Greetings From Small Town!!!

Well, despite being absolutely exhausted from the get-go, I made it through Xmas happy, scrappy and hangover free (the last one is by pure luck, I am sure.) Although we have been relatively busy around these parts the last couple of days, I feel somewhat relaxed and ready to get back to the chaos that is the Xmas holiday and New Year’s in The City. I can’t be sure, but if it is going to be like years prior to this one, I have some late nights of drinking, socializing and other such activities ahead of me. Unfortunately, my bank account is not quite ready for the revelry, as I haven’t worked in a couple weeks, but maybe one of the lotto tickets AJ sent for me to give to Mr. Head will win big, and I can sponge a cool million off of him. (hehehe)

The brothers and I arrived in Small Town on the afternoon of Xmas Eve, and the visiting, drinking and eating began immediately. Mom had a turkey already cooked up for us to eat today (Boxing Day, of course), since we were going to be eating at other relatives homes, snacks and alcoholic beverages were plentiful, and Auntie B and Uncle D were in the kitchen waiting to visit. It was a nice welcome.

GQ and I made it through an evening at Uncle Don’s farm with only a few minor (for us) insults and disagreements, so the evening of visiting and drinking, and of course eating. was quite enjoyable. But if you ask GQ, he’ll tell you about how his night was not as fantastic as he had hoped, due to a Mystery Santa (we had no idea who it was!) showing up out of nowhere, walking through the front door, and stealing his thunder. Although I felt a bit bad for GQ, who so wanted to play Santa for the kids again this year, it was quite hilarious to see all of us adults, just as perplexed as the children, as to why Santa was here, and just who exactly it was. As Cousin Jeff said, “For three whole minutes, all of us were believers.”

Christmas Day began with the usual pot of coffee and the opening of presents, followed by a plate of cholesterol for brunch. Once we were awake, fed and packed, we hopped in the car, and headed to AJ’s place. As with everywhere else we went, food, drink and hugs were plentiful as soon as we walked in the door. We had a fantastic evening together, the best part being our annual “telephone sing song” that we do. You see, every year, after we are half-cut, we get out the guitar, do a quick practice, find the phone numbers of our loved ones, call them up and sing our very own medley of Xmas songs. Think ‘The Osmonds”, with an edge. Everyone really enjoys it, even the people on the other end of the phone. This year, we spiced up our routine a bit, and threw in our “family theme song” for the relatives, and in my opinion, we did quite well. When you make the people you love, laugh and cry and reminisce….well, it’s a good warm fuzzy feeling inside. Plus, we sounded pretty good, (we assume), so thumbs up to us.

This morning, after more good eats and some last minute visiting, we drove back to Small Town, tired but happy. It wasn’t long before B-Rock came over to visit, followed by the elusive Shmeed and Devo. Somehow, I snuck in a power nap between visitors, thank goodness.

Instead of heading out to the annual Small Town ‘Boxing Day Bash’, with the others tonight, I think I made the smart decision to stay home, eat nuts and watch ‘Law and Order’. This decision was based mostly due to lack of funds, feeling old(er), and the utter lack of ambition to get out of my pajamas or do my hair. Plus, I feel like I am all “visited out”, and truly do not have much more to say to anybody. Normally, I’d be pissed by now, buying some more drink tickets, making small talk with people I never bother to keep in contact with throughout the year, and waiting for the drunken fists to fly. And having a damn good time. What’s happened to me??? Oh well, some friends from The City are there, and I am sure I will get a play by play from at least a couple of them, so here’s hoping it’s eventful and they are having a good time!

I will be heading back tomorrow morning. B-Rock has graciously offered to give me a ride, (Ok, I told him I was catching a ride, and he graciously didn’t tell me to fuck off), and thus will conclude yet another Small Town Christmas. T’was a short visit, but a good one. Can’t wait for next year.

Happy Holidays, Xmas, Festivus, Whatever

What a beautiful spring day it is....oh wait a minute, it's Christmas Eve. Sorry 'bout that. Global Warming, you are a good friend to us who have to brave Saskatchewan winters. (Don't tell David Suzuki that I said that, please.)

I can't believe it's Xmas already. As friends arrive in town for the holiday, I will be heading out on the highway in a couple hours with the brothers, to frolic in SmallTown for a couple days. We will eat too much, drink too much, and most likely, GQ and I will get into some sort of arguement over washing dishes, or something equally ridiculous....'tis the season.

This is going to be our first Christmas that will not be spent on the farm, and although that is getting me down a bit, I guess change happens. This is a time of new beginnings for our little family, and no matter where we open our presents, eat our leftover turkey, and drink our booze, it's home....because we're together. Now if only we could smoke in Mom's new house, we'd be laughing.

I have a feeling that this is going to be a good Xmas. For the first time in about 10 years, I awoke this morning with not a hint of my annual Xmas Eve tonsilitis and strep throat, next to the love of my life, excited to spend three hours on the highway reading books and sleeping in the backseat of Filmstar's car. Although, I am a bit pouty because Mr. Head and I cannot spend Xmas together, we had our own little Xmas last night, and it was very nice to have some time to ourselves, opening presents and what not.

The next three days will be so busy with visiting and eating and driving, that time will fly by, and I'll be back to The City in no time flat. Just in time to see the out of town friends and rest up for New Year's shenanigans.

Here's hoping you all have a wonderful holiday as well, and your families don't drive you too bonkers.

Cheers!

Inner Struggles on a Sunday Afternoon

Uh oh. Here it comes......5-4-3-2-1.....

Abigail: Well hello there annual bout of Christmas depression. You must have missed me, you're coming on strong this year.

Annual Xmas Depression: Well dear, I noticed that last night, after you sucked back a few beers, you were well on your way anyways. Just thought I'd meet you at the half point.

Abigail: Thank you, I guess.

Annual Xmas Depression: It usually takes you a few days to get here, so I thought since you had some days off and nothing to do anyway, I'd just help you get the trip over with already.

Abigail: You know, there really isn't any reason for you to be here. I'm ok. Really.

Annual Xmas Depression: Oh, you lie. Like fucking dog, you lie.

Abigail:No, there isn't anything major going on. Nobody died,the weather's nice, I'm not broke and everyone around me seems to be happy and scrappy.

Annual Xmas Depression:Oh, but you feel like shit anyways. Come on, I know you better than anyone. You are lonely. You are pissed off. You are worried about money and your job and being left out now that your friends are making new friends, and you're laid up at home because of that damn leg, and this new feeling that you should be less of a drunk, and more of a responsible adult....that one's driving you crazy.

Abigail:Well, maybe a little bit. But at least I know that these are all silly little superficial problems. Everything will work out in the end. I'm just in a bit of a slump, because I'm bored, and am not sure quite what to do with myself. Sure I'm lonely..but everyone is just busy. I'd be busy too, if I could go to work.

Annual Xmas Depression:Uh huh.

Abigail:You're just trying to get me all worked up over nothing. Leave me the hell alone.

Annual Xmas Depression: You're a fiesty one this year. And no, I will not leave you the hell alone. This year, I've got some special ammunition up my sleeve.

Abigail:And that would be.....???

Annual Xmas Depression:You were used to being alone. Now you aren't. You've got a boyfriend, you shouldn't be feeling lonely. Sorry chicky, but I've got ya, no matter what you're trying to tell me. When I'm through with you, you are going to be so tired of over-analyzing every little thing in your love life, you're not going to be able to get out of bed.

Abigail: You're an asshole.

Annual Xmas Depression: Oooh, I hit a soft spot there. Why don't you just lay down in bed, put on that awful Morrissey album and cry out your eyes.

Abigail:I've got somewhere to be in an hour, and I'll be damned if I'm going out with my swollen 'crying face' on. Think I'd rather just have a beer, and listen to something other than Morrissey. Who I love, by the way.

Annual Xmas Depression: Have it your way then. And hey, have more than one beer, and I'll talk to you later on tonight, when it gets you so down, you'll want to kill yourself.

Abigail:As I said earlier, you're an asshole.

Annual Xmas Depression:You know I'm right though. So go to the fridge, grab another drink, and like I said, we'll talk later.

Abigail: Whatever you say, brain. Whatever you say. Go fuck yourself.

Annual Xmas Depression: Cheers!

This Ones for the Boys

Growing up, I always felt more comfortable being friends with the male of the species. They never expected me to act a certain way, accepted me for who I was, and just let me have fun, cut loose and speak my mind, without any major repercussions. Instead of being one of the girls that sat on the sidelines and watched the boys roughhouse at recess, giggling and trying to catch their attention, I caught their attention by running out and doing what they were doing, whether it was playing tackle street hockey, or building the biggest ramps on the planet to ride our toboggans over. As I got older though, the more I tried to be one of the girls. It didn't suit me much. I wasn't too good at gossiping, talking about my "female problems" and neither me nor my family had the money to keep me up with all the fashion trends. Although those girls from my younger years were wonderful in their own way, I just always felt like I didn't quite fit. I didn't trust them. They turned on each other every other minute, and I knew that my turn was going to come at some point, no matter how 'cool' I was, and I wasn't sure if I could deal with it. I had seen how evil they were to each other, and just how evil I could be when it was expected of me, and then one day in English class, I decided just to get 'my turn' over with, and go my own way. Beat them to the punch.

It was harsh. Just moments after I told our fearless leader of the week to "fuck off and die" (or something along those lines), the school was a buzz. Everyone in my school ( that went from grades six to twelve at the time) was told to stop talking to me. Horrible lies, insanely rude comments and harrassment of all kinds abounded. The popular girls, that had been my friends since kindergarten, were making sure I wasn't going to come out of this on top. I was sure I was going to need a bodyguard, and years of therapy, and was seriously re-considering my decision to quit following the crowd.

After a couple weeks of tip-toeing around school, missing out on all the social engagements that I had always attended and feeling like an absolute piece of shit, the boys came around. A couple of them were planning on skipping school for the afternoon and asked me if I wanted to come along for coffee. I told them I probably shouldn't, as I didn't feel like getting an ass-kicking from their girlfriends afterwards. They rolled their eyes, and told me to grab my jacket, they were leaving NOW. I spent the next few afternoons hanging out with the guys. I revelled in the fact that I could say what I wanted to say, wear what I wanted to wear, and laugh my fool head off.

One day after school, the boys and I were heading to our regular hangout to loiter and try to score free coffee, as per usual. As we were sneaking out the side door, "the girls" caught up with us, and informed the boys that they were coming with us, as they shot me incredibly evil looks. Although I just wanted to back out, and make up an excuse as to why I changed my mind, I went along. "I was invited, and you weren't", I thought to myself, and lead the way.

It was a gruelling couple of hours. I had to sit and watch giggly girls, flirting and acting like they were stupid. I couldn't get a word in edge-wise, and for the first time in my life, couldn't wait until my mom was off of work, so I could go home. At some point, I decided that I had had enough, and told the guys I had to go. The girls were over at the fooseball table, flirting with some older guys, and one of the boys told me to sit back down, he had something to say to me. "Oh this is fucking great. The guys have realized what a loser I am, too." I cringed.

He sat across from me in the booth, and stared me straight in the eye.

"You aren't like them." he said.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
" You don't act like you're stupid. You aren't stupid. You're funny, and pretty, and you are a cool, cool chick, who is fine just being herself. Don't ever feel like you have to be like them, we like you just the way you are."

This guy, who spent much of his youth snapping my bra, pummelling me with snowballs, stealing my belongings and basically embarrassing the crap out of me, had just given me the greatest compliment ever. As well as the biggest boost of confidence I had ever felt. And he didn't even want to get in my pants.

I left that day, promising myself that I would forever be myself. Whoever didn't like it, could kiss my ass. I have never broken that promise to myself, or the guys I hung out with in high school.

I was never welcomed fully back into that clique of girls. Even now, as an adult, I know that I am different than they are, and when I run into them at reunions, on holidays and the like, we make polite small talk. For the most part, they are all still a part of each other's lives, and I have nothing to do with it. I don't really care what they are up to, and vice versa.

And all I can say about that is...is good for me.

Forced Holiday

I went for my final surgery on my leg on Tuesday, to remove the incredibly uncomfortable plate and pins. "You are no longer bionic, sweety", the nurse informed me as she woke me from my hazy morphine sleep. Although I was nervous in the days prior to my surgery, about sooooo many different things, I have now embraced this as a a much needed holiday, and if I needed to have an operation to get it, it is still worth it. I was burned out. I was tired. I needed to get away from work, and be forced to take a break from my social life as well.

I wasn't thinking like this the past couple of days though. Anyone who has ever had the pleasure of spending any time with me while I am sick or injured knows that it takes me some time to accept the fact that I am sick or injured. I absolutely abhor the thought of having to ask for help. It is embarrassing to me, someone who prides herself in "being able to do everything on her own, without any of your damn help", to have to bite the bullet and admit that I cannot make my own morning coffee, do my own laundry, go to the store, or bathe myself. (Although I did attempt bathing yesterday, and it didn't end in tears. It didn't end in clean hair either.) I am extremely grateful for all of the concerned callers, friends who dropped in (especially Cookeroo, B-Rock and the fabulous Mr. Head) to bring me cigarettes, books and the like. However, at the same time, my brain couldn't get off the fact that I just want to be able to do this all by myself. But, my body won out over my brain, and after a fall in the kitchen, spilling hot tea all over my torso, tripping over the cats a thousand times and realizing there is no frickin' way I can go anywhere independantly without shovelling all the snow that surrounds my car, I calmed down, started reading my second book of the week, and just accepted the fact, that whether I like it or not, I have an injured leg, and I have got to look after it.

I awoke this morning, my leg throbbing much less than it had been the past couple mornings. I hobbled about with my crutches for a few minutes, and then decided that I had had enough of no coffee in the mornings, and got to work. It has only been a couple of years since I first smashed my leg up, and I was on crutches for a much longer period of time, and I was able to go about my day, and do things around the house for myself. I just had to sit and think. How exactly did I carry objects? What was that technique I had when I needed to stand for longer periods of time, and my crutches were in the way? The harder I thought, the more everything came back to me, and I was on my way to having a regular day.

After I had drank some coffee, had a less than stellar bowel movement (damn you Tylenol 3!), and fed the cats, I got up the courage to put the crutches down. I hobbled slowly to my bedroom, and back to the kitchen to get more coffee, walking on tip toe, not wanting to break anything. "Wait, I'm not broken anymore, I am just sore", I thought to myself, and shuffled with a bit more confidance. V-Man told me it looked like there was a dancer in the house.

So yes, today is my day. If I can alternate crutches, cane and no ambulatory aids at all for the next few days, when the staples come out, I will hopefully be good as new. Sure, I won't be dancing my pants off on Saturday nights for awhile, and my Olympic training will have to wait, but I'll be OK.

Thank you Mr. Head, for urging me to get this surgery done. All of this is definatly worth it.

I take no responsibility for spelling and grammar mistakes, and if this doesn't make any sense at all. Blame the painkillers people, blame the painkillers. :)