he never came home that one night. I should have left when he showed up late to our very first date. I should have, I should have ...

I was calmly and dignifiedly wallowing in these thoughts on that New Year's evening when a minor incident turned me into a sobbing mess of First World self-pity:

While attempting to put a new bulb in the overhead porch light, the entire thing came down except for the electrical wires that kept the heavy fixture precariously clinging to the ceiling of my porch. The sky was quickly darkening as I stood on my step ladder holding the glass fixture over my head. As my hands were busy, my nose took it as an opportunity to drip uncontrollably, stinging and chapping my upper lip. Over and over again, I tried to get the damn fixture up without success. Gloves made it impossible to feel the spot where the light was supposed to latch onto, so I stubbornly kept at it even though my bare fingers were numb from the December cold.

After an hour of frustrating effort, I was forced to leave the stupid fixture hanging there, where it swung about in the growing wind. I thought a flurried gust would surely pull the fixture too hard, the wiring would get ripped out, and an electrical fire would somehow ensue. I would die stupid and alone and the ex would walk away with the insurance money because the house hadn't been fully transferred into my name yet.

The last part, especially, made me mad.

And so I cried.

I wondered why I was fighting so hard and relinquishing every bit of savings I had (and didn't have) in order to keep a house I was too inept to manage. I mean, I couldn't even change a lightbulb properly! I wondered why I was the one who had to deal with this shit by herself. Why was I the only one dealing with consequences. And why the fuck was I financing his latest romantic getaways. I wondered how I got myself into this stupid position with the stupid light fixture and stupid house and stupid life to begin with. At one point, I'm pretty sure I even screamed, "WHY!?!" in a moment of ridiculous drama that puts Darth Vader to shame.

And that's how I ended 2012: screaming and crying my sorry ass to sleep.

The next day was infinitely better. With the promise of a new year, the arrival of a morning's light, and a build-up of mass hysteria purged from my system, I conquered the porch fixture. I never could get it back up, but thanks to phone consultations with my dad, a friend's husband, and the Internet (the trifecta!), I figured out how to turn off the power, remove the connected wiring from the fixture, and cap the wires. ALL BY MYSELF. I even took a frigging picture of it.

I capped those wires. Yes, yes I did.

(Mind you, I didn't replace the light until later in the spring, but that's not the point.)

It's amazing what not feeling helpless will do for a person, and that's something I've taken with me since that night.

But onto the real point of this post ...

Even though I didn't know it at the time, The Great Removal of the Porch Light wasn't the best thing to have happened that day. I wouldn't realize until months later that something else fantastic occurred on January 1, 2013.

You see, my sweet Huck, the heartbeat at my feet, is a New Year's baby. Somewhere around the time that I was figuring out my breaker panel, my darling little dog was being born.

The rescue organization took him in right away that day. He looked like this but smaller:

 
And last night, curled on my bed as the old year softly drifted away, he looked like this:

While this New Year's Eve was another quiet night in, it wasn't sad. It wasn't helpless. It wasn't drowning in self-pity. It wasn't wasted thinking bitterly about exes and poor decisions made.

It was gratefully spent with one of the best little treasures to enter my life. It was serene. It was warm. It was a happy New Year's.

What a difference a year makes.

If you've seen my Instagram feed, the fact that I love my dog should come as no surprise. I am, undoubtedly, obsessed with this little mutt of mine.

While I have many other people and things I appreciate, love and am overwhelmingly grateful for this year (including the best family ever, terrific friends, a good job, my health, a home of my own, and my first ever food garden), Huck / Huckers / Huck McDuck / Huckleberry / Dr. Huckstable / The Mother Hucker has been this year's standout.

He makes me laugh. He's forced me to become patient. He's taught me to let go. He's shown me how to enjoy the moment. He gives me the best excuses to stop what I'm doing and play.

He is 65 pounds of unconditional love.

Today, on his first birthday, I'm making it all about him. We're about to hit the dog park. And then nap. And then play catch. And then eat treats, nap and play some more, including goofing around with the toys that annoyingly squeak. I'll even feed him his fave, tripe (or as I call it, Death in a Can). And we'll hang by the window and get mad at all the cats that dare to enter our fields of vision. And maybe a last-minute walk. And then we'll call it a day - a very good day.

Happy New Year to you. Happy birthday, dear pal. You've made my year.

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I Could Watch This All Day

I'll put a somewhat more meaningful post up later, but for now, this will do just fine:



 (Hover over the top-left of the clip to select the speaker and turn on the sound. If it still isn't coming through, click on the original.)

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This Post Is Pretty Much Just Videos

... because words don't quite describe how great things are right this second.

This is me right now:



Totally happy, with exactly zero fucks to give.

Why? Because 2012, the year that shat on my chest after eating at a questionable taco stand, now finally feels over. I know it's June 2013, but it's taken this long to clean up that whole mess. Today, I can say:

• I just got paid by two clients whom I had been waiting on forever.
• I'm gainfully employed and officially start full-time on Monday.
• The house is securely in my name only, and I'm on a mission to destroy its mortgage.
• I got a judge-approved divorce order. D-Day becomes official in a couple weeks.

And so I say:

And:

And:

And:

(As you can see, my happy place embarrassingly resides in the pop culture wasteland of 1990 - 1992.)

Have an awesome weekend - I know I will!

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An Update For Those Who Still Accidentally Come To This Site

Heyo!

So, yesterday, my dog ran away. WHY DO ALL THE BOYS LEAVE ME? The back gate was somehow left open, I hadn't noticed, and Huck bounded out to freedom while I was inside - eating, n'est pas. When I glanced out the window and saw the gate, I just about died and did one of those silent screams you only have in nightmares and dreams about making out with your gross old boss. 

I ran outside without any shoes on and ... thankfully, Huck was only at the end of the street. He was running his happy little heart out toward me while an old man - clearly spooked by a goofy dog on the loose and convinced Huck was coming for him - beelined to the other sidewalk, swearing in Greek, and nearly tripped in the process. If I hadn't been so overwhelmed with losing and then finding my dog within the span of 30 seconds, I probably would have laughed at it all - because there is nothing quite as funny as old people tripping Huck in a moment of joy.  

If I had lost Huck, at least there would be a solid Plan B to turn to: There is enough shed hair in this place to build another dog. It's so gross ... and, yet, still so much better than cleaning the bathroom during my married days. I won't expand on that further. No, wait, I will: 

In any case, I've added another DIY level of security to the back gate, making it a little harder for this to happen again. I think.

Anyway, since you last saw him (unless you follow my All Huck All The Time Instagram Feed!), Huck has managed to gain an amazing 24 pounds in two months - which is astounding because his diet only consists of kibble. And my sandals. And any and every shred of paper in the house. And that bottle of green food dye that I didn't notice he had until I walked over to my wool carpet and saw that it looked drastically different. 

Sigh. Mother Nature knew what she was doing when she made puppies - being way too cute is their best defence against being murdered.

Whereas Huck has been packing on the pounds (but still looks pretty skinny ... bitch), I've been slowly losing them. I've been downgraded from Marineland Attraction Fat to Season Eight Chandler Fat. Hurrah! Still a ways to go, but I hope to one day take a picture of myself smiling while holding out the stretched waistband of the tent pants I used to wear. That same day, I think I'll also wash my hair in a waterfall and put gum in my mouth by bending it on my tongue:

So, yeah, there's that.

I've shifted from sticking to freelance work to now actually looking for full-time opportunities. I'm hoping within the next month or so, I'll have found the right fit. I love freelancing, but waiting to get paid "whenever" vs. having a steady paycheque has become a little too much of a struggle - plus there are some things I've applied for that would be really cool to do, so we'll see! I've updated my portfolio site at Jennifereve.com (yes, it still needs a bit of work) should any of you fine, random people of the Internet know someone in Toronto who is looking for a writer / marketer / communications / self-depricating type - pass it along!

I'm also officially one-year separated from ___________ (fill in your own blank! I did!), which means divorce proceedings are now just a matter of the court getting to it ... and how long that will be, I have no idea. But it's definitely something I'm looking forward to so that I can close that sad sack chapter and move on. I had thought about making a big blog post about Then vs. Now, what's changed since then and what hasn't, but .... meh.  For now, I just don't really care. Oh, for sure, there are things that I'd like to and will probably talk about - particularly some lessons learned from that marriage and divorce that hopefully others can avoid, but I'm not ready or willing to drop those beats yet. 

But in all, I feel pretty darn lucky to have what I have in my life, starting first and foremost with family and friends. I had a visit from my folks a little while ago and, man, did I ever win the parent lottery. I think I need to convince them to write a book about how to do what they do, because the world needs more of it. Seriously, all problems in life can be solved by Joe and Marie in a five-day visit.

Ok ... that's it for another two months. Or not. I do hope to get back to this just-for-fun writing stuff in a more consistent way, if only for an excuse to look up animated gifs - like this one!:

See ya!

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The Year That Was

MAN HANDS is BACK!

Hello.

So, it's been a while, right?

First, I want to thank everyone who commented or wrote to me over the past few months. I appreciate the notes. You're all dollies. I also apologize for the fact that I basically responded to no one like the ungrateful slob I am. I guess I mostly didn't know what to say.

Perhaps I haven't written back or updated this blog because I didn't want this place to rival the depressing vibe of a departing gate in the Las Vegas airport. Don't get me wrong, my life really isn't that bad (in fact, I'm a lucky person in a million, zillion ways) but I just didn't have it in me to put on a brave, smiling digital face for everyone. It's tiring enough to do that in real life.

I was also worried that if I turned to the ol' blog during this time, I'd use it to vent and lay out some dirty, dirty forklift-foot-level dirty laundry about a certain someone and that would interfere with this whole 'taking the high road' facade I'm trying to keep up.

With the exception of some very recent paper signing and key-handing-overs, I haven't seen Patrick since he moved out in May. Well, that's not quite true. I was out one day and spotted him with his girlfriend downtown. (It is taking a fair bit of willpower not to add adjectives and a different use of nouns to that sentence. *HighRoadHighRoadHighRoadHighRoad...*)

This GIF perfectly demonstrates how that encounter went:



Yep. I hid. It was either that or ... I don't even know. A million savage / glorious / humiliating / underwhelming / regretful things come to mind.

We've essentially only been communicating through very civil e-mails and lawyers. And I'm totally, totally cool with that. I probably should be bothered that I haven't had any real contact with the person I spent eight years with, but ... I'm not. I guess that's what happens when you don't want someone in your life anymore.

Besides the super-fun annihilation of my marriage, the agency I worked at and really enjoyed working at all but closed its doors. Despite having an amazing team that was doing great work, some shit happened behind the scenes that was beyond our control and the bulk of us - including yours truly - wound up without a job. This, as I was paying lawyer fees out my ass and buying Patrick out of the house.

Oh, and just as tragic, I found my first white hair. Not grey. White. Like a fucking piece of dental floss sprouting out of my scalp.

So, to recap, I'm:

• divorcing
• unemployed
• broke
• about to turn into the Crypt Keeper

Ain't that just a bit of terrific.

But 2012 wasn't all a shit show. A year never is. You especially realize how small and stupid your complaints are when, sadly, other people in the world and your community have faced truly horrible things that we can't even wrap our heads and hearts around.

So, some of the good stuff that happened included:

• I got to see my friends and family at their very, stellar best. I am so tear-jerkingly lucky to have some really solid, wonderful, beautiful people in my corner and in my life. They're basically the best humans on earth. Fact.
• I had a job that I really loved (well, most of the time) that gave me the chance to work on cool projects while paying me well enough that I was able to save a bunch of money to ...
• ... keep my lovely home and buy it from Patrick. Part of the buy-out is done which means the deed (and mortgage, hurrah) is transferring solely into my name (maiden name, y'all!) now.
• I met some amazing people when I was with the agency, including someone who is now a really good friend. He's happily married (to a woman I'm pleased to also now call my friend) and Brazilian which makes him almost exactly like a gay BFF. I also now know more random facts about Brasil than any Canadian who ever existed and have consumed more Caipirinhas in 2012 than in all my previous years combined. My liver is not amused.
• I listened to a fuck-tonne of music, discovered new bands and have basically become one with Tina Turner. I made a playlist of what I've been listening to on repeat if you're interested in hearing what the soundtrack of my life is like (but the song I've been listening to ad nauseam is at the bottom of this post).
• I enjoyed some nice walks home and stops in the park during a beautiful summer and even got myself a bicycle. Now if only I had the courage to ride it on streets containing cars.
• Romney not getting bloody elected. Yes, even us little Canadians care about that.
• I got my first thing ever from Tiffany's (from my actual gay BFF). Appropriately, it's a vessel for alcohol.
• I experienced Ontario cottage life not once but twice this summer. I think I'll have to make it an annual thing.
• I ate all kinds of stuff and in true hipster fashion took pictures of most of it. How cool of me.

So ... I really do have plenty of things to be happy about.

Which brings us to the next question: What's next?

I mostly don't know. But I'm thinking:

• I obviously have to get my career back on track. Or not. There are days when I seriously consider applying to the neighbourhood grocery store, becoming a checkout girl, and not giving a flying fuck about having career aspirations. And then there are days when I really want to afford HBO again.
• I might have an opportunity to take a totally different spin in the 50s Housewife Experiment thing (clearly different, what with that whole lack of being a wife technicality and all. Heh.). I don't want to say too much about it as it might not happen, but it could be pretty funny. Or get me sued. We'll see. (And no, some of you have asked, I had nothing to do with Wives in Beehives. I caught the show, though. It had potential but I was disappointed that the producers decided to take it in the tired 'lady dramz' direction. Boo.).
• I'll probably get a dog. (!!!) I've wanted one forever and now that I don't live with someone with allergies, I'm free to make that happen. The idea of this makes me really, really, really happy.
• A return to blog writing. I've missed it. I've missed you, whoever you all are.

And that's basically it. That's what's been going on and not going on. I'm sure to make Barbara Walter's Most Fascinating People list.

And you? How are you? Let me know.

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