Shooting fish oil and droppin' it like it's hot

I feel incredibly happy. Yes, I'm bitching about the -30 degree deep freeze we are currently experiencing and that stupid mayor from Toronto who is an embarrassment to all Canadians, but honestly, I just feel giddy with excitement - about nothing in particular - just life. I don't recall ever feeling this content with where I'm currently at - and I've spent so much time in the past 2 years worrying about my future that I really just want to take an opportunity to enjoy and reflect on this wonderful feeling. Perhaps it's the "honeymoon phase" of being a functional walker again? I'm not sure. But it's great. I have never laughed so much. I have never sang so much (particularly bad-ass Snoop from the 90's), and I have never danced so much (I drop it like it's hot at least 3 times a day. Why? Because I can. Boom).

I ran into Dr. M in the hallway at the hospital last week and he posed an excellent question: "Do you think that characteristics of the person who donated your cartilage were transplanted along to you with the cartilage?"

"YES!" I exclaimed, "That's it!"

All I know about my cartilage is that it came from a someone under 12 years of age.  I often think about that child and that family. They made a decision. Knowing their child would not recover, they made a decision to donate their child's organs and tissues to people in need across North America. Someone may have received that child's lungs. Someone may have received that child's kidneys. I received a very very small part of that child, yet that tiny part, in 6 months, has changed my life. It's humbling. I feel a great sense of responsibility to care for this gift. It's incredibly powerful and I am eternally grateful.

I can't prove that a piece of cartilage that now compromises about .000005% of my total mass (I totally made that number up) can really transplant elements from the donor's character, but I think it's a really cool premise. I imagine that the donor of my cartilage was exuberant - full of energy and joy. My donor was playful and delighted in the smallest of things. I'm sure of this because this is how I presently feel on a daily basis.

I'm not sure if the "transplant theory" holds true, but one thing that I can say for certain is that my "personal age" (the age that I feel) is now significantly less than my chronological age. For about 18 rough months, I felt like I imagined an unwell 90 year old woman would feel. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a haggard, sick, old woman. Presently; however, I look in the mirror and I see 23 year old Kirstie - lively, happy, and fun. I mean, I'm not like shotgunning beer and doing headstands on tables (Yes, I did THAT), but I DID take my fish oil shooter-style this morning and laughed my ass off when I slammed the bottle down afterward.

I don't know how long this feeling will last, but I'm soaking it up. So many of my blog posts documented the pain, fear, and anxiety that I was experiencing. I've come to realize that now is the time to document and celebrate each and every victory - no matter how trivial it might seem. So here it goes. Evidence of newfound youthful "personal age":

1) 90's music: I have become obsessed with the fabulous tunes of the 90's. Every morning, I wake up, select the "Singin' in the shower 90's edition" playlist on Songza and dance. George Michael tells me "I gotta have Faith," as I apply my eyeshadow, TLC warns me, "I don't want no scrubs," as I select my pants for the day, and Blackstreet sings, "I like the way you work it...no diggity," as I perform my daily squats with a cup of tea in hand. I look forward to my mornings now - the routine of getting ready for work has become one of the highlights of my day.

My lively morning routine; however, may be just a little too much for my quietly focused hubby. The other day, as I entered the kitchen with my laptop on my shoulder, boom-box style, I said to Ev (who was sitting at the table on his computer), "Hey Evs! Don't you just wanna get up and dance?"

"Nope."

"Never? Come on. Sometimes? Don't you ever just have an undeniable urge to get up and groove?"

"Never."

Well, Ok then. To each his own. Haha.

2) Silly Games: I find myself creating little personal contests for myself on a daily basis. Examples include: Catching the microwave at the :01 mark, filling the gas tank to the perfect dollar, and holding a plank for an entire commercial break. When I "win," I quietly celebrate with a fist pump and an overwhelming sense of accomplishment.

3) Cereal Obsession: Screw the unreal sugar content, I just really want a bowl of cereal! Breakfast, Supper - I don't discriminate. I recall this phase in University when I had no time to cook, no money (I had spent it all at the bar and hair salon) and consumed 3-4 bowls of cereal a day for approximately 2 years straight. Yummmm! Although I now have a steady income and the ability to purchase "real" food, lately, I've passed up the pork chops and shrimp scampi for a delightful bowl of cereal. It's even better when consumed in front of the television, whilst watching "The Flinstones." Why not?

4) Evan is hot stuff: I find myself "checking out" Ev more frequently. I mean, I've always been attracted to this guy - I fondly remember waiting outside the dressing room for Ev after games, and marvelling at how handsome he was when he emerged from the dressing room. It's pretty cool that after 17 years as a couple, I still find this guy smokin' hot. Seriously, have you seen this dude's body? He looks after himself..and he's mine. All mine. Bahahaha (evil laugh). To quote Salt-N-Pepa,  "You're packed and you're stacked, 'specially in the back brotha I wanna thank your motha for a butt like that." :)

Dress to impress?

My nice little groove of writing and sharing my blog posts on the weekend was interrupted by a most unwelcome guest. Sleeping soundly in my bed Friday night, I had no clue that I would soon be struck down for 36 hours by.....dun dun dun... the "Which End?" flu.

Do you know that flu? At the risk of grossing you out, I'll present a brief description: You're suddenly overcome with nausea/upset stomach and you race to the bathroom because stomach disaster is imminent. Once you get to the toilet; however, you have approximately 3 seconds to assess the situation: will you be sitting or will you be kneeling? It's like the Russian roulette of stomach viruses. It's horrible. It's gross. No one wants to be your friend. I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy (well, maybe one of those Kardashians - they're so flippin smug). Anyways, that was my weekend. My entire fricken weekend! I'm pretty sure that I lost at least 5 lbs (from my boobs and butt, of course) and given that my "last meal" before it hit was sushi, I'd say it's safe to say that I will never eat Sushi again. Ugh.

Prior to that, I was having an exceptional week. The knee was performing at it's highest level in over a year and I was feeling like I had officially turned a corner with all this knee business. On Wednesday, I decided to showcase the knee in a pair of sweet tall leather boots that were given the shaft last winter due to the pink knee brace. As I strutted around the hospital in my tall leather boots, my confidence high with every non-limping step, I felt like "me" again. Just happy Kirstie, headed to rounds, wearing a sweet pair of leather boots. When I got upstairs to level 5, I ran into Lawyer's hubby, Darren, a Nurse on the unit. Darren is notorious for commenting on my wardrobe - good or bad, he'll tell you exactly what he thinks.

 "Oh my god, KL! Where is your horse?" he exclaimed.

"Darren, these are totally trendy right now. You're an idiot," I fired back.

About an hour later I was confidently strutting back to my office when I ran into Dr. M in the hallway. I smiled, sure that he was completely impressed with my fabulous gait.

"Wow. Nice boots. Where's your horse?" he commented sarcastically. 

OK. that's 2 encounters with 2 men (there's like 5 men in our whole hospital) and 2 negative man reviews of the boots (Although, I must say, I received numerous compliments from women).

This lead to a great discussion with some girlfriends after work, over a glass of wine (of course): What kind of clothes do men prefer to see women wearing? Do guys "get" trends?  and Who do you dress for? Yourself? Other women? or do you dress to impress men/a special man in your life?

The consensus at the table was that although we would like men to find our attire attractive, we typically dress for ourselves or to impress our female peers with our style sense. In addition, we decided that the average dude doesn't really appreciate the trendy/fashionable items that women may find stylish. Given our small sample size, we can't verify that this is the norm, but it certainly seemed to be the case with the men that we knew. We came up with a few examples of styles that our men poo-poohed, despite Pinterest informing us that they were super cool:

1) Ruffles/lace: Lawyer has a few beautiful ruffly blouses (I think they're fabulous) Hubby thinks she looks like a "clown." Boo hubby!

Oh, are you doing a children's party today, dear?

2) Flowers (both the floral pattern and the "brooch" flower that people sometimes wear): Colleen donned a flower brooch one day and boyfriend pointed and exclaimed, "What the hell is that?" I wore a flower-patterned top once, to which Darren commented, "That looks like my grandma's couch."

Now don't panic, but there's something attached to your shirt!

3) Stylish hats/touques" - I sported the slouchy touque that sits on the back of your head. It was cute. Ev immediately pulled it  forward on my head, "It's not a touque if it's not even covering your ears!"

Your touque's falling off. Let me fix it for you.

4) Anything outside of the norm: Examples include: a) a new hairstyle ("What's going on with this curly stuff? Is that a wig?") b) Glam makeup ("I don't know what a "smoky eye" is. All I know is it looks like someone beat you up.") and c) funky jewellery ("Why are you wearing anal beads?") and yes, Lawyer's hubby actually said that to me once while donning a cool chunky wooden necklace!

call 911! Who did this to you?

So what do men prefer? My buddy and co-worker Heidi summed it up perfectly, "I think all guys like women in ponytails and high heels." Hmmmm....interesting. And incredibly boring. I think I'll continue to dress to impress myself and my female peers. Horse or no horse, those high leather boots made me feel invincible. 

Fondue: just like having a baby

The knee had a really good week. The swelling finally went down and I was crutchless and relatively pain-free every day. I noticed; however, that whenever I praise the knee on social media, it backlashes. That being said, this is the only paragraph the knee gets this week.

I was in a celebratory mood so I was tickled pink to see that I had been invited to an "event" via facebook. Interestingly enough, as I read through the invite, promising "Oktoberfest beers of the world and bratwurst," it occurred to me that this party was being held at my house! Yep, Ev had planned a shindig. Good on Ev. We built our current house with a fabulous basement bar, with every intention to put that bar to good use as frequently as possible. Unfortunately, the knee put a damper on that plan, and to be honest, given the long flight of stairs, I've probably been in our basement less than 5 times in the last year. Squatters could be living down there, watching my big screen TV and drinking my booze from the lovely boozy carousel for all I know. It's definitely time to start realizing the full potential of that basement bar.

Since Oktoberfest was the theme, there was a beers of the world beer tasting contest, lots of bratwurst and sausage, and cheese fondue. I was in charge of the cheese fondue. I envisioned the occasional stir throughout the evening, but was shocked to find that cheese fondue supervision is a actually high maintenance activity. The flame was too high - the cheese began to separate. The flame was too low - the cheese began to clump. As I scurried back and forth trying to keep the fricken cheese happy, I commented to a friend, "man, it's just like having a baby." Haha. I could tell by the look she gave me that no, it was actually nothing like having a baby. We had a good laugh and it occurred to me that although I can imagine what it is like to have children, I truly have no idea.

Ev and I do not have kids. Things may change - I can't see the future, but today, we do not have kids. When we first got married, people would nag us constantly, "When are you having kids?" "Better get to it!" or the most cringeworthy question, "Are you trying?" - Um, you just asked me if I am having unprotected sex. Awkward. And then I noticed some people were just downright mean, actually trying to scare us into having kids? Not having kids? I didn't get it. "Oh, you better enjoy sleeping now because once you have kids, that'll all change!" "Oh, must be nice to work out and get your hair done, just wait - once you have kids you will have no time for yourself!" Well, gosh, that doesn't inspire me to "start trying."

Now that we're well into our 30's, most of our friends have young families. And although I can definitely see that our day-to-day lives are very different, we can certainly all get together, have a great time, and still have plenty to chat about. Sometimes I feel like there's this club that everyone belongs to except for Ev and I. As I sit back and listen to moms discuss the art of potty training, I nod and smile and have absolutely nothing to contribute other than sharing stories about changing cat litter (fyi: people with kids don't appreciate your comparison of your 10 year old cat's bowel movements to their 2 year old child). But, for the most part, I take it all in, consider what life could be like with children, and continue to enjoy my quiet life with Ev and the animals. As an outsider to this world, I observe  how unbelievably frustrating and difficult it is to raise these little people, but I also see how much love and pride people have for their own children. Although I love my animals and Evan more than words can express, I really don't know what it feels like to love my own child. But, today, I'm ok with that.

One thing I've come to learn is that people with children require a lot of notice before they can leave the house. It kind of annoyed me and I didn't really get it until I watched my sister attempt to wrangle one of her children to the door after a visit with aunty Kirstie. Keep in mind, this was 1 child! I can only imagine what 2...or even 3 would be like!!!! As I watched in dismay, I couldn't help but recall an instance in University when I had to remove my drunk buddy from a  bar. It looked like this:

Bartender: "Is that your friend? (pointing at drunk buddy who just dropped and broke glass bottle) You need to get him out of here."

Me: "Drunk buddy, let's go. You've had a good night, but it's time to go now."

Drunk Buddy: "NOOOOOO. I'm having so much fun. I don't want to leave!"

Me: "You're breaking shit. Let's go."

Drunk Buddy: "K, but I'm going to the bathroom first."

(wait outside bathroom for drunk buddy. 30 minutes later find him on floor playing with something he found on floor)

Me: "What are you doing? Put that down! That's gross. Come on!"

Drunk Buddy: "But I can't get my coat on!" (has head in sleeve)

(help drunk buddy get coat on...then help drunk buddy put shoes on correct feet. Finally get drunk buddy to door while attempting to remain calm and patient.)

Drunk Buddy: "I'm just gonna go get something that I left in the bathroom"

Me: (now pulling out stern voice) "Hurry up. You've overstayed your welcome here - they won't let you back in here if you keep acting like this!"

15 minutes later Drunk Buddy emerges from bathroom with his hat.

Drunk Buddy: "See, I told you I left something behind."

Me: "Ok, time for you to go to bed. Let's go."

Drunk Buddy: "But I'm soooooo hungry! I need to eat now."

Me: "Well I'm just never taking you out again if this is how you act!"

Ok, now go back, re-read that script, but change location to Aunty's house, change "me" to "mom,"  and wherever it says "Drunk Buddy," insert "3 year old child."

And that is why people with children require a lot of notice before leaving the house. I get it now. If you have children and are running behind today, that's totally cool with me.

This comedy sketch is hilarious - I think both people with and without children will appreciate the humour in it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFQfylQ2Jgg