poor fattie

kyle has to have surgery. again. :-(

when my parents adopted him from the SPCA four-and-a-half years ago, he was already six and had been declawed by his previous owners. problem is, whoever did the declawing did a crappy-ass job and, in fact, did it incorrectly (i have visions of a backyard shed and some gardening shears). i think declawing cats is horrible, but if you’re gonna go ahead and have it done, the least you could do is make sure it’s done properly. kyle’s first family did not. rather than having the end of each toe removed at the first joint, kyle had just the tips of all his toes removed. this meant that the “root” of each claw on each toe was still sorta there...and that there would always exist a chance that the claws would grow back.

about a year after his adoption, kyle began obsessively licking his left paw. he’s very protective of his paws (no wonder, given what he likely went through in his previous home), so getting anywhere near the left one to check what might be wrong was nearly impossible. a visit to the vet revealed that he’d developed an abscess between two of his toes because the little stumps of bones had become infected. he went in for surgery, had the botched declawing fixed on those two toes and spent a couple of weeks in a humiliating elizabethan collar. the vet warned us that he would likely always have trouble with his toes as a result of the mangled declawing...so it was just a matter of time before something else sprung up.

thankfully (?), it took three more years before the repercussions of his declawing cropped up again. a couple of months ago, we noticed that, on occasion, he would sit with his left paw raised slightly off the floor. it didn’t happen all the time, and there wasn’t any obsessive licking going on, so we just figured he’d bruised himself during one of his leaps down from a high countertop or "skinned" his feet during a frenzied run through the house. but the lifting of the paw persisted and started happening more frequently.

the other day, when i was visiting my parents to raise the tree, i noticed kyle sprawled out, sound asleep, on his back in front of the fire...with his front paws facing upward towards the ceiling, allowing for perfect access to the pads of his feet. i flipped on a light and took a close look. uh oh. the middle toe on his left foot was very obviously swollen...and seemed to have a sharp, curved, claw-like thing coming right through the pad and tuned back inwards towards the pad (ow!). i called my mother to come have a look (kyle was out like a light, so we had the freedom to inspect his feet) and she, too, noticed the sharp little “thorn” right away.

she took kyle to the vet today and the diagnosis is that he has two ingrown claws which will require surgery to remove. that’ll be tuesday.

more christmas-y stuff: stay in and VOTE!

FRIDAY UPDATE: thanks to all the votes, Calling to Say got a 50% "loved it!" score, with an overall 75% positive score! yay! it's now in holiday rotation...

hey, remember the serena ryder christmas single? well, it's finally making its way to radio and its songwriting team needs help making sure it's played and played often...

note: i've removed the link to CHUM radio's voting page, and the songwriters' message, because voting has loooooong since closed. thanks to everyone who clicked on over and threw a vote the song's way!

the stocking was, indeed, hung today...

i spent most of today at my parents' house, putting up
their christmas tree and their christmas lights.
i'm pooped.

when mother nature throws a momentary hissy fit

today's freak, five-minute blizzard.

whom does google say you are?

have you ever googled your own name? and, if you have, what kind of results do you get?

it's an interesting experiment (or completely useless, depending on your opinion), especially if your name is somewhat common -- you find all sorts of people who share your name and have weird, funny, shocking or exciting professions, hobbies, claims to fame or criminal records. or, you find people who are actually talking about you on their blogs or websites or the like...which can be strange.

i'll admit i do it from time to time, mainly to see which of my print stories have found their way to assorted online portals, and nothing overly dramatic ever comes up. i did find out that there's a woman with my exact name who's some kind of engineer, and another who's a youth leader at a synagogue in new jersey.

so, if you're curious, give it a go and post your results in the comments section. are you an astronaut, a cabaret singer, a champion seed-spitter, a deadbeat dad, a member of parliament...who are you, per google?

then and now: what a difference a year makes...

the warm, cozy, sunny inside of my small former apartment...
unfortunately located within a cold, dark, sinister nightmare.

today is the one-year anniversary of me moving out of Hell House. it’s also sort of fitting that the move, and the anniversary, happen(ed) the day after the U.S. thanksgiving. last year, i was thankful to finally be escaping the nightmare in which i’d been living for the previous 11 months; this year, i’m once again thankful for that escape and all the changes that have taken place in my life since i packed my things and bid adieu to my former home. so today, i feel it only fitting to reflect a bit on the then and the now, and the points in between.

last year around this time...for a couple of months prior to this time last year, in fact...i was in a bad place. literally and figuratively. the building in which i lived, which was subsequently nicknamed “Hell House” (thanks, moob!), had gone from a pleasant – if old, moderately maintained and poorly secured – home to a horrifying place to hang my hat as a single woman. my neighbours became newly paroled convicts, the mentally ill and recovering drug addicts who didn’t appear too interested in actually “recovering” from their addictions...as evidenced by the drug dealing that happened in the hallways. psychiatric patients were dumped in empty units and left unsupervised, which meant they often ignored their meds. homeless individuals were given housing gratis...which they then shared (covertly) with anywhere from two to six of their “friends.” and the agency responsible for all these changes turned a deaf ear and a blind eye when frightened residents repeatedly expressed concern.

from december 2005 onwards, i lived in a heightened state of anxiety all the time. by summer 2006, i was hurrying in and out of my apartment as quickly as i could, lest i run into the psychotic young man who lived at the end of my hall (schizophrenic, off his meds, belligerent, violent and completely terrifying). i would actually go down the rear stairs of my building, out through the back alley and into (and out of) the building next door just to avoid my neighbours. every time i left my apartment, i hid anything remotely valuable all over the apartment...just in case the hulking, scary boyfriend of the violent drunk girl across the hall decided he wanted to break into my unit. i dreaded coming home after dark for fear of whom or what i might encounter on the stairs or outside the front door of the building or lurking in the top-floor hallway. and, believe me, many a night i did run into people. sleep became fitful and riddled with panic – middle-of-the-night screaming (from my neighbours or their “guests”) became commonplace, as were fire alarms going off and weekly visits to the building by the police. crime within the building skyrocketed, long-term tenants moved out one by one, and i was a wreck.

i started looking at buying a place, and was about a month into my search when the other shoe dropped: the magazine i worked for was folding, so i was out of a job. the timing couldn’t have been worse. i was suddenly faced with the prospect of being stuck in Hell House...or moving back home with my parents while i regrouped. if you know me at all, and if you remember this dark period, you know it wasn’t an easy or problem-free deliberation. it took me weeks, and assorted failed alternatives, before i finally gave notice to the property management firm and started boxing my life so that almost everything i owned (save for the essentials) could be put into storage. i would relocate to mom and dad’s house in the suburbs.

it was the right thing to do, but it was very, very difficult at the time. i viewed the situation, and myself, as a complete failure and a none-too-amusing cliché: single gal in her 30s, unemployed and living with her parents with no prospects for anything. but i also knew – way, way deep down – that it was what i needed in order to move forward. i needed to sleep without worrying my neighbours would burn down the building; i needed to resume eating properly; i needed to feel safe in my own home...something i hadn’t had for almost a year.

i vividly remember all the encouragement and support i received at the time, so thank you again to all of you who provided it. i especially remember an email from jennifer in seattle, wherein she said (i’m paraphrasing) that she was confident that, within a year, i’d have an amazing new apartment, a great new job and a kick-ass life, and that i would look back on that horrible time and laugh.

know what? it’s a year later and jennifer was (almost) completely correct.

i wound up living with my parents for almost four months, during which time most people seemed to think i’d vanished off the face of the earth. social engagements were very few and far between (i’d only moved to the suburbs but you’d think i’d moved to mars), and work was almost completely nonexistent. i think i had one assignment during that entire time. then, one day in february while i browsed way-overpriced rental units in my current neighbourhood, i accidentally stumbled upon my current apartment...which is huge and safe and affordable and blissfully quiet (most of the time) and in a fantastic area of toronto. i hemmed and hawed for almost a week after finding it, and went back to see it a few times just to be sure, but i signed a lease and here i sit. it took a while for me to get over the loss of my previous place, but this apartment is now home and i love it. my neighbours are all professionals and are rarely seen or heard. when i do run into them -- in the elevator, in the laundry room, in the hallway -- they're friendly and pleasant and not scary. i happily use the front entrance without worrying i'll be stabbed on the way to collect the mail. i can sleep through the night, eat meals like a normal person and come and go from the building at all hours of the day and night without fearing for my safety.

then, literally within a week of taking possession, i started getting phone calls from editors offering me writing assignments...unsolicited. it was like the universe kind of went, “m’kay, vickie’s got a new pad, let’s help her pay for it AND make it easy...” i was busy from april through to august, and was finally being published in fancy magazines again. my life was like night and day from the trauma of Hell House.

has it been a perfect year? erm, no. and i don’t know that i can fully laugh at where i was last year at this time. not yet. there have been snags and mistakes and missteps and the occasional angst from time to time and i’m not exactly where i’d hoped i’d be by today...but certainly NOTHING at all now that compares to that hellish then. and for that, i’m supremely grateful.

happy anniversary to me. :-)

you can find fun things at target

the newly rugged "foyer" of my apartment.

these are a few of my favourite things...

today, oprah aired her annual Favorite Things episode, wherein she plugs dozens of products to millions of people in exchange for a few hundred freebies of each for everyone in her studio audience. all of the things are very cool, often expensive and no doubt delightful to have...but most (if not all) of us didn’t snag tickets to the taping and won’t be finding any of those faves boxed and wrapped on our doorsteps. here's the impressive list of the 2007 haul, in case you're curious.

but, really, who says oprah’s favourite things will be our favourite things? what makes her faves better than my faves or your faves? nuthin’, that’s what.

not that anyone asked but, in the spirit of oprah, here are some of my favourite things:

* my little canon powershot A550 camera
* my big, lime-green, furry butterfly chair from SEARS (just pretend the chair in the photo is lime green...and furry)
* my terrycloth IKEA slippers
* nescafé’s ice java syrup (french vanilla flavour) – stir it into milk...delicious!
* my page-a-day horoscope (cancer) calendar
* reese’s fast break chocolate bars
* my dayrunner “academic weekly” student day planner (think: daytimer for teens)
* eclipse peppermint breath mints
* bonne bell’s lip burst lip gloss (peach)
* my nerina pallot CDs (Fires and Dear Frustrated Superstar)
* the feel-good rom-coms Serendipity, You’ve Got Mail and Imagine Me & You
* mcblooms bath products (soap, lotion, whatever)

those would be some of the items i’d hand out if i had my own show.

that, in turn, begs the question: what are some of your favourite things? invaluable, ingenious and/or insanely tasty items you love? what would you give to your viewers? which companies, large or small, would find themselves plugged nicely by you and your love for their products?

go!

have mercy

i'm just sayin'...

a small tip

young beatrix and i have just returned from three days in buffalo, where we attempted to make the most of the soaring-but-sorta-declining canadian dollar by shopping in america. neither one of us came close to our duty-free customs limit ($400 after 48 hours), and i didn’t find the winter coat or winter boots i’d hoped to get, but we did check the usual items off our collective list:

* eat at panera bread company? CHECK!
* eat at the cheesecake factory? CHECK!
* eat at ted’s hot dogs? CHECK!
* eat at auntie anne’s pretzels? CHECK!
* eat at the “sample store” (which is actually a fancy shop called The Gourmet Chef, but is known to us for its plethora of free samples of delicious spreads, sauces, oils and icings)? CHECK!
* eat some krispy kreme donuts (only me)? CHECK!

(somewhere, lou is weeping.)

i did buy a kick-ass, funky new rug that will be laid down (and subsequently photographed) once its space is cleared. and i picked up some new shoes. and new pants. and eclipse mints, because you can’t get those in canada.

anyway...

whenever we travel, we tip the housekeeping staff at the hotels and motels in which we stay. not a huge sum, usually just a couple of dollars each morning, but the reaction from the housekeeping staff never ceases to amaze me. i don’t know if most guests just don’t tip**, but on more than one occasion we’ve been surprised (pleasantly) by how much so little can mean to someone else. a few times, we’ve returned to our rooms to find thank-you notes – sometimes written in broken english, sometimes with a “god bless you” added – left for us. often, we’ll be treated to a wealth of toiletries or fresh towels or extra bottles of water (this, of course, only happened at the one hotel where they left free snacks in the room at check-in). but it’s weird how a little kindness can go a long way.

(** i realize some folks believe that people working in the service industry are being paid to do whatever job they do, and thus shouldn't expect any tip, but really. save for situations where the service is especially bad, why would you not tip?)

on this trip, we stayed at budget lodgings but left the same amount, and came “home” after a long day to find more soap and shampoo than any two people could ever want or need...in a no-frills hotel that hands those out sparingly to begin with. SIX bars of soap! and FOUR shampoos! in addition to the ones we’d received on our first night. now, i know the housekeeping staff aren't paying for the soap or shampoo or free towels, but those little reciprocal gestures mean as much to us as our tips might mean to them.

so i guess it’s kind of a win-win feel-good situation.

regrets, i’ve had a few...

so, more than once on this blog i’ve mentioned the practice of my friends and me emailing each other lists of questions to answer as a way of getting to know each other better. then last week, in my meditation group, the woman who leads the group talked about a pair of poets in the 1960s who would mail each other questions (a little more profound than my typical “name your five favourite TV shows!” fare)...the answers to which were published in a book. of course, i’ve completely forgotten the names of the authors and the book, but there you have it.

anyway...

last week, one friend of mine sent me a list of questions, and within that list was one that struck an unusual chord. the question was (i’m paraphrasing): if you could take back one sentence you’ve said in your life, what would it be?

i had an answer instantly. “i gave you a test and you failed.” to this day, i’m unable to think of that moment without a physical reaction in my stomach. the words cut like a knife through the person to whom i was speaking. i saw it in her face immediately and i'll never forget how she looked at me. and, even though we cleared things up hours later and the moment took place nearly 18 years ago, it’s still one of my biggest regrets and harshest lessons. we were never the same after that, i don’t think.

so, i’m going to turn the floor over to you and ask you the same question. what one sentence you’ve spoken in your life would you take back if you could?

if you’d like to participate, just post your answer, without any explanation or context (unless you feel compelled to share it), in the comments section. and if you don't have anything you've ever said that you wish you hadn't, you can say so, too.

it should be interesting...

the demands of the public

last night, i went to dinner with my friends chris and laurie, and was mocked for (among other things) the lack of updates to this blog of late. “everytime i’ve checked,” whined chris. “it was still the fuzzballs!” (the orbs.) seriously, there was an entire reenactment of his profound disappointment that involved physically deflating in his chair and making a scrunchy, frustrated face to demonstrate the degree of his despair.

despite enduring an extended round of “let’s tease vickie about her archaic audio-video set-up at home!” (i.e., them laughing uncontrollably to the point of tears at my fritz-y VCR and tube TV, which loses all sound – and requires an unplug-and-replug process to restore it – if i leave it on channels 41, 46 or 56 longer than two minutes...and i can’t record anything between channels 39 and 43, but whatever), i’m addressing their concerns and thusly updating this afternoon. evidently, my TV and VCR are the equivalent of playing music on a phonograph, washing my laundry against a rock and using a rotary-dial phone. "wait...a VCR?!?!? do they still MAKE THOSE?!?!?" whatever. IT’S NOT NICE TO MAKE FUN OF THE POOR AND UNDEREMPLOYED.

ahem. anyway...

at dinner, chris demonstrated his most prized possesion: a fancy new iPhone. for the uninformed, iPhones aren’t actually available in canada...mostly. there are currently no wireless providers contracted to provide service for the iPhones here (negotiations continue with apple), so the phones aren’t for sale. but chris bought one from a small computer shop and, for under $50, had it hacked so that it works with his current cell-phone account and any free wifi he happens upon out in the world. i will say this: the iPhone is wicked cool. expensive, and a lot of work for a system that (if he uploads any software patches or such) could lock up again at any moment, but very cool. so, we looked at photos, mapped locations, checked the weather in vancouver and even browsed facebook while we waited for our meal.

i’m delighted to report that terroni (where we ate) was featuring the ravioli special that i had once more than a year ago, and loved, but that i hadn’t managed to find again since (specials rotate daily, and i hadn’t been able to successfully pinpoint ravioli day). it was delicious. the serving size is tiny, but each little ravioli (raviolus?) is freshly handcrafted with love. so good. for dessert, their massive tiramisu...but, a caveat that i ignored and realized too late: desserts made with espresso contain just as much caffeine as espresso. as such, consuming it in the evening and then expecting not to be wired for the remainder of the night is simply naive. i learned this lesson around 1am, when i was still wide awake. ah well.

in writing news, i’m presently working on three (magazine) stories and awaiting approval on a couple of pitches. right now, i’m researching depressed cats, valentine’s day and canadian authors. it’ll be a busy november, since one is due next week and the other two due the first week of december. i’m hoping the two pitches get the go-ahead, though, because they’re humour essays and those are always fun (and comparatively less work) to write. i’m also very, very grateful for these few gigs because i haven’t had any writing assignments since before TIFF (i.e., since august!) and i was beginning to get a little anxious over my lack of income.

also, remember back in september when i mentioned that i took part in the recording of a new christmas single by serena ryder? well, it’s finally FINISHED and on the cusp of being released! and yesterday i heard it for the first time. it RAWKS! it's very catchy, and very much in the style of mariah carey's all i want for christmas, which is to say: well, very catchy. i have been physically unable to stop listening to it. repeat. repeat. repeat. repeat. i think i must have played it at least 50 times by now. kudos to those involved – i don’t know when it’ll hit the airwaves officially, and i’m not going to post the song here because i’d rather not be sued by EMI, but i’m sure it’s going to be relentlessly overplayed on canadian radio over the next six-to-eight weeks or so. (once it’s online and available for listen, i’ll you know so the americans among you can check it out. ;-))

[Update: EMI has added the track to the audio clips available for listen on Serena's CD page. Check it out here! It's track 16, "Calling to Say." Enjoy!]

what else? lest chris get bored when he checks here today...

young beatrix and i are planning another jaunt to the states next week. the canadian dollar is now at, wait for it, $1.10 (meaning $1 CDN = $1.10 U.S.!), so the already-cheaper-than-they-are-in-canada clothes and shoes and assorted goods we usually buy while across the border are EVEN CHEAPER now. our money will go a long, long way when we shop...so, shop we shall! we’re staying in buffalo for two nights and are hoping to avoid the insane weekend crush at the border (wait times of several hours) by leaving here at the crack of dawn on thursday and returning mid-afternoon on saturday. the trip will also afford us the opportunity to do some christmas shopping in america. “merry christmas, mom! here’s your target gift card, your JC penney slippers and your 99-cent butter!” ;-) (seriously, though, eggs and butter are WAAAY cheaper in the U.S.)

um. i didn’t see any movies this week.

tomorrow they’re checking the smoke detectors and fire-alarm system in my building.

the weather has been wonderfully cold and blustery for the past couple of days, allowing me to break out the winter gear. my toques, the ones i bought in florida in may, are FABULOUS and warm.

and that’s pretty much all i’ve got.

there. an updated blog. are you happy now, chris? well...are you? ARE YOU?!?!

;-)

nyc4me?

so, i’ve been propositioned.

dan, of the infamous ericanddan, has floated an invite for me to visit him in the big apple. or, more to the point, visit him and his parents close to the big apple. he’ll be there for a month, and i haven’t been to NYC since i was in high school (a one-day whirlwind visit where i saw a lot but really saw nothing). i’ve avoided returning because, let’s be honest, it’s an INSANELY expensive city...$200/night for, like, the motel 6. and, when it comes to huge U.S. metropoli (metropolae?), i’ve already fallen hard for my beloved chicago...another city i was contemplating visiting in december.

so, for those of you in the know: is it possible to do NYC in, like, two or three days? as an added bonus, his parents live in the 'burbs, which means...MALLS! and shopping! and, like, a panera bread company or two! (lou, quit sighing. ;-))

i’m thinking.

orbs!

dust particles...or GHOSTS?!?! (click to enlarge)
my friend greg recently returned from a trip to paris and shared some of his photos. in one, there's a clear, distinct orb in the hallway of an apartment, which was impressive. but the one above -- napoleon's tomb -- is, as greg described it, "a snowstorm of orbs!"

look at them all!

what do you think? orbs or something else? do you believe in ghosts? (and yes, i realize this entry would have been more appropriate on halloween, but i can only do so much. ;-))

[special thanks to greg for providing the photo.]

omg

so, earlier tonight i went to a screening of American Gangster, which was very good and very, very long (two hours and 40 minutes!). but, faaaaaaaaaaaar superior to the film (in terms of the reaction it elicited from yours truly) was the trailer that ran before the film.

it was for Wanted, a new action-crime-thriller-drama (?) slated for 2008, starring james mcavoy as a nebbish guy recruited into a legion of assassins led by morgan freeman and -- holy hell! -- angelina jolie, looking uh-MAY-zing. this is the angelina audiences know and love! kicking ass and taking names! it was all i could do to remain seated as the splendor of the preview unspooled before me. i mean, i ♥ james mcavoy (i've been a fan since Rory O'Shea Was Here, a movie seen by no one but me and his mum, i think), and to see him paired with AJ in this kind of movie? where can i order my advance ticket?!

the trailer is currently the featured video on the yahoo! homepage, but you can click the link and watch it anytime. enjoy!